The Corpse behind the Hourglass

One last thing on this super long a/n:Sean Biggerstaff as Oliver Wood..*drool*. On the other hand, the guy who plays Draco Malfoy just, I don't know-doesn't look quite right in his part-though he has the personality down to a T.
Thank you to each reviewer!!Also, I apologize for any seemingly offishness(is that a word?No. Probably not.) in the character of Draco. I am having a hard time getting his personality down, so any tips are welcome...

"Professor McGonagall, go alert the rest of the staff and the others from the reunion. Tell them to begin a search right away."

"Of course, Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and left the library without a backward glance. The shutting of the door resounded in the silence that followed. Silence that was a result of the absolute shock that went around from Ron to Harry. Only Dumbledore looked completely composed, as if this was the sort of thing that happened every day.

It was none other than him that finally spoke up. "Perhaps Mrs. Potter is still here, looking for another book."

Ron grasped the shred of hope Dumbledore had provided and clung to it tenaciously.

"Or maybe you misunderstood Hermione when she told you where she was going, Harry. I mean, according to you, she came down here at what? Three in the morning? "

"No," said Harry, a gloomy conviction to his words. "I understood her perfectly."

He walked over to a large chair, moving the book that had been lying there so he could sit down. Once he had, Harry immediately sprang right back up. The chair was warm, as if it had been occupied not long before.

"Hermione was here. Right here, I swear it," said Harry to both Ron and Dumbledore.

Ron pointed to the book Harry had put on the table. "Harry? Do you think she tried to perform a spell from that or something?"

Harry was about to answer, but Dumbledore did that for him. "I hardly think Mrs. Potter would be the type to do something so foolhardy."

He agreed with Dumbledore..but still...

Harry picked up the book and flipped through its pages before shaking his head and slamming the book shut in frusteration.

"I can't figure it out. Its all jumbled up words. Might as well be in hieroglyphics. If Hermione did a spell, we'll never know which one, or how to get her back."

"I wouldn't give up so easily if I were you. Mr. Weasley is head of the International Association of Foreign Languages. Perhaps that position can be put to some use? " asked Dumbledore, who still didn't look at all concerned about Hermione's sudden dissapearance.

Ron snapped his fingers. "Of course! Harry, hand it over. Don't worry. I know every language there is. We'll figure out what happened to Hermione-or at the very least, what she was reading."

But upon opening the book, Ron bore an expression of confusion and frusteration identical to Harry's. He spent several minutes muttering syllables under his breath, refusing to give up and acknowledge that he couldn't comprehend the symbols.

Harry noticed, however. From the way Ron kept scanning the same page over and over, Harry was sure it wouldn't have mattered one iota if the whole book had been turned upside down..it was still all nonsense.

At last, Ron shook his head in defeat. "I give up. It's just-well, sorry Harry-it's gibberish."

Dumbledore looked sharply at both of them. "Perhaps I could have a look? "

Ron shrugged and handed over the book. "Here you go. Maybe it's in an older language. In which case you, Professor, probably would understand it, no offense."

Dumbledore grinned. "You might as well just call me an old geezer and get it over with."

He took the book from Ron and held it up to his eye level, turning it on its side so that he could better scrutinize the binding and the cover of it. Dumbledore was either a quick reader, or as Harry suspected, he already knew what the book contained and therefor didn't so much as have to give it more than a glance.

Give it more than a glance Dumbledore certainly did not. One cursory look at it, and he set the book back down on the table.

"Nope. I'm afraid I don't understand it either..except for the cover."

"But aren't the cover and the pages in the same writing?," asked Ron curiously.

"Not at all," said Dumbledore. How could Dumbledore know when he hadn't so much as opened the book?, thought Harry again. "The language on the cover is Gamish-used to be fairly well known..back in my day. Naturally means it's all but forgotten now."

"Go on," said Harry. "What's it say?"

"Panacea For Animals: A History of Healing." Dumbledore was very glad that neither Ron nor Harry could decipher the cover-for if they had been able to, they would have found that he was lying outright.

"That sounds pretty ordinary to me," said Ron, his face falling. "Not like the sort of thing that would have spells that would make a person just vanish."

"I'm afraid you're right." Dumbledore's mouth turned slightly upwards. "But never fear. I'm sure there is a clue somewhere as to Mrs. Potter's whereabouts. People just don't vanish without a trace. May I suggest joining Professor McGonagall and the others in their search?"

"Perhaps that's best Harry, " suggested Ron. "Can't do much good here besides stir up the dust."

"Alright then," said Harry.

Dumbledore nodded and began to walk out of the room, but then appeared to change his mind halfway to the door and instead walked back to the table to pick up the book, explaining his actions as he did so.

"I strongly suspect this book isn't useful in your search for Mrs. Potter. However, my suspicions have been known to be wrong from time to time, much as I hate to admit it. It won't hurt to bring this to my office and observe it more closely-see if I can't possibly make sense of these scribbles."

Harry waited until Dumbledore was gone to tell Ron the suspicions of his own.

" Dumbledore knows what's in the book."

"Blimey, you think so?"

"I know so," said Harry. "Or at least, I'm ninety percent positive."

"Last time you were ninety percent positive about anything, it was the shorcut to charm's class, which ended up leading to Snape's office and a month of detention. I'm not sure if that exactly helps to convince me," pointed out Ron. "Anyway, even if you're right and Dumbledore does know the book's contents, why wouldn't he tell us?"

* * * * *

The sight of Mad-eyed Moody was enough to make a person jump ten feet into the air with surprise even in the best of situations. Dumbledore, to his credit, upon entering his office and seeing Mad-eyed Moody appear out of thin air next to his fireplace, didn't so much as blink.

"You don't mind my dropping in?"

"Not at all, Moody. You're just the person I was waiting to see."

"No need to say a word, Albus. I know exactly why. The same reason I wanted to see you, I don't doubt."

"Why don't we sit down and then talk? Your tales are always so long and I need to rest my feet. I fear if I stood, they would give way beneath me after awhile."

Dumbledore sank into an armchair and beckoned for Moody to take a seat on a pouf. This Moody did, perched on the very edge of the poof, body tensed, looking as if he expected to have to spring back up again at any moment.

"Ahh. Much better. Now Moody, tell me. What reason?"

"Magic," stated Moody simply. "I could smell it."

Dumbledore setlled himself back more comfortably in his chair. "Hogwarts is steeped in magic. You might want to be a bit more specific."

"You know very well what magic. THE magic. Oh alright, THAT spell, if you will. It was used some two hours ago. Twice."

Dumbledore sighed. "I thought as much."

He looked keenly at Moody. "So you pinpointed the location of both times the spell was used to here at Hogwarts? And came to ask me if I knew who would have performed it?"

"Not exactly. One of the spells took place here. Only one. Do you understand what that means?"

"Tell me."

"The other was from Hogsmeade. Which- if there is only one written copy of the spell at Hogwarts as you have said, Albus-would be impossible."

Moody's roaming eye settled on Dumbledore as he awaited an explanation. Dumbledore stroked his beard.

"You come to me with a question-which, I promise, I will answer. But first, I have some things I must tell you about what has been going at Hogwarts. It explains a good deal..and makes things a good deal more confusing."

"You're already confusing me, " said Moody shortly. "So?"

"Do you remember a certain Hermione Granger from the time you taught here?"

"Indeed. Exceptionally bright girl. Why?"

"Because she apparently pulled quite the dissapearing act last night in the library," said Dumbledore.

Moody frowned slightly, making him look even more sinister. "The library of places? You mean?"

"Yes. She left behind only one object. I'll leave it up to you to guess what."

" The book with the spell. You still haven't answered my question, Albus. How could anyone from outside of Hogwarts have used the spell if they only copy of that spell is printed in a book placed here?"

"You know, Moody, I do have secrets, even from you."

"Well, tell then. We're both in a business that doesn't allow for secrets. At least not from each other, anyway."

"Really? Well then, I admit to it. I own socks with bumblebees on them and I wear longjohns to bed."

Moody snorted. "I digress. Maybe a few secrets are best left that way. I meant tell me about the book, not your personal preference in nightwear."

Moody, who had been impatient pretty much through the whole little chat, was now racing the room back and forth. Dumbledore put his feet up on the poof Moody had previously occupied.

"If you want to learn more about the book, you had best go to Hogsmeade and see what there is to find out about the other spell performed."

Moody finally stopped pacing. "You're right. I should apparate out of here. I'm smelling dark magic at Hogsmeade and that's never a good thing. Think I'll go investigate."

"You do that, Moody. Oh, and if you happen to stop by Zonko's, buy me a pack of Fizzling Whizbees, will you?"

Moody gave a sort of harsh grunt that for him amounted to a chuckle. "Albus, you really should just order a shipment of those sweets by owl."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Oh, I already did that..had to stop. The store owl that was delivering them kept on flying sideways from the weight of the package. Don't want to be responsible for permanently maiming the poor animal."

Moody's face twitched. "I'll get you some if I happen to stop there. You'll see what you can find out about Mrs. Potter? And see that she's adequately prepared? "

"I will. Might even follow Mrs. Potter to wherever she went myself."

"You're getting too old for this auror stuff," said Moody. He was known for being blunt, and he wasn't going to stop now. It was the kind of trait that made him enemies-but not in Dumbledore's case.

Dumbledore just laughed, taking no offense whatsoever. "So are you, Moody. Goodday..and good luck."

* * * * *

Christmas was still twenty five days away, but at Hogsmeade one would have thought it was only a mere matter of hours. The town was covered in a deep blanket of snow, but that didn't stop Hogsmeade from putting on a showy display.

Chimneys had been enlarged (so that Santa could fit through them, of course) . This wasn't the only blatant use of magic being used to send out holiday spirit, in a magical town like Hogsmeade, how could it be?

The snowmen in every yard looked normal enough to the casual viewer-until they started moving across the yards to chat with each other. Bells jingled on sleds and sleighs as several people went rushing down the streets and past the stores, shouting exuberantly.

Small multicolored glowing blurs in all shapes and sizes were visible in doorways, above windows, and- in the case of the Hogsmeade road- hung in the air of their own account, twisting and forming a sort of very twinkly map for travelers. It was only upon closer inspection, that you realized the blurs were actually pixies. Thousands of them.

The only problem with the pixies was one similiar to the snowmen. They kept on getting restless and moving every two or so minutes, which meant the formations they were supposed to be forming kept on changing ( a reindeer for no apparent reason, would in one flutter of pixies, change to a sign proclaiming "merry christmas!" )

A bag of Fizzling Whizbees in hand, Mad-eyed Moody stood in the midst of all this, blinking rapidly at the incessant bright pixies that kept on fluttering about, leaving a small trail of pixie dust behind them.

Moody turned away from the houses and shops all snuggled together and looked instead at the pixies in the middle of the road-now forming "Welcome to Hogsmeade: the place for all your holiday shopping."

Moody knew exactly what to do. "Excuse me, the way to the graveyard? "

At his words, the pixies began flying this way and that, arranging themselves until they formed an arrow. Mad-eyed Moody followed that arrow closely as it moved over worn down gate and down a snow covered path until it reached another gate; this one of the imposing iron sort.There, the pixies dispersed and flew back to Hogsmeade's main road to await more travelers.

Moody muttered a few words under his breath and the gate opened wide. Stepping through, he grimaced as a horrible pungent smell greeted his nostrils. As he searched through the graveyard to find the exact source of the smell, Moody noted that whatever cheer and spirit of christmastide were already taking place at Hogsmeade remained completely absent at the graveyard. The place was as bleak and dreary as ever-even the newly fallen snow seemed to have turned a sickly shade of gray.

"Dismal, isn't it?" said a voice from behind Moody. Wheeling around, Moody found himself staring at Cornelius Fudge and an open grave around which a set of ministry of magic workers were toiling to try and fill.

"I've seen worse." Moody's voice didn't make you doubt he had.

Moody then realized where the odor he had een trying to track was coming from-the open grave. Pinching his nostrils with his fingers, he gave another grimace. "Ugh. What is that smell?"

Fudge looked at him, intrigued. "What? I don't smell a thing." Moody gestured to the grave. "Not even the corpse in there?"

Fudge frowned. "There isn't one," he said wearily in the tones of someone who had been repeating that same statement stubbornly for most of the day.

"Really? Explain."

"There was one once, there isn't one now. Nothing to explain."

Moody ceased pinching his nose and inhaled deeply. "Oh yes there is. This place stinks..someone used dark magic here-powerful dark magic."

Fudge whistled. "I'll never get used to the way you aurors can smell magic. Uncanny, even if it is useful. What sort of spell was it? A resurrecting? Perhaps Voldemort trying to get one of his followers of old back?"

Moody shook his head. "No, not that. A time alteration spell."

He knew about the book containing the spell just as Dumbledore and Moody did..Fudge needed no further explanation.

"You mean? "

"Yes. A death eater has been sent back..with Mrs. Potter." Moody peered at the gravestone on the opened grave. "One by the name of Draco Malfoy, I believe."

Fudge pulled Moody to one side away from the workers who kept giving them strange glances. "A death eater? One of his own destroy Voldemort? But how? And who read the spell? The corpse couldn't very well recite it."

"One of Voldemort's followers did at his orders, naturally."

Fudge rubbed his tired eyes. "I thought the book was spelled so only aurors could read it."

"Oh, it was. On the second copy."

Fudge was horrified. "Second copy??"

"Best get the other aurors and the unspeakables. We have got to find that other copy and destroy it."

* * * * *

One minute she was sitting comfortably in the library. Then the scenery swirled around her until it was nothing but an array of different colors and the next thing she knew, she was in a loo, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked younger..a good deal younger..

Hermione grabbed a bunch of paper towels, stuck them under the sink until they were soaking, then held them to her forehead. Feeling slightly less dizzy after that, with a tenative hand, Hermione reached out and turned the door knob.

Don't panic, she told herself as she stepped out of the doorway still shaking. Don't panic. Cool, calm, and collected. Hearing a rumble and the gears grinding beneath her, Hermione realized she was on a train.

This isn't so bad. I can just find the conductor, ask him where we are heading, and then get off at the next stop and owl Harry to tell him I'm alright...

Hermione slid the glass door open to enter the first compartment. See? Nothing to worry about. That book is probably just a portkey or...

"Ahhhhhh!"

"Ahhhhh??"

Hermione blinked and found herself staring at Fred, George, and Ron...only they didn't look quite as she had remembered seeing them last night at the reunion.

"You guys too? What the heck happened to us? What are we doing here?"

The three boys merely blinked back in response. Hermione studied Ron for a minute. "And what happened to your beard?"

Fred and George snickered heartily. "Beard? Him?" asked Fred. "Ron here could get rid of all his chin hairs with an eyebrow plucker, trust me," said George. Both twins doubled over with laughter.

Ron's face went a bright shade of red. "You're one to talk. The two of you look like you shave with shards of broken glass."

Both Fred and George put their hands up to their chins, which, Ron was right, had a few cuts and scrapes on them. However, in true Fred and George fashion, they didn't look at all emberassed about it, just simply grinned.

Hermione was getting worried. They all acted the same..but something was missing..she couldn't place her finger on it..

"Fred? Where's your son? And what about both of your wives? And-" Hermione turned back to Ron-"What about Parvarti?"

Fred, George, and Ron looked at her as if she had grown three heads. "This is turning into a really bad version of one of those soap operas Ginny's always watching," observed Ron.

"You know, Parvarti, your girlfriend. Where is she?" Hermione asked again patiently.

Ron gaped at her. "Whoa. Back up. I know the letters I sent you this summer had handwriting that was a bit sloppy, but.."

"A bit sloppy? Your handwriting greatly resembles what a chicken's would look like if you took his feet and placed them in ink," mumbled George.

"-And then set his tail on fire," muttered Fred.

"Seeing as you've gone temporarily mental on the love/hate situation between Ron and Parvarti," said George. "They HATE each other..in case you haven't noticed."

"And you'd have to be blind as a bat not to," added Fred.

Hermione was shocked. "What on earth? Maybe all three of the had amnesia. How could they have forgotten everything that had happeend in the past three or so years?

"So you and Parvarti aren't?" Hermione asked Ron.

"No. I set fire to her hair last year," said Ron in a matter of a fact tone. " In Care of Magical Creatures, remember?"

Hermione caught on quickly. Somehow she had warped back to Hogwarts in the past-that would explain why Fred wasn't worried about his own toddler, or Ron about his girlfriend, and why she looked like she had just used a quart of anti wrinkle cream and lightened her hair about two shades.

"Right. Our fourth year..yeah, sure. I remember," she fibbed.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Fifth year, 'Mione. Fifth."

Ron looked at her worriedly. "Right. That's it. You two keep an eye on her while I go get Madame Pomfrey."

"I'm fine," protested Hermione.

Ron didn't look convinced. "Uhuh..how many fingers?"

"Two. Honestly, I'm FINE."

"Sure you are. I mean, no big deal you didn't remember what happened last year," said Ron.

"Oh, I can see how she would forget. Ron setting Parvarti's hair on fire is such a common occurence," said George with another snicker.

The sound of footsteps behind her was-for Hermione-a welcome diversion from all three of the Weasleys focusing on her.

Or it was a welcome diversion until she turned around and saw just who had snuck up. Draco Malfoy, looking just as she had remembered him. If Hermione had had any doubt she had somehow gone to the past, it was vanquished when she saw him. If he was alive-well then, it had to be the past, didn't it?

Fred and George both rolled their eyes. "Welcome to 'A Day in the Life of a Crazed Witch', scene two," said Fred.

"You must be.." George glanced at Draco. "Hmm..let me guess..the set handyman?"

"Nah. Too ugly. Maybe he's supposed to play a log?"

" The resemblance is stunning. "

Draco glared at Ron. "If I'm a log, I hate to imagine what you would be, Weasley. I'm thinking along the lines of dirt."

The glass door slid open again and a small, delicately featured face peered around it. "Malfoy? What are you doing with THEM? Hurry back. There's something you might want to see." The door shut and the face dissapeared.

Ron's face, which had been turning redder and redder, now resembled a ghost's.

Draco smirked. "You'll have to excuse me. My devoted girlfriend awaits for some snogging."

Fred and George held Ron back as he tried to lunge at Draco. "Easy there. Don't explode Malfoy into little bits yet."

"Wait until after the sorting ceremony so everyone can see it."

When Ron spoke, it was in a strangled sort of voice. "Devoted, hah! About as devoted as I am to moaning myrtle."

"Live with it. You kissed Hermione, your girlfriend kisses me. Your girlfriend becomes mine. Fair exchange-though, I must say, I do believe I'm getting the better end of the deal."

Draco Malfoy turned around and slammed out of the compartment before either Hermione or Ron could do anything (both of them and Fred and George as well had their wands out before Draco had even finished talking.)

Hermione paused for only a fraction of a second before following Draco.

"What are you doing?" shouted Ron at her back, but she ignored him.

Hermione waited until she was within Draco's earshot to yell at him. "Wait, I need to talk to you!"

"Six words I never thought you'd say." Draco corrected himself. "No. Six words I never wanted you to say. Look, if you came here to stick up for Ron, shove it."

"That's not why I'm here and you know it. I saw you-you appeared out of thin air, you didn't walk in from some other compartment. How?"

Draco was flustered, but he didn't show it. So she suspected. Best to try and make that Granger think everything was perfectly normal. Especially seeing as everything wasn't normal. He was supposed to be dead and now he had been sent back to this?? No doubt there was a purpose for it..a purpose most likely tied in with Voldemort.

"The world really is coming to an end. Hermione Granger, did you accidentally leave your textbooks behind or drop them in the bath while you were reading over the summer? It's called apparating."

"Oh, of course. I believe you. Even though you've never told the truth in your life."

Hermione made an exsasperated noise and started walking off. Draco thought he was rid of her until she suddenly turned back around and glared at him.

"Just answer me this, Malfoy..what year are we in?"

"What? You lost your pocket calender? Your brain? Or both?"

"Just answer me."

There was a long silence, then.."Fourth?"

"Wrong. Guess again." The look in Hermione's eyes was reason for worry. She had the look of a cat when a mouse is caught in its trap. "Oh, don't worry. Just use the process of elemination. There's only six other years to choose from."

Malfoy took Hermione in from head to toe in a way that made her very uncomfortable. "I'm gathering we aren't in first."

"Shut up."

"Shut up? I thought you wanted me to talk."

"Then talk."

Malfoy simply gave her the arrogant stare he was infamous for, not saying so much as a phrase.

"Oh fine. That's it. I'm just going to say it and if you think I'm nuts or attempt to put me a straight jacket, I don't care."

"Let me guess-you love me madly."

Hermione snorted. "Definitely not. Sorry, the Gryffindor Draco Malfoy Fan Club will just have to be minus one girl."

Draco shrugged. "Then whatever it is really isn't worth my time to hear. Enemies make horrible shrinks."

Hermione clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides. " I don't care if it wastes your precious time. I'm going to tell you and you're going to listen. I'm twenty five bloody years old, I somehow got warped back to being sixteen and the same thing happened to you."

Draco grinned. "I was wondering why you where bothering to talk to me. Now I know why. You're INSANE."

"Am I? Then tell me how on earth you just appeared out of nowhere. Because unless the ministry of magic suddenly decided to take a vaction to The Bahamas, you wouldn't be using apparition. Apparating without a license before the age of eighteen would mean you would get kicked out of Hogwarts."

"What makes you think I don't want to get kicked out?"

"Much as I wish you would, you won't. Doing so would have five generations of Malfoys rolling over in their graves. Speaking of which, you have quite a nice looking gravestone in the future, biggest one in the whole graveyard."

Malfoy clapped his hands in mock approval. " Best imitation of Proffesor Trelawney I've seen in years. Next time though, I would suggest fainting afterward and maybe muttering something about a scar-more convincing."

Hermione began walking off. "Forget it..I thought.."

Draco, for once, risked speaking the truth. Just because she knew he was from the future as well didn't mean she had to know he was here for Voldemort, he reasoned.

"You think this is wierd for you? Try coming here from the grave. Quite a change of scenery, I can tell you."

Hermione look at him from over her shoulder. "So you are too?"

That was strange. The compartment was empty. Since when did they have extra seats??

Draco felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, expecting to see Crabbe or Goyle. Instead, he found himself face to face with none other than Wormtail. Wormtail brandishing a wand in a way that suggested it was not being woven in the air merely as an empty threat.