Before the Moon Rises

BEFORE THE MOON RISES

A Rude Awakening

Chapter Four

January 1978

Hermione trudged through the empty halls of Hogwarts, feeling out of sorts in a place that should have been comforting and familiar. How does one feel at ease when they aren't sure if all that seems real is but a dream?

The hallways were cold and a light breeze fluttered through periodically, picking up dust from corners or bits of parchment left behind by students. Soon she found herself standing before Dumbledore's gargoyle, and there was a problem.

What's the password? Damn.

Suddenly the gargoyle stepped aside and the rotating staircase was revealed. Hermione moved back in panic. Professor McGonagall appeared and looked down at her.

"And what, might I ask, are you doing out of bed at this hour?" she asked.

"I...uh...Professor Dumbledore said he needed to see me," she stuttered, feeling her cheeks redden under Professor McGonagall's stare.

"Very well." Her Transfiguration professor nodded curtly before walking off into another corridor.

Hermione swallowed, took a deep breath and stepped onto the moving spiral staircase. Once at the top, she walked over to Dumbledore's office door and knocked gently. It lightly clicked open and she pushed on it.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked nervously as she peered into his office.

"Yes, come in," she heard the old Headmaster say. "Have a seat," he motioned with his hand and Hermione walked cautiously inside, finding a seat in a plush armchair, "what can I help you with?"

"I--uh--well--I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione replied awkwardly.

"Yes, I know," he answered, looking up at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"What--I mean, how could you know that?"

"I know lots of things."

"But, I haven't even been born yet--what I'm trying to say is--well, what year is it?" Hermione asked as her frustration increased. Dumbledore merely watched her with slight amusement.

"I believe it is 1978."

"Right," she said, biting her bottom lip and glancing at the floor. "Okay, here's the thing, I was born in 1980," she said, pausing to see if the Headmaster would comment.

"Yes, go on," he urged.

"And if that's the case them I won't be born for two more years. I was in the library tonight--well, tonight in 1998 and I pulled a book from the shelf. Something happened; there was this bright shining silver light and the next thing I know is I'm in 1978 and I don't know how I got here." Hermione took a deep breath and waited for the Headmaster to speak. He tapped his fingertips together very slowly, as if thinking. When he looked down at Hermione, his blue eyes were twinkling.

"Can you send me back?" Hermione finally asked, the silence dragging on for much longer than she preferred.

"No," he answered, smiling gently.

"What? Why not?" she demanded without raising her voice--only Hermione could truly do this well.

"I cannot alter the future," he replied.

"But you wouldn't be altering the future. I came here by accident; sending me back would correct everything," she said as she slid to the edge of the chair, ignoring the muffled comments from paintings on the wall.

"There are no accidents, Miss Granger."

"But how is this possible? I distinctly remember in second year all copies of Hogwarts, A History were checked out because of the Chamb--never mind that. If all of the copies were gone, how did this copy slip by? Shouldn't someone else be here instead of me?"

"Why must you question the hands of fate?" Dumbledore asked, amused at Hermione's need for immediate answers.

She sighed in frustration. How had any of this happened? "So, what you're saying is you won't send me back?"

"Correct. You found that charmed book tonight not by chance and that is all the proof I need to know that you were meant to be here for some reason. And if I were to send you back, I would alter your path and therefore change your future, and I cannot."

Hermione leaned back in the plush armchair, her mouth hanging slightly open. Her mind was reeling in a thousand different directions. What was Dumbledore saying? Was he telling her that she would have to stay in 1978?

"But will I be stuck here forever?" she wondered, her voice barely above a whisper and a line of concern etched between her brows.

"No, not forever. I believe I know exactly the spells that were used on the book, and while they are not acceptable, they are also not illegal. I seriously doubt the casters were powerful enough for you to be here even for a year. My guess would be a couple of months."

"Months?" Hermione sighed. "What will happen when I return?"

"Nothing. It will be as if you never left," Dumbledore said. He stood up from his desk and walked around the front to where Hermione was sitting. She looked up at him as anxiety grew in her stomach.

"What am I to do until then?"

"Blend in; make friends," he answered as he smiled down at her.

Hermione stood up and nodded her head. "And what am I to tell them when they begin to ask questions?"

"Tell them only what they need to know and nothing of their futures," he said very seriously.

"Yes, I understand."

"Room has been made for you in the Gryffindor tower. I trust you can still find your way there."

She nodded. "This isn't, by chance, a dream, is it?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Yes, of course. A nightmare then," she mumbled before looking up at Dumbledore and adding, "Thank you."

She said a quiet goodnight to the Headmaster and left his office in a mood of disappointment. What in the hell was she going to do in 1978 for a couple of months? Her stomach turned over at the thought of it. Would she make friends with anyone? Did she want any friends?

She thought of Sirius--making friends with him would mean losing him twice. Then she thought of James, Harry's father--oh, God, James and Lily--struck down by Voldemort. Did she even want to befriend them, knowing the horrible fates that awaited them and unable to breathe a word? Peter--could she make friends with a traitor? And Remus--dear old, kind Professor Lupin--he was the only faithful Marauder still living in her present day. He would be the safest option for friendship, but how could anyone be friends with just one of the Marauders?

* * * *

When Hermione reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she realized, a bit too late, that she had absolutely no idea what the password was. She dropped her head back and laughed.

Give me a break. Have a little sympathy on me, please.

Before she could look up, the portrait swung open and four boys tumbled out. Hermione stepped back, almost stumbling over her own feet.

"What are you doing out here?" Sirius asked, looking at her as if she were plotting some sort of conspiracy that involved him.

"W--wh--" she stammered, unable to focus on the fact that she was looking at Sirius--a much younger Sirius. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and weep, but knew he'd probably think she'd gone mad.

"Listen here, who are you and what are you doing?" James asked, sounding every bit the bully he could be.

Hermione straightened up and pushed her chin up a bit. "I don't think what I'm doing is any of your business. And I'd like to get inside the common room if you don't mind."
"You're not a Gryffindor," James replied skeptically.

Peter pointed to Hermione's robes. The crest of Gryffindor house was emblazed over her heart. "She's wearing Gryffindor robes, Prongs," he said quietly.

Thank goodness I wore my robes to the library.

"Hey, Peter's right. How come we don't recognize you? New girl?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows. Hermione blushed under his gaze.

"I--uh--yeah, I'm new."

"Sorry about that," James said sheepishly.

"It's okay, now if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep." She stared down at the floor. And get away from all of you. I feel like I'm staring at ghosts.

"What's your name?"

Hermione looked up immediately. Remus was looking at her; it was he who had spoken. She was once again amazed at how youthful his face looked. His cheeks flushed with color.

"Jane," Hermione said, using her middle name. She thought it would be a safe guess that no one would remember her in the future.

"Jane, eh?" Sirius asked, grinning at her with interest.

"Yeah, just plain old Jane. Plain Jane, that's me," she rambled nervously.

"She's anything but plain," Remus mumbled to James.

"Well, nice to meet you, Jane," James said. "But we've got things to do so we'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. Goodnight then," she said, slipping past them and into the portrait hole.

Remus watched her hurry by, breathing in the scent of her as she passed--one of the many drawbacks of being a werewolf...an acute sense of smell. It was strange what the sweet smell of her did to him. His pupils dilated and he could feel his heartbeat quicken--dangerous areas to tread in.
"Come on, Remus," Sirius beckoned from down the hallway. Remus shook his head and hurried after them, briefly wondering if he should stay as far away from Jane as he could.