My Once and Future Self

...

"A marriage proposal within less than five minutes of having met the girl. That's got to be a record, Prongs, even for you."

James stared stupidly at the girl who had crashed headlong into him no less than five minutes ago.

Remus looked worriedly down at her. He was, of course, the one who caught her as she passed out, being the most considerate of the group, and having noticeably better reflexes than any of the others.

"We should bring her back to your parents. It looks like she's lost a lot of blood."

James nodded stupidly. Remus picked her up immediately glad she wasn't particularly large, and Sirius trudged along behind him, casting glances between the stupefied James and the unconscious Hermione.

...

Miranda Potter prided herself on being an unusually calm and reserved woman. Very little managed to stun her, especially after sixteen years of having a particularly mischievous son - during the last six of which he'd also had his three equally mischievous friends around. So when Remus Lupin came running up, carrying a bushy haired girl who was clearly unconscious, and attempted to launch into an explanation of why this was so, she hardly batted an eyelash.

It was only due to six years of practice at unravelling the convoluted conversations of the teenage boys who had befriended her only son that she understood a word of their explanation at all.

"Mrs. Potter! Help! She's bleeding, I think. She came out of nowhere -" Remus started to explain.

"--Crashed right into James. I don't think she's right in the head," continued Sirius.

"She's dead. It's very serious." That was James, still slightly concussed and rather befuddled.

"--Nearly bashed James' head in. He wants to marry her, though I always thought he was a little strange..."

"My name's not Harry." James again.

"--I think she's been attacked. A cutting curse maybe. She'll need a blood-replenishing potion-" Remus continued as if no one else was speaking at all. And it would probably have been best if they weren't, as Remus was the only one saying anything remotely intelligent.

"--I mean there was that one time with Vanessa Pritchard last year. That was a rushed romance. It's the Gryffindor thing, he's brave you know, it gets to his head, and he just rushes headlong into things -"

"I don't even look like a Harry!"

"--Certainly a Healer. Should we take her to Hogwarts?"

"Stop!" Mrs. Potter shouted, and surprisingly enough, they did. "Remus, come with me, we'll Apparate to Hogwarts. James and Sirius, Floo home and contact Dumbledore. Let him know we're coming and that we're bringing an injured, unidentified girl."

James and Sirius quickly hurried off in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron and Miranda Potter pulled Remus closer to her.

"We're going to do Side-Along Apparation. You're going to have to give the girl to me, and then hold on to me tightly as we Apparate." Remus nodded and complied, transferring the girl into the arms of Miranda Potter before grabbing onto her arm and holding tightly as the rather uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a tube began. Just when he was sure that he had suffocated, and that his internal organs were now sufficiently misplaced that he'd never be able to properly digest anything ever again, the feeling stopped. He looked around Hogsmeade and then up the hill to where Hogwarts castle stood.

"Here. Take her back, and come with me. Can you carry her?"

He nodded.

"Good."

...

Mr. Potter often wished for his wife's ability to stay calm throughout the many strange crises that occurred in his teenage son's life. From receiving owls from the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts informing him that his son had charmed every suit of armour in the castle to follow students and teachers around singing Christmas ballads in May, to having the four boys over for the summer and finding that they had successfully managed to turn every wall in the house a hideous bright orange while he was out in the garden, he understood that a general rule of thumb was to expect the unexpected. He found himself frequently torn between extreme amusement at his son's antics, and disappointment that he received as many notices of misbehaviour from the headmistress as he did. Fortunately for James, he often settled with amusement.

So, unlike he's wife's reaction, he was indeed surprised when a rather dazed James and an amused, yet slightly worried, Sirius emerged in the Floo Hall.

"What happened? Where's your mother?" Both reasonable questions to be sure. And due to trial and error, he probably should have been expecting the rampant loquacity that burst forth from his son and his best friend. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't.

"She came flying at me out of nowhere!"

"I'm never going to let him live this one down. Despite his frequent claims of devoted love to one Lily Evans, who incidentally -"

"--is not part of this story!" James cut in hotly before turning back to his father, "And she was bleeding! She said she was dead, and if she weren't talking to me I'd be inclined to believe her..."

"--considers him an arrogant bully and remains impervious to the Potter charm, which he can't resist throwing at any girl within speaking distance (and some who aren't)," Sirius continued, ignoring James' interjections.

"Who came flying at you out of nowhere?" Mr. Potter asked, though by this point, neither of the boys were paying any amount of attention to him.

"I do not throw around my charm at anyone who walks by!"

"Mum Potter said we should tell Dumbledore." Sirius said suddenly, surprising everyone into silence.

"Tell Dumbledore what exactly? Who came flying at you out of nowhere? Why were they bleeding? Where is your mother? And what the bloody hell is going on?"

"Well, you see, nothing would have happened at all if James hadn't led us on a wild goose chase to look for a girl who wasn't even there..."

"I did not!"

Needless to say, Mr. Potter quickly gave up trying to figure out what was going on and simply grabbed both boys, threw them in the fireplace with a reasonable amount of Floo powder and said clearly, "Headmaster's Office - Hogwarts." Then, rather reluctantly (as the sudden silence in the house that had fallen as soon as Sirius and James' indignant protests were cut off in a whirl of green flame was immensely satisfying), he followed.

...

Dumbledore was having a good day.

It was just a week and a half until the school term began, and Hogwarts castle was enjoying its last few days of silence and freedom. Dumbledore himself was enjoying a rather relaxing break in his office with a bag of sherbet lemons in his lap. The silence was really quite pleasing.

Until it was abruptly broken by the sudden arrival of two very soot covered young men, who (barely taking the time to stand up properly) immediately launched into what appeared to be an attempt at explaining themselves.

"Mum sent us, she's bringing a girl here, she was hurt." James prided himself on the concise nature of that sentence. Apparently the concussion was wearing off.

"Complete nutter she is."

James glared at Sirius before continuing, "She Apparated with Remus, they're probably on their way to the castle now."

"Who is she?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in his desk, sherbet lemons forgotten as they rolled out of the bag and onto the floor below.

"I don't know. But she called me Harry! And she came out of nowhere, with these slashes on her arms."

"Did you see an attacker?" Dumbledore stood up and moved towards the fireplace as he spoke.

"No. I didn't even see her until she was right on top of me!"

Sirius snickered at this. James turned and glared at him again.

Dumbledore nodded and picked up a handful of Floo powder from a pot near the fireplace and tossed it into the flames.

"Hospital Wing." Seeing that the flames had turned an emerald green, he continued, "Poppy Mrs. Potter and Remus Lupin are heading up to the castle with an injured girl."

He got no recognition that James could see, but seemed satisfied none the less. He stood up, brushed soot of his robes, turned around and smiled at them.

"Come, I think it's time that we see to our guest." And with that he strode out of the office.

Not a minute later a very confused and sooty Mr. Potter emerged from the fireplace. The office was completely silent, save for the snoring of the portraits on the walls.

"Oh bugger," he said.

...

The first thing Hermione was aware of was the smell of cleanliness. And not just ordinary 'I just vacuumed this room' cleanliness but the sort of clean smell you get in hospitals where everything has been sterilized to death. The second thing she was aware of was a gentle throbbing sensation on her forearms and her back, which, she expertly concluded, was most likely the reason she was in a hospital.

Bravely (she was a Gryffindor after all), she attempted to open her eyes. She immediately regretted it and shut them again to block out the blinding light. Groaning, she rolled over and stuffed her face into the pillow.

"Ah. I see you are awake."

She knew that voice. Rolling over, she opened her eyes again, blinked stupidly several times and watched as the face of Albus Dumbledore came into focus.

"How are you feeling?"

Hermione opened her mouth with the intent of informing him that she was fine, but wound up making a strange sort of croaking sound instead. She frowned, but Dumbledore simply smiled, reached over and poured her a glass of water, which she quickly drank.

"Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

He nodded. Then he leaned back in his chair and appeared to be studying her.

"Do you know where you are?"

Hermione frowned, looked around, and nodded. "The Hogwarts Hospital Wing."

"And do you know who I am?"

"Professor Dumbledore. How did I get here? I was in Diagon Alley, with Harry and Ron..."

The older man frowned and continued to study her. "James mentioned that you called him Harry. Who, may I ask, are Harry and Ron?"

Immediately Hermione was aware that something was very, very wrong. She had written off her encounter with James Potter as a strange dream, and really only recalled it now that Dumbledore mentioned his name. But why didn't he know who Harry was?

"Do you know who I am, sir?"

He looked at her intently before answering the with the words she was hoping desperately not to hear, "No, I'm afraid I do not."

Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Well you should."

His eyebrows raised slightly. "Should I?"

She blushed. I can't believe I just said that to the headmaster. What must he think of me? "Erm... well. I mean, yes, you should. Or you ought to, as I know you."

"--And it would appear as if you have me at a disadvantage," he cut in smoothly. "So, would you be so kind as to give me your name?"

"Hermione Granger."

"And how, if I may ask, did you come to be injured, Miss Granger?"

"Death Eater attack."

His face registered brief surprise before slipping back into neutrality. "Where exactly were you attacked?"

"Diagon Alley, sir." She was surprised he hadn't heard, but quickly realized she shouldn't be. Nothing else made sense, he didn't know who she was, nor who Harry and Ron were, and clearly he'd had a conversation with James Potter, who was dead, and thus couldn't possibly speak to anyone....

It hit her suddenly, like a ton of bricks.

"Sir, what year is it?"

"1976. Am I correct in assuming that is not what you were expecting?"

"Yes sir."

He nodded and regarded her seriously. "And what year was it you were expecting?"

"1996."

He nodded again. "Well that clears things up."

She barely refrained from snorting in what would be considered a very unladylike manner, and instead said, "It does, sir?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. As it is now 1976, and as far as you were aware it was 1996, the only logical conclusion is that you have somehow gone back in time. I can only assume that you are a student at this school, which explains how you know me, and as you will not be a student here for several years, I have not yet met you, nor your friends Harry and Ron."

She nodded, not trusting herself to form coherent sentences. She was twenty years in the past, before she was even born. And all she had so far managed to do was tackle Harry's father. She felt a sudden urge to crawl under the blankets and never come out again.

"Were you hit with any spell that would have sent you back in time? Or come into contact with any other magical item that could have brought you here?"

"No. I don't know. I don't remember." Great. Crystal clear answer, Hermione. Your eloquence is astounding.

"What am I going to do, sir?"

He smiled happily down at her. "You will continue your learning. You are welcome at this school, Miss Granger. The school can supply you with a small fund to buy your school things, and I will explain your situation to the Potters; I'm sure they'll be glad to take you in."

And before she could protest, he had slipped beyond the curtain and walked out of the wing.

"Peachy. Just peachy," she said to the ceiling.

...