The Corpse behind the Hourglass

One short car ride and one long train ride later, Hermione and Harry were standing out on the old quidditch field, milling around and talking to old friends.

Dumbledore spotted them and came right over. He looked even older than Hermione had remembered him, but his eyes were twinkling as much as ever.

"Well well. Hermione and Harry. Or should I say Mrs. and Mr. Potter now? With a baby already on the way.." He grinned at Hermione's stomach. "May I?"

Hermione nodded and he put his hand on her belly. Dumbledor chuckled as he felt the baby kick. "It's going to be one strong little tyke, alright. I'll inform Proffesor McGonagall immediately that we've got a future Gryffindor beater in the making."

Harry smiled. " With its mom's smarts and its dad's quidditch skills, it'll be quite the kid."

Something about what he said just didn't sound right. As if all there was to Hermione was her smarts. Hmph.

"It'll be quite a kid even if it comes out covered in blue polka dots and ends up in Hufflepuff." Hermione patted her belly fondly.

Dumbledore's eyes fairly danced. "Aha, so Hufflepuff is the house your hoping for? I had best go tell Proffesor McGonagall so she can stop rubbing her hands together and dreaming of quidditch championships."

As if she had heard the sound of her name, McGonagall appeared by Dumbledore's side. She looked rather strange without her usual glasses perched severely on the end of her nose.

"That child will NOT be in Hufflepuff. I'll stomp on that old hat with my bare feet if I have to. Gryffindor hasn't won a single bloody match since when you left."

Hermione laughed out loud at the teacher's venomence. "We'll see. It's still a bit early, don't you think? The child's not even in diapers yet, much less born."

McGonagall sighed. "I at least hope the teams take turns flattening us. I don't think I could put up with eleven more years of Snape's boasting."

Dumbledor looked around at all of the people simply wandering about, talking animatedly with each other and drinking glasses of pumpkin juice. "You two certainly didn't come to waste your time talking to an old man like me. Go catch up with your friends."

"You aren't that old! Hmph. You make it sound like you are one step away from taking a nap in the grass." McGonagall gave Dumbledore her famous glare, somehow possible even with her lack of glasses.

"Actually, that's just what I was planning on doing. On a lovely day like this one, why not?"

McGonagall just shook her head. "I give up! "

She turned to Harry and Hermione. "You two should go mingle some. I think I saw Ron over by the punch bowl, and I've already talked to Neville. He just arrived." She frowned. "Got held up on the train because he forgot his Wizard's license, silly boy."

"Ron's here??" Harry asked. He gave a tug on Hermione's arm. "C'mon Herm, let's go find him."

Both of their steps quickened as they neared a red haired young man who was handing the black haired woman at his side a glass of punch.

"That must be him and Lavender," whispered Hermione to Harry. "I heard they just started dating.."

Nothing much had changed, reflected Hermione as she and Harry talked with Ron and Lavender. Neville was venturing into the local pond with his trousers pulled up.. looking for Trevor as usual. Fred was running into several people and causing countless cups of pumpkin juice and butter beer to overturn. Each time he ran into another peeved couple, his own little toddler, who was riding on Fred's back and covering Fred's eyes with his small hands, gave a peal of laughter. With mischief in his eyes and countless freckles, the little kid looked the spitting image of Fred.

George was laughing enough to rival the toddler as Fred ran into the punch bowl , overturning it and causing orange pumpkin juice to spread all over his white shirt. Both twins came over when they spotted Lavender, Hermione, Harry, and Ron standing in a group.

"Hey guys!"

Fred's son rapped on his head hard with a stick.

"Ouch.Ouch.Ouch.Tommy..geroff!Ugh. Alicia? Can you take this ball of energy for a second?"

"I can get off on my own. I no needs help!" announced Tommy self- importantly. He leaped over his father's shoulders in a manner similiar to a frog and landed on his bottom in the grass.

Alicia took one look at him and picked him up immediately. "Fred,I told you to watch him! Not let him go around jumping off tables. He could have hurt himself!"

"That wasn't a table he jumped off," Fred groaned. "That was my back."

"And that little munchkin right there, ladies and gentlemen, is why I intend to stay single for a very long time," said George.

" Wish I could have done the same. Hmph. Kids today. We were never that rowdy when we were children," said Fred.

Ron, Harry, Lavender, and Hermione all coughed loudly into their respective glasses.

"They don't even come up with original ways to torture adults anymore," George added solemnly, shaking his head.

"Too true. Ah, the fond memories I have of sticking Eerie Edwin's Best Explosives in the faculty toilets. Now that was original!"

"Sure. The first thousand times you did it." Ron snickered. "After that, it began to get sort of old, " said Ron.

"It did not!" Fred and George both defended themselves. Fred continued, "We didn't just stick bombs in toilets anyway."

"Yeah. Sometimes we put Perunia's Laxitive Prunes in the fruit salad at dinner first," George said.

"More victims that way." Fred smiled dreamily.

"Harry, when you have your kid, you'll remember to bring him over to our joke shop sometime, won't you?" questioned George.

"We have to have someone to pass our grand tradition of mischief making down to," Fred said.

"Oh, if he doesn't remember, I will..to keep you and any tongue-toffees both far, far away from my child." Hermione grinned at both George's and Fred's crestfallen faces. "Oh for goodness sakes, you "mischief makers" of all people should know when I'm kidding!"

* * * * *

It was now ten thirty at night. Hermione was having the time of her life and half wished she could be back at Hogwarts as a student herself. She sat at the Gryffindor Great Hall table, feeling full and content from swallowing what seemed like gallons of butterbeer and from eating another one of Hogwart's fabulous dinners.

"Ahem."

" AHEM."

Dumbledore cleared his throat noisily several times, but the adults present for the reunion combined with the usual students that went to Hogwarts were all chatting far too loud for anything he said to be audible. Five sets of toddlers could be heard running rampant underneath the tablecloths lead by a chubby red haired bloke Hermione had no doubt was Tommy.

"AHHHHEM."

Still the audience continued talking, unaware of Dumbledore. It was at that exact moment Tommy ran out from under the table after another toddler..and tripped over an untied shoelace. Not bothering to tie it, he simply grabbed at the first thing he saw to keep him upright. The tablecloth. With a clatter, a silver plate and goblet crashed to the floor.

The noise provided just the entrance Dumbledor needed. Everyone's attention caught at last, he began his speech.

"Well, I certainly don't want to detract from all this jibber jabber, so I only have a few comments to make. First, it seems like most of you have made it here. Except for one, of course."

There was a silence throughout the length of the Great Hall, if only for a short millisecond. Everyone knew exactly who the one person that was absent was.

"Second, thanks to Proffessor Snape for the brave rescuing of a certain toad's near drowning in our punch bowl."

There was the loud sound of applause, Particularly from Neville, who was beaming as Trevor croaked loudly from his shoulder. The sound of laughter also abounded from those that remembered just how Proffessor Snape had "rescued" Trevor.

"Rescued?Nearly swallowed is more like it" whispered Ron in Hermione's ear.

Snape muttered something in angry tones under his breath before going back to eating his peice of cake.

"And Third, enjoy yourselves!!"

Another round of applause, and the talking commenced once again.

It was early in the morning by the time everyone had finally left the banquet at Hogwart's Great Hall in favor of getting a good sleep. Quite a few yawns could be heard as the throng of people streamed out, reminicing about when they had been students.

When they reached their rooms, Harry just threw himself down on the bed, still in his clothes. He nearly fell asleep right then and there. Hermione, however, was not tired in the slightest.

She had bigger plans. Sure, she had been allowed in parts of the restricted library..but never in the whole thing. Tonight was her chance.

She told Harry as much. "You go ahead and sleep, I'm just going to go catch up on some reading in the library."

Harry put his arm around her. "Are you sure you're going to be okay going down all those dark stairs so late at night?I don't want little Charles to get hurt..."

"It's Aerin!"

"It is now?" Harry gave a big yawn. "This must be the twentieth time you've changed the name."

Hermione sighed. " I want the baby to have a name that means something, not a name that its parents picked on the spur of the moment."

" Why don't I just cover your eyes, spin you around, and then make you point to a name in the baby book? It would be much simpler."

"Not unless you want to end up with a baby named Alfalfa" retorted Hermione. "Now don't worry, I'll only stay downstairs for a little bit and then be back up."

Harry was already halfway to sleep and didn't hear a word she said. "See you in the morning then," he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth as he sunk deeper into his feather pillow.

Hermione giggled to herself like a schoolgirl as she scanned the covers of various books. "Spells For The Most Advanced Spellcaster" read the title of a small blue book jammed between "Diabolical Disfigurement Charms Of the Middle Ages" and "The Practical Guide to Vanquishing Vampires."

It wasn't the title that caught Hermione's interest, though, it was the author's name, written on the binding in silver letters. Nicholas Flannel. No wonder it was in the restricted section. The book was priceless. She hadn't known they had anything of his.

Settling herself into a comfy velvet armchair, Hermione balanced the book on her knees and turned to the title page.

"To my darling wife- for putting up with all of my wild experiments and theories. And to my best friend, Dumbledore-for getting them published."

Nicholas Flannel. 1860.

Dumbledore? Hermione's brow furrowed. But he couldn't have been alive in 1860-not even if he was very, very ancient. It just wasn't possible-was it?

She flipped to the first spell, her interest piqued. The words were hard to read, they were so spiderylike and all squashed together. To make them easier, Hermione began to sound them out loud. It wouldn't hurt to do so..everyone knew spells could only be activated if you had a wand, right?

"Adveruis Antimus Catrom.." she finished under her breath. She read a tiny subscript on the page. "Oh, I have to add my name. Well, alright. Hermione."

"What the-??"

That was all Hermione managed to get out of her mouth before the words in the book and indeed, the world around her, began to swirl into a nausating mess of colors.

All the times that had ever been,or would be, were available through that particular spell. And Hermione had chosen one of them. Which one remained to be seen.

Not a thing stayed behind to show she had been there- except for a lone blue book lying halfway open on a chair. A detail that Harry, along with Ron and Dumbledore at his side- did not fail to notice as he sank into the same chair his wife had occupied a mere ten hours before.

* * * * *

Wormtail, reading along out of a small book, faultered. As if Voldemort in dangerous temperment wasn't enough to inspire a sense of caution, being in front of an open grave trying to raise the dead certainly was.

And that was precisely what Wormtail was in the middle of doing-or trying to do. It was rather hard when rain was falling at a steady rate down upon the book and his face, smudging the words and causing his glasses to be rendered sadly unusable at best.

You would think one as mastered in the dark arts as Lord Voldemort would be able to easily bring back to life whatever follower he chose, but it wasn't so simple. Voldemort was once again, not at his highest source of power-thanks to that damn Harry Potter-why, he and his friends probably thought Voldemort was dead. Fools. They should know better. Much better.

But then, so should Wormtail. Beyond pitiful excuse for a sniveling human being. Had he, Voldemort really lost so much power that his followers had been reduced to the quality of this wretch?

The only two not in Askaban for their deeds were Lucius Malfoy and Wormtail-all the rest had ignored Voldemort, seeing he was weak. They had taken their own ventures into the dark arts, each hoping to reclaim the throne of power and fear they were sure he would vanquish all too soon.

That was why he had to reserrect Draco Malfoy. It was not a matter of choice. Draco Malfoy had been subject to his Voldemort's lethal use of magic before-the reason he was now lying in his grave. Stupid mistake. It was meant for that Harry Potter, not the most promising to be of all his death eaters and what was once legions of followers.

But what was done was done and raising Draco Malfoy took a powerful spell not to be worked by Voldemort's hand. Could not be. For Voldemort had killed him. The one who murders can not bring that same murdered being back to life. No, it had to be someone else.

Which was why Voldemort was waiting impatiently in the cold, dark cemetery while Wormtail stumbled, half out of fright, half out of being unable to see, over the letters inscribed in the book.

"Adveruis Antimus Ca-ca-tru-trom," mumbled Wormtail. "Draco" he added quickly upon seeing Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy's glares.

Their glares was the least of their wrath he would face that night. For instead of simply reviving the boy, Wormtail had sent him back to the past.

Lucius was furious, yelling at Wormtail over the gusts of wind and beating him over the head with the heavy book.

Voldemort however, was the calm before the storm. Oh, Wormtail would be punished alright..but what he had done was not the worst of all things. In fact, if it had been made intentionally, it would have been quite genius. Send the boy back to his past and give him a chance to live. He might avert the second death awaiting him in the past altogether.

Voldemort would simply have to hold on a little longer and wait patiently until the boy came back. Or did not come back at all. That wait would be much easier thanks to what he planned to do to Wormtail.

After all, Voldemort was a strong man, but strength was not eternal...

there was a price to pay for it.......

always death...

..but not from Voldemort. Only other's deaths would pay for his strength. Wormtail's would be a good start.