(no subject)
He continued laughing for a long time. His shoulders were shaking as he bent over at the waist, clutching his sides as the hysterical laughter bubbled out of his chest. The sound echoed in the wilderness, probably startling away any curious animals that their Apparition hadn’t scared off.
Hermione watched him helplessly, unsure of what her next move should be. Looking at her surroundings, a wry smile lit her face.
The Forest of Dean.
Damn, had she hoped she would never have to see this place again. It wasn’t that she had anything against Gloucestershire, but this place had nothing but mixed memories for her. If she closed her eyes, she could see her parents trying to teach her to camp, or Harry struggling so very hard to be brave.
The ironic circumstances did not escape Hermione. Last time she had come here, she had been on the run with Harry. Now, she had returned, years in the past, once again on the run with Harry’s Godfather, who seemed as though he was on the verge of needing admittance to the long term Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s. Had she not been conscious of what he had just lost in a forty-eight hour period, Hermione would have been tempted to smack Sirius into silence. As it was, the mad sound of his laughter helped to focus her from giving into her panic.
What had she done? Was she insane? She had just broken every rule of time travel. This went against everything she stood for; she knew the rules! And yet, what else could she have done?
Guilt had always held a place in Hermione’s breast with regards to Sirius. He had been lost long before his time, due to circumstances beyond his control. Hermione had always wondered if there had been something more she could say to prevent Harry from going that day to the Department of Mysteries. Was that why she had saved him now? As tempting as it was to believe that, Hermione wondered if she had not needed to save him.
A plan, she needed a plan. Sitting down heavily on a big grey boulder, Hermione placed her hands on her knees and forced herself to take big deep breaths. The first thing she needed was to decide what to do about Sirius. Looking over at the man, now on his knees with hoarse laughter coming from him, she realized she had already messed up quite a bit. The time she had dithered in the Atrium resulted in the death of all those Muggles, and Sirius was once again a fugitive from the law.
It seemed to be his destiny in some sense.
Unfortunately, that ruled out her ability to take him anywhere. Hermione had wanted to take him to Dumbledore, give a couple of well meaning hints about the horcruxes, and then return to her time. Now, she could do no such thing. Dumbledore was much more likely to stun first, ask questions later, and Hermione couldn’t risk Sirius going to Azkaban. Somehow, she needed to clear Sirius’s name so that she could go home, safe in the knowledge that he had his freedom.
The fugitive’s laughter was easing now, his breath coming in gasps. His hands were flat on the ground, nails digging into the soft, dark earth. Hermione felt pity fill her as she looked at his prone form, but she made no move towards him. She was certain that he needed to come out of this madness on his own, and that he wouldn’t welcome any attempts to help him at the moment.
When his breathing slowed and became easy, Hermione tentatively said his name. “Sirius?”
His head snapped up, and his grey eyes stared at her with confusion. Sitting back on his heels, Sirius took in Hermione’s form, almost as if he was trying to figure out if she was real or not. There was some male appreciation in his eyes, but Hermione forced herself not to blush. He tilted his head to the side, brushing his hands off on the lap of his robe, and then tugging them through his longish dark hair.
Hermione looked down at her own robe, taking in the stains that had accumulated on the skirt of it and along the hem. Had it really only been a couple of hours ago that she had put it on for the day, her biggest worry being her troubles with Ron? Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. She promised herself that the last words she had spoken to him had not been in anger, that she would see him again and it would all be all right. Opening her wet eyes, Hermione said Sirius’s name once again.
“Sirius.”
“Who are you?” he asked, speaking for the first time. Hermione had to stop herself from trembling at the raspy quality of his voice.
“My name is Hermione Granger,” she said, deciding it didn’t matter if she was honest or not. The paradoxes of the universe were the least of her worries at the moment.
“Hermione,” he repeated. His lips moved over her name like a caress, while he watched her steadily. Their eyes were gazing into each other’s, yet it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. Hermione could see Sirius measuring her, trying to decide if he should trust her or not. For her part, she hoped she was conveying an easy feeling of confidence. She needed him to trust her.
After a long moment, he nodded. “So where are we, then?”
“The Forest of Dean,” Hermione replied. A bitter smile came across her face and she said, “I seem to wind up here whenever I am on the run from the Ministry.”
“So this happens to you a lot?” Sirius asked, disbelief filling his voice.
“Oh yes,” Hermione replied, “it’s old hat, really. Ask me anything.”
“Well, how am I doing so far?” He seemed to appreciate her attempt at levity.
“Hard to say at this point,” she commented, as if her words held little weight. “I have a feeling you haven’t really grasped what has happened.”
“Oh, I have,” he said, waving his hand airily. “I was on the hunt for a rat, and you prevented me from having to answer questions with the Ministry about the destruction of a certain Muggle street.”
Hermione stared at him, wondering if he realized his mistake. Deciding to be easy on him, she said quietly, “You do realize that the DMLE and the hitwizards will be looking for you now, don’t you? They think you blew up that street, killed those Muggles.”
“That wasn’t me,” Sirius said, his eyes blazing angrily. “That was Peter!”
“I know that,” Hermione soothed. “And you know that. I guarantee you that no one else will believe it. They’ll think it was you.”
“Well, then I guess I will just have to set them straight,” he said, standing.
“Where are you going?”
“To the Ministry,” he said, looking at her. “I need to clear this up so that I can continue to hunt for Peter.”
“Oh, sure,” Hermione said sarcastically. “Ignore the fact that Crouch will be out for your blood. Ignore the fact that the Aurors have been given permission to perform Unforgivables on any one they deem suspicious. Ignore the fact that all the witnesses on that street will remember an explosion and you laughing! Ignore the fact that no one knows that you WEREN’T the Potters Secret Keeper.” She then stood, hands on her hips angrily. “Go ahead! Go to the Ministry without thinking it through! After all, that is what you are good at, right? That’s what got you into this mess in the first place. Tell me Sirius, do you think Harry will appreciate it when he looses his Godfather to Azkaban at the tender age of one?”
He stared at her, gobsmacked. “How do you know any of that?” He then whipped out his wand, pointing it at her heart, all earlier friendliness gone. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”
It was at that moment that Hermione got angry. “Me? Oh, I am just the woman that saved your sorry ass!”
“You know things that no one could know…no one who wasn’t in league with Peter, that is,” Sirius snarled.
Hermione thought about lying, but she decided that it would serve no one if she did so. “I’m not a Death Eater,” she said quietly. Her eyes grew distant as she unbuttoned the top of her robes. She pulled down the plum material to just above her breasts, exposing her sternum to his gaze. Hermione didn’t even feel the breeze of the forest as she stood their, shoulders exposed.
With a slow hand, she traced the scar from her neck to the top of her left breast with one finger while he watched her.
“What the hell?” Sirius whispered, looking at the puckered skin in shock.
“Courtesy of your cousin Bellatrix, along with the Cruciatus Curse,” Hermione murmured. “Well, her and Fenrir Greyback. They like to play with their food before eating.” Then, she pulled her bodice down past her lace bra and exposed the white and scared flesh of her torso. Placing a palm over the textured skin under her right breast, she whispered, “This was a gift from Antonin Dolohov. He didn’t appreciate me stunning him and getting in his way.”
“Merlin…” Sirius whispered.
Hermione looked at him then, pulling up the bodice of her robes and buttoning them back up. Once she was presentable, she looked up and met his eyes steadily. “I am no Death Eater and I sure as hell am not in league with Peter fucking Pettigrew.”
Sirius nodded, believing the look on her face and the scars on her body. Something innate was telling him to trust her. Perhaps it was foolish. Morgana knows, he had made quite a few errors in judgment the past few weeks. His mistakes with Remus and Peter alone could fill endless rolls of parchment, but this woman before him made him feel a sense of security. There was a look in her eyes, one that told him she had stood face to face with the worst evil and lived to tell the tale. Merlin! This girl had faced at least three of the worst Death Eaters and survived. That alone meant something extraordinary.
“Okay, I believe you,” Sirius said, hoping he wouldn’t live to regret his words, “but that still doesn’t explain how you know about Peter and the Fidelius Charm.”
Hermione sat down again on her boulder and whispered, “Time Turner.”
“Co-come again?” Sirius stuttered.
“I used a Time Turner,” Hermione said, looking down at her hands and not at his eyes. “It was an accident, really. I was in the DOM and I touched one that had been unknowingly activated.” She then looked up at him, biting her lip and trying to decide what to tell him. “Um, in my future…you got sent to Azkaban. I know it is against everything time travelers are told, but I just couldn’t let that happen again. You don’t deserve it.”
Sirius walked over to her boulder and sat down next to her. “Budge over,” he muttered, his head dropping into his hands. “Holy shit, this is unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” Hermione agreed.
Sirius looked at her skeptically, his inner disbelief reasserting itself, and opened his mouth to speak when Hermione cut him off.
“You’re name is Sirius Orion Black II. You are the oldest son of Walburga and Orion Black. You had a younger brother Regulus who died two years ago. He was a Death Eater. You went to Hogwarts, and on the train you met James Potter. At Hogwarts, you became friends with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew as well. You, James, and Peter discovered Remus was a werewolf in your second year. You, Peter, and James all became Animagi in your fifth year to keep Remus company on the full moons. Your nickname is Padfoot, Remus’s is Moony, James’s was Prongs, and Peter’s is Wormtail; you four created the Marauder’s Map, losing it in your sixth year, which has seven secret passages. In your sixth year, you also sent Severus Snape into the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and James rescued him.”
His mouth had dropped open, but Hermione continued. “You left your parent’s house, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, when you were fifteen. Your Uncle Alphard gave you an inheritance for you to live on so that you didn’t have to go back, and got blasted off the family tree for his trouble. The Potters took you in. You were the best man at James’s wedding to Lily and you gave Harry his first broomstick. Lily sent you a thank you letter for it, along with a picture of Harry zooming around on it with James’s legs running in and out of the frame.
“After leaving Hogwarts, you, the other Marauders, and Lily all joined the Order of the Phoenix, which is a secret organization run by Albus Dumbledore. James and Lily went into hiding because of a prophecy about Harry. You were originally going to be the Secret Keeper, but you thought it was too obvious a choice. You were the decoy, Peter the real Keeper. You didn’t pick Remus because you thought he was the spy.”
Tears were rolling down Sirius’s face at this point, but she had to continue and get the rest out. “When you went to Godric’s Hollow two nights ago, you ran into Hagrid and he took Harry from you. You told him to take your motorbike because you wouldn’t need it anymore.”
His head was bowed, and Hermione wondered what it felt like to have a total stranger give a rundown of your life like that. She wondered if he was ashamed, proud, or simply mournful.
Then, he looked up and graced her with a huge smile. “This is wonderful!”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Don’t you see?” he replied, tilting his head and giving a little laugh. His eyes were bright and alive for the first time since she had seen him today. “We can change it all! What happened to James and Lily, it can all be undone! We’ll just use your Time Turner and go back three days. That’s all we need!”
Hermione felt her heart drop, and she shook her head gently. “No, we can’t.”
“Yes, we can! If you know all that, I must have known you in the future and trusted you enough to tell you about my life. This means you came back more than just a few days! What’s three days to the length of time you came back?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Hermione said quietly. “First of all, I don’t have the Turner any more. It disappeared when I arrived here. I am going to need Dumbledore or someone in the DOM to send me back.” He deflated a bit, but his jaw was still stubborn and Hermione knew that he hadn’t given up on the idea.
“Also,” she continued, “James and Lily’s deaths set so many things in motion, Sirius. Harry will be protected for a good portion of his life because of the sacrifice his mother made for him. Sirius, Voldemort will be gone for thirteen years. Thousands of people will now live because of the sacrifice your best friends made.”
“I don’t care,” Sirius said, clenching his jaw as tears filled his eyes. Hermione knew that he understood what she was saying, but he just didn’t want it to be true.
“Yes, you do care,” she said gently. “And you know that James would want it to have gone down that way. He would have wanted to die for his son, for something he believed in. You know that he would think the sacrifice worth it. He would have done anything for Harry. He was a true Gryffindor, and he died for the people he loved. You can’t take that away from him.”
His head bowed again, and she heard him begin to gently weep. She wondered if this was the first time he had cried over James and Lily. The fabric of his robes was getting wet, but he didn’t stop. Hermione said nothing, sitting there and offering her company and silence. She could imagine how difficult this all was for him. He must be fighting against every instinct he had to be selfish.
They sat like that for at least thirty minutes, neither of them speaking. Eventually, his hand covered hers, causing Hermione to look up in surprise. Sirius’s eyes were wet and searching, “Were we friends in the future?”
The truth was far from kind, but Hermione nodded and said, “I went to school with Harry. You were his favorite person.”
“Were?” he queried, his voice hoarse.
She nodded. “You died at the beginning of the Second Wizarding War. Me, Harry, and a couple of our friends walked into an ambush. You, Remus, and other members of the Order saved us.”
He nodded. “Did we win the war?”
She grinned. “You bet your ass we did.”
He gave a ghost of a smile and nodded again. “So I am guessing this is not how things went the first time?”
Hermione shook her head. “Not even close. Everything went terribly wrong the first time. You spent eleven years in Azkaban, like I said; Crouch didn’t give you a trial and you were assumed to be the Secret Keeper and the murderer of all those Muggles. Harry was stuck with his awful relatives ‘til he was eleven and got his letter, and you and Remus didn’t see each other again until my third year when you escaped from Azkaban.”
He grinned roguishly. “I escaped from Azkaban?”
Hermione grinned. “Yep, first one ever. You fooled the Dementors into thinking you were breaking, when really you were transforming into your Animagus form. You squeezed through the bars of your cell and swam off the island to shore. They never caught you either.”
Sirius laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Aye, that sounds like me.”
“You were Harry’s hero,” Hermione said, taking his hand again. “And mine too.”
Sirius looked at her for a long moment, as if he was searching for something in her eyes. A current seemed to pass between them, stealing her breath and firming his resolve. He seemed satisfied by what he saw in her gaze. Hermione felt like her insides were tumbling around with sudden anxiousness.
Eventually, he asked, “And Peter?”
“On the run for now,” Hermione replied, forcing herself to focus. “He will eventually settle with a Wizarding family and stay their pet rat for years.”
“I hope you understand that I can’t allow that to happen,” Sirius said, his jaw setting again.
“Oh, I know that,” Hermione said, surprising him. “In fact, I am going to give you a gift, Sirius.”
“What’s that?”
Her eyes gleamed with purpose, making him feel warm and hopeful. With conviction, she said, “I’m going to tell you everything you need to get your revenge on Peter, help Harry, and prevent the Second Wizarding War from ever happening.”
Chapter Four...
Hermione watched him helplessly, unsure of what her next move should be. Looking at her surroundings, a wry smile lit her face.
The Forest of Dean.
Damn, had she hoped she would never have to see this place again. It wasn’t that she had anything against Gloucestershire, but this place had nothing but mixed memories for her. If she closed her eyes, she could see her parents trying to teach her to camp, or Harry struggling so very hard to be brave.
The ironic circumstances did not escape Hermione. Last time she had come here, she had been on the run with Harry. Now, she had returned, years in the past, once again on the run with Harry’s Godfather, who seemed as though he was on the verge of needing admittance to the long term Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s. Had she not been conscious of what he had just lost in a forty-eight hour period, Hermione would have been tempted to smack Sirius into silence. As it was, the mad sound of his laughter helped to focus her from giving into her panic.
What had she done? Was she insane? She had just broken every rule of time travel. This went against everything she stood for; she knew the rules! And yet, what else could she have done?
Guilt had always held a place in Hermione’s breast with regards to Sirius. He had been lost long before his time, due to circumstances beyond his control. Hermione had always wondered if there had been something more she could say to prevent Harry from going that day to the Department of Mysteries. Was that why she had saved him now? As tempting as it was to believe that, Hermione wondered if she had not needed to save him.
A plan, she needed a plan. Sitting down heavily on a big grey boulder, Hermione placed her hands on her knees and forced herself to take big deep breaths. The first thing she needed was to decide what to do about Sirius. Looking over at the man, now on his knees with hoarse laughter coming from him, she realized she had already messed up quite a bit. The time she had dithered in the Atrium resulted in the death of all those Muggles, and Sirius was once again a fugitive from the law.
It seemed to be his destiny in some sense.
Unfortunately, that ruled out her ability to take him anywhere. Hermione had wanted to take him to Dumbledore, give a couple of well meaning hints about the horcruxes, and then return to her time. Now, she could do no such thing. Dumbledore was much more likely to stun first, ask questions later, and Hermione couldn’t risk Sirius going to Azkaban. Somehow, she needed to clear Sirius’s name so that she could go home, safe in the knowledge that he had his freedom.
The fugitive’s laughter was easing now, his breath coming in gasps. His hands were flat on the ground, nails digging into the soft, dark earth. Hermione felt pity fill her as she looked at his prone form, but she made no move towards him. She was certain that he needed to come out of this madness on his own, and that he wouldn’t welcome any attempts to help him at the moment.
When his breathing slowed and became easy, Hermione tentatively said his name. “Sirius?”
His head snapped up, and his grey eyes stared at her with confusion. Sitting back on his heels, Sirius took in Hermione’s form, almost as if he was trying to figure out if she was real or not. There was some male appreciation in his eyes, but Hermione forced herself not to blush. He tilted his head to the side, brushing his hands off on the lap of his robe, and then tugging them through his longish dark hair.
Hermione looked down at her own robe, taking in the stains that had accumulated on the skirt of it and along the hem. Had it really only been a couple of hours ago that she had put it on for the day, her biggest worry being her troubles with Ron? Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. She promised herself that the last words she had spoken to him had not been in anger, that she would see him again and it would all be all right. Opening her wet eyes, Hermione said Sirius’s name once again.
“Sirius.”
“Who are you?” he asked, speaking for the first time. Hermione had to stop herself from trembling at the raspy quality of his voice.
“My name is Hermione Granger,” she said, deciding it didn’t matter if she was honest or not. The paradoxes of the universe were the least of her worries at the moment.
“Hermione,” he repeated. His lips moved over her name like a caress, while he watched her steadily. Their eyes were gazing into each other’s, yet it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. Hermione could see Sirius measuring her, trying to decide if he should trust her or not. For her part, she hoped she was conveying an easy feeling of confidence. She needed him to trust her.
After a long moment, he nodded. “So where are we, then?”
“The Forest of Dean,” Hermione replied. A bitter smile came across her face and she said, “I seem to wind up here whenever I am on the run from the Ministry.”
“So this happens to you a lot?” Sirius asked, disbelief filling his voice.
“Oh yes,” Hermione replied, “it’s old hat, really. Ask me anything.”
“Well, how am I doing so far?” He seemed to appreciate her attempt at levity.
“Hard to say at this point,” she commented, as if her words held little weight. “I have a feeling you haven’t really grasped what has happened.”
“Oh, I have,” he said, waving his hand airily. “I was on the hunt for a rat, and you prevented me from having to answer questions with the Ministry about the destruction of a certain Muggle street.”
Hermione stared at him, wondering if he realized his mistake. Deciding to be easy on him, she said quietly, “You do realize that the DMLE and the hitwizards will be looking for you now, don’t you? They think you blew up that street, killed those Muggles.”
“That wasn’t me,” Sirius said, his eyes blazing angrily. “That was Peter!”
“I know that,” Hermione soothed. “And you know that. I guarantee you that no one else will believe it. They’ll think it was you.”
“Well, then I guess I will just have to set them straight,” he said, standing.
“Where are you going?”
“To the Ministry,” he said, looking at her. “I need to clear this up so that I can continue to hunt for Peter.”
“Oh, sure,” Hermione said sarcastically. “Ignore the fact that Crouch will be out for your blood. Ignore the fact that the Aurors have been given permission to perform Unforgivables on any one they deem suspicious. Ignore the fact that all the witnesses on that street will remember an explosion and you laughing! Ignore the fact that no one knows that you WEREN’T the Potters Secret Keeper.” She then stood, hands on her hips angrily. “Go ahead! Go to the Ministry without thinking it through! After all, that is what you are good at, right? That’s what got you into this mess in the first place. Tell me Sirius, do you think Harry will appreciate it when he looses his Godfather to Azkaban at the tender age of one?”
He stared at her, gobsmacked. “How do you know any of that?” He then whipped out his wand, pointing it at her heart, all earlier friendliness gone. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”
It was at that moment that Hermione got angry. “Me? Oh, I am just the woman that saved your sorry ass!”
“You know things that no one could know…no one who wasn’t in league with Peter, that is,” Sirius snarled.
Hermione thought about lying, but she decided that it would serve no one if she did so. “I’m not a Death Eater,” she said quietly. Her eyes grew distant as she unbuttoned the top of her robes. She pulled down the plum material to just above her breasts, exposing her sternum to his gaze. Hermione didn’t even feel the breeze of the forest as she stood their, shoulders exposed.
With a slow hand, she traced the scar from her neck to the top of her left breast with one finger while he watched her.
“What the hell?” Sirius whispered, looking at the puckered skin in shock.
“Courtesy of your cousin Bellatrix, along with the Cruciatus Curse,” Hermione murmured. “Well, her and Fenrir Greyback. They like to play with their food before eating.” Then, she pulled her bodice down past her lace bra and exposed the white and scared flesh of her torso. Placing a palm over the textured skin under her right breast, she whispered, “This was a gift from Antonin Dolohov. He didn’t appreciate me stunning him and getting in his way.”
“Merlin…” Sirius whispered.
Hermione looked at him then, pulling up the bodice of her robes and buttoning them back up. Once she was presentable, she looked up and met his eyes steadily. “I am no Death Eater and I sure as hell am not in league with Peter fucking Pettigrew.”
Sirius nodded, believing the look on her face and the scars on her body. Something innate was telling him to trust her. Perhaps it was foolish. Morgana knows, he had made quite a few errors in judgment the past few weeks. His mistakes with Remus and Peter alone could fill endless rolls of parchment, but this woman before him made him feel a sense of security. There was a look in her eyes, one that told him she had stood face to face with the worst evil and lived to tell the tale. Merlin! This girl had faced at least three of the worst Death Eaters and survived. That alone meant something extraordinary.
“Okay, I believe you,” Sirius said, hoping he wouldn’t live to regret his words, “but that still doesn’t explain how you know about Peter and the Fidelius Charm.”
Hermione sat down again on her boulder and whispered, “Time Turner.”
“Co-come again?” Sirius stuttered.
“I used a Time Turner,” Hermione said, looking down at her hands and not at his eyes. “It was an accident, really. I was in the DOM and I touched one that had been unknowingly activated.” She then looked up at him, biting her lip and trying to decide what to tell him. “Um, in my future…you got sent to Azkaban. I know it is against everything time travelers are told, but I just couldn’t let that happen again. You don’t deserve it.”
Sirius walked over to her boulder and sat down next to her. “Budge over,” he muttered, his head dropping into his hands. “Holy shit, this is unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” Hermione agreed.
Sirius looked at her skeptically, his inner disbelief reasserting itself, and opened his mouth to speak when Hermione cut him off.
“You’re name is Sirius Orion Black II. You are the oldest son of Walburga and Orion Black. You had a younger brother Regulus who died two years ago. He was a Death Eater. You went to Hogwarts, and on the train you met James Potter. At Hogwarts, you became friends with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew as well. You, James, and Peter discovered Remus was a werewolf in your second year. You, Peter, and James all became Animagi in your fifth year to keep Remus company on the full moons. Your nickname is Padfoot, Remus’s is Moony, James’s was Prongs, and Peter’s is Wormtail; you four created the Marauder’s Map, losing it in your sixth year, which has seven secret passages. In your sixth year, you also sent Severus Snape into the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and James rescued him.”
His mouth had dropped open, but Hermione continued. “You left your parent’s house, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, when you were fifteen. Your Uncle Alphard gave you an inheritance for you to live on so that you didn’t have to go back, and got blasted off the family tree for his trouble. The Potters took you in. You were the best man at James’s wedding to Lily and you gave Harry his first broomstick. Lily sent you a thank you letter for it, along with a picture of Harry zooming around on it with James’s legs running in and out of the frame.
“After leaving Hogwarts, you, the other Marauders, and Lily all joined the Order of the Phoenix, which is a secret organization run by Albus Dumbledore. James and Lily went into hiding because of a prophecy about Harry. You were originally going to be the Secret Keeper, but you thought it was too obvious a choice. You were the decoy, Peter the real Keeper. You didn’t pick Remus because you thought he was the spy.”
Tears were rolling down Sirius’s face at this point, but she had to continue and get the rest out. “When you went to Godric’s Hollow two nights ago, you ran into Hagrid and he took Harry from you. You told him to take your motorbike because you wouldn’t need it anymore.”
His head was bowed, and Hermione wondered what it felt like to have a total stranger give a rundown of your life like that. She wondered if he was ashamed, proud, or simply mournful.
Then, he looked up and graced her with a huge smile. “This is wonderful!”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Don’t you see?” he replied, tilting his head and giving a little laugh. His eyes were bright and alive for the first time since she had seen him today. “We can change it all! What happened to James and Lily, it can all be undone! We’ll just use your Time Turner and go back three days. That’s all we need!”
Hermione felt her heart drop, and she shook her head gently. “No, we can’t.”
“Yes, we can! If you know all that, I must have known you in the future and trusted you enough to tell you about my life. This means you came back more than just a few days! What’s three days to the length of time you came back?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Hermione said quietly. “First of all, I don’t have the Turner any more. It disappeared when I arrived here. I am going to need Dumbledore or someone in the DOM to send me back.” He deflated a bit, but his jaw was still stubborn and Hermione knew that he hadn’t given up on the idea.
“Also,” she continued, “James and Lily’s deaths set so many things in motion, Sirius. Harry will be protected for a good portion of his life because of the sacrifice his mother made for him. Sirius, Voldemort will be gone for thirteen years. Thousands of people will now live because of the sacrifice your best friends made.”
“I don’t care,” Sirius said, clenching his jaw as tears filled his eyes. Hermione knew that he understood what she was saying, but he just didn’t want it to be true.
“Yes, you do care,” she said gently. “And you know that James would want it to have gone down that way. He would have wanted to die for his son, for something he believed in. You know that he would think the sacrifice worth it. He would have done anything for Harry. He was a true Gryffindor, and he died for the people he loved. You can’t take that away from him.”
His head bowed again, and she heard him begin to gently weep. She wondered if this was the first time he had cried over James and Lily. The fabric of his robes was getting wet, but he didn’t stop. Hermione said nothing, sitting there and offering her company and silence. She could imagine how difficult this all was for him. He must be fighting against every instinct he had to be selfish.
They sat like that for at least thirty minutes, neither of them speaking. Eventually, his hand covered hers, causing Hermione to look up in surprise. Sirius’s eyes were wet and searching, “Were we friends in the future?”
The truth was far from kind, but Hermione nodded and said, “I went to school with Harry. You were his favorite person.”
“Were?” he queried, his voice hoarse.
She nodded. “You died at the beginning of the Second Wizarding War. Me, Harry, and a couple of our friends walked into an ambush. You, Remus, and other members of the Order saved us.”
He nodded. “Did we win the war?”
She grinned. “You bet your ass we did.”
He gave a ghost of a smile and nodded again. “So I am guessing this is not how things went the first time?”
Hermione shook her head. “Not even close. Everything went terribly wrong the first time. You spent eleven years in Azkaban, like I said; Crouch didn’t give you a trial and you were assumed to be the Secret Keeper and the murderer of all those Muggles. Harry was stuck with his awful relatives ‘til he was eleven and got his letter, and you and Remus didn’t see each other again until my third year when you escaped from Azkaban.”
He grinned roguishly. “I escaped from Azkaban?”
Hermione grinned. “Yep, first one ever. You fooled the Dementors into thinking you were breaking, when really you were transforming into your Animagus form. You squeezed through the bars of your cell and swam off the island to shore. They never caught you either.”
Sirius laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Aye, that sounds like me.”
“You were Harry’s hero,” Hermione said, taking his hand again. “And mine too.”
Sirius looked at her for a long moment, as if he was searching for something in her eyes. A current seemed to pass between them, stealing her breath and firming his resolve. He seemed satisfied by what he saw in her gaze. Hermione felt like her insides were tumbling around with sudden anxiousness.
Eventually, he asked, “And Peter?”
“On the run for now,” Hermione replied, forcing herself to focus. “He will eventually settle with a Wizarding family and stay their pet rat for years.”
“I hope you understand that I can’t allow that to happen,” Sirius said, his jaw setting again.
“Oh, I know that,” Hermione said, surprising him. “In fact, I am going to give you a gift, Sirius.”
“What’s that?”
Her eyes gleamed with purpose, making him feel warm and hopeful. With conviction, she said, “I’m going to tell you everything you need to get your revenge on Peter, help Harry, and prevent the Second Wizarding War from ever happening.”
Chapter Four...