A/N: Sorry for the long wait… I'm still alive and writing, you'll be happy to know I've been re-centering the story for this particular arc. Now on with the actual writing!

Interlude: My Story

"So did you hear about Professor Sinistra?" Parvati asked Lavender.

"No. What?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I know the reason she didn't come to the Astronomy tower last night…"

As fascinating as their conversation was, Hermione had more pressing matters to attend to than eavesdropping. She rolled her eyes in indignation at their simple gossip and returned to reading her Herbology text. With Parvati and Lavender's constant chatter as background noise, Hermione chiseled away at her Herbology paper. She was making great progress. That is until Liz entered the scene.

A petite girl with a palpable shyness, Liz wore a small white smile that contrasted with her shiny black locks. Overcoming her timid nature, Liz tried to initiate conversation with the gossiping pair standing amidst the stacks of books, but she was ignored. Hermione watched on as Liz, unsure of what to do, stood silently.

Lavender and Parvati continued talking, pretending Liz wasn't even there.

Liz tried to initiate conversation again and again, but her initiatives were thwarted each time. At one point, she gave a loud "hullo," to which Lavender and Parvati responded with by raising the pitch of the conversation.

A second later, Madam Pince popped out from behind a bookshelf and gave all three a loud "shhhh!" Lavender and Parvati glared at Liz; the first ounce of recognition they awarded the girl was an angry silence. Slighted, Liz blushed and her eyes fell to the floor. She looked uncomfortable as she began to sway side to side.

Hermione simply couldn't ignore this social cruelty. For good of all things magic, they were only first years and they were being utter bitches to a girl who was simply saying hello.

Hermione was quite prepared to jump up and give gossiping pair a piece of her mind. She slammed her book shut and stood up. But then fate intervened.

Celes had witnessed the same event that Hermione had, and came to Liz's rescue. Sitting back down, Hermione saw Celes stride over to the group. Reopening her book and pretending to study, Hermione leaned forward, trying to catch the whole exchange.

"What are you up to?" Celes asked kindly, her deep brown eyes gazing at Liz.

"Not much. Just talking," said Liz.

"Doesn't really look like much talking to me," Celes noted, her eyes flashing.

"Well—erm—I walked up, and I guess I was invading their conversation—" Lavender took this moment to butt in.

"You're right you were!" said Lavender.

"Now you talk to her?" asked Celes.

"Yes—we tried to give her the message to leave us to our own privacy, but she wouldn't…"

"I seriously doubt that she would have been invading your little chat," replied Celes.

"Oh, it was very personal," said Parvati. Lavender nodded.

"That mean you don't talk to someone! Liz, you didn't deserve to be ignored when you just wanted to say hello. Really, who's that mean to treat someone as nothing?" replied Celes.

"I don't know," said Liz, staring at her feet.

"Well I know for you. Come with me, we'll have a lot more fun. Like the chance to actually talk."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Now… have you finished that Herbology homework yet…"

The awkward social dancing of the first years had begun.

The participants were many and varied. No one yet knew quite where they belonged, but they were soon discovering those people with whom they clicked.

Some people did come to Hogwarts with connections and friends of many years, but even they hadn't settled in completely. The challenge of social life was large and impending, if not terrifying at times. Some people responded better to the challenge of friendship better than others. While most of the group rushed to fill the social niches, there were those left behind in the dust, left alone while all those around them had become friends. But then came those more socially agile people, who worked towards inclusion for all.

The complicated serenade ended in a strong product: friendship. Like fluid entities, relationships first formed and morphed for the ickle firsties, and then solidified and bringing a steady social dynamic to the Gryffindor Commons.

And mind, this was all in one week. It was impossible to remember exactly when someone began to hang out with someone else, but now it was clear who was closest to whom.

Hermione smiled knowingly as she studied with her friends in the Common Room. Her niche was already quite sturdy, supported by her closely knit friendship web. Yet Hermione felt uneasy.

Navigating the difference between the people of her past and those of her present was difficult. Hermione couldn't help but feel that by accepting these new people, she was leaving behind the ones she had known in her past life. In order to completely connect with these pre-adolescents, she had to accept them as new individuals, disparate entities from the people she knew in her past life. They were quite different, already diverging from her memories. But as she came to accept these new people as her loved ones, was she forgetting the people she loved in her past life? Were these memories overwriting her precious memories, making her lose what she held dear? Or would she ever truly forget them, truly lose the people she loved so dearly?

"Hermione?"

Could she ever forget them?

"Hermione? Are you there? Hulloooo! I thought you never ignored your studying," said Ron, poking her in the arm.

Would she ever lose them, completely replace them with different people? Were these people even the same?

"Give her a break, she's had a long day. Haven't you Hermione?" Harry asked.

"What?" asked Hermione. "I'm sorry, I was thinking about a… problem!"

"Looks like she's had a difficult day," murmured Neville as he scribbled his Potions essay.

"You don't even know the half of it," replied Hermione.

I don't even know the half of it…. I thought these memories would make everything clearer, but now I'm just confused, and depressed….

"Have you had enough studying?" asked Harry. "We've done a lot; it's probably time we finished up anyway."

"But we haven't even touched History of Magic!" replied Hermione.

"No one wants to touch it," replied Ron.

"Yeah," said Neville.

"Well then what would you rather we do, hmmm? Go outside and frolic around in the sunshine?" asked Hermione.

"Frolic?" Ron looked confused.

"Dance around and be happy," replied Hermione mechanically.

"Oh, well then yes, I would rather do that," Ron said.

"I agree," Neville added amicably.

"Sounds good, let's go then," said Harry, grinning.

"You can't be serious. I wasn't serious. I was being sarcastic," stated Hermione.

"We don't even know what sarcasm is, let alone what it means," replied Ron full heartedly. Neville nodded in agreement.

"Oh, kill me now," Hermione said.

"No thank you?" said Ron, closing a book.

"On the one hand, I don't know if you're serious about not understanding sarcasm, but then again I was being—ugghh! Let's just go outside already."

"Gladly!"

The quartet closed up their little study group session and made their way outside on that particularly gorgeous Thursday afternoon. The bellflowers were ringing delightfully, the Whomping Wllow was serenading pleasantly in the wind, and the giant octopus was lounging around the lake, splashing a few students jovially. Hermione stared up at the crisp blue autumn sky, her eyes meeting bright oblivion.

It was hard for her to be depressed when everything was so pretty. Here she was, spending time with the mirror images of her memory in a place she had only been in her past life, enjoying just being alive. She peered down for a moment, looking at her friends with a small, knowing smile lining her face.

They were all so different then she remembered… Harry had changed the most, of that much she was certain. He possessed a charisma Hermione had never seen in him before, but he still had a bit of vulnerability and anger. Perhaps those traits simply qualified his good ones, making him a better leader for it. But really, was he the person she loved as a dear friend eons ago, or was he really but an imprint of a memory that would eventually consume the memory itself?

That almost makes him seem like a Horcrux, though. But then again, he is…

How confusing to think of all these levels of complexity. Why on Earth can't my emotions be simpler? Why can't I just have the expected emotional development of someone my age?

She sighed and turned her attention away from Harry, looking over at Ron and Neville who were chattering away. They too, felt different. Ron still had his little brother complex, but he seemed to be coming into his own much quicker this time around. Of course, his immaturity level was still quite high, but such is life with Ron. Somehow though, even if he was immature, he now grasped a better understanding of what was happening around him. It wasn't much, but this basic understanding pervaded him thoroughly, giving him a bit of clue about things.

Neville… he was mystifying as well. Had all he needed was friends to change him so quickly? His stutter, something that accompanied close to every sentence of his, was disappearing. Fast. Hermione had never seen Neville confident until years later in his life, seeing him develop into a true Gryffindor this quickly…

With such change, Hermione couldn't really decide if they were the same people in her memories. In a word, she was bemused. But what did her confusion signify? What would it all mean?

Her internal struggle would arise again, of that she was sure, but for now, Hermione would live in the present, enjoying her limited time.

HGHGHGHGHG

"Can you not do anything right? This is a simple potion, one that a child would be able to concoct. You on the other hand, cannot even identify it."

"I was just trying to improve the potion!"

"Your deviation from your class work has resulting in one of the worst efforts I have seen in years Ms. Granger," sneered Professor Snape.

"That can't be—I did everything right—I don't deserve a failing grade!" cried Hermione.

"Pity… it would appear you are operating under the guise of misconception. You see, you did everything wrong. Which way, Miss Granger, were you supposed to stir your potion after the addition of pearl milk?"

"Counterclockwise, eight and one quarter times."

"But did you do that?"

"Of course I did, I'm not dense. I know how to follow directions."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for arguing against a teacher, and another ten for this abomination you tried to turn in. Let me ask again, did you?"

"I thought I did."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for not answering the question!"

"But I—"
"Make that fifteen and a detention with Filch!"

"I didn't, I added a quarter turn clockwise to give the solution extra cohesion by releasing the lactose elements of the milk," Hermione.

"That's right, you didn't," said Snape bitingly. "You mixed the solution incorrectly, then added the incorrect form of viral violect venom, and proceeded to cascade into the creation of a horrid potion's whose only ability worth noting is its putrid odor."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry grabbed her hand before any sound escaped her mouth.

"Don't, Hermione, just don't," said Harry softly. Hermione looked at him with tearful eyes. But she wouldn't sob, not here in class, not in the face of failure—

"I think this Potion deserves a nice big T," said Snape with relish. Hermione gasped. "With a minus." She turned pale. She overheard Ron talking to Harry.

"Is that even possible?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

In anger, in pure disgust with her failure, all Hermione could do was sit there, glaring at Snape. She had worked extremely hard on improving that potion, and if he couldn't tell what changes she had made, then it wasn't her fault! She could not have completely ruined the potion. It was impossible. She stared at Snape furiously, channeling her anger into her gaze.

She would not cry, even when she looked into dark eyes.

That's when she felt it. Sometone was in her mind. It felt like something in her brain, but then again, she didn't actually feel anything…

It was a Legilimency attack. Only once before had she felt its subtle touch…And if there was an attack, it would require eye contact…He was in her mind. He was reading her thoughts, her memories. And most of her memories were….

She couldn't think about them now, she'd have to hide them, try to shield her mind with Occlumency, break the connection between their minds, something…

She focused on constructing a barrier around her secrets, an impregnable fortress, something, anything to protect her past. But then she felt something slide through her barrier…

She tried to break her eyes from him, but she was inexplicably paralyzed. She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move? She knew she could move, it was such a simple ability, all she had to do was turn her neck, break his gaze, get out of the way. But she simply couldn't. Her eyes stared forward, plunging into darkness, and that memory rose to her mind…. Meeting the Laws… meeting Xuan Wu… living happily…

The connection broke. What had Snape seen? Had he seen anything at all? Hermione tried to reassure herself that nothing had happened. After all, Snape hadn't jumped to his feet. He didn't appear any different…

"Ms. Granger, will you please come with me?" asked Severus in an oddly reserved voice. She hesitated.

"That was not a request." She stood up, trembling, and followed him out the door.

"Put your potions on my desk if you want to receive a grade for your work today. Class dismissed."

He led her through winding stairwells, up through the corridors, and down hallways for what seemed like forever. But forever ended. They had reached the Gargoyle.

"Munching Marbled Mud-Fudge," stated Snape. Such a jovial candy name seemed oddly inappropriate at a time like this. Hermione just watched everything happen, as though it were all too surreal, her thoughts were locked in her head, unmoving, not wanting to go anywhere, not wanting to proceed into the future…

The reached the door to Headmaster's office.

"Please come in, Severus," Dumbledore beckoned kindly. "What brings you here at such a fine hour? I daresay I wasn't expecting you until later, I'm afraid."

"It is Ms. Granger, Headmaster. She has something to tell you," stated Snape.

"I do?" asked Hermione innocently. She wasn't going to budge on anything. Snape didn't necessarily know much, or anything at all…

"Yes, you do. Tell us your deepest, darkest secret," stated Snape blandly.

"I don't think that is completely necessary," Dumbledore said, his tone a bit serious. His eyes sparkled all the same, however.

"That's quite personal thank you!" remarked Hermione stiffly.

"Tell us!" urged Snape.

"I have a right to privacy!" she argued.

"Not when what you are keeping private is of utmost importance!"

"If you have to know… my darkest secret… is my Boggart is Professor McGonagall giving me a failing grade. But that's already happened today in some respect, hasn't it?" bit Hermione defensively. She would not reveal anything, could not, dare not, it would be so disastrous…

"I somehow doubt someone of your maturity could have a Boggart so immature, Ms. Granger," drawled Snape. Hermione's face paled as she realized what he had said. "Now if you don't tell us, I'll have to drag the information out of you. I always have Veritaserum on hand for emergencies like these…."

Her thoughts broke lose from their padded lock.

He knew. He had seen. What would happen? Would everyone hate her? Would she keep her memories, or would they be taken? Would she be all alone, with no one there with her?

"Ah, I see I've finally gotten to the matter at hand…" stated Snape, watching as Hermione struggled with the situation.

"I think this is quite enough," said Dumbledore sternly.

"I don't," said Snape. "I've been in her mind and seen…. I think it's time she finally tell us who or what she really is…"

"You really shouldn't be forcing her to do this, it's her privacy…"

"She could be a danger to the school."

"I am no such thing!"

"I highly doubt that she is any sort of danger," said Dumbledore. "I have faith that my students would confide in me, regardless."

"Your faith is misplaced in these unworthy juveniles."

"Now Severus, you've gone a bit too far…"

"Not far enough at all! You see, when the precocious brat stared me down, I saw into her memories… and I saw things… things an eleven year-old girl shouldn't have had in memories."

"What exactly are you trying to say? There was some justification to your invasion of her privacy?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes' twinkle all gone.

"Yes there was. Because Ms. Hermione Granger here is not eleven at all."

Silence.

"Do you have anything to say in response to this accusation, Ms. Granger. You are, after all, innocent until proven guilty, as long as you are a student here," said Dumbledore. She had been quite silent, listening to everything, hoping it would all blow over. But it wouldn't, here she was, facing it now...

"Where would I begin?" she asked.

"So you're admitting your guilt?" asked Snape, a look a triumph crossing his face.

"What choice do I have? You have incontrovertible proof in my memories… and maybe me being truthful about this will lessen the harshness of my punishment or future treatment, whatever you want to call it," stated Hermione emotionlessly.

"You do have a choice. You don't have to tell us. But now that we do know, it might be best, as you put it, for you to tell us more about yourself in your own words," replied Dumbledore soothingly.

But all that meant was that her secret would be out, whether she wanted it to be or not.

"I'll take my chances telling you, then."

"A wise decision."

"One day, a young Muggleborn got her Hogwarts letter…" and so Hermione told them, everything merging into one giant mix of her past, images flashing through her mind. By the end, Dumbledore looked oddly stern, as though he had already made a decision.

"This is quite an intriguing development," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Fudge, Ms. Granger?"

"Oh, well, okay," she replied, taking a piece of the crunchy fudge and biting into it.

"You certainly have been through a lot, haven't you? Unable to be understood, unable to truly understand your situation…"

"I don't completely agree…" said Hermione, swallowing her fudge.

"Don't contradict the Headmaster," chided Snape.

"Was that what you had expected, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. Severus shook his head. "It was not what it seemed, I suppose… But now that we do know, it might be prudent to…"

"Prudent to do what?"asked Hermione indignantly.

"Please Ms. Granger. Forgive me," Dumbledore said, looking quite old.

" I will do no such thing!" said Hermione, edging backwards slowly. The Headmaster raised his wand. She jumped behind her chair.

"Memoria obstructium!" said Dumbledore. A blue light shattered the chair, and the pieces softly pattered against the ground.

"You have nowhere to run, Ms. Granger. There's two of us, and one of you, now if you go quietly, we won't hurt you," said Dumbledore.

"Was that a threat?"

"It was an offer."

"I don't have to do anything! I'm not the brightest witch of my age for nothing," said Hermione, turning on her foot to run for the door.

"And I'm not the Headmaster of the premier Wizardry School in the world for naught," said Dumbledore sadly, flicking his wand.

Hermione saw blue, then knew no more.

She saw only darkness. But then, blinding light filled her eyes. All that there was was light, nothing else. She felt so alone… but then, what did it mean for her to be alone? Had she ever known anyone? She couldn't remember anything. She saw people come to her and yell at her as though they knew her, as though she had betrayed them. She didn't understand what they meant, but that didn't mean that they cruel words didn't cut her all the same. She felt like she should have known them, which gave her pain enough, but their cruel jeers hurt her so.

Everything around her was so confusing, and most of all, she was bemused by herself. Her mind felt like it was collapsing in on itself, with nothing to support it…

And then Hermione woke up, her sheets drenched in sweat. She was cold, shivering in the damp beddings. She tore off her sheets and ran out to the balcony where she sobbed.

The dream had been awful… one of her worst nightmares realized. Losing everything, including herself, just because of her memories. With them, she was vulnerable. At any one moment, her life could instantly turn on its head. Every moment was precious, nothing was to be taken for granted….

But could she protect herself, protect her memories, and actually feel safe in Hogwarts.

Yes.

Occlumency was the clearest answer. An art she had only read about, and even then, it was in a past life, so it wasn't exactly clear in her mind. But still, a book or two could easily refresh her memory. And although Harry had a tough time with the art, Hermione figured she had better control over her mind. Hopefully, that would make learning it all the easier.

She needed the protection. Of course mental protection had already come across her mind. She had already thought of it. But she thought of herself as more safe than she really was. Being at home, planning for Hogwarts was different than being there, having Snape breathe down your throat. Her simple planning for mental protection would be insufficient. She would have to adjust to what she hadn't accounted for in her predictions.

She should have been more prepared for this, she should have thought ahead, she should have already learned the art.

But she didn't. Being twelve affected her mentally somehow, clouded her judgment, making her feel safer than she was…

And then again, she couldn't possibly have access to Occlumency books until a few months ago, it would have been strange for a Muggle girl to be practicing the art, anyway. And practicing it would have taken a bit of explaining if her parents ever caught her. How would she be able to explain it? Would she reveal her identity to them, or her magic? Would they call her insane?

Her reasoning against studying Occlumency came flooding back to her, but it still didn't soothe her worries. She couldn't help but feel as though she had made the wrong decision. Here she was without protection, when she could have easily taken a few steps to defend her memories.

She'd just learn Occlumency now, that was all there was to it. Her time was better spent dwelling on other conundrums, anyway, like the disaster the Sorting Hat revealed to her, the disaster that her actions had set in motion. Ever since the Laws' warning, it had been hanging over her like a pesky vampire bat trailing her scent. It never left her alone, it was always near the top of her head.

And then there were her friends. She still wasn't sure what they meant to her in relation to her memories, and she still wasn't sure what would happen to her memories. She hoped she would never lose those who she had truly loved. That was her source of hope.

Staring at the starry sky, Hermione breathed deeply. A crisp autumn breeze swept her hair upwards, letting it dance in the wind. She relaxed a bit, swaying on the balcony and closing her eyes.

She would learn Occlumency. It would help her manage her mind, and help her with her secret. That way, no one would find about her. She wasn't ready for that. Not yet, anyway. And when she did tell everyone, it would be on her own terms, of her own discretion, and at her own direction.

Even with that decided, she felt hopeless. How could she ever succeed when everything looked so grim? There was just so much for her to do, how could she ever complete it all? It felt impossible. She was a bright witch, but she didn't feel bright enough to accomplish the task at hand.

Would a eleven year-old girl be able to get through this all?

The simple answer was no.

But then again, Hermione wasn't just any girl, was she?

A/N: Yes the chapter's a lot shorter than usual . And there was a bit of shift in ideas here. Let's just call it a bridge between Act One and Act Two of this story. Now that I've edited the past few chapters, updates should actually be occurring with semi-regularity. Rejoice. Review. And I'll get back to writing.