Once Hermione started talking she felt everything just spill out. She needed someone else to just understand and tell her what was going on because truthfully she had no idea, none at all.
Dumbledore just sat there intently as he listened to her incoherent babbling whilst McGonagall made periodic sounds of disbelief. It didn’t surprise her because she’d known McGonagall’s personality was a cynical one compared to the rest of the Hogwarts staff. She was so different to the older McGonagall Hermione knew without the scars of her future marring her skin with so much pain and wrinkles.
She told them about going to Bathilda’s container and looking for the paperwork. When it came to the part about the little box, Hermione noticed that both of them seemed more interested. Well then again this was the most absurd part of her story. They could understand her job, maybe even believe who she was when she explained she was a muggle born Gryffindor but this had never been heard of. Travelling back in time for more than 3 days was impossible, yet here she was, just living proof of this bizarre happening.
‘May I see this box?’ Dumbledore asked.
She took the trinket from my robe and placed it on the table in front of us. There was no buzzing coming from it now, no urge to open it. It just seemed obsolete, like a normal trinket box.
Dumbledore picked the box up and inspected it over his half-moon spectacles as Hermione once again felt Minerva McGonagall’s eyes piercing my soul. Hermione knew she doubted me but she also knew McGonagall the woman she’d known since she was just eleven years old which made her doubt easier. Hermione was seeing the woman before the war and she was seeing her after the war, two people on completely parallel universes. When she would meet Hermione at just eleven, she would know who Hermione was and who she would grow up to be but Hermione wouldn’t know the younger McGonagall until she was twenty three.
She thought to herself whether this was all meant to happen, whether when McGonagall met her she already knew what was going to happen. It was an interesting thought considering the close relationship between the pair had always been close. She pondered this, still looking at McGonagall and wondering if she knew how this war was going to end.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed Dumbledore take some powder from the box and put it to his lips.
‘Krinclipilg powder.’ He murmured, not taking his eyes off the box.
She recalled the mention of these mysterious creatures during NEWT potions classes. This was one of the most potent substances in the wizarding world but it was extremely hard to get hold of, there hadn’t been a reported sighting of a Krinclipilg in over 20 years. It seemed like nothing about this whole situation could seem or even be at all normal.
‘Albus, it can’t be,’ Minerva piped up looking at the glittering powder suspiciously, ‘Only 3 ounces of that are known to be in existence and you have 2.’
‘It is most definitely Krinclipilg powder Minerva. It hasn’t ever been known to cause time travel but in the right conditions with the right energy, it wouldn’t surprise me if time travel was possible.;
He looked at Hermione intently, taking in her surprised reaction. The idea that she had been holding something so potent and so rare overwhelmed her slightly. She may have defeated Voldemort but there were always some things which she couldn’t get her head around, holding this valuable powder was just one of them
‘Hermione, I believe you,’ he started. Hermione looked at him closely it was very obvious he was holding something back.
‘I don’t know how to take you home. I can do some research and ask Bathilda if she knows where it came from but she may not have received it for another ten years or so.’
He looked at her gravely as she began to realise the consequences of what he had just said. She wasn’t going home, not today, not tomorrow, maybe not for another ten years. She could be thirty three by the time she got home, missing for ten years, everyone would have given up on her. Ron…
Her heart ached at the thought of not seeing Ron for the next ten years. Maybe he’d have moved on, married someone else, had their children, not knowing what happened to me. Tears prickled at her eyes but she would not let them spill over. She had to be strong, to stay strong.
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