A Dance Through Thyme [Harry Potter]

There are no strangers here; only friends you haven't met. An unknown man sends Hermione back to the Marauder's Era as revenge, however, the consequences are far more disastrous than what even he imagines when Hermione loses her memory of the past. Why did that man do this to her, and what secrets will be spilled? Who is the guilty party?

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2. Chapter 1: Panik

 

A tiny, pinprick of light was visible just underneath Hermione's eyelids. She tried to grab at it with her mind, making it larger and larger. Every part of her body was aching, but at the same time, she felt rather content under the soft blankets.

"I don't remember doing anything to make me feel like I was run over by a bulldozer..." thought Hermione as she reached her hand out so that she could see the time.

However, instead of being able to pull her alarm clock closer to her, a warm hand enclosed itself around her wrist.

Hermione's eyes snapped open. Alert and full of apprehension, she tried to snatch her hand back under the covers.

"There's no need to panic, you're safe here," said a soft voice.

Hermione swivelled her head over to the direction of the voice.

A young woman was there, dressed in what Hermione supposed was an old-fashioned nurse's uniform. The woman was sitting close enough for Hermione to make out the neat stitches that bound the red cross to the starched white apron.

"Who are you?" she blurted out, almost unable to contain her panic as she tried to scramble out of the cocoon of sheets.

The woman waved her wand over the bed, and the covers snapped themselves back down onto the bed, successfully pinning Hermione down with them.

"You need to stay in bed, my dear. Can't have you overexerting yourself!"

"But, who are you?" cried Hermione, in an exasperated voice, still struggling to get away from the stranger.

"My name is Poppy Pomfrey, and I am the nurse here. Would you be able to tell me what your name is?"

Hermione took the chance to properly take in her surroundings; she was in a room with a lot of narrow beds. The kind one might find in a traditional hospital.

The woman seemed trustworthy, familiar even, but Hermione's mind was still raging a debate.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said at last.

Poppy nodded encouragingly.

"Hermione, can you tell me how you got to Hogwarts?"

"What do you mean?" replied Hermione, fear rising up within her once more as more information of recognition was trickling through her brain, "How could I be at Hogwarts? I have no reason to be here. I've already graduated."

Poppy blinked in surprise.

"You couldn't have! We have no records for you. What year do you think you finished in?"

Even though Hermione's head was clouded in a haze of headache, she was absolutely certain of her answer.

"It was last year, 1999."

Poppy's eyes all but bulged out of their sockets and, for a second, Hermione thought that the young woman might keel over in shock.

"It's not possible!" she squeaked.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Poppy's mouth opened and closed a few times, no sound issuing forth.

"I..I... I don't know what to say..."

Hermione was getting rather annoyed with this so-called Poppy.

"I finished my seventh year last year, the year 1999. It is now the year 2000. Simple."

Finally Poppy spoke once more, but this time it seemed as though she were speaking only to herself.

"1999...jinx to the head...Dumbledore will know..."

Hermione's hearing snagged onto the last name, and it was almost as though another part of her memory was unlatched.

"Dumbledore? He died... how could he possibly help?"

This, by far, must have been the worst thing for Poppy to hear from Hermione because she sat back down in her seat, clutching at her heart and gaping at Hermione.

"I don't know where you've been getting your information from my dear, but I can assure you that Albus Dumbledore is not dead."

'This woman is crazy,' thought Hermione as she attempted to wriggle her way out of the sheets once more.

Poppy absentmindedly waved her wand, and the sheet compressed Hermione into the bed once more.

"Wait here," was all that she said before sweeping out of the room.

Despite all the wriggling, Hermione was not able to free herself from the bed, and from her position, only being able to see the ceiling; she resigned herself to waiting for Poppy to return.

Several minutes later, Hermione heard the doors at the end of the ward open, and Poppy returned, deep in conversation with none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione gasped. It couldn't be!

The white-haired man sat on the edge of her bed while Poppy loosed the sheets just enough so that Hermione could sit up in the bed, and remain in some kind of dignified position while she spoke to the Headmaster.

"Hello, Hermione," he said in a friendly tone. "Madam Pomfrey here tells me that you graduated from Hogwarts in 1999. What else could you tell me?"

With that one question, Hermione was stumped. She tried to tell them about herself, but found that the answers were not coming to her. As much as she wanted to, when she opened her mouth, she could only close it again. There was nothing that she could say.

It was like all of her knowledge of herself had been blocked off in some impenetrable part of her mind. All her memories, locked away in some glass orb. She knew that they were there, but she could not get to them.

She knew that she had been a student at Hogwarts and that she finished her seventh year 1999. She knew that her name was Hermione Granger. But that was all she knew.

"Let's start with something easy," said Dumbledore, "How did you get here this morning?"

Hermione stared at him with a blank expression.

"I don't know, sir."

Dumbledore sighed, but rubbed a hand thoughtfully through his beard.

"I'm going to tell you something, Hermione, and I don't want you to get upset in any way."

"What do you..."

But Dumbledore raised a hand to silence to her.

"You are currently in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and the year is 1977. There are only two explanations that I think are likely. It is possible that what you are experiencing is the after-effects of a spell; or it may be that you have time-travelled."

As Dumbledore spoke, Hermione stopped trying to resist against the bed-sheets. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Poppy had stopped nodding at what the Headmaster was saying, and she was presently sitting back in her chair, mouth hanging wide open.

"We would like to keep you here, at the castle, for observation. We don't want you to be leaving in ill health. In the meantime, we will try to determine the cause."

Hermione sat motionless as Dumbledore patted the hand that lay next to her on the bed.

"Make sure you don't overexert yourself," he said as he left the room, shoes clicking softly against the stone floor.

Poppy made a fast reappearance next to Hermione, complete with a vial of bright purple potion.

"Drink this," she said kindly. "It'll help with the aches and let you get back to sleep."

Hermione looked up at her warily, not sure what to think after all the accusations that these people had thrown at her. Time-travel indeed!

"I promise we will discuss everything when you wake up."

Hermione took the potion, balancing the vial between her thumb and forefinger almost as though it may contaminate her, swallowing it with a minimum of grimacing and disgusted facial expressions.

She let her head fall back against the soft pillows, allowing sleep to overtake her presently overworked mind, full of fear and uncertainty.

 

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