The Light

Chapter 17- The Comprehension

When Hermione woke up the next day, she was in Sirius' bed again, and she almost managed to convince herself everything had been a horrible dream. But her eyes stung impossibly, and her lips felt chapped.

It hadn't been a dream. She closed her eyes again.

She had thought that when she finally realised what her boggart meant, it would bring her relief. And maybe even get rid of the fear that had been growing inside of her. But now, all Hermione felt, was that very same fear pulsing with more vigour than ever before.

The future. But it wasn't so much the future, she realised, and the revelation left her reeling. It all came down to her original fear- failure. But now, well, it wasn't failing any exam; it was failing the people she loved.

Changing the past had become her only option. It wouldn't negate her own existence. Hermione knew that she'd make it out alive, regardless of anything else she did or chose to do. Unless she died in this timeline. But even if she did manage to somehow return to her own time, what would she find there? Her just being here was bound to have disrupted the timeline more than anyone could fully comprehend just yet. Would she still be friends with Harry and Ron? Would they still be trying to defeat the Dark Lord? Would they still be dead?

Hermione took a deep breath. It always came down to this. When the world was quiet and dark, and she should've been sleeping or reading or thinking about anything else, her mind always wandered back to this.

She knew, now and irrevocably, that her mind was made up. How could she possibly live with herself if she let everyone die? If she truly did let the world burn?

The boggart's words echoed around her head once more, and she couldn't help but feel unnerved again.

"You're going to be swallowed by me, my dear. And I'm going to savour you."

Hermione sat up.

As she looked around the room, rubbing her eyes, and she noticed that the dormitory was empty. Light streamed in through the slits in the curtains, and judging from the brightness of it, she'd guess it was mid-morning.

Hermione's eyes widened.

Swearing under her breath, she grabbed her wand from the bedside table and muttered, "Tempore Loquentis."

The time flashed in front of her. 10:26.

She was late for class!

Throwing back the covers, Hermione shot out of bed, quickly rummaging around for her bag (she was already thankfully dressed in her uniform, although it was crumpled up, so she had to cast a spell in order for her to look remotely presentable). She found it hidden under a pile of clothes.

Although she didn't have time to do her hair, or even glance in the mirror, she shoved her unruly curls into a bun and rushed from the Common Room.

Luckily, Hermione didn't pass anyone in the corridors.

Well, of course you won't, she thought bitterly, because they're all in class- where you should be!

As she was mentally chastising herself, she didn't realise just where she was going. She also completely missed the tall witch standing at the end of the corridor she was in.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione jumped, spinning around to look in the direction of the voice. Professor McGonagall stood there; her typical emerald robes and matching hat shone in the sunlight, and her younger face was smiling tightly.

"Professor!" Hermione said in way of a greeting. She blushed at the fact that her Head of House had just caught her essentially skipping class.

The older woman's expression never faltered as she said, "Follow me."