The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 1 - A Black and White Universe

Hermione felt a great spinning sensation, a warmth like none she had ever felt before was flowing through her body. She was being tossed and turned and she was falling, falling into oblivion. Eventually she could comprehend being pulled sharply backwards in a way that she hadn't since her third year. All that she could see at every angle was a sea of dangerously bright colours until - THUD.

Okay, now I know I've lost it, she thought acerbically to herself. That, or I somehow got high on pumpkin juice ... oh help.

She contented herself with lying motionless for a moment, still seeing the twirling colours in her head. Her eyeballs were aching as if she'd just been staring into a very bright light. After finally confirming to herself that she wasn't actually dead, Hermione slowly opened her eyes and pushed herself off the ground.

Had she passed out? Looking around, she saw that she had not in fact moved at all - she was in exactly the same corridor as a minute ago. She turned confusedly to the wall - that was what was different, the painting had disappeared. Hermione, still not quite sure of what had happened, looked around again. This time, she realized the corridor itself looked slightly different somehow. It had an odd feel to it, almost as if she were in a different country which, Hermione reminded herself, was not possible as Apparition was unfeasible within the contains of Hogwarts. Still, something certainly wasn't right.

The lanterns that were attached to the walls looked less grubby - they glowed brighter even, and one of the suits of armour that usually stood a few metres down the hall was missing. Hermione, ever the acute observer, felt a wave of cold rush over her, or was it just a sudden draught absconding through the corridor? She turned around as she heard footsteps sound behind her. Standing before her was a boy of around her age, with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and a foul expression on his face. Oh my God ...

'Snape?' she said incredulously.

The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 'How did you know my name?' he said in an oily voice that matched his skin in a disturbing and repulsive way.

Then it hit her as if she'd been punched in the stomach, and she immediately felt beads of cold sweat running down the back of her neck.

'What's the year?' Hermione said quickly, afraid of what the answer would be.

'The year,' he repeated brusquely. 'Are you mad girl, or are you just trying to waste my time with your pointless questions?'

'Just tell me, please.'

'If you're that dim-witted, it's 1977.'

Hermione's head began ringing, how could this be possible without a Time-Turner? The painting must have been some form of portal and now - now she was staring into the face of her seventeen year-old Potions master. When was she going to go back, how was she going to go back ... dim-witted?

'Hello? Hello!'

She looked back up at him warily, coming out of what must have been a shocked daze. 'S-sorry, what?' she answered shakily.

'I said, are you new?' Snape repeated in an agitated tone.

'Er, yes,' she lied. She felt wobbly, like her knees were going to buckle at any given moment. Snape seemed to notice, and was looking rather amused. She backed against the wall for support, trying to control her now rapid breathing. This wasn't like her, Hermione Granger never panicked.

'Well, I'm glad we met,' he cooed, and she blindly felt him move closer towards her. 'What did you say your name was?'

His nose was now barely an inch from hers, she could see the grease secreting from it; throwing up didn't sound like a bad option. Oh, was this some sort of horrible nightmare? Whatever drugs she was on - she didn't like them. Fuck, she was never drinking pumpkin juice again. She tried to edge across the wall out of Snape's reach but before she could move an inch, he shot both of his hands either side of her against the wall, blocking her.

'Are you going to answer me?' he whispered icily and Hermione felt shivers run down her spine - not the good ones. He leaned his head in even further and oh God, was about to attempt to kiss her when -

'Get off her, Snivellus!' demanded a voice and Snape immediately sprung away, much to Hermione's immense relief.

'What do you want?' he snarled, menace in his eyes.

'I want you to get your greasy face as far away from her as possible,' the voice, a male's voice, said again.

He was now walking closer towards them and Hermione's stomach gave a small lurch. This boy, she mused, looked to be around seventeen as well, and he was not bad looking - not bad looking at all. His thick chocolate-brown hair fell untidily over his face; it looked like it could use a cut but really, the messy look suited him. He was wearing faded Gryffindor robes and had fair skin with intense dark brown eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe. He was tall and had an air of calmness about him which couldn't help but make Hermione relax a little, despite the circumstances.

'And since when do I take orders from a Gryffindor?' Snape said through gritted teeth.

'Don't pull that one on me Snape. Get out of my sight before I fetch Dumbledore.'

Hermione watched as Snape, seemingly unable to produce a better argument, gave a grunt of fury, nodded his head and stormed off.

'Are you all right?'

Hermione turned around to face the boy who had stopped Snape from doing something unbearable to her. Those penetrating eyes displayed concern. Now that she thought about it, he looked oddly familiar.

'Y-yes, yes I'm fine ... thanks to you,' she said. Her head was still ringing and she felt her eyes inevitably well up as she recalled her current situation.

'Oh no, don't cry,' the boy said in a sensitive tone. 'That ugly great idiot isn't worth crying over.'

She gave him a small smile, which he returned. She wanted to tell him that she had just come out of her own time and was scared to death that she wouldn't be able to get back, but it didn't really seem like the appropriate thing to say unless she wanted him to believe she was stark raving mad. This wasn't something straightforward like the Time-Turner she had in third year, where she could take herself back, or forward, to where she was supposed to be in an instant. No, time was something delicate, not to be messed around with, and if she did one little thing wrong, she could end up changing the future in severe ways. She had learnt that much.

'Are you ... a new student?' he asked. 'I don't believe I've seen you around before.'

'Erm, that's right, I'm new,' she told him, unable to think of anything better to say. 'I ... er, I got lost.'

'Yeah, it's a big school,' he consented, looking up at the high castle roof and grinning. 'You'll get used to it soon enough though.'

She smiled and nodded. His eyes moved to her clothing. 'What odd robes you have,' he remarked, looking at them with intrigue.

Hermione blinked and looked down at them herself. They were quite different from the old ones; they had marron lining the inside instead of just black, with a smaller and less vivid emblem, and a more fitted cut. They were also several inches shorter.

'Yes,' she said, giving a tense laugh. 'It's a - a new design.'

'Oh?' he said, raising his eyebrows slightly. 'Well, seeing as you're in Gryffindor, I can show you back to the common room if you like. Just for future reference - you're not really supposed to be wandering the corridors at this time of night, but I suppose I can't talk. What do you say?'

She scratched her head; she had to think about this seriously. It was awfully tempting to follow him, try to get a good night's sleep and maybe this would all end up being a nightmare. But Hermione knew what she had to do first and foremost.

'Actually,' she said, 'I was looking for Professor Dumbledore's office. He is the headmaster, isn't he?'

Hermione wasn't religious, but she prayed in that short moment of desperation with a new awakened zeal. Dumbledore had to be there, he just had to.

'Oh, right,' the boy muttered, a little put out. He quickly straightened up. 'Follow the corridor to your left and you'll see a large statue of a griffin. The password's chocolate frog.'

She thought she saw the faintest ounce of disappointment on his face, although it disappeared as quickly as it came. She was too relieved to care.

'Thanks, I'll see you around then,' Hermione said as she began to walk away.

'Wait!' he called. She spun around, as he caught up to her. 'You didn't tell me your name.'

She was about to say Hermione Granger, but being the quick thinker that she was, realized that it could be dangerous if people knew who she was.

'Isabelle,' she said. 'Isabelle Johnston.'

It was her mother's name. And considering that her mother was indeed a Muggle and not associated with the Wizarding World whatsoever, Hermione didn't feel this could have any great effect on the future.

'Isabelle,' he repeated under his breath. 'I'll remember that.'

She turned away and made her way to the statue of the griffin - Dumbledore's office. 'Damn,' she murmured to herself. 'I forgot to get his name. Chocolate Frog.'

The statue curved out to reveal an ascending staircase. She hopped onto the steps and before long found herself outside Dumbledore's familiar office door - it hadn't changed. She reached her hand up to knock but before she touched it, the door opened and she was peering into the younger face of Albus Dumbledore; apart from a few wrinkles missing, he looked no different.

'Hello, Miss Granger. I've been expecting you,' he said. His eyes were sparkling as they so often would in the future.

'What? I mean, you have?'

'How about you come in and take a seat.' He held the door open and motioned towards an armchair in front of his desk. Hermione confusedly took a seat, placing her hands in her lap uneasily.

Hermione was just as mesmerized by Dumbledore's large, circular office in the past as she was in the future. In one way it looked the same; littered with many interesting gadgets that Hermione had read about in one book or another, the walls decorated with portraits of old headmasters and mistresses. But, there was the odd thing she hadn't seen before, such as a furry creature that seemed to be sleeping peacefully on his desk.

It was one of the most adorable things she had ever seen and as it snorted in its sleep, she instantly felt her heart melt. Hermione would have originally thought it to be a baby goat, but as she studied it closer, she noticed that its ears were shaped like large butterflies and its white fur looked as if it had been scattered with glitter. The coat was shimmering in the dim light of the room.

'Ah,' said Dumbledore, following her gaze. 'I see you've taken an interest in a birthday present I got from my late cousin Françoise who lives in France. Its name is, ironically Frances.'

'What a darling,' Hermione said, looking at the creature fondly. 'Frances. Wake up Frances.'

'It might be wise not to - to wake him,' Dumbledore began, but was too late.

Frances' eyes popped open and he raised his head at Hermione, who wanted to cradle him in her arms like a baby.

'I want your liver,' the goat said defiantly. Hermione, although taken aback, was somewhat amused, but the evil glistening of the small creature's eyes unnerved her a little.

She reached out a hand to pat it and yelped as it nipped at her finger rather painfully. 'Hey!' she said angrily.

'Don't touch me with that skeletal hand you vulgar beast!' it snapped.

'Time for a nap, Frances,' Dumbledore said, taking a purple pouch out of a drawer.

'Your ugly face makes me want to die a slow, painful death, Doublewhor -' It trailed off as Dumbledore sprinkled a pinch of black powder from the pouch into the little goat's eyes. With a sneeze, the creature fell asleep instantly.

Hermione looked at Dumbledore, then at the goat, then back at Dumbledore again with her mouth wide open.

'It's called a Biatcheth,' he explained. 'Charming little creatures. Their aim is, generally, to insult anybody who happens to lie in close proximity - they're quite fun at parties.'

Hermione closed her mouth and raised an eyebrow - hadn't she read something about these creatures becoming illegal some time in the 80's? She didn't have time to finish the thought albeit.

'Now,' Dumbledore said, taking a seat behind his desk. 'Perhaps we should get back to the problem at hand. I'm sure this is a very baffling time for you and that you have a lot of questions which, of course, is entirely understandable. However, I ask that you let me explain something to you first and then you may ask whatever you wish.'

She nodded, taking in a large breath. Dumbledore placed his arms on the polished wooden desk and looked closely at her through his half-moon spectacles.

'Time, as I'm sure you know, is a greatly intricate phenomenon. Through my years and for my years to come, I've studied the philosophy of time a great deal and have discovered something.' He cleared his throat bracingly. 'Sometimes, we lose things.'

Sometimes, we lose things. Hermione repeated over in her mind. Didn't see that one coming.

'I don't mean physical things, such as objects, although occasionally what we've lost hides within specific materials. What I'm talking about is when we lose something that is so important for our being, that when we no longer hold possession of it, it cuts deep into our very souls without us realizing.' He paused and took a prolonged sip out of a steaming cup.

'Would you like some hot chocolate?' he asked politely.

Hermione shook her head and he went on.

'Now, Hermione, it is apparent that this has happened to you. You have lost something in your future and it just so happens that to find it, you must come back to the past. I don't know what it is, but I assure you that once you find what you've mislaid, you will immediately return to your own time. And don't fear,' he added as Hermione opened her mouth; she became panicky at the thought of being stuck here for ten years and returning to find that everyone had forgotten her. 'No matter how much time passes while you are here, you will return to the exact moment that you were transported.'

Hermione stared at him, crestfallen. There were so many things she didn't understand and this wasn't a usual occurrence for her.

'But ... Professor,' she said uncertainly. 'What if I don't find what I've lost?'

He paused, appearing deep in thought. 'If if's and but's were lollies and nuts ...'

'PROFESSOR!' she yelled anxiously, ceasing the Headmaster's singsong.

He looked at her. 'You will find it,' he said finally.

'And um, sir?' she said, recovering from Dumbledore's childish tune. 'What did that painting have to do with all this?'

Dumbledore smiled. 'Ah yes, the painting.

The painting Time is the means for people to find what they've lost. You see, it seeks out the people. It is a very rare thing to happen Miss Granger I assure you, but it does and it did.'

'But how come I've never seen it before?'

'It can only be viewed by those who it seeks.'

'Oh ...' she said, biting her lip.

He nodded. 'Is there anything else you would like to know?'

Hermione shook her head. She suddenly felt exceedingly tired; her head had stopped ringing though, which could only be a good sign. She wondered what Harry would do in this situation. He was so imprudently stubborn; he would probably grab a pitchfork and a burning haystack, and attempt to go on a witch hunt for Tom Riddle. Ron most likely wouldn't have even thought to come to Dumbledore's office; he'd probably still be running around the corridors with his eyes closed, banging off the walls and trying to wake himself up from whatever dream world he was convinced to be stuck in. Dumbledore seemed to have read her mind; he stood up and escorted her to the door.

'I can imagine how dreadfully weary you must be, time travel as far as this does tend to do that to one. Now, assuming you are still aware of the way to the Gryffindor common room, I trust you can get there yourself. The password is Veritas and the seventh year girls have been informed that a new student will be joining them. They'll look after you.'

She thanked him and stepped outside the door.

'Oh and one more thing,' Dumbledore said, now looking at her very seriously. 'Travelling through time is dangerous and the smallest and most insignificant of things can, in fact, drastically change what happens in the future. Whatever you do, don't tell anybody about anything that happens any later than the present time or, who you really are.'

He paused to let his words sink in, before handing her an after-dinner mint, and bidding her goodnight.

*-*-*

When Hermione arrived into the familiar yet atmospherically different Gryffindor common room, only five people were in there; it must have been awfully late by now. There were four boys sitting around a table laughing, one of them being the boy who she had talked to earlier, and a pretty girl with thick, red hair and brilliant green eyes who was sitting silently in an armchair by the fire, reading.

As each of the boys looked up, Hermione had a startling thought that made the breath catch in her throat. She just about squealed loudly in astonishment, but luckily, Hermione never squealed. Sitting in front of her must be the Marauders! Yes, she was certain. There was James Potter, jet black hair that didn't seem to stay in place and who looked almost exactly like Harry, Sirius who was carelessly handsome and whose smile had not changed a bit, chubby little Peter Pettigrew whose head was too big for his body and ...

'Professor Lupin!' Hermione said out loud, not knowing why she hadn't noticed it before.

'You're back! Wait - what did you say?' Lupin furrowed his brow in confusion.

'Oh drat,' Hermione cursed silently under her breath. 'I mean Remus, Remus Lupin.' She almost laughed at how strange this all was.

'How did you know my name?' he asked.

'Dumbledore told me,' she muttered quickly.

He stood up next to her. 'Let me introduce you to my friends,' he offered.

'Okay.' She lit up.

'This is Sirius,' and Sirius winked at her, 'James,' he grinned assertively, 'and Peter.' Wormtail gave a nervous wave.

'And, since I haven't really introduced myself, I'm Remus, Remus Lupin,' he finished.

Hermione had to try desperately not to continue gaping at the teenage boys she had forever known as men - she felt like she was acting in a nostalgic film. Lupin, who she had seen moments before she had fallen through the painting, looked so much happier, genuinely happy that is. His smile seemed to glow so brightly, lighting up his eyes as grandly as a chandelier. Perhaps it was merely the absence of the great bags that would normally live under his eyes or maybe it was just the carefree simplicity of life in the Voldemort-free days. However, Hermione supposed with a sad sort of feeling that it was due to the fact that he now stood with his three best friends, of which he could no longer do in the future.

James Potter looked so much more like Harry than Hermione ever expected him to, and it was just the little less obvious things that maybe she wouldn't have noticed if she weren't his best friend. For instance, his right leg twitched up and down the way Harry's did when he was excited about something (she expected the Marauders were up to some form of mischief), and he got an almost non-existent dimple when he smiled. His hair looked like it needed a good comb as Harry's always did as it stood out at every angle in black tufts. His skin was pale and luminous yet with a healthily flushed complexion. The only differences were his rectangular glasses as opposed to Harry's round ones and his eyes, which were a rich mocha colour rather than the emerald green that were Harry's.

It was terribly hard for Hermione to restrain herself from strangling Peter Pettigrew. She could tell how much of a ratty little boy he was just by his expression. How he got into Gryffindor she had no idea. If only she could warn James, Sirius or Lupin about him and then maybe ...

No, she thought to herself severely, you aren't allowed to change the past.

Hermione looked at Sirius and instantly felt flashbacks (or flash-forwards) of her fifth year. Sirius bounding around Platform nine and three quarters as a dog, chasing after the train. Sirius's head laughing amongst the flames of the Gryffindor common room. Sirius falling through the veil, never to be seen again. She looked at the ground, willing herself not to cry.

'It's nice to meet all of you, it really is,' said Hermione quietly, her initial brightness dissipating. 'But I should get some sleep.'

'Hey, look, I heard about your run-in with Snivelly,' Sirius said, standing up and looking at her with sudden concern. 'Snape, I mean.' He stole a half-grin at James. 'Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know, as much as I hate the arse - he wouldn't have had the guts to actually do anything to you. He was probably just trying to scare you into a date, or something.' His face contorted in repulsion.

'It's the only thing that works for him,' James added offhandedly, mimicking Sirius's expression. 'Oh wait, it doesn't work for him. Snape couldn't get laid if he was the only bloke left on earth with trillions of women, and the whole human race was threatening to die out.'

Hermione smiled sadly. 'Thanks,' she murmured, feeling a tinge better even though her unease ran far deeper than anything Snape could have done.

Two girls suddenly emerged through the portrait hole. One was very tall, very slim, and very blonde.

'Hi Sirius,' she purred with a flashy smile, running her hand seductively along his shoulder as she passed him.

'Hayley,' he nodded without looking at her as she and her friend went up to the girls' dormitories, giggling madly.

James and Remus snorted as Sirius sank back into his chair, a dazed look about him. Peter looked awed.

A throat cleared, breaking the silence. 'Well, we have a lovely bed waiting for you upstairs.' Hermione raised her head to see the red-headed girl standing there unabashed, her book closed under her arm. 'Dumbledore's had your belongings sent up there too.' She smiled. 'I'm Lily by the way. I'm also in seventh year.'

Hermione found it hard to believe she was now actually looking into the face of Harry's mother; if only he could be there.

'Ah, Evans,' said James with a luculent smirk. 'Is there a lovely bed waiting upstairs for me too?'

Lily gave James a murderous look. 'Drop dead, troll breath.'

Sirius and Lupin burst out laughing as James went a deep shade of red. 'Thanks lads,' he said angrily. 'Great to have your support.'

Lily turned back to Hermione and shook her head. 'Just ignore them,' she said, taking Hermione by the arm and leading her up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, the laughter fading.

Hermione wondered what Lily might say if she ever told her that she was going to marry James.