Times of Trouble

When Hermione awoke she was confused. She couldn't see a thing. All she knew for certain was that she was lying on her stomach on something that felt suspiciously like a cloud. Quite different from the thin, lumpy mattress she'd spent the last few months on.

Cautiously she raised her hands to touch her face, wincing as the movement made her back burn. What she found on her face scared her.

There were bandages, so many bandages. They covered her eyes and wrapped all the way around her head.

"Hey! Harry! She's awake!" a rather familiar voice whispered.

Hermione opened her mouth and tried to say, "Neville?" but all that came out was a raspy croak.

"Neville, hand me some water," an oddly familiar, but very comforting voice said.

Arms lifted her carefully and Hermione felt a cool glass pressed to her lips. A second later the most delicious water she'd ever tasted slipped past her parched lips and down her throat.

When the water disappeared she whispered, "More, please."

Soon more delicious water was slipping down her throat. When he was all gone she let out a sigh of satisfaction as she was lowered back to the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.

"Like someone ran me over," she said, thinking of her burning back and her now pounding head, "and then left me with a blast-ended skrewt.

The boys chuckled.

"Well, you were pretty beat up when Marcus brought you here. The Healers weren't sure you'd make it," Harry answered.

"It was all we could do to stay at Hogwarts until term ended once we got the news. Only reason we didn't leave early was the lack of transportation between Hogwarts and St. Mungos without an adult wizard's help." Hermione could hear the apology in Neville's voice.

"What was wrong with me?"

The same person that had given her water replied. "Fractured skull, internal bleeding, and nerve damage around your eyes. That was just your head. As for your back, the skin was so frayed that bone was showing. This wasn't helped by all the magic you used to destroy the building. I think the fact that you controlled it so well is what made you so exhausted. You almost didn't have enough strength to accept our healing spells."

"Yes, luckily Mr. Dumbledore isn't the small-time Healer he claimed to be."

The comforting voice, which Hermione assumed belonged to Mr. Dumbledore, replied with a mild chuckle, "I am a small-time Healer. It's just that I focus on internal magical injuries – usually caused by exhaustion or over-exertion."

Hermione touched the bandages over her eyes again as she thought of the nerve damage he mentioned. "Are…are my eyes going to be okay? Can I see?"

"Yes, everything should be fully repaired. Now that you're awake we're going to slowly thin the bandage over your eyes. You've been in a magically-induced healing coma for about a week now so it could damage your eyes if we take off the bandage too quickly. You should be able to leave here on Christmas Eve."

Hermione felt one side of the mattress dip as someone sat down and took her hand.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you're alright! When I heard of the actual disturbance you caused…" Harry trailed off, but the guilt was evident in voice.

"Harry, it wasn't your fault. I…I lost my temper. Anyways, it's my own fault that I was there. I had my wand; I could've left at any time. It's just, well, I couldn't leave those children."

"Yes, but it's my fault it took so long to find you. If I'd only thought to send you an owl earlier… If I hadn't lost your letter… If I hadn't gone to Hogwarts… Well, you would've been found sooner. Also, if I hadn't gone to Hogwarts I wouldn't have screwed up things so badly."

"Well if I'd just approached you at the Hogwarts' Express instead of skulking in the shadows then none of this would've happened."

"And if I hadn't hit the time-turners with my spell we'd all be safely in our own time. Now, are you two done having a guilt party?" Neville asked briskly.

Hermione was shocked, "Neville? Is that really you?"

Neville groaned, "Yes, it's me. Now are you two done accepting guilt so we can have a real conversation?

"Just, first, can you tell me what happened to the children?" Hermione asked.

"Most of them were returned to their families. It turns out that most parents believed that their children were being trained in muggle professions. They were even paying for it!" Mr. Dumbledore's voice was full of shock at that fact.

Hermione frowned under her bandages, "But none of the children I was with were there willingly."

"That's because yours was a special one for unwanted children. The other ones used different punishments, always careful to leave no evidence. Also, there were no deaths at the other ones. The children even got to write letters home, they were just heavily censored."

"How about the children at mine?"

"Most of them have been fostered with upstanding ministry employees. Marcus Potter, my good friend, has agreed to foster you."

"How about Kathleen?"

"Kathleen?"

"Kathleen MacMillan. The girl I was leaning on when Selwyn grabbed me. I know she had family still that might want her."

"Oh, Marcus told me that she was reunited with her uncle, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. He was NOT pleased about her condition. Turns out he's spent the last two years looking for her. He even requested Selwyn's papers to see if Kathleen was listed. She wasn't there at all. I really don't think Selwyn's going to do too well at her trial."

"So MacMillan was able to catch her?"

"Yes, she was caught trying to break into Hogwarts to collect her daughter and flee the country."

"Really? Why did she have the laundrys anyway?"

"We're not sure. Maybe it will come out in the trial. Though there is the theory that she thought only hard labor would prepare squibs for the muggle life. Frankly I think that idea is too sane for Selwyn."

"Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore. Has anything been found that could help us get back to the right time?"

"Possibly," Neville said, "my ancestor, Donald, studies rocks. He's been working with the sand Harry and I came back covered in to figure out how it works since time turners don't exist yet."

"I know they don't exist yet. They were invented by Cornelius Cornfoot in 1943. He was trying to find a way to go back and rescue his sister from Grindlewald's killing spree."

"Of course you know when it was invented." From the tone, Hermione assumed that Harry had rolled his eyes.

"As to what I was saying," Neville continued, "Donald thinks he's come close to a breakthrough. He told me he'll let us know as soon as he can. Apparently he wants to get rid of me as quickly as he can."

"Oh, no he doesn't. Donald is just a rather private person. Ever since his mother left him to turn into a rock he's hated all humans. Only reason he puts up with Marcus and me is because we were friends before the incident."

"Still doesn't make me want to be around him," Neville said rather snarkily.

Now Hermione was really confused. Who was this boy and what had he done with the real Neville?

"Um, well, as I was saying, we shouldn't be here messing up things. As Cornelius Cornfoot found out, time-turners aren't meant to change the past. In fact, if you do change the past you're likely to change the future, and it's never turned out well," Hermione continued.

"Why, has something happened before?"

"Cornelius did go back and save his sister, but in doing so he caused thousands more deaths. In fact, when his sister was alive Grindlewald was never defeated. The world fell under his spell until Voldemort rose up and usurped him. Cornelius was so distraught that he went back in time and made it so that time-turners could never go back more than twenty-four hours. Then he jumped back to right before his sister died, destroyed the time turner, and killed his past self. Time-turners were still invented, but they could only go back a short time and he left a detailed journal telling of the dangers of time travel."

"How in the world do you know all of this?" Neville asked in surprise.

"McGonagall told me to make sure I knew all of the dangers."

"Excuse me, but I need to talk to you three about something before I go check on a few patients," Mr. Dumbledore cut in.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Well, while I was helping heal Hermione I noticed something odd. Once I saw it with her I remembered noticing it when I helped heal Harry after he saved Arianna."

Worry seeped into Hermione. What was odd? Was it something dangerous?

"What was odd?" Harry asked.

"Your souls don't look right. They don't even feel right."

"They don't feel right?" Neville asked. The confusion in his voice quite evident.

"A soul is like a patronus. Everyone's is different. The best way to describe it is as a flavor. Some people's taste like cinnamon – others like honey. The thing is; it's always one basic flavor. It's different with you two though. Harry's was primarily mint, but there were also hints of cinnamon, apples, and chili peppers – while Hermione's was mostly apples, with a dash of cinnamon, mint, and chili peppers. Now, Neville, would you mind if I checked yours?"

"I suppose not…"

"Alright, just hold still, this will only take a minute…"

The room was silent for a moment and Hermione grew restless. She wished she could see what they were doing. Being blind was not fun. Anyways, what had Harry meant when he said he'd lost her letter? Had he lost it before or after he had opened it? If it was before then everything was fine, but if it was after–

Mr. Dumbledore's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Very interesting. Yours is mostly cinnamon with a bit of mint, apple, and chili pepper. That proves my theory. I believe that when the three of you traveled back in time you were 'damaged' in a way. Your bodies were returned to a previous time. I'm not sure why or how since that's not what I study. But, it might be because you ingested some of the sand. Even now you seem to be returning to your proper age."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure about you Ms. Granger, since I just met you, but Neville and Harry look older than they did a few months ago. I'm surprised no one else has noticed since they now look more like thirteen then eleven."

"Hey! He's right!" Neville exclaimed. "Harry, look! You're almost the same height as me, and I'm certainly thinner then I was when I got here. Why didn't we notice that before?"

"That's what I'm about to talk about, if you'll let me," Mr. Dumbledore said pointedly.

"Oh, sorry," Neville said in a rather familiar sheepish tone. Hermione smiled to hear a bit of the old Neville.

"Now, what I was about to say: When the sand changed your bodies it also changed your souls. Problem is: souls don't recover from magic as easily as bodies do. When the three of you were caught in that time sand tornado your souls got blended some. I believe this is because you went back past the day you were born, which caused your souls to become unstable and mix together. Then, when you emerged from the tornado your souls became stable again, but they were forever changed. If you've had any odd moments these past few months this could be due to the mixed souls, since souls take a long time to recover from being torn apart."

"Do you think this will this be fixed when we go forward in time again?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure, but I'm thinking not, since moving into a time when you're supposed to be alive should only make your souls more stable, not less so. I do wonder where the chili pepper came from. Was anyone else in the tornado with you?"

"There was a dead death eater," Hermione said.

"Are you sure there was no one else there?"

"No one," Harry said.

"I suppose that if he had recently died then his soul wouldn't have left his body yet. That's most likely why. Especially since all the magic being released from the broken time turners would've made it difficult for a soul to travel to wherever they go when they don't become ghosts."

"That's rather fascinating," Hermione said.

"Yes, it is. I'd like to talk some more on it later, but right now I need to go check on a couple other patients. Boys, I'll send someone for you when I'm ready to leave."

As soon as the door shut Hermione asked the question that had been pricking at the back of her mind since Harry had been apologizing.

"Harry, what did you mean when you said my letter was lost?"

"Just that. Neville and I got into an argument and when we stopped arguing the letter was gone."

Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "Really? You two were arguing? Did you open the letter before you lost it? If so then we're okay. I spelled it to be a random letter from an old friend if anyone but you opened it."

"Um…" Harry cleared his throat nervously. "I had already opened it when it disappeared."

"WHAT?!" Hermione exclaimed, pushing herself off the bed before falling back down hard, as her back burst into flames. Her face hit the mattress, hard, she felt like someone had just swung a hammer at her head. Gritting her teeth against the pain she growled, "Do you have any idea what was IN that letter?"

"No, Neville distracted me before I read more than the first sentence."

"Neville…"

"Hey! It's not my fault that Harry was being a prick! He needed a good talking to!"

"Why didn't you just act like a wizard and summon it with your wand?"

Horrified silence filled the room.

"We..uh…" Neville started.

"Didn't really think about that…" Harry finished.

"You idiots!" Hermione had to resist the urge to fight through the pain enough to stand up just so she could bang their stupid heads together. Really, how could they have been so STUPID?

"Ugh, it's too late now. Someone has that letter. We need to figure out who and do damage control if we can. The things in that letter… I talked about Voldemort, Death Eaters, and being careful."

"Being careful about what?" Harry asked.

"The Dumbledores. If you affect Albus then the entire future might change. He defeated Grindlewald, one of the worst dark wizards. Without him…well, you heard what happened when Cornelius intervened. Even if he still goes on to defeat Grindlewald, does he discover the twelve uses for dragon's blood? What will the Order of the Phoenix be without him? He's probably the most important person of the entire 20th century. And you're camping out in his house, changing who knows what."

"About that…"

"Yes?"

"Well…Albus is in Slytherin, and the Sorting Hat told me that he was going to put him in Gryffindor, but that Albus insisted on Slytherin."

"Oh, Harry….what have you done?!" Hermione cried.

"Well, do we even know what house Dumbledore was in?" Neville asked.

Hermione wracked her brain for a moment, thinking over everything she'd read about Albus. "Actually…no…no we don't."

"Think, the Albus we know in the future isn't very ambitious, at least as far as personal ambition goes, but maybe he was as a child. Maybe he's not ambitious in our time because he's already achieved everything he wanted. Aberforth says that Albus has always planned to be a great wizard. Maybe he sees Slytherin as the way to do it – especially with how important purebloods are right now."

"Maybe…we'll need to keep an eye on him until we can get back to the future."

"And what if the future is changed?" Harry asked.

"We'll have to figure that out if it happens," Hermione said softly.

The three of them sat in silence, lost in their own worries of the future, until there was a quiet knock on the door. A second later Hermione heard it open.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, I need to work on Ms. Granger's bandages. Also, Healer Dumbledore is waiting for you in the lobby."

"Thank you Healer Thatcher," Harry said. "Hermione, we'll be back to check on you tomorrow. We can talk more then. Feel better."

"Goodbye Hermione, feel better," Neville said.

"Bye Harry, bye Neville."

Once the boys were gone Healer Thatcher got to work on Hermione's bandages. It was all she could do not to cry out in pain as her new, raw skin, was rubbed with a foul smelling ointment.

As soon as she was back to the right time period she was going to study the history of healing and just why it took over a week to heal beaten, broken skin, when a hundred years later bones in an arm could be regrown overnight. Surely skin was much easier to heal then bones.

Focusing on her pain allowed her to push aside the growing feeling that something was now horribly, horribly wrong.