Hermione darted around a corner, crouching down low and pausing to examine her current situation. She was dueling with Avery, and had been for a painfully long time. Her lungs were on fire, and she just wanted to stop and breathe, but that was out of the question. Amycus Carrow was nearby, hurling curse after curse at Seamus Finnegan, who was barely managing to cast a Shield Charm, let alone cast anything in return. Hermione wished, desperately, that she could step in to rescue Seamus, but her own situation proved near impossible. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," Avery called. "Come out and face me."

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Hermione leaned around the corner to consider her next move. She could cast a few curses at the Death Eater, but since Carrow was within range, she was more than outmatched. She couldn't escape and come at them for a different angle—

But Avery was getting closer and getting impatient and there weren't many other options. "Where is that Mudblood, Avery? Tell me why you haven't killed her yet! I'd like to see that dirty blood all over the castle floor." Carrow had joined him now.

Okay. Here goes.

Hermione hurdled out from behind the wall, sending a variety of nonverbal spells flying towards the two Death Eaters. Shocked, they were a little slow on the uptake, and Avery froze for a fraction of a second, hit by a weak immobilizing spell. "You've got to do better than that, Hermione!" he screamed, and she put up her own Shield Charm in response.

Had he just called her Hermione?

Dean materialized next to her, sporting a swollen lip and a bloody eyebrow. "What did you do, get in a fistfight?" she called to him, hardly hearing herself speak over the roar of battle.

"Something like that," he responded, almost cheerfully, and he joined her in her attack against the two men.

She shot an Impedimenta at Carrow, and he crumpled, almost gracefully, to the ground, his robes puddling around him. It almost seemed to be in slow motion. Hermione took a deep breath as Avery moved toward her, and was filled with overwhelmingof dread. Whatever he had planned, it wasn't going to be pretty. She raised her wand, preparing for a simple Shield Charm, but whatever the curse was; it was too quick for her to guard against.

Hermione was hit square in the chest, and fell forward onto her knees by the sheer strength of it. "Hermione!" Dean yelled, and rushed to her side. She grasped at her robes with shaking hands; it was as though a fire had started in the middle of her chest and was radiating outward, unbearably hot. Black, shiny boots appeared in her field of vision and she looked up to see the man towering over her.

"See you at Hogwarts," Avery said simply, his face impossible to read, and the darkness overcame her.

The next thing she remembered was the cool surface of the castle floor. Oh, please don't wake me. It's so nice. I can't even hear the fighting. An arm slid around her shoulders and another around the back of her knees, holding her close, and she relished in the comfort. From the way they held her, it had to be someone she knew and trusted. Harry? Ron?

She opened her eyes to familiar messy black hair and round-rimmed glasses. Her vision was slightly blurred, and all of the lights were too bright. "H-Harry?" But Harry was dead. He had perished at the hands of Voldemort himself, deep in the Forbidden forest.

Then who was holding her?

It was only then she realized that his eyes were chocolate brown.

"Sorry love, no Harry here. I'm James. James Potter."

No. She couldn't have been sent back in time. That wasn't possible, without a Time Turner, she had learned that through experience, she hadn't read anything about any sort of spells—

Third year. Lupin. The Marauders.

Oh no.

Hermione whipped her head around, nearly falling out of James' grasp. There was Remus, his brown hair falling over concerned eyes, his robes distinctly not shabby, the gold Prefect badge gleaming on his robes. Next to him, Sirius—dark haired, dark eyed, and brooding. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking at her the same way he always used to during Order meetings. That look she always hated—the one that said "this girl is too young and too smart to be on the front lines." And Peter was there, next to Sirius; Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him. Was he a Death Eater yet? Instead of the middle aged plump man she was used to seeing, he was short and thin, his light hair messy and in need of brushing. He gave her a small reassuring smile and she looked away.

Hermione closed her eyes. This was too much. Just moments ago, she had been fighting a Death Eater in this exact spot. These boys were long dead. "I'm going to take you to the Hospital Wing now, okay?" James murmured, inches from her ear. They began walking. A few moments later, he leaned in again. "Everything is going to be fine."

No it isn't, Hermione thought, tears threatening to spill over. Where I come from, everyone is dead.

Hermione awoke to a blinding light. She blinked furiously, trying to get her vision back, and hastily took in her surroundings. She was lying in a bed that was considerably too hard and uncomfortable, covered in white linens. Scrambling to find her wand, she let out a small scream when she noticed the figure sitting next to her bed.

Dumbledore.

Her anger toward him was sudden, white-hot, and impossible to ignore. He was the reason her best friend, her brother, had died, oblivious to the fact that he was a Horcrux. Dumbledore had known all along. "Give me my wand," she managed to let out, while keeping her voice relatively low and calm.

She wanted to scream. Throw curses at him.

He could have saved Harry.

His face was impassive as he handed over her wand from the bedside table. "I'd appreciate it if you would stop looking at me that way. Although I have many faults, watching over our new visitor is not one of them. It might also be in your best interest to lie down before Madam Pomfrey returns. Your forehead has suffered some losses."

It was then that she noticed the dull ache above her eyebrow. She had suffered so many other injuries, that she hadn't even realized.

"I'll heal it," she snapped, pointing her wand at her head and knitting the gash back together.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Nicely done. Poppy prefers not to use the more advanced healing spells on students. They minimize scarring and are quicker, of course, but can very easily go awry."

"I'm not a student," Hermione quipped. She was aware of her blatant disrespect for the Headmaster, but at this point, she didn't care. She needed to figure out what was happening.

She jumped out of bed and slid her jeans on under the gown. "Miss, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stop."

"Or what?" she retorted, the sweatshirt following.
"Or I'll have to use magic to hold you in place, and I would prefer not to."

Hermione hugged, and sat down."This appears to be the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.

"You are correct," Dumbledore assented. "Two nights ago, James Potter and his friends discovered you in our Charms corridor. You were semi-conscious, and as Mr. Black explained it, you were extremely confused. You seemed to mistake Mr. Potter for someone named Harry, and I will assure you that there is no Harry at this school. So, I will ask you one time and one time only. What is your name, and what are you doing at our school?"

Judging by Dumbledore's tone, Hermione decided that full honesty was the best approach to take. She didn't trust the man, but being hexed by him was not something she looked forward to. "I trust that I have your utmost confidence," she started, and with Dumbledore's curt nod, she continued. "It seems I have time traveled involuntarily from the year 1998. My name is Hermione Granger. Where I come from, there is a war going on, between Voldemort and his supporters and the rest of the Wizarding World, particularly the Order of the Phoenix. I was dueling with one of Voldemort's supporters, and I was hit with a curse. When I woke up, I was here in time."

"I suspect that you were already in Hogwarts when you were cursed?"

"Yes, I would imagine that I appeared in exactly the same place I was in my time. You mentioned the second floor Charms corridor?" Dumbledore looked down at the floor, deep in thought. Hermione didn't have time for this. "If you'll excuse me, I need to leave and find a way to get back to my own time. There's a war happening, and I'm needed—"

"Miss Granger, I regret to tell you that at this point in time, there is no returning to 1998. More research needs to be conducted on the curse that brought you here to us. It can be very dangerous to go off into the depths of time without proper preparation. In the meantime, however, I believe that it is in your best interest to continue your education while you are here. I presume you were a Hogwarts student in your time?"

Hermione sat back down on the bed, a sense of hopelessness overcoming her. Her friends were fighting or dead, and here she was, decades back in time with no way to get home. She swallowed. "I'm eighteen. But I did not attend school for my seventh year, and the education in my sixth year was fairly interrupted."

"That's that, then. You will start tomorrow with our sixth year class. I'm sure you know your way around the castle, but might I suggest minimizing your knowledge to maintain appearances? We will say that you are a transfer from Beauxbatons, and when your parents passed away you were sent to live with an aunt nearest Hogwarts." He regarded her for a moment, before adding, "You seem like a Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

"That's correct."

Dumbledore rose, conjuring a few sets of uniforms and placing them over the back of his now vacant chair. "Miss Granger, I wish you the best of luck. Leaving your friends behind can never be easy or simple. I hope that you find a home here at Hogwarts in this time, as so many have." It was on that note that he exited, leaving Hermione alone in the Hospital Wing with nothing but the ghosts of her past—the future—to keep her company.

It was then that she noticed the bulge in her back pocket.

Curiously, she stood up, and reaching her hand in her back pocket, she pulled out a folded piece of parchment. How strange, she thought. That wasn't there when I lost consciousness. She carefully unfolded the parchment, revealing tiny, messy scrawl.

Hermione,

First and foremost, I wanted to apologize for sending you back. You always told me the frustration and confusion of those first few days, and I despise myself for being the one that is meant to cause you that pain. Having to maintain appearances as a Death Eater means causing pain to countless others, but I swore to myself that I would never do that to you. So, I'm sorry. I also know that you have no reason to trust me. So here goes: Your name is Hermione Jean Granger, and you were born in September of 1980. Your parents are dentists (whatever that means, I would never know) and when the war began you Obliviated them and moved them to Australia. Your favorite color is orange, and your favorite book: Hogwarts, a History. Your Amortentia smells like freshly cut grass, new parchment, and spearmint toothpaste- and I just so happen to use spearmint toothpaste.

Hermione, we met during my sixth year at Hogwarts, when you appeared one day and started school. We met in secret- after all, you were a Gryffindor and I a Slytherin. You showed me my mother's ring on your finger and I knew I had to trust you. You told me all about the future and the downfall and ultimate rise of the Dark Lord, and how I was the one that sent you back, and how your mission (the mission I gave you) was to save everyone, including myself. The only reason I know to give you this letter is because I've already done it. I don't understand time, really. Every time I think about it my head hurts a bit- I'm not sure how you and I are supposed to save the Wizarding World, because in my timeline, we didn't succeed. But you were always the smart one.

Please come and find me, Hermione. I haven't done good things since I've been at Hogwarts. I've hurt an innocent girl, one that will turn out to be your friend. I regret it, and I always have. But I know you can help me change—you've done it already.

With my whole heart,

Alexandre Avery

A/n: Some of you (especially those of you who get author notifications from me) may be feeling a sense of déjà vu here- this is an old story that I deleted and am re-posting with edits. I hadn't planned on changing the storyline drastically, but since reading "The Light" by Everliah I was inspired. So this is a huge, drastic change from the original story.

If you liked it, review please!