When the Time Comes

Faint

5

His footsteps echoed down the corridor as he briskly walked towards the Ancient Runes classroom. Running would be highly frowned on should he be discovered at this hour, though that possibility was highly unlikely given the clock chiming four in the morning as he rounded a corner. Professor Price was not going to be very pleased to be disturbed at this hour.

Entering the classroom, Albus quickly walked among the nearest rows of worn wooden desks to Price's office door. Reaching it, he knocked loudly, knowing his Head of House was most likely in bed in his chambers several yards from his office. After a minute or two he knocked again, louder this time, and silently prayed there wouldn't be a hasty detention as his reward for this disturbance.

Loud, heavy footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door before the lock slid and the door opened slowly with an audible creak as Professor Price's half awakened face appeared accompanied by the candlelight from the candlestick in his free hand.

"Dumbledore, what in Circe's name are you doing here, waking me up in the wee hours of the morning looking like you've not a wink of sleep?" he asked, stifling a yawn as he threw open the door and grabbed the boy's arm, pulling him inside.

"I've not Professor, there's been.... an incident," Albus began, straightening his robes as Price released him and set the candle stick into an empty candelabra on his desk. "Madam Dillwyn asked me to fetch you."

"A student is injured?" he asked, running his fingers through his long sandy hair and pulling it back to tie it with a strip of tanned leather.

"Well, yes sir, a Gryffindor but..."

Price rolled his eyes as he pulled his robes off a hook that hung by the door to his chambers, donning it to cover his hastily thrown on trousers and shirt. "Of course it's a Gryffindor," he retorted tiredly, "if you've awoken me."

Albus tried to keep from getting his Head of House upset further as he knew of the man's temperament in the mornings. This early certainly wouldn't bode much better than breakfast. "But sir, she's not exactly from this Hogwarts."

Having crossed the office to come to stand in the doorway next to Albus, Price stopped and whipped his head towards the boy. "What in the blazes do you mean, not from this Hogwarts? What other Hogwarts is there?!"

Use to Price's snapped responses, as he dealt with the man more often than most of his classmates given his position, the boy proceeded cautiously. "She's apparently from a future Hogwarts, having had an accident with a Time-Turner."

"Time-Turner?" Price repeated his curiosity now peeked. "The Ministry hasn't even released the first one into use, how can she have one?"

"Perhaps they are commonplace in her time?" the redhead offered with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Hmm, perhaps." Price seemed to mull over this, looking more awake now that his mind was whirling with scenarios. "A Time-Turner... wouldn't that have put this more in Professor Avery's domain?" he began, more to himself than to Dumbledore. "Ah, but a Gryffindor. Best not involve the Slytherin."

Use to the clear division between his Head of House and that of Slytherin, Professor Avery, Dumbledore merely kept quiet and followed Price out of the classroom and down to the Infirmary once the man began the journey, his thoughts now to himself.

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The doors to the Infirmary were open a crack when they returned and Price and Dumbledore entered and headed straight for the medic's office. "Madam Dillwyn...Madam Dillwyn..." Price immediately called upon finding the room empty.

"Yes, yes, Ambrose, I'm right here," she replied, setting an empty tray on the table by the door. "Good, you didn't take as long as usual."

Price cast the woman an annoyed glare but she ignored it as she always did and began to tell the Head of House all that she knew, including Albus when and where appropriate. Throughout the tale, Price's look went from one of disbelief to one of shocked acknowledgement.

"Well, it certainly gives us a cover for Miss Pendleworth," Price offered as he took a chair from in front of Dillwyn's desk and made himself comfortable.

"Indeed, Ambrose, my thoughts exactly."

All three occupants turned their gaze to find Headmaster Torin in the doorway, several parchments in hand. "The Minister called in his best Unspeakable and they think it will take a year at best to find a possible solution to sending the girl back to her time. So, as of now, Miss Hermione Granger is a transfer student coming to us from private tutoring. The only Grangers we could trace are muggles; I can only assume the girl is a muggleborn, so we've no worry about other families questioning the girl's story. But yes, she will certainly address the problem of Miss Pendleworth. As Miss Granger was Head Girl in her time, it only makes sense to give the girl the same title now."

Walking over to Price, he handed him a parchment, one Albus recognized from only an hour ago. "Here is the girl's schedule. It's apparent why the child had a Time-Turner as she had three overlapping classes. Put together an appropriate schedule for her, though keep in mind what the school governor and her classmates would approve. I'm afraid an identical schedule would ruffle too many feathers."

Price nodded and looked over the parchment, his eyes widening in shock at some of the courses listed. Having peeked at the list, Albus knew which ones had drawn that reaction; after all, he had the same.

"Mister Dumbledore," Headmaster Torin broke into his thoughts, holding another parchment out to him, "as Head Boy and the one who discovered Miss Granger, I'm trusting you to help her in this transition. She'll no doubt need tutoring in the ways of our society and need someone who knows the true nature of her situation. You've always proven to be a wiser young man than is expected of your years, I expect you to demonstrate such wisdom now."

"Yes sir," he replied taking the parchment, which outlined the new Head Girl's cover story.

"For now, I've excused you from all classes today so you may rest and prepare to meet Miss Granger tomorrow evening. I think she will be well enough to take supper in the Head Common room at seven?" he asked, casting a glance to Madam Dillwyn who nodded in the affirmative. "Good then, off to bed young man."

"Yes sir," he replied once again, pocketing the parchment, bowing his head to the faculty present and exiting the room quietly.

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Her forehead no longer cold, her stomach no longer doing summersaults, Hermione sighed and slowly opened her eyes. The light of late, very late, afternoon was spilling in from the windows above her head and casting golden shadows on the opposite side of the Infirmary. The blankets were incredibly warm across her chest and suddenly feeling too warm for comfort, Hermione threw them down towards her waist.

And gasped.

Ruffled wrists.

Her heartbeat racing, she reached up and felt for the ruffled cap on her head from the disturbing dream from the night before and found it still firmly set about her head, her bushy hair peeking out from the sides.

Oh God.

No. No, no, no, no, NO! This couldn't be. One hundred thirty five years.... in the past?! And Dumbledore a student? No amount of fire whiskey could make this scenario funny.

"Ah, finally!"

Turning in the direction of the voice, she saw Madam Dillwyn approaching, her hair now up in a stern bun under the white folded cap covering her forehead and her white cotton nightgown now replaced with a full hoop skirt with matching navy long sleeve blouse under a white apron, heavily starched. Oh, how she'd give anything to see Madam Pomfrey.

"I was beginning to think I'd have to Ennervate you dear, you've slept so soundly. Ah, but it's probably for the best. Your organs needed time to make the time adjustment." The medic went about pouring her a glass of water and handing it to her as she picked a large bundle up from the chair beside her bed.

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking the water and being grateful for the chill she felt as it slid down her throat. "What time is it?"

"About five, dear." Lifting the bundles, she shook each item out and laid them out on the bed by her feet to reveal more clothing than Hermione had ever contemplated wearing, let alone at once. "I've already checked over you, and your vitals are all normal, but I'd still like to get you dressed and walk around a bit to be sure, so come on... sit up child."

Handing back the empty glass, Hermione pushed herself up and turned to let her feet dangle over the side of the bed. "Dressed... in all that?" she asked, eyeing the numerous pieces laid out beside her.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I'm afraid we've a bit stricter sense of propriety than your time," the woman said, lifting a white pair of what looked very similar to pants, only the middle was split and it had a tie, a clear look of disdain for her former dress on her face as Dillwyn met Hermione's gaze. "Judging by that look, I take it a little lesson is in order."

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Twenty minutes, one breath-taking corset (literally), one chemise, one pantalets, two cotton stockings, four petticoats, one charmed hoop, skirt, blouse, tie, robes with Gryffindor crest, thirty shoe buttons, and one intricate hairdo later, Hermione was standing before a floor length mirror, taking shallow breaths and wondering how in God's name did her great great grandmother managed to live sixty years in such a prison of cloth.

"I'm never going to manage all this alone," she murmured, turning her head back and forth and admiring the way the coif made her hair's bushiness less of a problem.

"Of course not, my dear, that's what house elves are for!" Dillwyn exclaimed, picking up the white cotton nightgown and cap off the bed and tossing them into a hamper a few feet away.

Hermione turned to the woman, feeling all twenty pounds of her clothing weighing down on her. "Are you serious?"

Madam Dillwyn shook her head and chuckled. "Miss Granger, no self respecting witch of this age dresses herself. Some of the more progressive witches employ ladies maids to dress them. You don't honestly think we'd use magic to do all that? The corsets would likely cut us in half!" she laughed.

Hermione, however, didn't. "As if it isn't already," she grumbled, trying her best to tug some leeway in to the confounded thing. Her lungs felt like they were in her throat.

"Alright, enough chatter, take a few turns about the room," Dillwyn instructed, lifting the watch hanging from the end of the chain around her neck and just as calmly releasing it.

"Turns? You mean walk around the room?" The look in response on the woman's face answered her question and Hermione silently turned and began to walk around, the feel of her skirts billowing out around her a strange sensation that she soon found required her to be conscious of how close she walked to objects. One brush against a bed frame and her skirts lifting to reveal her ankles, resulting in a tsk from Dillwyn made her roll her eyes and remind herself that the last thing she would want is too much attention if she was going to walk out of the Infirmary in this get up.

"Much better. You've corrected your posture quite well Miss Granger. Just a few things... always lead a man upstairs and follow him down the stairs, never turn down an offered arm as it is rude to do so, and let either a professor or Mister Dumbledore make your introductions as he is the only young man to currently know you. Ladies do not introduce themselves, nor do they fail to offer their hand to a gentleman upon introduction."

I'm going to need a notebook to keep all this straight, Hermione thought, nodding to Dillwyn to show she heard. Perhaps not retained it all to memory yet, but heard.

"Good, Mister Dumbledore will be here shortly to escort you to supper."

Hermione felt the world fall out from under her. "Dumbledore?"

Madam Dillwyn seemed to miss the panic in her voice. "Yes child, the boy who found you last night and saw to your safety. Ah, but you may not recall all of last night's events," she said to herself as an after thought. "Albus Dumbledore, our Head Boy, and also a Gryffindor, will be taking you to the Head Common room for supper to apprise you of the situation in private."

Wringing her hands and finding breathing an even harder task than a moment before, Hermione felt for her wand in the concealed pocket of her overskirt, finding it there and feeling only the slightest bit comforted. "I already know where the Head Common room is," she offered, hoping to postpone seeing her former Headmaster as long as possible. After all, she had spent two weeks sharing it with Draco Malfoy; she knew very well its location had never changed since the late 1850s. Hogwarts A History was still proving useful.

"I should say not!" the medic exclaimed, scandal written on her face. "Without another young lady or gentleman to escort you? Unheard of! You will wait for Mister Dumbledore." Her tone was stern and brooked no argument.

Hermione didn't offer one as she flopped into an empty chair with a defeated sigh, causing Dillwyn to cast her a glare. It was more and more apparent that expected behaviors, especially that of her sex, had changed greatly by the time Hermione was born. Knowing this didn't make her like it any more in the least.

If muggleborns had it rough, a female one with the liberal views of one from a century in the future certainly wasn't going to have it any easier.

As if she needed more fuel on her fire of that which is making this nightmare a personal hell, the exact person she wished to avoid chose that exact moment to appear, twinkling blue eyes and all.

And Hermione suddenly felt faint for the second time in her life.