"'The last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore' . . . Yes, here we are . . . 'To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hopes that he will remember me when he uses it.'"

Scrimgeour took from the bag an object Hermione had never seen before. It looked something like a silver cigarette lighter. Scrigmeour leaned forward and passed the Deluminator to Ron, who took it and turned it over in his fingers, looking stunned.

"That is a valuable object," said Scrigmeour, watching Ron. "It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?"

Ron shook his head, looking bewildered.

"Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students," Scrigmeour persevered. "Yet, the only ones he remembered in his will are you three. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?"

"Put out lights I s'pose," mumbled Ron. "What else could I do with it?"

Evidently, Scrigmeour had no suggestions. After squinting at Ron for a moment or two, he turned back to Dumbledore's will.

"'To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and Hogwarts, A History, in the hopes that she will find them entertaining and instructive.'"

Scrigmeour now pulled out of the bag a small book that looked as ancient as Secrets of the Darkest Arts upstairs, and a larger familiar book. Hermione took them from Scrigmeour without a word. She held the books in her lap and gazed at them. Hermione saw the The Tales of Beedle the Bard title was written in runes. A tear rolled out of her eye and splashed onto the book, leaving a dark, wet stain.

"Why do you think Dumbledore left you those books, Miss Granger?" Asked Scrigmeour.

"He . . . he knew I liked books." Said Hermione in a thick voice, mopping her eyes with her sleeve.

"But why those particular books?"

"I don't know. He must have thought I'd enjoy them."

"Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages with Dumbledore?"

"No I didn't," said Hermione, still wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "And if the ministry hasn't found any hidden codes in these books in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will." She suppressed a sob. Ron struggled to free his arm to wrap it awkwardly around her shoulders.

.... . . ....

"Meet us upstairs, after everyone's gone to bed." Harry whispered in her ear, while they helped Mrs. Weasley restore the garden to its normal state.

When Hermione tiptoed into the attic room, Ron was examining his Deluminator, and Harry was filling Hagrid's mokeskin purse. "Muffliato." She waved her wand in the direction of the stairs.

"I thought you didn't approve of that spell?" Said Ron

"Times change," said Hermione. "Now, show us that Deluminator."

Ron obliged at once. Holding it up in front of him, he clicked it. The solitary lamp that they had lit went out at once.

"The thing is," she whispered in the dark, "we could have achieved that with Pruvian Instant Darkness Powder."

There was a small click, and the ball of light from the lamp flew back to the ceiling and illuminated them all once more.

"Still, it's cool," said Ron, a little defensively. "And from what they said, Dumbledore invented it himself!"

"I know, but surely he wouldn't have singled you out in his will just to help us turn out the lights!"

"D'you think he knew the Ministry would confiscate his will and examine everything he left us?" Asked Harry.

"Definitely," said Hermione. "He couldn't tell us in the will why he was leaving us these things, but that still doesn't explain. . . ."

"Why he couldn't have given us a hint while he was alive?" Asked Ron.

"Well, exactly," said Hermione, now flicking through The Tales of Beedle the Bard. "If these things are important enough to pass on right under the nose of the Ministry, you'd think he'd have let us know why. . . . unless he thought it was obvious?"

"Thought wrong then, didn't he?" Said Ron. "I always said he was mental. Brilliant and everything, but cracked. Leaving Harry a Snitch-what the hell was that all about?"

"I have no idea."

Hermione tuned them into background noise as she placed The Tales of Beedle the Bard beside her and picked up Hogwarts, A History. She flicked through the pages, not seeing anything new.

"Ow!" She flicked her finger, trying to cool it from the burning sensation of a paper cut.

"What is it, Hermione?" Asked Ron, sliding down to sit beside her on the old, worn-down couch.

"Just a. . . ." Her words cut out as the book began to take on a yellowish glow. Before long, the light died out and Hermione could see the book once again, the only thing, the book was no longer a book. Sitting in her lap were two letters and a Time-Turner. One letter was addressed to her and the other to Dumbledore."

"Why would Dumbledore leave himself a letter?"

"I have know idea." Hermione picked up the letter addressed to her and opened it with steady fingers. The letter was written in Dumbledore's elegant, looping script.

Miss Hermione Jean Granger

By now, you have found the secret contents that were transfigured to look like Hogwarts, A History. I have enchanted the book to reveal its true contents when in contact with your blood.

I leave you my Time-Turner. It is for you to use when all hope seems lost. It is to be used as a last resort. I have already set the Turner to take you to the time you need to be if and when it is needed. I know you will figure out what to do, my dear girl.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

"What the bloody hell!" Hermione couldn't help but to agree with Ron's words.

The cloaked figure glided up the stairs. Screams and curses flung around him. He maneuvered around the countless battles taking place around him, careful not to be hit with a stray spell.

He tightened his grip on the Invisibility Cloak that he wore. It would do no good to be spotted before it was time.

Signs of a struggle up a head reached him. If memory serves, this was the battle that he was looking for.

Up ahead of him were two Death Eaters. Their opponents were two gangly redheads and behind them were   three younger students, another gangly redhead, a boy with black hair and glasses, and a girl with brown curly hair that resembled that of a lion's mane. Soon, everything will fall into place.

One of the Death Eaters shot off a spell. It hit the wall, causing the wall and parts of the ceiling to crumble, scattering the group.

The cloaked figure quickly made his way to the people. He shot off two rapid fire killing curses at the immobile Death Eaters before making his way to a fallen redhead.

"Fred, wake up." The stranger shook the Weasley boy awake.

"Who's there!" Fred demanded as he blindly searched for his wand.

The cloaked stranger revealed his face to the scared boy. "You!" Fred shouted hoarsely.

"Me," the man laughed. "Fred, would you like to play one last joke?"

"Now? Are you out of your bloody mind! We're in the middle of a war!"

Grunts and moans sounded around them. It looked as if time was almost up. The stranger pulled out a potion bottle from a hidden pocket. He waved it in front of the trouble maker. "You sure? Take this and I'll guarantee that your family will survive."

"How're you gonna do that?" Fred questioned.

The stranger sighed. He should have known this wouldn't be easy. He shoved the potion at the boy. "It's Dumbledore's will. Now take the bloody drink and I promise you'll pull a prank like never before on your mother."

"On mum?" A devious smile came to Fred's lips. "Got yourself a deal." The boy chugged the potion down in one gulp. "What does it-" Fred Weasly fell silent. His eyes stared unseeing up at the ceiling. To the world, the boy appeared to be dead. The only sign that the boy's spirit had not left the world was the smile splayed on his lips.

The stranger pulled the cloak back up around him. His task was completed. It was now time to return before he was missed.

.... . . ....

Hermione looked out of the crumbling window of Hogwarts. Neville had informed her and Ron that Harry had slipped out of the castle.

Jeers and laughter broke the quiet mourning of those in Hogwarts. Voldemort's army parted the trees and came into sight. The snake-like figure of Voldemort slithered forward, passing Hagrid and the body that he carried.

Hermione had a sinking feeling that she knew whose body that was. They were confirmed by Voldemort's steady maniacal voice laced with growing happiness.

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body for proof that your hero is gone.

"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and The Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

Silence grew at the end of Voldemort's speech.

"Come," said Voldemort, and Hagrid followed behind, tears streaking down his face as he carried the limp body of Harry. "Stop." The Death Eaters came to a hault, as did Hagrid.

Hermione and Ron turned from the broken window and ran toward the courtyard. Everyone else flowed around them, heading in the same direction. They didn't stop running until they reached their destination.

"No!"

Mcgonagall's scream pierced Hermione's ears. The broken hysteria of Mcgonagall's voice brought her back to life.

"Accio, Dumbledore's letter." The letter that Dumbledore had written to himself flew out of her bag and into her hand. She clutched both the letter and the bag with one hand while her other one reached up to the Time-Turner that hung around her neck. "All hope is lost. You better take me to when I need to be." She gritted through her teeth.

Her words must have been the trigger because a tingling sensation pricked her belly button before spreading throughout her body. The world around her became dark momentarily.

The darkness faded away. Hermione stood in the courtyard of Hogwarts. The partially destroyed building now appeared just as it had always; magical, beautiful, and whole.

A throat cleared, making her jump.

Hermione spun around to find a man around her father's age. He had short cropped hair and a little bit of facial hair. He wore long, purple robes that swayed about his feet. She instantly recognized the man as being a younger Dumbledore.

She meekly handed him the letter that was addressed to him. "Wha. . . . what year am I in, sir?"

He arched a quizzical eyebrow at her question but took the letter. He looked at it for a moment. "1944. Shall we talk in my office," said the younger Dumbledore as he turned around and led Hermione through the castle.

His words rattled around inside of her head. 1944! That was the year that Grindewald was at the prime of his power, the year that he possessed the elder wand! It's also the year that Lord Voldemort attended Hogwarts!

They came to a stop outside the Transfiguration's classroom. "After you."

She nervously walked by him. "Muffliato," whispered Dumbledore as he walked past Hermione to the front of the room. He sat down behind the large desk and gestured for her to sit on the other side.

She pulled up a chair and quietly waited as he quickly read over the letter. "This is quite interesting," muttered Dumbledore.

Hermione's ears twitched with want. She had no idea what the letter read. Dumbledore had enchanted it so that only he himself could read its contents.

After a while, Dumbledore finally looked up at her. "It seems you have come at the perfect time. I will listen to my wizened self and help you for now."

"May I ask why I am here? Why this year?" Asked Hermione on the edge of her seat.

"It seems, my older self has sent you to this year for a task that only you can complete. You are to attend this year of Hogwarts and act as you normally would. It seems that my older self believes that in doing this, you will gain what you are looking for. To do this, you must act as if your past does not exist."

"How will me being here bring Harry back?" Asked Hermione in confusion. All she wanted was for her best friend to be alive and for Ron to be at her side.

Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic smile. "My older self has enchanted the Time-Turner to take you to the right time after you finish your task."

"May I ask what my task is, sir?"

"To gain knowledge on Tom Riddle." His words sent fear down her spine. "It seems you may be able to help this, Harry, out by getting to know Mr. Riddle. This letter strictly states that you must act as you do in your own time but under a new identity."

"What identity?" Asked Hermione, perplexed.

Dumbledore took out a second letter from inside his robes. "Before you appeared, I was on my way to inform the headmaster, Dippet, that his estranged daughter and her husband have perished in the war in France."

Hermione grimaced at the horrendous news. "How will this help me. . . and may I ask, why were they estranged?"

Dumbledore folded the letter back into his pocket within his robes. "They were estranged because she married a muggle. During this time, Dippet had a strong viewpoint against muggles. He has since changed his views but could not face up the courage to contact his only daughter. This means that he does not know if he has any grandchildren." A mischievous glint shone in his eyes.

"You want me to pretend to be the man's granddaughter!" Said Hermione, aghast.

"Yes. I want you to become Miss Norris, a gifted half-blood." Said Dumbledore.

Miss Norris? Like Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat? Hermione blanched at the thought of having the same name as that horrid feline.

"You do not approve of the idea?"

"No. . .no!" Hermione waved her hands out in front of her for emphasis. "It's just that, in my time, there was this horrid cat named Mrs. Norris."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Perhaps the feline was named after the Norris's, perhaps even you, yourself."

"I don't think so'" grimaced Hermione. There was no way that Filch's cat could have been named after her, could it?

Dumbledore knocked on the door leading to the headmaster's office. The office that Dippet resided in during this time.

"Come in!" Said a cheery voice from behind the wooden door.

Dumbledore pushed open the door and walked in, followed by a nervous Hermione. "Headmaster Dippet, I'm afraid I bring terrible . . . and good news."

Dippet looked questingly at Dumbledore. Hermione's heart broke at the news that he was about to receive.

"A letter came today." Dumbledore placed the letter containing the tragic news in front of Dippet.

Dippet's smile faltered as he looked at the letter. He picked it up and began to read it outloud. "Perhaps you should read it to yourself," suggested Dumbledore.

Hermione watched as tears flowed from the headmaster's eyes, running down his face. "My. . . my. . . daughter. . . my precious, Maureen." Dippet's voice broke.

Hermione stifled a sniffle. She would not cry, though she so dearly wanted to.

"I thought you said you had some good news!" Shouted Dippet hysterically.

Dumbledore placed a hand in between Hermione's shoulder blades and pushed her forward. "Introduce yourself, child," said Dumbledore kindly.

She looked between the two in confusion and dread. Confusion that she had to put on the act right at this moment and dread at giving this poor man some hope.

"I'm Hermione, Hermione Nor. . .Norris," stuttered Hermione.

Dippet continued to look at her in confusion. Tears dribbled down his face, becoming lost in his long white beard. He then looked to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore bowed his head. "It is true. She is the sole survivor of the town."

"I. . . I have a. . . granddaughter?" Asked Dippet as he continued to stare at Dumbledore in complete shock.

Dumbledore nodded in confirmation.

A broken smile filled Dippet's wizened face. "I have a granddaughter!" Before Hermione could blink, Dippet had wrapped her in a hug. "I have a granddaughter!"

He pulled away to look at her. "Hermione. Maureen always loved that name." His smile faltered at the thought of his daughter. "Ho. . . how did it happen?"

Hermione gulped when Dumbledore said nothing. "They were planning on escaping, but Grindewald's forces showed up sooner than expected. They didn't. . ." Hermione's voice failed her as she couldn't think of a lie fast enough. It appeared as if it wasn't needed. Dippet hugged her once again.

"Where are you to stay?" Asked Dippet in hopeful yearning.

"You are her only surviving relative. You may have her stay here and attend Hogwarts, allow her to develop and perfect her magic while having a chance for her to get to know you," supplied Dumbledore.

Dippet clapped his hands together. "What a splendid idea. We'll have to see what house you'll be placed in. You'll probably be a Hufflepuff just like your mother, and we'll have to have someone to tutor you, to help catch you up to. . .how old are you, my dear?" Asked Dippet.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but then closed it. Lord Voldemort graduated in 1945 which would make him a sixth year this year. "I just turned sixteen, sir."

Dippet clapped his hands once again. "Terrific! You'll be a sixth year. That means you'll be in the same grade as Mr. Riddle, our star pupil. I'll see if he could. . ."

Hermione's blood boiled at the thought of Lord Voldemort tutoring her. "I may not have attended magic school, but my mother made sure I was well prepared. She taught me herself." Interrupted Hermione.

Instead of looking annoyed, Dippet beamed a loving smile. "Your mother was the top of her class during her time here. I am sure you will be too, you remind me so much of her."

He looked down at her and a confused expression washed over his features. "What are you wearing, my dear?"

Hermione glanced down to her torn, modern day clothes. "It's France's newest style," she lied effortlessly.

Dippet nodded, accepting her lie. "It does not matter. You will have your robes after you are placed into your house." He disappeared behind the bookcase and came back with the sorting hat in his hand. "This hat will sort you into your house."

Hermione nodded as Dippet placed the hat gently on her head. "A sneaky little girl. You lie, though, you bring happiness in your lies," said the hat in her head. She was glad that no one else could hear the hat speaking right at that moment. "You are intelligent, like a Ravenclaw but brave as a Gryffindor. Would you like to be placed in the house that you were in, in the future?"

Hermione answered the hat with a silent 'yes.'

"Gryffindor!" Shouted the hat.

Dippet plucked the hat off of her head. "A fine house indeed."

"I thought you wanted her in Hufflepuff," mused Dumbledore.

Dippet placed the sorting hat back onto its spot. "Any house is fine as long as the girl is here. Her being alive is all that matters."

Hermione's heart fluttered. It tore at her that this man was so caring and unsuspecting.

Dippet clapped, drawing everyone's attention back on to him. He sat down and scribbled a quick note, Hermione watched as it turned into a bird and flew off. "It's to inform Tom to come to my office," answered Dippet when Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"Would you like some tea while we wait," asked Dippet. Hermione shook her head, already hating herself for taking advantage of this man's hospitality. Dippet looked to Dumbledore who raised a hand to decline the offered drink. "Very well then." Dippet made himself a cup of tea and sat down on the large oak chair.

"We should have a funeral for them. . .Maureen and Hank."

Hermione could think of nothing to say so she didn't say anything. They were not her parents and she felt as though she should have no real say in the matter.

An awkward silence filled the room. It didn't last long when the door to the office opened to reveal a boy around her age. He was tall and slender with brown wavy hair perfectly styled. Hermione bristled, recognizing the young dark lord.

"Tom, my boy!" Grinned Dippet as he stood up to greet Tom Riddle.

Riddle plastered on a fake smile that did not reach his dark eyes. "You needed me, headmaster?"

Hermione felt Dippet's hand come to rest on her shoulder for a second. "This is Hermione Norris, my granddaughter." A spark shown in Riddle's eyes at the unsuspecting news. "Show her around the castle and help her with her studies, would you?" asked Dippet.

"She's a Gryffindor and her robes should arrive by tomorrow," informed Dumbledore.

Hermione watched as Riddle's jaw became tensed, a small vein jutting out from his lower jaw. His posture became rigid before going back into that poised relax state that he had when he first entered.

She watched as his jaw relaxed and a fake smile appeared. "Of course, sir. I would be honored."

Riddle whirled around and left through the door, not even bothering to see if Hermione was following. She stretched her legs out as far as they would go to try to keep up with his longer, hurried pace.

"You don't have to show me around," said Hermione. "I have a map that my family gave me." She remembered the few details that she had found out about Tom Riddle, one being that he was an excellent lie detector. She didn't lie nor did she tell him the whole truth. She did possess a map, the marauders' map, and it belonged to Harry who she viewed as a brother.

. . . Harry . . .

She was doing this for him. If she succeeded in whatever it was that Dumbledore had set up for her, she could go back to her time and save Harry. He would no longer have to die at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

Riddle whirled around, his jaw was clenched tight and his hands were balling into fists. Hermione took a step back, not because of this, but because his eyes had flashed blue, the same blue that Lord Voldemort had. So, Tom Riddle's soul has already been split? The thought made her shudder.

Instead of backing down, she said, "you should be careful. Your eyes flash blue when you're angry."

He looked taken aback by her bold words. "It's just the lighting. Why would you think I would be angry." It wasn't a question, he expected her to answer him.

"You have been angry with me ever since you showed up to the office. I assume that I am an unforeseen event that you haven't calculated for. You're also irritated with Dippet, which everyone but him can see. If you want to blame your eyes on the lighting then fine, I do not care." She shrugged to emphasize her point.

Riddle's head cocked to the side as he examined her. "Why do you call him Dippet if he's your grandfather?"

"I only just met the man tonight. Him and Mau. . .mum weren't close." Hermione wanted to smack herself for the small slip up. To her relief, Riddle accepted her words.

She replayed what she said in her head and came to the realization that her slip up sounded a lot like a choke, that mentioning her mother was hard for her. Dippet must have explained that she was now technically an orphan in his brief message though he somehow forgot to mention that she was his granddaughter, supposed granddaughter, by the way that Riddle acted.

They walked down the corridor in silence. Before long, they came to a stop in front of the moving staircases. Riddle walked up them without giving her any warning about them, it was a good thing that she was used to them or she would have found herself in a bad spot when trying to find her classes. Speaking of classes, she sure hoped that her schedule would be in her room or at least arrive with her robes in the morning.

Riddle pulled them to a stop in front of the painting of the Fat Lady. Hermione paused as she realized that she didn't have the password. "I don't know the password," said Hermione, her despair rising.

"You don't kno. . . How do you know you need a password if Dippet never told you," said Riddle accusingly.

Hermione couldn't stop the eyeroll. "My mum attended Hogwarts." Crap, she just flat out lied.

One of Riddle's perfectly manicured eyebrows rose in suspicion. Before he could accuse her of anything, the Fat Lady interrupted in her sing-song voice. "You do not need a password today, dear. News has spread that headmaster Dippet will have family joining him here at Hogwarts," the Fat Lady said a bit smugly.

Riddle nodded, though Hermione could see his annoyance at being interrupted flash through his dark eyes. "I will leave you then. Kathleen Prewett, the Gryffindor prefect can show you around or help with any questions you will have," Riddle practically hissed, his frustration at this Kathleen person clear.

Hermione paid him no mind and walked through the now opened painting. The Gryffindor common room was the same in this time as in her own, except for the little, busty redhead who tapped her foot against the floor. Hermione couldn't put her finger on it, but the girl reminded her of someone.

The girl broke out into a smile. "I'm Kathleen and I'll be your prefect." Kathleen wrapped her in a tight embrace. "I'm here to help you with anything you need, just don't ever ask Riddle," said Kathleen, her frustration with Riddle evident in her tone of voice.

Hermione finally figured out who this girl reminded her of, Molly Weasley. She did have a busty redhead in her time who frequently showed her frustration, Ginny Weasley, Molly's only daughter. This trip was no longer looking so dull and fearful, she could possibly have a friend in this timeline.