The Gift of the Knowing
Title: The Gift of the Knowing (1/?)
Author: Caitlinlaurie
Rating: PG-13 for now
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Sirius
Summary: After being sent into the past, Hermione is on a race against the clock to change a history that has already been written.
Warnings/Notes: This is a different Time-Turner fic, mostly because Hermione is NOT going back to when the Marauders are in school. This is canon through DH, but is EWE.
Disclaimer: All characters and their canon histories are the property of J.K. Rowling.
Chapter One - The Push
The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once - Albert Einstein
After smoothing down the deep purple velvet skirt of her robes, Hermione Granger began tapping her foot as she waited for the lift to arrive. It amazed her that in a building dedicated to the growing, protecting, and regulating of magic, the Ministry of bloody Magic couldn’t get the lifts to run on time. Most mornings this would not bother her in the least, as she was a very sensible woman who always gave herself a cushion of ten minutes so she would never be late, but today was the exception to the never broken rule.
For today was not just any other day. Today was the day that Hermione was joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Magical Law Enforcement Squad had recently had an administrative opening, and Hermione was pleased and elated when they asked her to sit for an interview. Apparently they had been following her work in the Office for House-Elf Relocation, and were rather impressed.
As much as Hermione wanted to stay working for that office, she had already gotten her House-Elf legislation through the Wizengamot. Her pet project, entitled Dobby’s Bill, allowed all House-Elves that wanted it freedom and the ability to leave their current occupation without repercussion. Though Hermione had wanted much more for House-Elves, including pay, in the end she realized that she could only make options available to them. She couldn’t force elves to free themselves against their will, and privately she even now admitted to herself that Dobby might have been a rare breed all to himself.
Now that her bill had passed, Hermione wanted a much larger platform from which to make legislative changes, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement provided that. And if she saw Harry more, then so much the better. She knew this was her moment, the event that changed the course of her life. The possibility and excitement was coursing through her, and she couldn’t wait to get started.
With a ding, the four of the twenty golden lifts arrived and Hermione flicked her wand and levitated her box of personal effects. Once she had stepped onto one of the lifts, she squeezed herself into the small space provided. With a great clang, the doors closed and the lift descended. Hermione cleared her mind, trying to distance herself from the chatter of the other people in the lift and forcing herself not to react to the hushed whispers she heard. Sighing, Hermione strained herself to remember that this was the cost of being one of the best friends of Harry Potter. After the end of the Second Wizarding War, Hermione’s part in it became something akin to legend, much along with Harry’s. The noticeable side effect of her fame was negligible, but the personal side effects were another story.
Unlike before the war and the notoriety, Hermione now had a very difficult time trusting people. Not that she had ever been that easy in making new friends, but before the war there had been an innocence to her. She allowed herself to trust that people were good and kind, until proven otherwise. Now, she did nothing of the sort. Whenever she met a new person now, Hermione found herself sizing them up, tilting her head from side to side as she mentally catalogued any apparent weaknesses while her eyes scanned the room for any and all exits. Maybe that was why she thought she would be happier in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There, all the people were as war-weary as she.
“Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes incorporating the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, Invisibility Task Force, and the Muggle Liaison Office,” stated the calm voice of the greeting witch, as the lift stopped at the third floor.
Pushing up the sleeve of her robes, Hermione examined her Muggle wrist watch and saw that she was a minute away from being late. Quite an impression to make on her first day. Cursing to herself, her foot tapping began again in earnest. How was this happening to her? She was never the witch that was late, fashionably or otherwise. She was always on time to every occasion. But to be fair to herself, this had not been a normal day.
It had all started that morning when her Muggle alarm clock had not gone off. Hermione had her suspicions as to why, but from what she could guess it was simply reacting to being surrounded by so much magic all the time. She then spent the rest of the morning rushing to get ready, and trying not to curse when she broke the chain of her favorite necklace as she was hurrying to put it on. Stale toast and cold tea only worsened her mood, but the day truly deteriorated into hell when an owl arrived just as she was about to Apparate. Rushing over to the window, Hermione had yanked the sash open, allowing Pigwidgeon to zoom into the room. After three minutes of mentally cursing the tiny owl, Hermione had calmed him long enough to retrieve the letter from his leg. It was from Ron, unsurprisingly.
Hermione,
Please return my Chudley Cannons jersey at your earliest convenience.
Ron
Hermione, upon seeing the note, fought the urge to rip it up into tiny pieces and set them on fire. Ron always did this. She didn’t even know why it surprised her at this point. The previous week they had an argument, as they always did. They screamed and yelled and swore they would never speak to one another again, as they always did. Then they gave each other the silent treatment for a week until Ron asked for some personal item back, as he always did. The next part in their little routine was for Hermione to seek him out at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, as she always did, and cry in his arms and beg for forgiveness.
Just thinking about it, even now an hour later, was exhausting. Thoughts about it had haunted her as she packed up her tiny office in order to report to her new one on time.
Was this the way relationships were meant to be? They seemed to constantly be fighting, and Hermione always had to be the one to apologize. For a tiny moment, as she stood there on that cramped lift, Hermione allowed herself to imagine a life in which she didn’t apologize to Ron. Would she be happier; would he? Perhaps they were just too different, and trying to stay together was a fool’s errand. But no, that was wrong. Everyone said they belonged together. Harry would always laugh and chuff Ron on the shoulder when they would reunite, saying, “I dunno why you two always seem to be fighting. You have belonged together since first year; any fool can see that.”
Perhaps she was a fool then, for seeing what Harry saw grew harder and harder with time. And the things that she and Ron fought about grew bigger, not smaller. They fought about money (Ron never saved any), work (Ron had been slightly unsupportive of her moving offices, and had even been annoyed that she was moving into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, while he was still working for his brother), marriage (he wanted to get married now, and she wanted to wait), and the future (she wasn’t convinced they had one). To Hermione, this all combined to make her feel as though she was being marched forward to a destiny not of her choosing. Between Molly’s not-so-subtle hints, Ginny constantly calling her “my future sister”, and Harry’s deep conviction that she and Ron belonged together, Hermione wondered if she had any say in the matter at all.
What would happen if, this time, she didn’t apologize?
“Department of Magical Law Enforcement incorporating, the Aurors' Office, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Wizengamot Administration Services, the Improper Use of Magic Office, and the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects,” toned the greeting witch as Hermione arrived at her floor.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, Hermione stepped off the lift. Turning left as she walked, Hermione bypassed the Aurors’ Office and went straight to her new department. Opening the door, Hermione smiled at the two rows of neat cubicles that greeted her. She quickly made her way over to the one that had been designated for her use, and began rapidly put her things in the correct spot.
She had barely put down the last picture frame and banished the box when her new boss, Tristan Boot, ducked his head in.
“Granger,” he said. “Ah, good. You’re here.”
“Yes, sir,” Hermione said, wondering if he was about to lecture her for her tardiness.
“Fine, fine. Get yourself over to the Auror Office. You are going to being investigating a break-in with Auror Coppertine.”
Hermione was shocked that she was being given such an assignment on her first day, but she struggled not to show it. “Yes sir, is there anything I should know, sir?”
Boot looked at her appraisingly, but then sighed. “Normally, you would not be given an assignment like this on your first day, but you were requested specially. I do not like things going over my head, understand Granger?”
“Yes, sir,” Hermione said. “I didn’t request this, Mr. Boot.”
Boot sighed again. “Just take a quill and some parchment. You are there as a representative of this office, and not much more. This is the type of thing that the Aurors always handle but because of the location of this break-in, it has to be interdepartmental, understand?”
Hermione nodded as she grabbed her favorite blue refillable quill and some parchment, and rushed out the door to the Auror Office. Once she stepped inside, she had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling. The office was much like her new one, except for the contents of the cubicles. Instead of neat and ordered workspaces, these cubicles were full of pictures of known Dark wizards, clippings from the Daily Prophet, and maps marked with arrows and pins.
She barely had time to finish her perusal, let alone look for Harry’s familiar face, before she was being tapped on the shoulder. Hermione turned to see a nondescript man of indeterminate age staring back at her.
“Hermione Granger, I presume?” He asked, though his voice really didn’t seem to be asking a question.
Hermione nodded, unsure of what to make of the man standing in front of her. He looked to be about 180 centimeters, and he was reed-thin maybe coming in at 9 stone at the most. He had dull brown eyes, and dull brown hair and features that were not at all memorable. Hermione privately suspected that this made him very good at his job as he would be almost impossible to remember. Everything about him was average.
“Auror Coppertine?” Hermione asked back, as the man nodded.
“Yes, indeed,” Coppertine said. He then extended his hand towards the door and said, “Well, shall we go?”
Hermione nodded, following him out of the office and onto a lift that was just there, waiting for them. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione cursed her luck that she was never able to just walk right on one of the Ministry lifts. Coppertine walked straight to the back, not waiting for Hermione to follow him. Wrinkling her nose at his odd attitude, Hermione took her place next to him, ignoring the whispers her presence received. They both kept quiet as their lift descended downwards towards the Atrium of the Ministry. But after they passed the Atrium and Coppertine didn’t make a move to get off, Hermione suddenly realized her mistake. They weren’t leaving the building, not at all…they were going to the one place she had never wanted to see again.
“Department of Mysteries,” the cool voice intoned as they arrived. Hermione tried to hide her shaking as they stepped off the lift and into that too familiar corridor.
“This way,” Coppertine said, grabbing her elbow and forcing her down the hallway.
Hermione fought back the nausea she felt at being in a place that had caused so many bad memories. She forced herself to remain calm. Looking over at Coppertine, she realized he was observing her with a measured gaze.
“Why me?” She finally asked. “Why did you ask for me?”
“Perhaps because you are one of the only known Ministry employees to have ever successfully broken into the Department of Mysteries,” he said evenly, his face betraying no expression.
“Why not Harry Potter, then? He could have led this investigation,” Hermione stated. “Why are you involved?”
“Auror Potter is out on assignment,” Coppertine answered, opening that plain black door which had haunted so many of her dreams.
Hermione tried not to cry out in pain as she followed him into the circular room with twelve handless doors.
“Breathe, Miss Granger,” Coppertine said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
“I still don’t understand,” Hermione said, fighting off her rising panic. “What could I possibly contribute?”
“Because I think you might have some idea how it was done,” Coppertine answered, pushing open a door and forcing Hermione to follow him.
It was the Time Room.
Hermione was immediately assaulted by the beautiful light, the room seemed to produce. Clocks could still be found on every surface, and the swish and click of all the hands of the clocks working together was shockingly uniform. The crystal bell jar was still standing at the far end of the room, showing the progression of time over and over. But what caught Hermione’s interest was the large glass-fronted case standing against the far wall.
“The Time-Turners!” Hermione gasped. “They’ve been fixed! But I thought we destroyed them all!”
Coppertine made a humming noise under his breath. “And so you did. The Ministry has spent the last couple of year secretly recreating all that was destroyed.”
Hermione walked through the room and over to the case, examining the small silver hourglasses. Memories assaulted her as she thought of that awful third year, when she had been so tired and exhausted from her work load. But she supposed it hadn’t been all bad, after all, that was how she and Harry had saved Sirius.
Sirius. Hermione slammed her eyes shut, trying to forget that he had died in a room not far from where she was standing. This was the real reason she didn’t want to come here; this was why she would have been happy to never set foot in the DoM ever again. She couldn’t bear to remember the life that had been lost that day.
“Be careful,” Coppertine cautioned, causing Hermione to look down at her feet.
Broken glass lay on the floor, along with a suspicious device that looked like a Time-Turner, but wasn’t. This item was black, not silver, and the hourglass was too rounded, too pear shaped to be a Time-Turner. Furrowing her brow, she asked, “What is it?”
Coppertine shrugged. “Absolutely no idea. The Unspeakables won’t tell me, not that I expected them too. We are only going to call it ‘the device’ in our report.”
Hermione nodded, but her mind was running in quite a different direction. Her fingers itched to touch the small black object, to unmask its secrets. The runes that were inscribed along the surface captured her imagination as she tried to decipher their meaning without being too obvious. She could easily see…Tiwaz, Isa, Mannaz, Ehwaz…Time? Next was Sowilo, Perth, Ansuz, Ehwaz …Space? The last set of runes ran Perth, Othila, Raido, Tiwaz, Ansuz, Laguz…Portal?
“Here is what we know so far, at approximately five o’clock last night…” Coppertine intoned. Hermione charmed her quill to transcribe what he was saying, as she tuned him out in favor of focusing on the small object that had caught her attention.
Time Space Portal? That couldn’t possibly be right, and Hermione shook her head as she tried to run through the translation again. She then saw more tiny runes that ran along the base of the object. While the previous translation had been written based on the letter they represented, this one seemed to use runes for words. It said: Nauthiz, Othila, Algiz, Mannaz, Perth, Gebo, Jera, Othila, Raido, Kenaz. What could that possibly mean? Hermione’s thoughts ran amok as she started to figure it out. The first was need, followed by pass on knowledge, then protection…no, preservation; man or mankind; portal; sacrifice; year…no not year, time; pass on of knowledge again, no wait, not pass. It wouldn’t be pass after Jera, it was…judge; long journey; and light. Looking at the order and the meaning, Hermione mentally organized the depth of the craving as well as the use of certain runes next to one another. After a long moment, in which Hermione ignored Coppertine completely, she finally put the meaning all together and nearly stepped back in shock. It said:
Time Space Portal: If you have the need to pass on knowledge for the preservation of Mankind, this portal will take the sacrifice of your time, judge its sufficiency, and send you on a long journey in a flash of light.
Her own curiosity won out against her fear, causing Hermione to move closer. Was it truly possible? Was this really a portal through time? Crouching down, Hermione started to hear a vague humming in her ears. It was as if someone was singing, and she felt a pull towards the object. All thoughts disappeared, all time seemed to stop. The danger and caution which she should have felt were absent. All she knew that distant humming and its intoxicating song. Her eyes had focused their attention solely on the small, black turner, and Hermione began to reach out her fingers. It was calling to her, summoning her forward. She had forgotten why she was there, the danger that such an object could give. All she knew was that she had to touch it. It belonged to her, this Hermione knew for certain. Touch it, touch it! She could resist it no longer. Within moments, her fist closed around the object.
Hermione vaguely heard someone yell, “No! Don’t!” before she was taken away, transported in a blinding light.
Chapter Two...