Flight of the Stars

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot.

Note: I will change the timing around slightly. For this timeline, Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald in 1943, not 1945.

o-0-o

Hermione hurried into a nearby alley, already sweating, and shrugged off her jacket. She leaned against one of the walls, wiping her forehead, and forced herself to come up with something, anything, that would give her a next step to follow.

She didn't know what to do.

In her first year, she had helped Harry prevent Voldemort's coming back. In her second year, she had brewed an extremely advanced potion and had gotten Petrified, and had figured out the mystery of the basilisk. Third year, she had stopped a werewolf. Fourth, she had helped Harry compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Fifth, she had fought against Umbridge's regime (and she still smiled to think of the curse she had put on Marietta Edgecombe, which still hadn't faded), and fought against Death Eaters at the Ministry. Sixth, she had decided to drop out of school to help Harry hunt for Horcruxes.

Seventh, she had fought Death Eaters, defied death, gotten tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and lied, and fought against Voldemort with everything she had.

Then she watched Harry walk to his death, and was witness to one of the most important events in Wizarding history: Voldemort's defeat.

But she had never dealt with anything like this.

To be sent this far back in time? She had never read anything like it. She knew the effects of the Reducite curse, knew that it was incredibly unstable and therefore incredibly dangerous, but she had never heard of anyone being sent this far back by the curse, or by anything at all.

Was she stuck here, forever? To be sent back to 1944, of all times –

Then it came to her. 1944. Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald in 1943. Dumbledore was alive.

She suddenly knew what her next step was.

o-0-o

The door opened just as she raised her hand to knock, and a much-younger Albus Dumbledore looked down at her, a bemused expression on his face. "Yes, how may I help you?"

"Well," Hermione began, "you see, er – may I just come in, please?"

"Yes, certainly." Dumbledore opened the door for her and he followed her into the house.

It was small, but cozy. A large fire was flickering in the fireplace in the center, and a few comfortable-looking armchairs were gathered near it. Bookcases filled nearly every available area of wall space, and a teapot was whistling cheerfully on the stove over to the side. A hallway led off toward what she assumed was his bedroom.

"Tea?"

Hermione turned to see Dumbledore pouring tea into two mugs, and smiled at his assumption. "Two sugars, please."

Dumbledore complied, and a few moments later she was seated in one of the comfortable armchairs, the tea mug warming her hands, which had become cold with the thought of her predicament. If you can call something of this magnitude simply a predicament.

"Well, you see, sir – oh Merlin, how do I say this? My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm from the future."

Dumbledore didn't even blink, but simply nodded his head thoughtfully and took a sip of his tea. "Cause?"

"Er, the Reducite spell. Have you heard of it? I'm not sure if it's been invented yet." Hermione realized she was rambling and drank some tea as she gathered her thoughts. "It was cast at me by a – a future follower of a future Dark wizard." Death Eaters weren't – aren't around yet, she realized.