Author’s Notes: Contrary to most time-travel fics that pair up Hermione with somebody else, Hermione in this story shows what she can and will do to get what she wants. Thus, instead of her being swept back through time against her will, Hermione this time deliberately devises a plan of turning back time to further her own interests. :) By the way, some of the spells or magical stuff here were self-invented. Hehe. The title is French, and means “The Grand Project”. Thank you to all who have reviewed. You encourage me. :)
Chapter Summary: Hermione has discovered a way to be together with James. An assassination plot, however, threatens the success of the project even before it has started.
Heart, don’t fail me now
Courage, don’t desert me
Don’t turn back now that we’re here.
Somewhere down this road
I know someone’s waiting
Years of dreams just can’t be wrong
Arms will open wide
I’ll feel safe and wanted
Finally home where I belong.
I will never be complete
Until I find you.
One step at a time
One hope, then another
Who knows where this road may go?
Back to who I was
On to find my future
Things my heart still needs to know.
Let this be a sign.
Let this road be mine.
Let it bring me to my past.
--- Lynn Ahrens (Journey to the Past) ---
It has been two weeks. Two very long weeks since I last saw him. Back then the fact that we agreed to put an end to this craziness didn’t seem so bad because he was with me, and also because somehow, I knew I would still see him around. I realise that wanting to see him means entertaining feelings I shouldn’t even have. But no matter how hard I try to convince myself not to, I miss him. I miss him terribly.
Hermione folded the parchment she had been writing on and inserted it into her Defense Against the Dark Arts book. She really needed to go to Hogsmeade and buy herself a journal so that she wouldn’t have to doodle on spare pieces of paper that could easily be misplaced. She then slowly pulled out that morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet from under her book and placed it under her desk. She stared at the moving picture of James speaking on a podium, looking every bit the Minister of Magic with the determined expression on his face and his chin held high. She traced the contours of his jaw and found it cold on the paper, so unlike that night.
“Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for finding the Daily Prophet more interesting than the lesson,” Remus said in an uncharacteristically harsh voice.
Hermione looked up to see the Professor standing over her, his blue eyes surprisingly icy cold. She hastily tucked the newspaper into her bag, embarrassed that she had made Professor Lupin lose his temper, as very few people did. She murmured an apology, her face downcast.
Remus strode back to the front of the room with an air of briskness that he seldom displayed. “As you should have noticed, we have been dealing with offensive, not defensive, curses over the past few weeks. You have even had the honour of having the Minister come to this class for a day.” His eyes strayed briefly to Hermione at the mention of his fellow Marauder, but the girl was still looking at the floor. “Most of you are probably wondering why. Does anybody know why?”
Silence ensued as many students blinked and pretended to be lost in thought.
“Well, since Miss Granger seems to be keeping herself updated with what is going in the Wizarding world, perhaps she can tell us what these offense-oriented lessons are all about.”
Harry frowned, wondering what had gotten into the usually mild-mannered and soft-spoken professor to make him act like this. Why was he giving Hermione a hard time with the newspaper? He glanced backwards to where Hermione was seated, staring at Professor Lupin with what seemed like suspicion and annoyance.
“It has been reported that Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard in this century, who was believed to have been defeated seventeen years ago, might actually—”
“Who is credited for defeating Voldemort?” Remus interrupted, his eyes intently watching Hermione’s reaction.
He knows something, Hermione thought, feeling angry and close to panic at the same time. She was about to start wondering how when it hit her. Damn. The Marauder’s Map. Professor Lupin had confiscated it from Harry years ago. Her eyes flashing, she gazed steadily at her Professor and nonchalantly answered, “James Potter. The current Minister of Magic.” Her insides softened at the mere mention of his name, but she ignored it. “As I was saying, the Minister has released a statement that Voldemort might not really have been dead all these years. He suspects that Voldemort is just biding time to allow his followers, called the Death Eaters, to regroup. It is for this reason that extensive protective and precautionary measures have been recommended by the Ministry.”
Harry expected Professor Lupin to credit Gryffindor at least five points for Hermione’s answer, but he did not. Instead, he merely nodded. “It is important then that you are always on your guard and that you possess the skills necessary to protect yourself. You are not children anymore. In a few months you will be leaving Hogwarts, and it is likely that you will be caught up in the darkness brewing at the moment.”
“Many of you here do not know anything of the First War except that it happened, if at all. Some, however, have experienced firsthand the atrocities of the war. It does not matter, as long as we do not forget. It will be the greatest sacrilege if we ever do.” Remus examined his class, most of whose faces were expressionless. He smiled slightly.
“I see it does not have much of an impact on you. Let us all hope that the day when you have to choose sides in a war and fight doesn’t come. Nevertheless, you still have to train.”
The class sighed and pulled out their quills, parchments and wands.
Remus shook his head. “I’m letting you out of class early today so you can go to the library and get started on the assignment I’m going to give you. You have to submit an essay on dangerous magical objects — choose only one — and how you create and destroy them. Five feet of parchment, due next week. Do you have any questions?”
Ron’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, but his wasn’t the only one. “Isn’t that more of a Charms assignment?” Murmurs of assent followed.
“Yes, it is. However, you should be capable of integrating the knowledge you’ve acquired from the various branches of magic by now.” His students nodded, indicating that they understood. Remus smiled. “Class is dismissed. You may go.”
The Gryffindors filed out of the room, most of whom made their way back to the common room. Straying from the crowd, Hermione turned right and headed straight for the library. Ron and Harry jogged to catch up with her.
“You’re going to the library? At once?” Ron asked with a grimace.
Hermione shifted her bag from one shoulder to another. “I don’t have anything else to do,” she answered, her eyes on the floor.
“How about spending time with me down by the lake?” Harry replied, smiling amusedly at her. “We haven’t been together for ages.”
“Maybe later, Harry.” The more she saw Harry, the more she thought of James, and the more she wanted to be with him.
“But you’re not going to leave the library until much later,” Harry said accusingly.
Hermione sighed. “Yes, Harry. I know, and I’m sorry, but I really need to get started on this essay.” With that she turned her back to them, pushed open the glass doors of the library and entered.
The two boys stared helplessly at each other. “Do you get the feeling there’s something she’s not telling us?” the redhead asked.
The troubled look on Harry’s face said it all. “I don’t know, Ron. I don’t know anything anymore.”
Hermione let out a shaky breath as she placed her things down on a table. She was so relieved to finally be away from everyone. She needed some time and quiet, not so she could think about James, but so she could catch up with the work she had been ignoring for days. Unbeknownst to Ron and Harry, she had now failed to complete her previous Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts essays. That was not how she worked. Missing another essay would definitely spell detention, and Hermione Granger never got detention. Her features hardened with determination as she made her way to the shelves of books.
Minutes later, she had succeeded in locating the area of books that looked promising for her Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment. Ron was correct; the books were indeed within the section in the library dedicated to Charms. Hermione fingered the spine of Highly Dangerous Magical Objects, pulled it out, and returned to her table.
As Hermione flipped through the pages, it quickly became clear to her that dangerous had another meaning that was usually lost on people. There were some things that anybody would call dangerous. There was what was called the Veil, the other side of which was said to belong to another dimension so that those who fell behind it were gone forever. There were cursed necklaces, books, and dolls — but then again, anything and everything could be cursed. All things are potentially dangerous, even Portkeys, Hermione reflected as she turned to the next page, especially when used improperly or handled unsuspectingly.
Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the heading on another page. The Time-Turner. She remembered the one she had used back in her third year in order to fit in one day all the subjects she wanted to take. How intrigued she was by it then. Would she finally find out how it was constructed?
“Comprised of a miniature hourglass of the finest glass, with a sandy charmed potion inside it and hanging from a chain of near-pure gold, the Time-Turner is capable of bringing its bearer back up to twenty-four hours at a time, depending on the number of backward turns of the hourglass. The Ministries of Magic possess such resources, but issue permits for its use only on a case-to-case basis. Severe restrictions are implemented for very obvious reasons. Travelling to the past entails changing the present, and not all changes may be desirable.”
The report continued with detailed accounts of people who had successfully used the Time-Turner, as well as those who had died due to what an expert described as the mental instability resulting from seeing one’s self outside of one’s body. Hermione could not help but snort. These people who ended up killing their past of future selves were obviously daft. Surely, they had expected meeting their very own selves before they even embarked on such a journey? Hermione snorted again. Idiots.
An image of James Potter floated into her mind, and she sighed. Ever since the night of their illicit rendezvous, her sleep had been permeated by dreams of the two of them together. She had expected that, certainly, except that in her dreams she was with a seventeen-year-old James. Her dreams were so vivid she was almost convinced that they were real, that they were memories. But then she’d wake up in the morning with the truth hitting her hard each time — that she never really had a chance with James. Time, and that thing they called fate, had made sure of that. Hermione had never even thought of challenging either of them.
Until now. The reminder that a Time-Turner existed had opened up all sorts of possibilities for her. There were two problems, however. One, she did not know how she was going to secure one for her personal use. Two, even if she did manage to get one, a Time-Turner only went back as far as twenty-four hours. What good is one day, one week, one month even, when she wanted to turn back years?
First things first. Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. I need to get a Time-Turner for myself. But how? Her mind worked its way down the possible solutions: convince Professor McGonagall to get one for her again by saying it was for purely academic purposes only, steal one from the Ministry, and check the market for any possible Time-Turners for sale. Hermione wrinkled her nose. None of the above options appealed to her senses, or even seemed plausible. Procuring a Time-Turner was not her only goal — maintaining secrecy also was. From experience, that meant working alone.
“I can make one.” The words were out of her mouth before she realised what she was saying. A slow smile spread over her suddenly bright face. “I can make one,” she repeated, the words sounding good even to her ears. “I’m smart enough. I’m sure I can figure this one out.” Feeling invigorated, she reread the text more intently in the hope of finding more explicit instructions on how to devise a Time-Turner, but ended up frowning.
“The chain, the hourglass, the potion,” Hermione murmured. “Near-pure gold, that’s easy. Expensive, yes, but easy. Finest glass, that’s expensive and yet easy, too. The potion…” Her voice trailed off. “The potion, ultimately, is what is responsible for turning back time.”
Hermione read the text for the third time. Unfortunately, it did not provide any more information on the potion — not even its name — except that it was of a sandy texture and that it was charmed. The picture of an old, thick black book swam hazily in Hermione’s eyes. Moste Potente Potions. Of course. Hermione was very aware of the fact that the book was in the Restricted Section of the library, and that she needed a signed permit from a teacher before she could access it. But getting to the book paled in comparison to all the other obstacles Hermione knew she would face before accomplishing the grand project.
Le Grand Projet. Hermione smiled smugly as she stood up, taking the book explaining Time-Turners to Madam Pince to check out. She had finally found a way to be with James Potter.
Remus was busy rifling through his desk drawers in search of his favourite quill when he saw a white envelope stuck between the slightly open edges of two wooden panels. Frowning, he tugged at it until it was free of its confinement. He blew the dust that had gathered on the outside, flicked the flap open and tapped it upside-down over his table.
The sound of metal clanking on glass caused recognition to dawn on his face. He gingerly picked up the necklace that had fallen, running his fingers down the cold, shiny silver chain that supported a silver moon pendant. He had forgotten about having that necklace in his possession. Memories flooded his mind, but before they could take control, he had already slid the necklace back into its envelope and had shoved it angrily in the drawer containing the Marauder’s Map.
A knock on the door forced him to calm down. Remus sat in his chair, picked a quill from his desk and pretended to write. “Come in,” he called out.
His temper rose when he saw Hermione, but he immediately quelled it. Hermione stepped inside his office and closed the door quickly behind her.
“Yes? What can I do for you, Hermione?” he asked curtly.
At least he’s not calling me ‘Miss Granger’, like he does when he’s angry. Hermione took a deep breath. “Professor, about our assignment — I was, well, I stumbled upon something that I thought needed additional research, and I needed an extra book so that I can look it up.” She needed to get a grip on herself; she was babbling incoherently. “But sir, the book is in the Restricted Section, and I need your permission, and—”
“Which book is it?” Remus interrupted.
“Moste Potente Potions,” Hermione answered, more calmly this time, taking enough care to look straight into her teacher’s eyes, as though the gesture might convince him of her honesty.
Remus stared at Hermione for a very long time before answering. “You disappoint me, Miss Granger. I know a liar when I see one, even when she lies as beautifully as you do.”
Hermione flushed against her will. “Professor, I am not lying. I really do need that book for your essay.” She really might, if she decided to write her essay on how dangerous Time-Turners could be — only she needed to test it out on herself first.
“No, you do not,” Remus countered, still piercing her with his blue eyes. “You need it for something else, and though I do not know what it is for, I know it is not for the assignment I’ve given you.” He pondered her for another moment, his mouth set in a grim line. “You may try asking your other teachers if they will give you a permit, but I believe you will need to think up a better excuse than the one you have given me today in order to convince them.”
Hermione hung her head so he wouldn’t see the fury reflected in her eyes, but she did not doubt he sensed it anyway. “Thank you for your time, Professor. I am very sorry I disturbed you,” she answered stiffly. She turned her back to him and reached out for the doorknob.
“One more piece of advice, Miss Granger.”
What now? Is he going to berate me about James? Hermione looked back at him, her expression defiant. “Yes, Professor?”
“I don’t see any need for a strong love potion because he seems to be very taken with you already, doesn’t he? But be careful, Miss Granger. Be very careful if you don’t want to get hurt.”
Hermione had heard enough. She left the room and slammed the door angrily behind her.
It was nearing midnight, but Hermione still lay tossing in her bed. Her mind kept replaying the disastrous incident in Professor Lupin’s office. It bothered her that he seemed to know more than he should, and that he obviously didn’t like what he knew, but that was not the only thing that was keeping her up. If she could not get the book through legal means, and it was becoming clear that she really could not, then she would have to sneak it out. She had made up her mind that she would do so tonight, before she lost her nerve. When all she could hear were snores, she jumped quietly out of bed and lit the tip of her wand wordlessly with a spell. She then rummaged in her trunk for the Invisibility Cloak James had lent her, draped it over her body, and softly made her way out of Gryffindor tower.
She treaded carefully down the corridors to the library, fervently praying she would not be meeting anybody tonight, most especially the Hogwarts caretaker. When she reached the glass doors, she pushed at them and discovered they were locked. Hermione picked her wand from her pocket. She tapped at the brass handles and said, “Alohomora!”
To her surprise the doors opened at once with that single spell. Talk about security. Hermione was correct in assuming that the library was not that strictly protected, for who would want to steal books anyway when the average student detested them? She walked towards the Restriction Section, still making as little noise as possible. She passed the tip of her wand along the spines of the shelved books until she found what she was looking for. Shivering slightly from both the cold and from the knowledge that she had succeeded, she fumbled in pulling the book out and almost dropped it because of its immense weight. Hermione held the book to her body with one arm, ensuring that the cloak also covered it well.
A soft mewing at her heels alerted her that Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, was still up prowling the school. It meant that Filch was still around. Hermione quickened her pace until she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was sleeping. She pulled the cloak off her and rapped on the door.
The Fat Lady stirred, but slept on. Hermione knocked harder. The Fat Lady opened one bleary eye. “What time of the night do you call this?” she asked irritably.
“Mimbulus mimbletonia,” Hermione said firmly, not wanting to argue with the portrait. The Fat Lady seemed to have been too sleepy to put up any further challenge and instead swung open to admit her. Hermione raced up the stairs back to her dormitory. She jumped into her bed and under the covers, lit her wand, and rifled feverishly through the pages.
“There’s got to be ten thousand pages in this book,” Hermione muttered as she flipped from one page to the next in search of that potion she needed. “There has to be a more efficient way of doing this.”
A spell from one of the German books she read came back to her mind. Hermione closed the book and tapped it with her wand. “Suchen Time-Turner,” she whispered. She watched in amazement as the pages were flicked from the front cover to the back as though by an invisible finger. When the last page of the book was turned and the back cover had shut the book closed, it fell silent, seemingly no different than before, except for a faint glow emitted by the edge of one page somewhere in the middle.
Hermione held her breath. Was it really going to be that easy to find the potion she needed? She carefully opened the book to that glowing page and quickly scanned its contents. Main component of the Time-Turner. Excitement shot through her as she returned to the top of the page and started reading more thoroughly. Her eyes travelled down the list of ingredients, most of which were available either in her potions kit or in any apothecary. She reviewed the list, and her eyes were drawn to one element of the potion. Fine ferromagnetic particles.
It seems like the potion is more of a mixture than a solution, Hermione contemplated as she pondered the rationale behind the use of magnetic particles. She was recalling everything she had ever learned in Astronomy, but her drooping eyelids wouldn’t cooperate. She waved her wand over the page entitled Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad and waved it again over a blank parchment, enabling her to copy the page word for word. Hermione rolled up the parchment and hid it in her trunk. Sighing sleepily, she slid out of bed, covered herself with the Invisibility Cloak once more, and retraced her steps to the library. She needed to return the book at once before anybody realised that it was missing.
It was almost one in the morning when Hermione had curled up in her bed, exhausted but pleased with the day’s work. She couldn’t wait to fall asleep, not only because she knew she would be with James in her sleep, but because she knew that the following sunrise would give her the opportunity to make her dreams come true.
“James?”
The Minister of Magic looked up from his paperwork to see the grinning face of his best friend, Sirius Black, peeking through the door of his office. His own face brightened. “Padfoot! Come in.” James embraced Sirius and clapped him once on the back, and then pulled away. “How thoughtful of you to have dropped in.”
Sirius smirked at him. “Oh, Prongsie, you know how I missed you,” he said in a mock sweet voice, a mischievous twinkle in his grey eyes. He leaned forward and jokingly attempted to kiss him. James burst out laughing and pushed him away.
“So what brings you here?” James asked as he returned to his seat and gestured at Sirius to do the same. “Is it good news or bad news?”
“Neither,” Sirius answered as he propped his long legs on the chair opposite him. “Hogsmeade weekend is on Saturday, before the Halloween feast, and I thought we should start stationing some Aurors in the village.” Sirius Black was Head of Auror Division. “What do you think?”
James’s heart started beating a little faster at the mention of Hogwarts students, but he chose to ignore it. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with employing preemptive measures.”
Sirius grinned once more. “I knew you’d agree,” he said. “I’m going to Hogsmeade now. Do you want to come with me? You look like you could use a good time.”
“I do?” James passed a hand self-consciously over his face.
Sirius laughed. “Yes, you do. Leave this hole for a while. We’ll stop by the Three Broomsticks, and I’ll teach you how to have a good time.”
James smiled wryly. “Let’s skip the booze, Sirius. But I sure would love to do something else besides sitting here. Thanks for wanting some company.”
“What are best friends for?” Sirius shrugged. “I’ll be sending out orders in five minutes. I’ll meet you at the Broomsticks in half an hour or so.”
Hermione had woken up that same morning with a smile on her face. Even with only six hours of sleep, she felt refreshed and inexplicably happy. She had packed the copy of Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad in her bag, as well as three pouches of money that amounted to almost three hundred Galleons, before going to her first lesson. The money came from the extra her parents had been sending her every Christmas, birthday, and whenever they were feeling generous. She had kept the money with her at Hogwarts instead of at Gringotts, well-protected in her own charmed vault, so that she could easily access it anytime. Hermione had taken out some of that money in the hope that she would be able to sneak into Hogsmeade during her two-hour break after lunch to buy the glass, chain, and potion ingredients.
She left the Great Hall after a hurried lunch, much to Harry and Ron’s protests. Making her way to the third floor, she cautiously approached the statue of a hump-backed, one-eyed witch that stood halfway along one corridor. She tapped the witch lightly with her wand, muttered “Dissendium!”, and watched as the hump opened up to reveal the secret passageway to Honeydukes. She had often used this route with Ron and Harry in the past. Hermione carefully climbed in and closed the hump behind her. She lit the tip of her wand and crawled down the dark tunnel for what seemed like an hour until she felt the passage rise up. She came to the foot of the worn stone steps and began to climb up the stairs, using her palms to feel the way ahead of her. When her hands encountered the trapdoor, she pushed it open and climbed out into the cellar of Honeydukes.
Hermione made her way to the top floor of the store and stealthily snuck out, thankful for the customers that surrounded the counter and obscured her from view. She breathed a sigh of relief once she was out in the sunshine, strolling along the streets of Hogsmeade. Hermione pushed open the doors of the glass blowing store, the twinkling chimes announcing her arrival.
“Good afternoon, Miss,” the proprietor, a middle-aged man with a balding head and a bushy moustache, greeted her.
“Good afternoon,” Hermione answered with a smile. She looked around the store, taking note of the glass sculptures that surrounded her. “You make all these wonderful pieces of art?”
The man bowed. “Certainly, Miss. My employees and I are very skilled in glass carving. Perhaps you should look around to see if there’s anything you fancy? Or do you require something a little more personal?”
“Something a little more personal, I think,” Hermione replied with another sweet smile. “I was wondering if you could make me a miniature hourglass?”
His eyes widened slightly, but he recovered fast. “About how long, Miss? Would an inch do?”
Hermione nodded smartly. “You must use the finest glass in creating that hourglass, no matter how expensive it is. I don’t care about the price or anything at all, except that you have to do it right.” She flashed another charming smile. “I’ll pay you extra if you keep this transaction a secret.” She reached into her bag and took out a small money pouch. “How much will the hourglass alone cost?”
“That will amount to fifty-one Galleons, twelve Sickles and twenty-six Knuts.”
Hermione smiled. It was cheaper than she had expected. She counted out 70 Galleons and handed it to the man. “I suppose this is enough?”
The man gave another bow. “It is more than enough, Miss. When will you come to get it?”
“Perhaps this weekend. Is that okay?”
He nodded. “Certainly, Miss. I’ll have it ready by then.”
Hermione murmured thanks and gracefully sailed out the door. After half an hour of traipsing through Hogsmeade, she had finally located the jewellery store situated at the far end of the village. She breezed in through the door and immediately talked business with the store owner.
“A twenty-four-carat gold chain?” the owner repeated, stunned.
“Yes,” Hermione replied calmly. “Don’t you have any?”
The owner shook her blond head. “Of course we do, Miss, but this one here,” she said, pointing to one that was on display, “costs less and is of excellent quality too. Eighteen carats.”
Hermione frowned in irritation. “The price is not really an issue. Now, if you’re not willing to sell your gold to me, I’ll leave and do business with other stores.”
“Oh no! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so impolite. It’s just that it’s very seldom that a customer as young as you asks for something that expensive.” She disappeared into the backroom and returned with a small velvet box. “Here it is, Miss. Have a look first.” She handed the box to Hermione, who flipped it open and ran her fingers along the finely-woven chain, admiring the way the gold gleamed in the light. One flick of her wand confirmed the authenticity and purity of the gold chain. She gave a satisfied nod at the blond woman.
“I’ll take it,” Hermione affirmed, returning the box and motioning for the woman to ring up her purchase.
“That will be two hundred Galleons, seven Sickles, one Knut, Miss,” she said, still trembling. Hermione took out two money pouches containing a hundred Galleons each and placed them on the counter. She reached into her pockets for the extra coins while the owner opened the pouches and checked the amount inside. Satisfied, she gathered and swept the coins down the cash register. She packed the box containing the gold chain, tore off the receipt and handed it to Hermione.
“Have a nice day,” she said, smiling weakly. Hermione merely nodded at her and left her store.
She returned to the main street of Hogsmeade and set off to the potion apothecary. Hermione had deliberately visited it last to ensure that she bought the most expensive parts of the Time-Turner first. Once inside the store, she gathered all the ingredients she would need, including the magnetic particles, as well as several other ingredients the potion did not require. Hermione thought it best to avoid suspicion being directed at her. She smiled disarmingly at the woman who rang up her purchases, who was chatting happily with her as though she had never sold such a large amount to anybody before.
After leaving the apothecary, Hermione glanced at her timepiece and saw that she still had an hour and fifteen minutes left before her next class. Tired, thirsty, and desperately craving the taste of butterbeer, Hermione gave in to her impulse and decided to pass by the Three Broomsticks before returning to Honeydukes.
She pushed open the door to the tavern and was surprised to see it almost full of people so early in the afternoon. Hermione quickly made her way to the counter and signalled to Madam Rosmerta for attention. “One butterbeer, please,” she nearly shouted over the conversations around her. The pretty, curvaceous bargirl that had long been the object of Ron’s affections looked at her in surprise, probably because she recognized the Hogwarts uniform, but just grinned.
“The Weasleys must have taught you how to sneak out of Hogwarts into Hogsmeade, huh?” Madam Rosmerta said, shaking her head in amusement. “I’ll get your drink, Miss Granger, if you’ll just wait over there.” She gestured towards a lone blank table on the right side of the store. Hermione thanked her and paid for her drink before making her way to the table.
One voice stood out above the din inside the Broomsticks. Swivelling in her chair towards the sound of the voice, Hermione looked and saw, with a thrill of excitement, that it belonged to James Potter. Her lips dried and her pulse accelerated at the sight of him, the one man she had been longing to see for weeks. James was standing beside Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather, and was busy speaking to around thirty people, all of whom Hermione was sure were Aurors from their uniforms. Hermione admired, once more, the authoritative way with which he held himself. He looked even more handsome when he was like that. Her heart was beating painfully fast. Oh, how she loved this man.
The thought shocked her. Love? Wasn’t it a little late for that? She shook her head as though the action would rid her mind of such ideas. It was one thing to find him attractive against her will, downright dangerous to entertain the idea of being in love with him.
The creaky sound of the door being opened distracted Hermione, and she inclined her head towards it, noting the entry of two tall figures, their faces obscured by the black hoods they wore. Hermione’s spine tingled with unease, but none of the other customers seem to have noticed their entrance. The two hooded figures occupied a small table near the door, but Hermione noticed how each one’s hand twitched restlessly inside their own pockets. Hermione slid her own hand inside the pocket of her own robes and felt her wand. Her eyes widened. Wands.
Madam Rosmerta set down the bottle of butterbeer on her table, and Hermione murmured thanks just as she walked away. She then squinted at the two hooded figures, trying to gauge what their intentions were. She watched as the two bent their heads towards each other as though they were discussing in whispers. One of them nodded as the other looked sharply in James’s direction. Hermione’s blood ran cold. She stood up at once and stealthily wove her way to where James was standing, glancing back at the hooded men once in a while. Both of them were still gazing unrelentingly at the Minister, who wasn’t even aware of their presence. Hermione ignored the panic threatening to overwhelm her and quickened her pace even more.
Hermione had barely reached the table Sirius was occupying when she heard the ruthlessly cold voice utter the words she had been dreading.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Author’s Notes: Suchen is the German word for search (I think), and Solucion Contraria el Forzar de Gravedad is Spanish. Roughly translated, it means a “potion against the force of gravity”. Please comment if I have wrongly strung the words together. Don’t forget to review! :)
By the way, somebody from another site has commented on my wrong usage of Floo powder, as well as on my wrong mental map of Diagon Alley. In the first chapter I have included Honeydukes and Zonko’s in Diagon Alley; only when I was writing this chapter did I realise that Honeydukes and Zonko’s are in Hogsmeade. Big, big error. Haha. That said, I shall revise the previous chapters accordingly.
Another piece of news: I have finally found a beta! :) So this is probably my last chapter for a while as we’re still trying to get to know each other and discuss on the previous chapters. :)
Second Notes: The initial Solucion Contraria el Forzar de Gravedad was changed to Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad, as per suggestion of Emily, who was kind enough to suggest a more correct Spanish phrase for it. Thank you! Thank you! :)
I checked the map of Hogsmeade and could not find any jewellery or glass blowing store, but let’s just say there are shops as such, shall we? ;)
Hugs to my beta, Bobbey, who took the effort to check the prices of the goods and converted the US dollars to Wizard money — hence the specific number of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. It is because of her that this chapter makes so much more sense than it originally did. :)