All Hope is Lost

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?

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