Chapter Text
Early May 1998, Hogwarts
The hall was eerily quiet save for the occasional sniff, or the cries of loved ones as they began to slowly trickle into the cavernous chamber, their sobs echoing in the near-silence.
Staring out at what lay before her, Hermione felt a shudder down her spine, her throat feeling tight with every swallow. They had lost so many. Too many. Nearby the entirety of the Weasley clan stood over the bodies of their fallen family; both those the Weasley matron had birthed, and those unofficially adopted by them. It was hard for her to look at them, especially before someone had come through and closed the eyes of the victims. Fred’s lifeless eyes swam in her vision every time she blinked.
Tonks and Remus Lupin had been brought over as well to be watched over by them. Andromeda was occupied with caring for Teddy, and no one wished to subject an infant to the sight of his dead parents. Closing her eyes, Hermione sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment to try and calm herself before breathing it out slowly. The air was rancid with death.
Suddenly there was a presence at her side, and she turned her head minutely to witness Harry standing close by with a haunted look on his face.
The war might have been won and Tom Riddle dead, but there was so much now that would need to be dealt with. The castle was a mess—so much structural damage had been done by the collective strength of the spells flying haphazardly all over the place, the giants, and the bridge that Neville had destroyed to prevent the Snatchers from entering the battlefield. Not to mention the numerous funerals that would need to be held, who to elect in charge of the Ministry now that there was a power vacuum, and what they were going to do about all of the Death Eaters who had fled upon Riddle’s demise.
The thoughts racing through her head sent her right into a panic, and her breath came in short puffs, eyes widening as she realised that this was just the beginning.
‘Deep breaths, Hermione,’ Harry said, his steady hand on her shoulder.
Tears blurred her vision for a moment as she tried to slow her breathing, taking a large gulp of air and waiting for the hysteria to pass. Calmer, she looked at her friend appreciatively and nodded. Harry dropped his hand and nodded to her, but his expression remained solemn.
‘What a mess,’ Harry remarked, crossing his arms. He’d already had an emotional cry-out upon witnessing Remus’ form being carried in with his wife.
‘I don’t really know what to say,’ Hermione voiced, gazing intently at the Weasleys.
Ron and his remaining brothers, Ginny, Molly, and Arthur were huddled close. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel terribly sad for them, but at the end of the day, she wasn’t a part of the family. She didn’t feel as though it was her place to insert herself. Harry likely felt the same way, even though arguably he was closer to them than she was. It just felt an awful lot like they were intruding on their mourning.
‘There isn’t anything to say.’
His words rang in her ears. She lifted her eyes once more to scan around the room. It was then she realised there was something -or rather someone- missing.
‘Where is Professor Snape?’ she asked, turning to face her friend.
Harry’s eyes widened then also, as if reminded of something terribly important he’d forgotten. ‘Back in the Shrieking Shack, I imagine.’
Hermione frowned. ‘We can’t just leave him there.’
‘I’ll send someone to look for Professor Snape and bring him to the hall.’
The voice that interrupted their train of thought belonged to Professor McGonagall. Their former teacher walked over to join them, having heard the tail end of their not-quite conversation. Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of her formidable Transfiguration professor and mentor. She wanted to hug her, but was concerned it might not be welcomed.
‘Come here, you two,’ McGonagall told them, opening her arms to them both.
Seconds later, enveloped in the arms of an adult she had a great deal of respect for, Hermione felt some of the anxiety she’d been experiencing lift. ‘It’s really good to see you, Professor,’ she told the older witch.
‘I am relieved to see you both alive and relatively unharmed.' McGonagall gave Harry a pointed look as she released them from her embrace.
Harry threw her a sheepish smile, running his hands through his messy black mop of hair. It had been too long since Hermione had last given his hair a tidy—since their time in the Forest of Dean, in fact.
‘Unharmed as you can be after coming back from the dead, you mean?’ Harry quipped.
A smirk pulled at the corners of McGonagall’s mouth before she reasserted a more serious expression. ‘Now, I don’t want either of you to worry. I will ensure Severus’ body is brought here to be with the rest of those in the Order.’
Hermione’s shoulders sagged a little in relief. Though she didn’t know the full scope of what had occurred between Harry and the late-Headmaster, she did know that he’d told Riddle that Snape was on their side—that he had always been on their side. Nodding, their Professor moved away to continue speaking with others who were left standing around, not quite knowing what to do now that the fighting was over.
‘Harry?’ she asked.
‘Yeah?’
‘What happened with Professor Snape? You saw his memories. What made you certain he was not trying to fool you?’ she pressed. Though she believed her best friend, and given his history with Snape she was certain he wouldn’t be embellishing or easily convinced, she needed to know.
‘He was in love with my mum,’ Harry said softly.
A small gasp escaped her. ‘Your mum?’
Harry nodded, looking down at the filthy stone floor. ‘They were friends since they were kids actually. They knew one another before Hogwarts,’ he explained. ‘He never stopped caring about her—not even after she married my dad.’
‘Oh, Harry,’ she said, putting an arm around his shoulder.
He didn’t shake her off, but he didn’t return her embrace. ‘I never told you this before but my dad, Sirius, and Remus used to bully Snape in school—they were pretty horrible to him. I was so angry with him though for being such an arse, I kept making excuses for the Marauders for treating him so badly,’ he elaborated. ‘And now that he’s dead I–’
His voice caught in his throat. All of this information was a lot for Harry to take on board, especially with what they’d been through in the past forty-eight hours. ‘You don’t need to keep explaining,’ Hermione said, rubbing her hand over his back.
Firmly shaking his head, Harry looked back up at her. ‘No,’ he argued. ‘I have to tell someone, and I trust you more than anyone else.’
Her heart warmed and contracted a little at that comment. ‘Alright.’
‘Dumbledore made him do it all. Snape went to him when he learned of the plans to murder my parents, begged him to save them. He gave his entire life to Dumbledore to protect my mum, but it didn’t work out that way because of Wormtail,’ Harry said, his voice a little strained with emotion. ‘Dumbledore made him take a vow, and then he took that vow to protect Malfoy, and all for what? So that I could die when it was needed—at the proper time. Snape didn’t know it until not long before he was forced to kill the Headmaster.’
As she listened, Hermione felt her chest filling with righteous indignation. How dare Dumbledore do that? He’d manipulated them all: Harry and Snape worst of all. Seething, she pulled back, her fists clenched tightly.
‘Well, it looks as if his plan worked,’ she said tightly.
Harry nodded again, looking up at her with understanding in his tired green eyes. ‘When I watched those memories, everything finally made sense,’ he stated. ‘It didn’t change anything, knowing that I was to be a sacrifice for the “greater good”. I would have gone to Vol-um-Riddle either way. It was just comforting to know why.’
Hermione nodded. ‘I understand,’ she whispered.
Knowing what she did now, everything that had gone on over the past year, maybe two years, finally made sense. It didn’t change things though. Harry was alive despite Dumbledore’s machinations, but that changed nothing for Snape. He was still dead, and now, more than before, she hoped that they would be able to locate his body and see to it that he received proper recognition.
‘Harry!’
A familiar voice broke through their silent reflection, and Hermione peered over to see Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing by Professor McGonagall, looking over at her friend expectantly.
‘Go,’ she urged, reaching out to give his hand, hanging by his side limply, a gentle squeeze.
‘Right,’ he said, pushing his dirty glasses up his nose before walking over to join the two adults.
Alone once more, Hermione could still feel annoyance thrumming through her. Glancing back at the Weasley clan, she decided now was not the time to disturb them and quietly slipped out of the Great Hall. Observing the wreckage as she went, Hermione decided to take a walk to clear her head, with no real destination in mind. When she arrived before the statue that guarded the Headmaster’s office and saw it was still battered and ajar with the spiral staircase open to her, she began the trek upwards.
When she came out at the top, she walked into the Headmaster’s office. The Pensieve was where it had been left earlier, the silvery strands of Snape’s memories floating around in it. Locating a clean flask in her beaded bag, Hermione siphoned the memories out for safe-keeping. If she could wander in there, anyone could. Who knew when those memories would be needed.
Stoppering the flask with a cork, she carefully placed it into her bag and wandered around the gloomy office. It was still relatively intact, all things considered, and she wondered what would have happened to the castle should this office have fallen. Her woolgathering, however, was interrupted moments later by a familiar voice clearing their throat.
Lifting her eyes to level her gaze at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, Hermione’s mouth set in a firm line. ‘Professor,’ she greeted tersely.
‘I suppose I deserve that,’ he said, his omniscient blue eyes peering at her over his half-moon spectacles.
Hermione didn’t have the words to describe her feelings towards the former Headmaster at that point, so she said nothing in response. She simply stood there, arms folded across her chest, staring at him expectantly. If he had something to say to her, she would listen, but she was so angry she feared what she would say or do to the Headmaster’s painting.
‘I’ve never known you to be so untalkative, Miss Granger,’ Dumbledore commented.
‘I suggest you don’t waste my time,’ she snapped. ‘Say what you have to say.’
He looked slightly affronted for a moment, before shaking his head. ‘Of course, Miss Granger,’ he murmured. ‘I take it young Harry has informed you of certain measures that were taken in order for the war to come to an end?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see. I don’t suppose you are feeling terribly congenial towards me, are you?’
That was the last straw. ‘Of course I’m not, you manipulative old bastard!’ she said angrily, staring up at him with all of the pent-up rage she’d been harbouring for months. Not all of it was caused by him, but hell if she wasn’t going to let him know how she felt about the despicable things he’d done.
‘Miss Granger–’
‘Do not “Miss Granger” me,’ Hermione interrupted. ‘You sent Harry like a lamb to the slaughter to face Voldemort, knowing he would sacrifice himself to save all of us, and didn’t think to bloody tell him?’
Dumbledore remained silent as she raged at him, recounting all of the things they’d been through over the past year, and all of the information it would have been helpful for them to have. If he hadn’t sent them on a wild goose chase, they might have been able to bring about the end much sooner.
‘And on top of all that,’ she continued, breathing heavily from her rant. ‘You put Professor Snape through hell and back, all because he made a youthful mistake and you used him. Have you no conscience?’
‘I did what needed to be done,’ Dumbledore said, finally interrupting her tirade.
‘Don’t even try to pretend there was no other way,’ Hermione said coldly. ‘Professor Snape is dead . He died for your greater good, and you let him. What happened to him–’
The scene in the shrieking shack flashed before her eyes. There had been so much blood. Voice catching in her throat as she held back the small sob that threatened to escape her, Hermione paused and looked away to compose herself. She would not allow herself to cry in front of the former Headmaster’s portrait. Squaring her shoulders, she faced him once more, resignation filling her. Things were the way they were, and no amount of anger or screaming at the wall of portraits was going to change it.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she muttered. ‘None of this matters to you. Goodbye, Professor.’
As she turned to leave the office, she heard Dumbledore address her once more. ‘Miss Granger?’
‘You can’t possibly have more to say, Headmaster,’ Hermione said, not bothering to turn around this time and continuing to the doorway.
‘What if you could save him?’
That comment gave her pause. Spinning on her heel, Hermione walked back over to the portrait to address him once more. ‘You mean Professor Snape?’
Dumbledore nodded. ‘If I told you there was something you could do to prevent his death, would you do it, Miss Granger?’ he challenged.
Frozen in place, Hermione allowed his words to turn over in her mind. How could he possibly hope to save the Professor’s life? Unless—
‘A Time-Turner,’ she breathed.
Dumbledore nodded. ‘A very unique Time-Turner, unlike the one I gave you to use in your third year.’
‘How is it unique?’ she asked, annoyed at her own insatiable curiosity.
‘I created it with Nicholas Flammel,’ he answered. ‘There are a lot of things that this particular device is capable of that a regular one will not do. It was one of the last things Nicholas and I collaborated on before the Philosopher’s Stone was destroyed. It not only travels backward in time, but allows the user to move forward also.’
Hermione struggled not to gape at the Headmaster’s portrait then. ‘How?’
‘It is a very great mystery to me, even now,’ he answered. ‘The intention channeled into the Time-Turner upon its creation perhaps? Nicholas would have had far more insight, but alas, he was old and without the stone, he had only enough elixir of life to set his affairs in order.’
‘How do you know how it works?’ she demanded.
‘Chance. I went back in time for a short while, and by happenstance, I turned it forward and it transported me back to the original timeline,’ he answered. ‘I experimented with it several times over the years, and formed a guide for its usage.’
Chewing on her bottom lips for a moment thoughtfully, Hermione pondered his proposal. If she went back in time, she could save Snape, but what else would she be able to accomplish…
‘Could I save more than just the Professor?’ she asked, thinking of Remus, Tonks and Fred laid out on stretchers down in the Great Hall.
‘As you are aware from your last time using the Time-Turner, it is a very tricky business changing the course of time. It is stubborn, but small alterations in the timeline can make a big change. What I am suggesting to you is to go back farther than you are possibly contemplating right now. You cannot simply change what occurred during the battle, Miss Granger. The changes made would need to begin much further back in time. Are you certain that is something you would be willing to take on?’
Breathing in sharply through her nose, she nodded, sighing. ‘But I can save the Professor?’
‘You can save Severus, yes.’
It would have to be enough, she decided. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Excellent,’ Dumbledore announced, looking pleased. Still furious, Hermione threw him a sour look. He did not get to be happy about this; if it hadn’t been for him, Snape’s life wouldn’t have needed saving.
‘Let me be perfectly clear, Headmaster,’ she began, her tone icy. ‘I am going back to save Professor Snape because he does not deserve what you doomed him to the moment you began using him for your own ends. This is not a favour I am doing for you to assuage your guilt.’
‘Understood,’ Dumbledore replied, his voice taking on a more serious note. ‘Very well, Miss Granger, draw your wand, if you will. Now press the tip of your wand to the side of the Headmaster’s desk and cast “Revelio” . A wooden panel will slide aside.’
Doing as she was bid, Hermione bit her lip to muffle her surprise when the wooden panel slid away. Reaching into the little hidden chamber, she withdrew a velvet pouch that felt a lot more weighty than she had been expecting. Opening it, she saw the golden Time-Turner glinting on top, as well as several bundles of Muggle cash and some Wizarding currency, and a small instruction manual. She looked up at the Headmaster in question.
‘To fund your excursion,’ he said, answering her unasked question.
‘Explain to me how I should approach this,’ she asked.
‘You must first return to 1977,’ he explained. ‘Severus was not always so jaded and bitter. If there was a time in his life where he was the most open to possibilities, it was in his youth—his teen years when he was impressionable and hopeful. This is when you need to make contact first. Do your best not to disrupt the timeline. Befriend him. He had a hard life, even before Hogwarts; he could use a bright, lovely young friend like you, Miss Granger.’
Hermione ground her teeth together at the Headmaster’s compliments. Everything he said filled her mouth with a bitter taste that left her feeling a little dirty. But there was a job to be done.
‘Tell me the dates and locations you suggest I visit in order to enact this plan,’ she said, drawing a small notebook and a biro from her beaded bag.
As Dumbledore rambled off a series of dates and places he expected Snape to be, Hermione quickly took them down. It would be important to keep to those times, he’d said. Knowing Time-Turners as she did, Hermione did not doubt that this was going to be quite a difficult task. When he was finished, she looked back up to him, sliding the money along with her notebook into her bag before slipping the chain of the Time-Turner over her head, gently holding the device in her hands.
‘Is there anything else I need to know?’ she asked.
‘Be careful, Miss Granger,’ he said seriously. ‘And be sure to rest between your movements forward in time. I found that moving forwards with the device takes a toll on one’s energy and magical stores.’
Straightening out, Hermione nodded, before turning to complete the first long journey back in time. Just before she began to turn the dial as Dumbledore’s log had instructed, she heard him call out to her once more.
‘Do your best,’ he told her. ‘He deserves a better life than the one he has led.’
‘I know he does, sir,’ she replied, completing the turns on the device in her hand.
A moment later, the Headmaster’s office was empty once more as she flew back through the vast vacuum of space and time.
TBC