The Time-Traveler's Dilemma
A Hermione timeturner story, set post-HBP. Just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione set out to find the remaining four horcruxes, an encounter with a timeturner sends Hermione on a strange adventure back and forth in time. She sees things she ought not, she experiences things yet to come, and learns truths about the past both useful to the trio's journey and destructive to their lives. Based loosely on The Time Traveler's Wife. Eventual HHr.
Drama/Mystery/Romance Rating: 3rd-5th Years
Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter.
Chapter One: Prologue
"Fred! George! Do you have to use spells for the silverware? Ginny, don't you dare wingardium leviosa that wedding cake for one second longer, let Charlie handle it! Ron, do I look as though I'm above spanking?" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang through the backyard of the Burrow as though unaware of the several dozen wedding guests now filing from Bill and Fleur's wedding ceremony to the reception. Scattered around the Burrow's wide garden were clusters of tables complete with white linen, small bouquets of flowers and everlasting candles. Sparklers floated in midair above the crowd drawing things like hearts and cupids, which then burst like so many rubies and diamonds above their heads.
Through this, jets of light from four separate wand tips zinged through the air, making champagne glasses, stacks of plates, and Bill and Fleur's rather tall wedding cake whiz unsupported out the kitchen door followed by the four youngest Weasley children.
At the edge of this ginger-headed chaos stood Hermione, a particularly sharp look on her face as she surveyed Ron start to levitate a small army of cutlery to follow George's champagne glasses.
"You know," said a voice very close to her ear, "nobody's saying that you'd have to levitate knives if you and Ron ever got together."
"Stop reading my mind Harry," Hermione hissed, her eyes now tracking the progression of the wedding cake, which was heading straight for the back of Mr. Weasely's head.
He chuckled. "When is that going to happen, anyway, if I'm allowed to ask?" He asked, gesturing at Ron.
She spared him a desperate sort of look. "You're allowed ... and no, I have absolutely no idea." Then, eyeing Ron race his cutlery past George's champagne glasses: "I mean, when we're not bickering, he's doing things like that, levitating cutlery ... Oh Harry, look at him, it's just so ... so juvenile!" she said faintly, but stifled a laugh as she watched Mrs. Weasley attempt to pry George's wand from him.
"Hermione, duck!" said Harry suddenly, and he forced her down into the grass just as Ron lost control of one of the knives so it zoomed straight over her head.
"Whoops! Sorry 'bout that, Hermione," she heard Ron mutter sheepishly as she turned to find Harry pealing himself off the ground next to her, just having narrowly escaped another of Ron's knives.
"C'mon," he said, helping Hermione to her feet.
"Oh thanks, Harry, but I'm perfectly alright," chided Hermione as Harry made to brush bits of dirt and grass from her dress robes. "Oh I'm just going to kill Ron," she muttered under her breath, and she took out her wand to siphon the remaining grass stains from her robes.
Harry laughing and Hermione seething, they approached the tables to find Mrs. Weasley shaking her wand at Fred, George, Ron and Ginny like some overly large admonitory finger. "... And if you lot put one more toe out of line, so help me ...! No more wands tonight, do you hear?"
The four Weasleys, now lined up in front of their mother, nodded vigorously. "Yes, Mum."
"Ah, Mrs. Weasley," said a throaty voice from behind them, and Fleur appeared almost out of thin air next to Fred as the wedding guests started to find their seats. She was hanging elegantly onto Bill's arm, her gown shimmering in the light of the sparklers. "Zhey were only trying to 'elp. Let's not ruin zee reception with shouting, shall vee?" And she swept to the centermost table and seated herself next to Bill as the guests filled in the surrounding tables, her white-blonde hair rippling slightly despite the fact that it was a humid, breezeless evening.
The guest list, noted Hermione as she walked with Harry to a table at the edge of the garden, read like a "who's who" of Dumbledore's most trusted allies. Members of the Order of Phoenix, including Kingsley Shackleboot, Mad Eye Moody, Lupin and a lavender-haired Tonks, and at least fifteen other Aurors arranged themselves at three of the tables; Hogwarts professors, including tiny Professor Flitwick, Professor Slughorn, Professor Sprout, Hagrid, and their newly-minted Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, slid into chairs at another. Hermione turned in her chair and watched an odd assortment of witches and wizards she had never met before, who she assumed worked either at the Ministry or Gringotts, fill in the rest of the seats.
As Harry plopped down beside her, Hermione brought her attention to him, taking in his curiously roving eyes. "Looking for Ginny?" she asked him gently, who, dodging an exploding heart, was winding her way towards them through the crowd, followed by Fred, George, Charlie, and Ron.
She wasn't entirely certain what had happened between the Harry and Ginny; Harry was never one to talk in depth about his relationships. But had deduced that it had something to do with the fact that Harry, along with her and Ron, was taking off on his hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes after a few more days of Mrs. Weasley's cooking. She had the distinct impression that he was keen to avoid her today.
"Wha-?" said Harry, whipping around and looking slightly guilty. "Oh, no, actually I wasn't," and he dropped his voice, "I was just wondering how safe we all are here. I mean, this is all just out in the open, I wonder if any wards have been put up?"
"Harry, there about twenty Aurors here today," she said with some surprise. "This is probably the one of the safest places in the wizarding world at the moment. Surely you can't think there could be a Death Eater attack?"
Harry nodded vaguely, but still looked slightly disconcerted. "Yeah ... I guess it's just that the wizarding world seems so much less safe than it used to be when Dumbledore was around."
Hermione reached out to grasp his elbow. "I know, Harry. I'm afraid that we're in much graver danger than we ever have been before. Especially you. But do try to relax today, won't you? This may be our last chance for a long time."
"She's right, you know," she heard Ron say as he sat down heavily on her other side, followed by Ginny and the rest of the Weasley clan. He gave a long-suffering sigh. "Mum's in a right state. Can't be shut of yelling, even on her oldest son's wedding day."
"Ron, be fair," said Hermione, frowning at him, "you lot were making the cake knife zoom towards people's heads!"
"Yeah," muttered Harry. "Our heads."
"That's not on!" chimed in Fred. "We've been in helping her get this wedding put together since dawn yesterday, a little magic never does anybody any harm."
"Tell that to Frankie Frankpie," said George, grinning. "Poor bloke never saw that everlasting earwax hex coming ..." He shook his head with false remorse.
"What'd you--" started Ginny, laughing and leaning across the table to poke George in the ribs.
But what exactly happened to Frankie Frankpie's earwax Hermione never found out, because at the exact moment Fleur, who had been toasting the crowded tables with a rather long-winded speech, gave her wand a complicated little wave so that plates with slices of cake on them appeared out of nowhere before the guests and champagne glasses filled suddenly with golden, bubbly liquid.
"Excellent!" breathed Ron, looking with a solemn sort of reverence at his cake. "Just like at Hogwarts!"
"I've got to learn that one," said Hermione. And with that, she took a fast swig of champagne, scooped a rather large bite of cake into her mouth, and began to wind her way through the tables towards Bill and Fleur as chatter and the clatter of forks on china rose around her and filled the garden with the unmistakable sounds of a party in full swing.
She could feel Ron's eyes follow her glumly to Fleur's table and suppressed a grin. He'd been touchy all summer when it came to Fleur. Passing Bill, who was in conversation with a cheerful Mr. Weasley beside him, Hermione swooped down upon Fleur.
"Ah, 'Ermione!" said Fleur in a carrying voice, seeing Hermione approach. "Bill and I are so happy. When are you 'inking of marrying? Eet is so wonderful!" She reached up absentmindedly to pat Bill's cheek, one of the many features still scarred from his encounter with Fenrir Greyback some several weeks prior.
As her mind immediately flitted to Ron, Hermione stopped herself from giving Fleur a scathing reply with the greatest of difficulty.
"Actually, Fleur, I was just wondering--" began Hermione in what she hoped was a dignified voice. But she interrupted again by a knowing smile from Fleur.
"You, too, vill geet zair eventually, 'Ermione," she said loftily and Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. She had the distinct impression that Ginny, Fred and George were laughing uproariously at her from several tables over; she could see them doubled over. Harry, too, appeared to be stifling a muffled sort of noise behind a hand clamped over his mouth, but Ron merely had a curious sort of shadow over his features.
"You see," continued Fleur, now pulling Hermione down into the seat beside her and snaking an arm around her waist with the manner of someone about to impart a tidbit of deepest, most personal wisdom, "You 'ave to find someone zat vill put your needs in front of 'is own, someone whiz foresight!" Fleur gave a fluttery laugh and Hermione, perched stiffly at the edge of her chair, cast Ron's table a glowering look.
"Ah! Like zis!" exclaimed Fleur, and she pulled a tiny, shabby-looking yet neatly wrapped package from the center of the table that Hermione could not be sure had been meant for her. "You see, 'ee gives me little gifts all zee time!"
Untying the string and pulling back the faded brown paper, Fleur uncovered something small and round hanging on a long gold chain. It had curious dials around its edges and a tiny hourglass encased at its center.
Hermione gave a small gasp.
"But what eez eet?" said Fleur quietly, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. "What could eet be?" She held it gingerly in her hand.
"That's ... that's not possible," whispered Hermione, her throat suddenly bone-dry and her mind racing. Fleur held in her palm a time-turner.
Surely the Ministry's entire stock of time-turners got smashed that day in the Department of Mysteries at the end of fifth year. Unless ...
"Did the package have a name? A card?" she asked Fleur, her voice urgent, fearing the worst. Maybe Harry was right; could the Death Eaters have planted something dangerous at the wedding?
"No, of course not, silly girl. Eet eez from Bill!"
"How can you be sure?" demanded Hermione. "There's no note." And she pulled the packaging towards her and flattened it against the table. There, on the inside of the wrapping, was slanted writing that Hermione thought looked familiar but could not place.
It said: "To the Chosen One."
Breathe. Breathe.
Fleur looked at Hermione, eyes wider than ever, recognition popping in her face.
"That's ... that's Dumbledore's writing, Hermione," came a choked sort of whisper in her ear and she felt rather than saw that Harry was leaning over her shoulder, looking intently at the wrapping she held in her hand. His hand closed over hers and he tugged the paper from her grasp. He had an odd, unsettled look on his face. "That's definitely Dumbledore's writing. Is ... is that a time-turner, Fleur?"
"Yes," whispered Hermione with an impatient wave of her hand, and she turned to face him, her nose inches from his. "But Harry, think about this. Dumbledore's dead, he couldn't possibly have--"
It's his handwriting, Hermione, I'm sure of it," he said shortly, his voice rising dangerously above a whisper and reaching out for the time-turner. Hermione stopped his hand. "I know he's dead, I know it doesn't seem possible, but it can't be from anyone else. It's his handwriting. Question is: how did this get here, to the Weasley's?"
"'To the Chosen One,'" came a third voice somewhere to her left that Hermione recognized at once as Ron's. He leaned forward to look at the slanted writing. "Blimey, Harry, you don't suppose that means--"
"Me," came Harry's wry reply.
Ron shrugged and Hermione bit her lip, nodding. "It has to be, it couldn't possibly mean anyone else."
"Whoa," breathed Ron, a reverent-looking shadow troubling his usually clear eyes.
"Why would Dumbledore give me a time-turner?" asked Harry.
"Harry--" began Hermione.
"Just entertain the idea for a second, will you?" demanded Harry.
Hermione threw him a contemptuous sort of look she usually reserved for Ron, but answered, "Oh, honestly! But alright. If it is from Dumbledore, you might need it for one of the horcruxes or something. You do keep saying that you didn't think Dumbledore intended you to finish this without some more of this help. I suppose he could have left it to you, knowing that you'd need it to finish off Voldemort. Maybe one of the Horcruxes involves going back in time?"
She paused, then leveled a grave sort of look at both Ron and Harry. "But honestly, I think you should show it to Lupin or Mad Eye. It might not be from Dumbledore at all. We need to make sure it's not a trap, that it doesn't have any Dark or dangerous spells or enchantments on it. I mean, what if it came from a Death Eater?"
"But it's Dumbledore's writing."
"Yes, so you've mentioned, Harry, but this is your life we're talking about. And not ten minutes ago you yourself were worried about Death Eaters!"
"But Hermione," said Ron, turning to her, "if it's Dumbledore's writing, then it was Dumbledore who gave it, so there won't be any curses put on it. Just let Harry have it. It'll probably be really useful!"
She sensed that Harry privately agreed with Ron, so interjected briskly, "Of course it could be, and I don't want it getting out that Dumbledore's sent Harry a time-turner from the dead any more than Harry does. That's risky enough as it is, but we simply must check for curses and enchantments. Don't be so difficult, Ron."
"I'm not the one being difficult!" snapped Ron. "You're the one complicating things, dragging extra people into it!"
"Are you saying you don't trust Lupin?" demanded Hermione, her temper flaring to match Ron's.
"No, I ..." And then he turned abruptly to Harry. "What do you think, Harry?"
Hermione could tell from one glance at Harry that he didn't want to get dragged into yet another argument between her and Ron, and she let out a tiny sigh.
Harry seemed to regard Ron for a moment, then finally said, "Hermione's right, it needs to be checked for curses. But," he hesitated, then rounded on her, "I want you to check it, I don't want any more people dragged in than is strictly necessary. Fleur, and from the looks of it, Bill, is more than enough."
Hermione, feeling a powerful rush of what --pride?-- at Harry's confidence in her curse detecting skills, fought down a blush. "What, me? Don't be ridiculous, you both know perfectly well that I can only check for the more basic curses, not something really bad like armenzentia or ..."
But, upon catching a glimpse of Harry's face, quickly said, "Oh alright, I suppose I could manage a few tests ... C'mon, let's take it somewhere more out of the way."
Fleur, who had remained silent throughout this entire exchange, let the time-turner slip from her palm into Hermione's without a word, and Hermione led them through the patchwork of tables to the edge of the garden and away from the crowd, twilight starting to fall around them. A sparkler followed them, drawing a cascade of red hearts over their heads.
Glancing up at Ron and Harry, both of whom seemed to be holding their breath, she held the time-turner aloft in front of her. Clutching her wand and training her eyes on the time-turner, she whispered, "Revelio incantatum time-turner ..."
And with this, Hermione felt an odd tingling sensation start in the hand where the time-turner rested and then rise up her arm and throughout her entire body. She felt as if she was dissolving out of the air itself. She caught one last glimpse of Ron standing horrorstruck in front of her and Harry's astonished green eyes, his hands outstretched as if to catch her ... And then nothing ... only the plummeting feeling that something had gone terribly wrong ...
End.
Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, critical or kind; they're immensely helpful!
Note: I know this is a bit long for a prologue, but bear with me; the pace will pick up starting next chapter.