Don't Repeat History

Don't Repeat History

By Clairvoyant Snake

Chapter 9~2^nd of September, 1942

...She blushed in resignation and sighed with relief. At least someone could do the work for her, and she only now needed a reason to help her teachers as they squandered useless theories about Time-Turners; After all, it was helpful that Hermione read and remembered the working theories of said 'Year' Travelers, and by golly, she was thankful of her thirst for knowledge, Harry and Ron be damned. She would help, and even point out the right way about going to make the Time-Turner, even if it killed her.

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Her first class that day was incidentally with Professor Dumbledore, and ten minutes before the class was to begin, he had conjured up a bowl of cereal and fruit for Hermione to eat before the other students arrived.

Transfiguration was easy enough for her --during Hermione's time. However, now that she was in the past it was time to find out how the students from that era learned it. She could hardly wait to start, and thus started to wolf down her food at lightening speeds. Dumbledore sat at his front desk, not paying much attention to the girl, but simply admiring his many gadgets that lay across the tabletop. One was a sneakoscope, a shiny silver one, with little wires that wrapped around it, giving the appearance of frayed wires of a telephone hook.

It surprised her, that the school and everyone else had yet to adapt Muggle objects to be used on Hogwarts' grounds, but she knew it was a difficult feat to accomplish. With her last mouthful of Frosted Quidditch Brooms TM, Hermione set the spoon down and Dumbledore, without raising an eye flicked his wand to make the evidence of breakfast disappear.

If Hermione were any other person, she would have failed to realize the importance of the sneakoscope. For one, it ensured her trust to Dumbledore, and that was one necessary point in striving for his help. Another good thing was that it kept her from breaking her promise to Dumbledore by revealing too much about the future. He knew that she was living through a war, a magical one, and he knew that a villain, a dark wizard, was on the loose. He did not know who the dark wizard was specifically, but Dumbledore was definitely not naive to the point of obliviousness that he usually had as a façade.

Hermione cleared her throat cautiously before speaking.

"Professor Dumbledore sir, how long do you think it'll take for you and Professor McGonagall to come up with this? And is there any possible way for me to help? I know I can, you see, I've read up on Time-Turners and in this book called -"

"Hush child. All will come to you as soon as it's proper, do not worry."

Why oh why does everything he say have to be so goddamned cryptic? She mentally rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Proper? What is proper to you?" she dared ask him with a defiant tone in her voice that she never knew existed.

He sighed deeply, "Miss Granger, Proper is when, where, what, and who helps you to find your way back home. I'm also not promising a miracle in the first few months, but we'll see. And do not speak the name of books that are from your time. If its knowledge you seek, then seek it, however do not make the mistake by revealing it to the past. That would not be wise."

Hermione nodded curtly and went back to staring around the room. After five minutes, the students started to pour in, some were Gryffindors, and others Slytherins. Some things will never change...

Tom walked into the room and made way for the chair to her right. He sent her a quizzical look, and a raise of his black eyebrows that made her wonder just why he gave such a high and mighty damn about her. It wasn't as if he really knew her all that well, and just because of a few kisses, she worried he was taking this all a bit too serious.

"Where were you?" he asked, although he already knew where she was. He wanted to make sure she wasn't lying to him. But of course she didn't, lucky her, "I was with Professor Dumbledore, preparing for class. I told him I knew of most the curriculum, you see at my old school we are taught things ahead of Hogwarts; but that doesn't mean I'm an expert at it." Half of it was lie, but no need to clarify for him. Tom handed her a muffin wrapped in a napkin as he sat, and she smiled slightly at this most uncommon behavior.

"Oh, well that means you'll have to help me out with this class then. I'm not all that good at it," he lied, and she could tell. He smirked slightly, probably thinking he could force her to spend time with him, without her even realizing it. Ha! She thought, Hermione was good at this game.

"Of course, but Tom, you'll forgive me if I don't show up in your rooms tonight?"

She had taken him off guard and his bulging eyes showed it. My turn to smirk, she thought smugly. He gulped in air before attempting to talk again. Such forwardness was unheard of in this time, and he of course was no exception to not having heard such talk before. Poor sod, she looked to the ceiling as she sent her sympathies to the shocked man next to her.

"I meant not my rooms, but of course you will have other things to at-tend to." He stutters so beautifully, she thought amusedly. He flipped a stray black hair behind his face and chanced a glance at her before the lesson started.

"But if you were to show up in my rooms at any other time, I wouldn't mind." He truly, utterly took her by surprise now. Surely, he couldn't have recovered that quickly? Hermione couldn't answer this baffling statement, for Professor Dumbledore had just begun to rise off his seat to take roll call. Instead, to assuage her need to talk back, was attended to by her delicious blue-berry muffin that her 'attacker' had so kindly bestowed upon her. She was still full from the cereal, but that mattered very little to her at the moment.

"Good?" he whispered near her ear. She nodded and turned to the quill, parchment, and book that was lent to her by Dumbledore. She shivered from the feel of his breath, cool against her heated ears.

"Good morning class, and welcome to another wonderful year of Transfigurations. This year is your Sixth, and as such, I will be teaching you how to transfigure many more difficult things than before. Today we will begin by taking a feather and changing it into the original bird that gave the feather. It will only last a total of twenty-four hours, but for a day you'll have yourself a familiar! Now, take out your quills and copy down this..."

Easy, Hermione thought, easy and a piece of cake while I'm at it. This is so simple! Why didn't they push up the skill level earlier on? Why with my year?

Her answer was as such that her fellow classmates could barely mutter the ancient Latin that was instructed of them. That was the problem. Perhaps they didn't put as much emphasis on certain aspects of learning back then? Or maybe it wasn't exactly recognized...

She raised a hand, shot straight up into the air as she did in Professor Snape's class five years ago to the day.

"Yes, Tori?"

She startled, but quickly recovered, if I am to ever be used to this name, I better get started NOW.

"I was wondering if we could cover the pronunciation of all the Latin terms prior learning to use them," now came the part that would make her pride lowered, "I think I need help in pronouncing some of these terms." The only reason she said so, was because half the class was afraid to tell the Professor to his face.

Professor Dumbledore widened his eyes, noticed the sneakoscope went off with a barely noticeable whirr and quickly he realized part of it was the truth. Now he traveled, table by table and corrected everyone until he reached her table with Tom.

"Mr. Riddle, are you having problems as well?" he asked. Tom raised his eyes, lowered and swish-flicked his dark wand.

His bird was gorgeous, with black and brown plumage that shimmered with its natural bird-oil sheen.

"Very well, Mr. Riddle. Excellent wand work." Professor Dumbledore now turned to her. She nervously flubbed up on her words and made sure Tom noticed that she was having problems. Always nice to know that he doesn't know just how very good I am at the subject.

Hermione spent the hour under the careful eye of Professor Dumbledore, and her newfound 'tutor' -Tom.

**

The day continued on, as she went to each of her new classes with Tom as her 'guide', and she ventured as far as to say that the day went well after all.

Gods, I have *got* to go to the loo! How in hell do I get rid of Tom?

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

**

"Hullo? Anyone in here?" Hermione called out, wondering if Myrtle would recognize her because ghosts could travel through time-lines and time itself played no real barrier to them.

"H-hullo? W-who are you? Oh! The new girl!"

Hermione whipped around quickly, upon hearing that familiar squeaky, trembling voice that belonged to the one and only Myrtle.

Funny thing was, she, as in Myrtle, was not a ghost any longer. In fact, she looked quite solid to Hermione. Her hair was scraggly as usual, that much had not changed, nor had her ridiculously huge glasses and their horrid rims. Instead of open moaning, however, Myrtle just openly cried.

She was busy wiping away tears when Hermione had came into the bathroom, leaving Tom outside the doors.

"M-Myrtle? Is that you?" Hermione's eyes were wide with shock, the girl standing before her was so different from the one she knew in her time. She knew it shouldn't have come as such a shock, but it did nonetheless.

"How do you know my name? Ohhh I see how it is...you found out from those foul mouthed girls who always talk about me-eee!" A wail came out of her mouth at the thought that even the new girl knew about her depression. Hermione laid a comforting palm on Myrtle's shoulder, "No, those girls didn't tell me your name. I can't exactly say how I knew your name...maybe I heard it in the hallways?" That was the wrong thing to say. "Ohhhh..." another wail, "everyone's talking about me now?" Hermione frowned and removed her hand slowly.

Wearily, Hermione asked Myrtle which toilets worked and which didn't. Her answer was a raised eyebrow from a tear-streaked Myrtle. "Works? Everything works...."

Hermione felt like slapping herself on her forehead...of course everything works now, Myrtle's not crying her tears into the plumbing now.

She left the crying girl, not wanting to stay there any longer than she already had. Hermione felt like if she said any more her secret would come out. Too risky.

After using the facilities, she quietly left Myrtle and turned the corner not expecting the warm body to be waiting there for her to see. Or two...

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A/N: It took SO long, I know. I've been up to my knees in Real Life problems and couldn't keep up with the fandom. Slowly but surely I'm making my way back in. Thanks to everyone that has reviewed me....I feel like a failure at updating, but I promise to try my hardest. 'Life is still tough, but a passion shall forego all that and beyond...'