A Paradox In Time

The Mandela Effect

Sparrow's Nook, Cornwall, Eleven Years Later

Hermione raced down the narrow lane, her heart beating at a thousand miles an hour, fuelled not just by her vigorous exercise, but by the fear of what she might find when she returned home.

That is if the place still was her home.

For things had already fundamentally changed in her world, she noticed that as soon as she re-emerged in the Time Chamber in the underbelly of the Department of Mysteries. The Temporal Distorter, the device she had been using to punch holes in time, vanished right before her eyes ... which could mean only one thing ... she had never invented the thing in the first place.

That would change other key things, such as her permission to even be down here in this part of the Ministry in the first place. As a senior research Fellow of the Department she had access to all areas, but as her work was literally disappearing before her eyes, she could only assume that this was no longer her job. To be caught down here now would carry a severe punishment, perhaps even a stint in Azkaban.

Hermione riled against that as the thought crossed her mind ... she loved this place, this work ... loved investigating mysteries that would push her brilliant mind to ever more extraordinary levels. Not for her a life in politics or Healing. This was her true calling. There was rarely a dull day and she absolutely adored what she did

In fact there was only one thing she adored more, and she was frantic to discover if any of that was still hers anymore.

Which is why she was to be found now hurtling down the maze of narrow country lanes that led to Sparrow's Nook, the home she and Harry had set up together three years after leaving Hogwarts. They hadn't moved in together right away ... they had gone travelling for a year after Voldemort's defeat, feeling some time away from the spotlight of the Magical world was just what they needed.

So they visited the ancient sites of Greece and Rome, Egypt and Mexico ... sunned themselves on beaches in Florida and the Bahamas and the Balearic Islands ... fell asleep in each others arms under the sweeping lights of the Aurora Borealis. It had been a perfect year. Then Hermione enrolled on a Bachelors Degree at Oxford University, having passed the entrance exam with an exemplary score, and having her Hogwarts qualifications verified by the secretive department of the ancient university that dealt with Magical students wishing to study there.

Two years later and the first baby came along, and neither Hermione's dorm room nor the flat that Harry had rented in the city were anything like suitable enough.

So they chose Cornwall for its seclusion and beautiful scenery. They weren't far from the open-air Minack Theatre, and it soon became one of Hermione's favourite things to take her babies - both small and big - to sit on the stone pews and while away the days with an ice cream or a mug of Earl Grey. In fact, it was where Harry had clumsily - and soppily - proposed to her, shouting out for her hand in marriage whilst pretending to test out the acoustics of the amphitheatre-like venue.

It was the image Hermione would call on if she ever needed to produce a Patronus.

But now all that was in danger of vanishing into the mists of another time. Hermione could feel her pulse in her throat at the very thought, hoping against all dying hope that she was wrong. She soon rounded the last bend ... the house was in sight, the garden gate she knew so well ... this would be the test, this would be how she knew ...

And then she promptly rebounded off the security charm around the garden, crying out in heart-sore horror as she hit the floor with a bump. But it wasn't horror of a bruised thigh that was terrifying her so ... it was the sobering realisation that the house was denying her entry without permission.