“What are you doing up here, Severus?” Harry asked.

“Nothing in particular,” he replied, glancing at the younger wizard.

That answer was a lie, but he couldn’t exactly explain what he was doing here. Not without getting sent to St. Mungo’s and likely never seeing the light of day again. Never mind that he had proof, physical and tangible proof, that why he was here had truly happened.

“You’ve been here all day.”

Severus glared at him with a shake of his head. It was a good thing he was aware of how he knew that was true. He certainly wasn’t a seer.

“You are not supposed to use that blasted map to spy on me. That was the deal we have had in place since I gave it to you.”

Black had given Severus the Marauder’s map and James’ invisibility cloak to give to Harry at some point in time. If he’d known he’d break their deal and use it to spy on him he would have refrained from giving either to him until after he’d left Hogwarts.

The existence of said map had answered so many questions Severus had had during his time as a student here as to how they always seemed to know how to find him. They’d come out of nowhere too many times for it to be a coincidence, but Severus never had figured out how they’d always seemed to find him.

It also made it clear that Hogwarts was assisting him as he knew rooms he’d been allowed entry into while trying to escape the four goons were not on the map.

So it seemed the castle created rooms (or moved them) for him when he most needed the escape. He knew, for instance, the lab he’d created during his student days was not on the map. It was no longer in the same place as it had been then. Now it was an offshoot of the lab he used for Hogwarts brewing. It was still not on the map, though. He’d studied the map enough to know that the room was not on it.

So those hours spent in it as a student he had been safe. The Marauders probably were left wondering where he was and what he was up to. That had made Severus chuckle even today. Harry always knew where he was so his private lab not being on the map didn’t affect him being able to find his guardian if he needed him. That had been their deal, if he wasn’t in his private lab or classroom, Harry was to respect that he might be doing something he wanted privacy for. Or just some time alone. He was not a social creature by nature so there were times he just wanted to be alone. No lab, no students, no books even. Just silence and his thoughts.

That wasn’t the case today, of course. He’d been here … waiting.

“It’s a Saturday and you’ve been gone all day. You have no rounds and it’s not a Hogsmeade weekend. I grew curious,” he said with a shrug.

Severus saw concern in the younger wizard’s eyes despite his casual tone. It was not like Severus to sit or stand somewhere all day as he had been doing today for no reason. Of course, there was a reason, but not one he could disclose to Harry.

“Nothing more. I haven’t broken our agreement about using it until now.”

Severus nodded. He knew it was true. Harry had, until now, not looked for him on the map. At least as far as Severus knew he hadn’t. It certainly helped that Severus didn’t go out of his way to try to hide or withhold his location from Harry.

“Nothing to worry your head about, Harry.”

He’d tried to get the Room to reveal itself today. It had. Once. Hermione had not been there. It was a long shot that she would be, but he had to try. Not quite seventeen years since he’d seen her last. He had hoped. Thought. Maybe. It had certainly seemed as if it wanted them together. Had they been mistaken about that and they were just tools to get the war won earlier? He found it incredibly hard to believe that was true. Sadly it wasn’t as if he could ask anyone of their experiences with Hogwarts seemingly bypassing time to get two people to meet.

It had been their room, though, which hadn’t changed in over twenty years as far as furnishings and lab equipment went. Every time he’d sought the room out it had been the same. It hadn’t changed, other than the lack of Hermione. The rest of his attempts today he had not even been granted an entrance to the Room.

Why was it turning against him … them now? He hadn’t abused it. He hadn’t used it more than a few times a year since her last visit to him before he’d even started teaching.

When she’d had the brilliant idea to change everything.

To potentially sacrifice everything.

And they had changed it. He didn’t know what they’d changed, but he knew things were different.

He destroyed the horcruxes as asked to by his Hermione.

They had been evil. Even now he shuddered at the thought of handling them. The locket in particular had been … difficult to ignore its taunts and jibes. The idea of three young magical people traipsing around the wilderness with it in their possession who were not well educated on the dark arts made him more than a little angry at Albus Dumbledore.

She’d warned him about that while they discussed them in detail that last night they’d been together. He couldn’t imagine the three of them traipsing around on the run, being hunted, and overcome by fear and other negative feelings wearing the locket for months. It had made him physically angrier than he could ever remember being to that point in his life. At least about something he had absolutely no control over. He’d kept telling himself that by destroying these things now she would not experience that fate.

He would not let her!

Every time he handled one of those cursed objects and it tried to get into his head, he pictured her.

Starved, tortured, scarred, bruised and bloodied from fighting a battle that no one should have had to experience. He would end it so that she would not have to do that. He was familiar enough with Voldemort’s mind by that point that he was able to handle the items and destroy them with very little repercussions. He would not say there had been none, but his feelings for the witch and hers for him had allowed him to make it through.

Those same feelings were what the horcruxes had tried to use against him. It obviously didn’t know who it was dealing with. He could see in some who’d had things that were good before that it would be unsettling to think that something good now would turn against you.

However, until Hermione he’d come to the conclusion by 1981 when she’d approached him with the idea that he be the one to find and destroy them. Well, he’d never had anything good but her. He’d never had someone truly believe in him until her. And that clearly continued into 1997 and 1998. He wasn’t denying that Lily was in fact correct regarding the path Severus had traveled, however, a kind word, a true friend, someone sincerely believing that he was good - or had the potential of being good - would have gone a long way toward preventing him from being tempted.

Hermione had made it wearing the locket for months and getting tortured by an obviously cursed blade. (He had worked tirelessly on a salve that he could give her if destroying the horcruxes in 1981 did not work and the events she lived did happen.) He could certainly do it long enough to ensure the Fiendfyre had destroyed each item as he found them.

She wanted to see him again. No matter what the items told him, he knew that she did. She had no idea what she was giving up yet she’d done it to save everyone without a thought of herself. She wanted him to find her again if their paths did not cross as they had originally, but she had not asked him to and was willing to sacrifice that. A potential them for everyone else.

Those thoughts were enough to drive any dark thoughts away.

It was how he knew his feelings for the witch, and hers for him, were true. He was able to overcome the evilness by clinging to her, memories of her.

He had been unable to stop Harry’s parents from being killed. She had said she doubted that could be changed. She had been right. He’d tried to get Albus to move them again and tell no one of their location, but the headmaster hadn’t thought it necessary. He couldn’t force the issue without sounding insane. That wouldn’t do the Order, or Hermione, any good.

He had been able to stop Harry from going to the Dursleys, though.

She’d been so serious with her request. When it came down to it, she had asked for very little despite not knowing what changes would take place as a result of their task.

Very little wasn’t even properly summarizing it.

She had asked for nothing other than him ensuring Harry went elsewhere. She hadn’t even asked him to find her when he could, assuming for whatever reason their paths didn’t cross. He truly thought at the time, that night and up until Voldemort’s (hopefully permanent) defeat that he would leave Hogwarts for good and never return. He had nothing keeping him there any longer.

No debt.

No promise.

He would be free to do as he wanted.

So, he had presumed it would be him not being where he had been when they’d first encountered one another from her perspective rather than the other way around.

As if he wouldn’t find her!

She obviously had little faith or understanding in that age Severus Snape. He was pretty sure he’d fallen in love with her from the moment he heard her tears.

He would not just let her go. He could not let her go.

Lupin had been unable to take Harry due to his … affliction. Particularly back in 1981, no one, not even Dumbledore, would have placed a fifteen month old child with a werewolf.

Black hadn’t wanted the responsibility of said fifteen month old child despite being godfather. He evidently hadn’t anticipated the responsibility that came with that title happening as soon as it did (or ever most likely Severus thought even now with a grimace). Pettigrew had been imprisoned in Azkaban for his betrayal, thanks to Hermione’s notes.

Black had originally stood accused, she told him. As much as Severus hated Black he could not let an innocent man be punished and her notes proved without a doubt that he was. Nor could he allow a guilty one to go free. He’d surprised more than a few by being one of Black’s biggest advocates that he would not have betrayed the Potters in such a fashion.

They’d known how to find Pettigrew, too, thanks to her notes. He was at the Burrow just as she’d indicated he would be.

He wouldn’t say that he, Black, and Lupin had buried the metaphorical hatchet after that, but Severus had never heard the nickname Snivellus again. He had never been challenged or had his role as guardian usurped by either man.

Pettigrew had not only betrayed his friends, but he had betrayed the wizarding world. Neither was something Severus thought kindly of.

His one-time friend had been betrayed. The one responsible for that betrayal deserved to be punished not roaming free while a falsely accused one suffered. Severus still had no idea how he hadn’t known Peter was a follower.

Albus had no doubt wondered why Severus fought so hard against Harry going to live with Lily’s sister, but in the end he had ended up as Harry Potter’s guardian when no other reasonable options presented themselves. There were certainly offers, but none that were reasonable or sufficient for a long-term situation like taking in an orphaned fifteen month child would be.

He’d love to claim it was a hardship and that he wished he could go back and undo it. He’d be lying, though. The young wizard had truly saved his life as much as Severus had protected him from harm.

He’d remained at Hogwarts since 1981 in part because Severus believed he and Harry were safest here within the confines of the castle. It would protect both of them. He knew that somehow. Protect them from all sorts of threats, physical and otherwise.

It kept his charge out of the limelight to some degree and it kept those who might have designs on finishing what the Dark Lord had started from harming the boy who stopped the Dark Lord’s reign. And the Order’s spy.

Nineteen ninety-one came with both his ward and his godson, Draco Malfoy, starting at Hogwarts as expected and anticipated by caregivers and wizards alike.

There was no Hermione Granger, however, on the Express or at the sorting ceremony. He thought maybe he’d gotten her age, her birth year, wrong, but no he recalled that she’d been born September 1979, which would put her in Harry and Draco’s first year. He remembered that only because when he’d read it he’d wondered how a witch at the age of sixteen could have developed a crush on him, a wizard almost twenty years older than she was.

She had received a letter. He knew that she would after finding her name after her birth. He hadn’t even thought to ask whether she’d accepted the offer. He just assumed she would. Had that changed? Had she denied her magical abilities as a result of their change? He had hoped not as clearly she was a capable witch just from their few encounters.

He’d subtly asked if there were any wizards or witches who had elected not to partake in Hogwarts’ offerings after the first week or so when it was clear there was no mistake or misunderstanding.

She wasn’t here.

She was on an entirely different continent as it turned out.

America.

She was at Ilvermorny he’d come to find out later.

He wasn’t sure what exactly was at play, but all he knew was that his witch was not where she was originally. So things obviously had changed. Not being able to speak with her in depth about her world he had no idea what all had changed and what was the same, but he knew that Hermione Granger had been a Hogwarts student when they’d first met in the Room. She’d mentioned Harry and (he presumed) Ron Weasley.

He’d heard of her only because she had gained attention from all of the wizarding schools from the moment she set foot in Ilvermorny. The marks she’d managed to achieve over the past seven years were nothing short of extraordinary, and he’d found himself immensely proud of her even if she wasn’t aware of him following her academic career from afar, or his pride in her.

He had no doubt she’d achieved excellent marks the first go around, however, being able to sit classes and take tests without several crises and ultimately a war in play had to allow her even better marks than what she’d gotten originally.

She had, in fact, managed as a second year to improve upon the polyjuice potion brewing process. Her alterations to the potion were only available to members of magical law enforcement and were punishable with severe prison terms if non-law enforcement agents were found to be using it. As the potions master who brewed for the DMLE in Britain, he had access to her formula. Only those like him who had a role in brewing it did outside the magical law enforcement department. Not every potion master was selected to brew. In Britain there was himself and a backup, whom the DMLE had never needed to use.

She had actually found a way to not just get the potion-taker’s appearance to change but to fool someone testing blood into thinking they were the person. (Blood only, it wouldn’t fool an in depth muggle DNA test.) The efficacy also lasted longer so that agents working undercover, say, could work a full eight hour shift in disguise without concern the potion would wear off too soon. Those taking it also received an internal “warning” to signal the efficacy was coming to an end. They had a full thirty minutes, not seconds or a few minutes, to take more or get out of the situation they were in.

That wasn’t all that she had accomplished as a student. She’d had articles published as well in all subjects (except Divination) and there wasn’t a professor at any of the wizarding schools in the world who wasn’t expecting great things from Hermione Granger. Certainly a far better future than one that involved her seemingly missing her last year of schooling to starve and suffer torture.

Interestingly, no one knew anything about her, including where she’d come from. Severus couldn’t say that he knew much more than anyone else when it came down to it and he felt rather like a heel about that. She’d known things about him, about his mum, asked about her in fact. Yet he had no knowledge of the Grangers. Other than presuming they were decent people.

They almost had to be for her to turn out the way she had … essentially twice.

Severus was confident that she was a muggleborn witch, but no one else seemed aware of this fact. He imagined it was the way his Hermione wanted it so he’d kept mum the past seven years on the fact that the wizarding world’s golden girl was what some would consider filthy and far from worthy of praise.

The Dark Lord had been defeated and many of those who’d followed him said they learned their lesson and turned over new leaves, but Severus knew that while that may be true for some it wasn’t for all. Some people had been caught up and fooled, not realizing the exact endgame until they were too deeply in. Some, though, truly had hatred coursing through their veins.

Those people wouldn’t stop hating just because Voldemort was dead.

He was here today, standing opposite where he knew the door to be near the bloody ugly dancing trolls painting in the hope that she would come through that door.

This was the day she had come to him for the last time. The day she asked him to find the cursed objects instead of them being tasked to do it sixteen years in the future, which led to nearly a year of starvation and many lives lost.

He’d left the room that day after she’d fallen asleep at the table they’d been working at and was confident they’d gone over everything they could twice over. He knew the Room would keep her safe. She was obviously exhausted and needed the rest. Had he known that would be the last time he’d see her again he likely would have woken her before leaving. He hadn’t even kissed her goodbye. He hadn’t told her that he thought he was in love with her. It bothered him immensely that she didn’t know how he felt. That she fell asleep thinking that he still loved Lily.

All he could do now was vow that he would make that known when the time was appropriate to do so. Because time and an ocean’s distance hadn’t made him stop feeling that way. He vowed not to think on the fact that she could be in a relationship with someone. That time and distance didn’t matter to her because she didn’t know. He had no idea how this worked. If she knew anything or not.

“You’ll never guess who Draco said might be at my party in July,” Harry said, interrupting Severus’ thoughts. Probably for the best as those thoughts would be the death of him.

As if the boy had to clarify when the party was. He knew when Harry’s birthday was. He’d been with him for all but his first one after all.

“Who?” he said.

He couldn’t guess in a million years he was sure. Who would be of interest to Harry certainly would have very little interest to Severus (and vice versa).

Lucius, Draco’s father and Severus’ oldest (and really only) friend was going all out for Harry’s eighteenth birthday for some reason. Severus and Harry resided at Hogwarts full-time, year-round. Albus allowed Severus to use his private lab for personal business, which he imagined was why Hogwarts had moved it from its original location to where it was now. He was able to brew for St. Mungo’s and others during the school year, but the summer months when the castle was devoid of students (other than Harry) Severus was able to do his experimenting, research, and the bulk of his writing for various potion periodicals.

They could not have a party here and Severus really only had his childhood home in Cokeworth. His mother had signed it over to him when she’d decided to take a home in London after finding a job at a muggle hospital. Merlin, that was over ten years ago now.

Until that point he’d been embarrassed to admit to anyone that he still technically lived with his mother as a thirty year-old. It was their permanent address, he didn’t actually live there. He and Harry both needed a physical muggle address, though, for various things over the years. It was, in truth, the only home Harry would ever recall living in.

His mother lived primarily as a muggle so a party at her home was out of the question. A party at his small abode would not do. Not to mention his home was secret kept. Only his mother and Harry knew where it was. He liked having that security net in case something ever did happen.

If the Dark Lord came back despite the horcruxes being destroyed and tried again. It would not end well for Severus Snape.

“Viktor Krum,” Harry said.

That actually did catch Severus’ attention.

“Really?” Severus asked, surprised at this revelation for some reason.

It shouldn’t have been, he supposed. Viktor Krum seemed out of even Lucius Malfoy’s reach, but evidently not. Lucius liked to impress. There was really no reason to throw Harry an eighteenth birthday. Lucius seemed to think, though, it was important. Severus still hadn’t figured out why. He wondered if Lucius assumed that with Harry reaching the age of muggle majority Severus would cut the wizard off and go on as if the past seventeen years hadn’t occurred.

He wouldn’t put it past his friend to believe that. Lucius said he supported Severus’ decision to raise Harry, but he was sure underneath the polite platitudes his friend thought he’d made a huge mistake taking on the orphaned child of his childhood friend.

He recalled Viktor Krum, of course, from Harry’s fourth year when Hogwarts had hosted the TriWizard Tournament. It had been the first in two hundred years. It had gone so well that there would be another held a year from now. Hogwarts would be hosting again since their Cedric Diggery was the winner of the most recent one. Mr. Diggery would of course be welcomed back to partake in some of the Tournaments offerings.

“Yes, can you believe it?”

Severus understood Harry’s excitement.

He hoped, though he hadn’t told Severus this bit of information outright yet, to play quidditch professionally after he was done with his schooling at next month’s end. Severus knew and understood the wizard’s desire to figure out exactly what he wanted to do before committing to something like being an auror or professor. The young wizard had a lot of expectations placed on his still-young shoulders being The Boy Who Lived, a Potter, and having been raised by the Order’s spy, Severus Snape.

Truthfully, Severus thought it would do Harry some good before embarking on a career. The young man would be able to sow his wild oats and get roaming and wandering out of his system. No witch here at Hogwarts had attracted his charge’s attention. The youngest Weasley, a girl after six boys, had certainly tried to attract his attention but Harry wanted nothing to do with her. A few others had, too, but Harry just hadn’t been interested. Severus had told him that there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing said he had to meet his witch here at Hogwarts.

Honestly, Severus had wondered more than once the past couple of years if Harry might prefer the company of a wizard to a witch as his chosen life companion. Harry hadn’t brought it up and Severus wasn’t going to initiate the conversation. He had no proof, it was just a feeling based on his observations of the wizard. He could be wrong, seeing and reading into things that weren’t what they seemed.

He did suspect that he and Viktor had engaged in some … curiosity settling experiences while Viktor stayed with them over the Christmas and Easter holidays during Harry’s fourth year. He was quite positive there had been no actual penetration involved. He’d, discreetly, reminded Harry before Viktor had stayed with them that the other wizard was over the age of majority. Not that that would stop two people truly willing and wanting. And maybe those curiosities had been settled and Harry realized he did want a witch not a wizard. Severus just hoped one day Harry would talk to him about it and know his guardian would not judge or hate him for any choices.

“I’m sure Viktor accepted because he likes you, Harry.”

Severus wasn’t sure if Lucius was aware that the two wizards had become friendly. Or just how friendly Severus suspected they were. They weren’t inseparable or anything, Severus didn’t suspect anything as serious as a relationship instead of simply two wizards wanting to see what this or that felt like. Harry hadn’t been overly distraught or upset after the TriWizard Tournament participants had left after the school term had finished. So that left Severus thinking that nothing serious or permanent-seeming had developed. The two exchanged letters once in a while. Harry and Severus had also been his guest at more than one professional quidditch match over the past couple of years.

“You’re probably right. It’s still cool. Uncle Lucius asked me if you’ll be bringing anyone as a guest,” Harry said. “He asked if I was, too, but I knew my answer.”

“You know my answer as well, Harry. You don’t have to give in to Uncle Lucius’ nosiness. My answer is no as it always has been,” Severus said, lips thinning in disapproval at the question. At the very thought. Damn Lucius!

Lucius was a busy body and had been trying for over fifteen years now to find a witch that would appeal to Severus. What his friend did not know, of course, was that there already was such a witch. He just had to wait for her.

Again.

As evidently he’d had to wait for her once already the first time! His other self at least would have seen her in 1991. He didn’t even get that! Of course he had no such recollection so this was his first time.

Still.

Harry watched him for some sign. Sign of what he wasn’t sure, but he knew the look on his face by now. Then the younger wizard scowled.

“You know you can, right?”

“That I can what?” he asked, glancing at Harry sharply.

He wasn’t sure what he was saying exactly.

“I’m almost eighteen. I’m not a child. If you wanted to bring a witch to my party. I mean, you’re not my father, you’re not married. You’ve already set a good example for me.”

“I’m fully aware of your age, thank you. That has not been what’s stopped me over the years. I do not wish to be accompanied by anyone, Harry. There is no witch I’d care to bring to your party or anywhere else for that matter. No wizard either, just so we’re clear.”

“You say that, but I see in your eyes, have seen in your eyes the other times we’ve talked about you remaining single that there is someone. I remember that story that you told me when I was little. I know that you’re not attracted to wizards and I know it’s not about my mother.”

He scoffed at that. He was very grateful Harry knew that.

The Daily Prophet, and Rita Skeeter specifically, had tried to print some rubbish at various times over the years about Severus being in love with Harry’s mum to the point of it bordering on what muggles would consider stalking and obsession. He could not deny his first five years at Hogwarts probably could have been interpreted that way. In retrospect he was more than a little ashamed of that fact. It was what it was, though. However, he had barely paid her any attention during his sixth and seventh years.

He certainly hadn’t tried to apologize to her again after their fifth years. Meeting Hermione had actually made him realize and decide that he deserved better from a friend. What he said had been hateful and cruel. He could not deny that or argue over her being upset with him, but meeting Hermione had made him step back and look at their friendship since their time at Hogwarts. It had really been rather one-sided. Initially, no, but once they got to Hogwarts and she decided she wanted to fit in she hadn’t really been much of a friend to him. So, after his fifth year he’d left her alone.

He could only assume Skeeter’s comments came from interviews with people who had been there those days in his fifth year when he’d made attempts at apologizing to her. And since Lupin and Black were actually two people who defended Severus when those rumours came up, indicating that he had gotten over the falling out with his childhood friend with time as anyone who’d lost friends did. Well, Severus knew Skeeter wasn’t getting her information from them.

They had admittedly been his first thought when the rumours started floating around again around Harry’s second or third year. They’d told him they did not want Harry thinking his guardian was hanging onto romantic feelings for his dead mother over ten years later anymore than Severus wanted Harry thinking that.

So, true to form for the two free Marauders, their reasons for defending Severus were somewhat selfish. Somewhat in that they did seem to truly care about Harry so he’d assumed their intentions were good ones. Somewhat noble at any rate.

Severus had been honest with Harry, to a point.

The younger wizard didn’t need to know every exact detail of his friendship with Lily, their falling out, or his experiences with his father. Harry was aware his father had not been an overly nice wizard. Severus had done his part to ensure Harry Potter did not behave in the same manner.

He was for the most part well liked, popular, and studious without being seen as a complete bookworm. And most importantly, he wasn’t seen as a prick. As far as Severus knew he had never bullied or picked on anyone. He, in fact, had stood up for those who were.

He was popular enough (and ward to Severus Snape) to where he could get away with doing so without it affecting his standing at Hogwarts.

For peace, Severus had allowed Black and Lupin to not only remain in, but also be active participants in, Harry’s life these seventeen years. His only stipulation was that Harry not be filled with heroic tales of how great and all-knowing his father had been. He would not tolerate that wizard haunting him second-hand in such a fashion.

The two wizards had, surprisingly, adhered to this stipulation as far as Severus knew. Apparently it had been more important to them that they have some part in James’ son’s life than to fill said son’s head with tales of bullying told from a different vantage point that made them into something less awful and violent than they were.

The story Harry spoke of.

Well, Severus hadn’t told that particular story since Harry was about three or four, certainly before he began primary school. He’d told him about Hermione, the brave witch who’d risked potentially everything to help save the world. At the time he’d had no idea he wouldn’t see her getting off the Hogwarts Express with Harry and Draco.

“There is the idea of a witch, Harry. When I see her I will know.”

What else could he say? There was indeed a witch, but she’s your age and across an ocean? Oh, and by the way, I saw her when I was a student and she was your age but that was a different timeline that apparently no longer exists?

Nevermind she may not know him and he’d actually have to earn her attention and affection. Something he had no idea how he’d obtained to begin with, as he hadn’t accomplished that. The older him, that no longer existed, had. That bit of fact hadn’t been lost on him when he thought of seeing her.

How exactly did one go about approaching someone you’d known for nearly twenty years that you were more than just fairly certain you were in love with who did not know you? These thoughts kept him up nights sometimes. Those times he realized it was probably a good thing she’d gone to Ilvermorny.

“No one believes me you have a romantic bone in your body.”

“That is because I do not.”

Harry smiled then. “We’ll see when that ideal witch makes her presence known.”

“Yes, well, she hasn’t done so yet. As I am nearing forty, don’t hold your breath.”

“I still say there’s something you’re not telling me. She’s the one in the story. I know it.”

“Believe it or not, it is not a requisite as your guardian and surrogate father to tell you everything, Harry Potter.”

“I know, but you usually do anyway.”

That was true.

He wasn’t sure what type of father he would have made, but he thought he’d done all right with Harry. Certainly he did better than anyone would have thought he might have knowing how he’d been fathered. Harry turned out more than adequate and they had a pretty straightforward and honest relationship. Severus wouldn’t go so far as to say they were … friends, but certainly their bond was different than that of Lucius and Draco. Harry was not scared of him, or being cut off from his inheritance, which he could not say was true of his godson.

Severus had not touched one knut of the Potters’ money. He hadn’t needed it, so he’d left it for Harry to have when he grew old enough to need it. Living at Hogwarts year-round and his childhood home being his completely certainly helped his financial situation. He wasn’t rolling in galleons but he did more than adequately for himself and his charge to have a more than decent life. They’d traveled and while Severus didn’t consider Harry spoiled he had been provided for more than fairly over the past seventeen years. He did not ever want anyone saying he’d become Harry’s guardian for the money.

*******

May 2, 1998
Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Mount Greylock, Massachusetts, USA

“Headmaster! Healer! Someone help! Hermione’s fainted,” Aiyanna Running Bear called out, cradling her friend’s head in her lap. How the witch had avoided a serious head injury Aiyanna wasn’t sure. They’d been walking and out of nowhere she collapsed.

She’d known Hermione since her first year, Hermione’s second, and Aiyanna had never known the witch who had been the first in almost ninety years to be chosen by each school’s house during the sorting process to be weak of constitution or prone to bouts of dizziness. She hadn’t in six years known her to take a sick day.

She’d chosen the Wampus house, only Aiyanna knew why. Hermione loved wampus cats and saw it as a sign that it was an option for her.

Eventually, the school’s healer, Miss Donaldson, came and levitated Hermione up to the infirmary after ensuring that moving her was safe.

Aiyanna sat by her side as the healer looked over her friend. She appeared okay, but she collapsed so something must be wrong. She seemed to be having a nightmare of some sort that she could not wake up from.

“Can’t we do anything?” Aiyanna asked Healer Donaldson.

The young healer shook her head as she fussed to ensure Hermione was comfortable. Scars and marks had appeared on her body that Aiyanna knew had not been there before. One at her neck looked as if it had come from a blade of some sort. She wasn’t sure about the one on her chest. And the word mudblood was now on her arm.

Healer Donaldson had quickly wrapped this one after putting a salve-like ointment on it as it had looked infected unlike the other two that looked healed, despite the fact they’d appeared out of nowhere on her friend’s body.

“Unfortunately, there is nothing diagnostically wrong with her. She will have to come out of whatever this is on her own.”

“That doesn’t make sense. The marks,” she said, helplessly. This was the healer’s first year at Ilvermorny. Maybe someone with more experience should be called in? People didn’t just faint and get scars out of nowhere.

“I don’t understand it either, Miss Running Bear, but I assure you that diagnostically she is fine. Sit with her, talk to her, assure her that you’re here. That’s the best thing you can do for her.”

“Okay,” she said.

Aiyanna had been permitted to stay over this coming summer because of Hermione. They would be the only students here. Like Hermione, Aiyanna loved potions and the two were using the summer months to gather ingredients and brew for Professor Brown. This wasn’t Hermione’s first summer staying here, but it was Aiyanna’s and she was looking forward to it.

Hermione was also planning on using the summer break to write another paper she hoped would be published before she started college. Hermione was using the experience to go toward apprentice hours even though she was going to a No-Maj college in Edinburgh, Scotland in the fall. For Aiyanna’s part, she just didn’t want to go home.

She was dreading next school year without her friend. She’d be in Scotland in a matter of months so Aiyanna knew she had to get over that feeling. It was why she’d convinced her mother to let her stay over the summer. She hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to her friend sooner than she had to.

Hours she sat there, holding Hermione’s hand when the other witch allowed it. She talked, but they were things Aiyanna knew nothing about. Words like Voldemort were familiar to her from history books.

Everyone knew that Voldemort had been defeated by Harry Potter while the evil wizard was trying to murder him. Sadly, the baby had been left an orphan and with quite an identifiable scar. He was Hermione’s year, Aiyanna thought she recalled.

Did her friend know Harry Potter?

Her parents lived in London, Aiyanna knew. The rumor was that they were squibs who lived as No-Majs as a result of the rise in blood purity prejudice in the seventies. She never admitted to being related to Hector Dagworth-Granger but everyone just took it as a given that she was given her natural affinity to potions and herbology (a truly good potioner had to be knowledgeable in herbology, too, after all).

Honestly, Aiyanna found Hermione quite an enigma. The witch rarely spoke of herself or of her childhood and upbringing. Aiyanna truly didn’t know whether Hermione had siblings or what her parents’ names were. She didn’t think she had brothers or sisters, the witch never talked about siblings, but she never specifically said one way or the other.

Even her presence here at Ilvermorny was shrouded in mystery. For whatever reason Hermione Granger rejected her letter from Hogwarts and asked her parents to petition to have her sent here.

Who would do such a thing with their not quite twelve year old child?

She’d been allowed because Hermione had an aunt and uncle near here. Her mother’s sister had met an American man while attending Boston College. She had married the man and stayed near that city, which happened to be less than two hundred miles from Ilvermorny. They were essentially Hermione’s legal guardians. So, while many questioned the sanity of the Grangers sending their daughter to school in America where trips home would be costly at best, Aiyanna understood how it had happened.

She just didn’t know why Hermione had rejected Hogwarts' letter.

No one did.

There were times, like today when she was sitting with her that Aiyanna wished she knew these things. That her friend, her best friend as Aiyanna viewed her to be, trusted her enough to tell her. She’d come to learn that her friend just didn’t trust easily. As far as Aiyanna knew, the witch didn’t truly trust anyone. She wasn’t rude and it took someone like Aiyanna or their potions professor who was somewhat close to her to recognize that she had very large boundaries and walls set up. Aiyanna would like to know what her friend was trying to protect herself against. She supposed when it got down to it, it could be that there wasn’t actually anything to tell. Perhaps she just didn’t want to go to Hogwarts.

Aiyanna fiddled with her waist-length braid of black hair. Hermione always envied Aiyanna for her straight hair and loved brushing it out for her. In truth, Aiyanna was just as envious of Hermione’s wild-looking curls that could reflect different colors under the sun’s rays. It also had the habit of reflecting her mood. It was the closest Aiyanna had ever come to being able to decipher Hermione’s mood on a regular basis.

Their hair was what they had become friends over. Hermione had never met a Native American until meeting Aiyanna. There were a few others at Ilvermorny, but it seemed from what her parents said anyway fewer and fewer were sending their children to magical school. Choosing instead to live as No-Majs and encouraging their magical children to do the same. The numbers in recent years were down drastically from what they’d been fifty or hundred years ago. Aiyanna didn’t understand it. Why the parents didn’t want them to go to Ilvermorny nor why the children went along with living as No-Majs.

Even if she did decide to live as a No-Maj somewhere down the road after graduating next year. Well, she wouldn’t have missed Ilvermorny and all that she learned for the world.

When it got late and it was clear Hermione wasn’t going to wake up, Healer Donaldson prepared a cot next to Hermione so that Aiyanna could rest herself in between looking after her friend. There were no other students in the infirmary so it really didn’t matter where she slept.

Professor Brown had been informed of Hermione’s condition, as the other staff members had been, so he knew not to expect his prized student.

Finally, as the sun was close to rising almost two days later, Hermione came to.

“Aiyanna,” she said, sounding confused and as if she wasn’t sure she was seeing correctly.

She looked … different, though Aiyanna didn’t quite know how that was even possible. She just knew that this witch was different from the friend she’d been walking from breakfast with two days ago.

It was her eyes.

They’d always betrayed her intelligence, but now they looked far more wise and experienced than her eighteen years should show. What had happened to her? How had it happened?

Selfishly, Aiyanna just wanted her friend back. She wanted to go back two days ago and stop from happening whatever this was.

“Oh, Hermione, you gave me a fright. Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course, my head hurts, though,” she said, clutching it after attempting to sit up in bed.

“Wait! You’ve been out for almost two full days. I was so scared!”

“As was I, Dear,” Healer Donaldson said from behind Aiyanna.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I remember walking with you after breakfast, Aiyanna, and the next thing I remember is waking up here.”

“You passed out.”

Hermione looked from the healer to her friend. She’d done more than pass out, she knew that. Evidently these two did not. Of course how could they. They weren’t in her head to know what she knew.

“Get out of here,” Hermione said and Aiyanna laughed. She supposed it sounded unusual, she usually spoke pretty properly.

“You really did.”

“You did, Miss Granger,” Healer Donaldson said. “My diagnostics came back with nothing amiss as much as my eyes told me that something was. So I had to assume nature would take its course. I was prepared to send you to the hospital if you didn’t wake today.”

“Yes, well,” Hermione said, eyes wide as she regarded the two witches. It was clear they both really had been concerned for her. Huh.

She’d never had to be in the infirmary before. She knew Healer Donaldson, of course, as she provided her with most of her potions these days. She’d just never been a patient here. She didn’t like it one bit! Her entire time at Ilvermorny she’d avoided coming here even if she might have needed to for a headache or cramps. She could brew her own potion to alleviate those ailments just fine.

She’d never … understood her aversion to setting foot in this place as Healer Donaldson and Healer McGuire before her had never been anything but kind and very complimentary. (She’d pulled Hermione aside discreetly and said that she’d rather have her blood replenishing potion than Professor Brown’s any day of the week.) She was starting to come around to understanding it now, though.

She had to get out of here. She had to … think. She didn’t want the healer, or Aiyanna, watching her for any sign that she wasn’t all right.

“May I get up? Go back to my room? I have missed days of ingredient collecting and homework.”

“Just a moment, Miss Granger. Professor Brown obviously understands and excuses your absence these past few days. You have never missed a day that I know of in close to seven years here. While he may not remember having to do things without you, I know he can. Miss Running Bear, will you please excuse us?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, standing and letting the blanket Healer Donaldson had provided her fall to the cot. So she’d obviously slept here. Hermione felt a little bad about that. She took and squeezed Hermione’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me, too, thank you for worrying about me.”

She left and Healer Donaldson asked Hermione some routine questions about her diet, strain her added tasks might be causing her, whether she missed her parents, and about the potential for pregnancy. The healer’s diagnostics clearly told her that Hermione at almost nineteen was still a virgin, but Hermione understood the healer had to do her due diligence before releasing her.

The healer had little choice but to release Hermione since she said she was fine and the diagnostics she’d run for a third time came back indicating she was exactly that. (Sudden appearance of what were obviously scars notwithstanding.)

Hermione made a beeline for her room, a private one this year due to her position.

The first thing she did was take a shower. She felt … gross.

And overwhelmed.

She didn’t even know where to start. How to sort these … things out.

She sat in it for a while and wept. She hadn’t ever done that before, but there was so much. She got out only when she realized no amount of charms would make her skin look normal if she stayed under the hot water for much longer.

That done, she sat on her bed for a while, hands in her head as she went over the past few hours and days. She was more aware throughout the past couple of days than the Healer and Aiyanna realized. She couldn’t stay asleep but wasn’t totally awake either as if her mind was trying to adjust to the … visions that had come to her.

She would like to have dismissed it as craziness, but she knew it was not her imagination or just dreams. She wasn’t sure how she knew because she presumed anyone else would blow it off as a dream or something.

She was the most level-headed person around, witch or No-Maj. She knew somewhere in the Scottish Highlands at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the proof that what she’d seen in the visions was real. She was convinced they weren’t prophetic visions but in fact memories of events that had actually happened.

To a very different Hermione Granger in a very different … timeline? Life? She wasn’t sure.

Somehow she knew he would have kept her things. He was efficient and thorough that way. At least in her memories he was.

She remembered the healer rubbing a salve on her wrist during one of her somewhat aware moments. She’d talked about how lucky it was for her that Master Snape had thought to create a salve that would react to a cursed blade in this very particular fashion.

Had he created something because of … for her? Presuming one day in his future she would need it because of the last time she’d seen him?

The scars now on her body matched those she’d seen in her visions. Why had they suddenly appeared? She had no idea. The one on her arm bothered her most because if she was remembering correctly it did not fully heal.

Though, looking in a mirror, they didn’t look as bad as they had when she took off her clothes to get in the shower. Were they fading? She glanced at her arm, trying to decide if she could actually see a difference or if it was just wishful thinking.

God, how had he even thought to like her? She wondered this as she ran a fingertip along the scar that was the first one she’d earned. She scoffed at that.

Earned.

Right.

He saw this one the first time they’d met in the Room. He saw the others the last time they’d met.

Had he created the salve to help her?

Or because he didn’t want to look at the scar? Didn’t want others to know she was a muggleborn witch?

A mudblood.

Like Lily had been.

She scowled, shaking her head. She didn’t think that was the case. The memories she had didn’t leave her with the impression that he truly cared about blood status. The insult to … Lily had been a knee jerk reaction out of being humiliated and on display in such a fashion that someone as private as he was would loathe. She had no doubt he had used his hatred for his father to call up and do things in the name of blood purity. He got the impression calling Lily that, though, was something he truly regretted.

Eventually, she formed a plan. She had to know and the only way for her to find out was to act. To do what she did best. Get information. Sitting here in Massachusetts was just not going to get her answers.

Would he respond to a randomly sent letter?

She liked to think so, but she might be wrong and then he’d wonder who she was and what in the hell a soon to be graduate of Ilvermorny was doing contacting him out of the blue. That could be bad, draw unnecessary attention to herself. She didn’t want that. She’d lived a very unassuming life and would prefer it stay that way.

Did he even remember her? Pretty to think so, but it was a few hours out of his life. He would have no recollection of their time after her sixth year at Hogwarts.

She didn’t want to bring attention to herself, especially since she’d be back in Britain soon.

She was going to college in the fall at University of Edinburgh. Professor Brown had helped her with the application process. She’d been accepted by a handful of colleges that offered both magical and No-Maj degrees. For whatever reason, simply because of an indescribable feeling of rightness she’d had, Edinburgh had been her choice.

It was the same reason that had her reject her letter from Hogwarts. She’d trusted that instinct then, she trusted it now for college.

She suspected now she was finally remembering why she knew that she could not go to Hogwarts. (Try explaining that to your parents at under twelve when they just found out you were a witch.) She was caught up to the time where she’d made the decision to change everything. How much had changed? She had no idea.

Obviously where she got her magical education was different. Voldemort had never returned. Otherwise, though? She really wasn’t sure.

She stood from her bed, looking around her room and seeing things from a slightly different perspective than the last time she’d been in here. Just two days ago. She had to admit she thought she’d made the correct decision asking her parents to send her to Aunt Karen and Uncle Robert so that she could attend Ilvermorny. Surely something at Hogwarts would have triggered these memories long before now.

And then what would she have done with them?

Not to mention her feelings for Severus. She couldn’t have been his student. That wouldn’t have worked at all. Unless he didn’t remember. There was something that would be difficult to deal with. She hoped he did.

She should probably take some time and sort things out, but Hermione was not one to just sit around and not take action. With that in mind she decided to put a plan into motion.

She sat at her desk, taking out pen and parchment to write her a response to her penpal (for that was essentially what he was), Viktor Krum. They had met in Hermione’s second year and for some reason despite her lack of interest in quidditch had formed a fairly close friendship during his months here in the Mount Greylock area.

He had been the one who taught her how to use a broom to the point she was decent at flying. Decent was relative. It wasn’t natural to her as it was to many.

It wasn’t a mode of transportation she’d willingly choose like many other wizards and witches, but she was no longer scared that she’d plummet to her death if she got a broom more than five feet off the ground.

Prior to his lessons she had, in fact, had that fear. Miss Cooper, her flight instructor, could attest to that. In a pinch she could manage, but she wasn’t going to rush out to try out for the quidditch team or anything. She did go out to the pitch every other month or so to practice flying, just so she knew she was still able to.

Again, one of those things, being prepared for anything, that must have seeped into her consciousness.

That was something she didn’t recall during her first timeline at all. She hated flying. The Hogwarts flight instructor had not been pleased with that. What was her name? Hermione shook her head. She couldn’t remember.

The need to be prepared had always been strong in her, that included the ability to fly on a broom. She understood why now. If these memories were there the whole time, in her subconscious or repressed. Well, she’d lived seven years never knowing if she was going to survive the school year.

She and Viktor had gotten so close while he stayed at Ilvermorny that there were some here who assumed they were courting.

As if.

She was thirteen! She did not endeavour to be betrothed before leaving Ilvermorny.

Hermione had never been interested in a wizard. None had captured her attention or truly challenged her mind. Ultimately, she knew that she wanted a wizard who would do exactly that. Challenge her yet be her equal. Support her while she did the same for him.

Now she knew why.

She’d always gotten the feeling from Viktor, too, that while he liked her and was willing to pursue her if she’d let him when she turned of age. Well, she didn’t get the sense he was all-in either. He’d dropped hints of interest, but he had never in the five years they’d known one another hinted at wanting more than friendship and companionship from her.

She shifted at her desk, summoning Viktor’s most recent letter. She had received it within the past week ironically. He had written to invite her to join him at Harry Potter’s eighteenth birthday party at the end of July. He’d indicated it would be held at Malfoy Manor. He’d been invited and said that he would hold off replying until he’d heard from her one way or another. He thought it would be a fun way for her to celebrate graduating from Ilvermorny as the Malfoys were known for putting on quite the celebration. He encouraged her to treat it as a bit of a mini-vacation before she started her college studies.

He wasn’t wrong. She really hadn’t taken a break from her studies since she got here in 1991.

It would be easy enough to arrange. Her relatives really had no idea what she was doing and since her aunt and uncle weren’t her parents the school rarely asked them to account for her whereabouts. Plus she will have graduated by the date of the party. Anything she did over the summer was essentially on her own time since she wasn’t formally entering into an apprenticeship.

She was staying to accumulate more hours toward an apprenticeship should she decide to do one after college. She would no longer be a student even if Professor Brown wasn’t paying her for her time. She had already accumulated a lot of hours toward an apprenticeship by staying over breaks and summers since she came here.

She’d never quite taken advantage of the fact Professor Brown gave her pretty much free reign like this before. She’d taken day trips to New York, Washington DC, Philadelphia, and a few other cities important to American history while here on breaks. She visited Viktor more than once when he was in the States to play.

Yes, hours she spent collecting potion ingredients and herbology specimens as well as brewing counted toward any apprenticeship offer she would (no question) receive, but she was not committed to working any certain number of hours. Professor Brown liked the help as well as her company, and she was sure he had hoped she’d choose to be his apprentice.

She’d known, though, that college was a must. Somewhere deep down she knew that education outside of the magical world was important. She had to do it, no missteps would happen in her efforts to ensure that she had as bright of a future as she knew she should.

She read over the dates, knowing when Harry’s birthday was even if yesterday she hadn’t. She did now. She’d known who Harry was before today, of course. Everyone in the magical world knew his story.

Why was Harry’s party at Malfoy Manor? She shuddered at the memory she had of her … time there. Had the Malfoys raised him?

Had that been Severus’ solution to her plea to ensure that her best friend, her brother, not end up with the Dursleys? She shuddered again just thinking about his aunt and uncle. They were abhorrent people. She’d never met them. Well, in this timeline she hadn’t. She remembered them well enough.

She wasn’t sure she’d consider the Malfoys much of an improvement people-wise, but she supposed Harry wouldn’t have wanted for much of anything. That certainly would have been an improvement over how he’d originally been raised.

Then she tried to envision Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter being raised essentially as brothers.

That would be too bizarre.

Viktor was planning on arriving on July thirtieth and departing August third according to his letter. It was one of the things she loved about him. This wasn’t the first time she’d met him, usually it was here in America. He was always very specific about who, what, where, when, why, and how so that she could plan what she’d do with her time away from him. (There was only so much quidditch talk and groupies swooning and screaming after the players she could take.)

So, Malfoy Manor, July thirtieth through August third. He would arrange a room for her, he always did. Even now that she was eighteen it would be separate from his. The fact he hadn’t even asked about their accommodations was another thing that pointed to the fact that he wasn’t all-in when it came to pursuing or courting her.

She would plan on the same dates. She needed to go shopping, though, as her wizarding formal attire was seriously lacking. As much as she loved Aiyanna she could not bring her friend with to do that. She kind of wished Ginny Weasley would know who she was, she could use her input for this. Or one of the girls she’d shared a dorm with in Gryffindor Tower. She hadn’t liked them very much, but they were fashionable.

Were Ginny and Harry courting? Harry was finishing Hogwarts this year, too, so she supposed they could be on their way to getting married with Ginny finishing next year. She really had no idea. She’d never bothered to pay attention to gossip about the British magical world.

She sighed and finished her letter, taking it to the owlery so that it would be enroute to Viktor before she could change her mind about agreeing to being his guest for the party.

From the owlery, she made her way to Professor Brown’s office and knocked on the door. He wouldn’t mind if she just walked in, but it was still the polite thing to knock on his office door.

“Miss Granger,” he said. “I’m glad to see you are, in fact, alive and well. Healer Donaldson informed me that you woke up and went back to your room, but seeing it with my own eyes eases my mind greatly.”

“I’m sorry to have frightened you, Sir.”

“These things happen, Hermione. Of course, they haven’t happened to you, which increased my level of my concern and makes me wonder if maybe we aren’t burning the candle at both ends. Hmm?”

He was a kind wizard, probably in his thirties. Very American. From Kansas. She’d seen his home once after he’d shown her The Wizard of Oz. Her parents were movie buffs and had exposed her to all sorts of black and white movies. The Wizard of Oz had not been one of them, though. Tornadoes weren’t completely unheard of, but it sounded like he’d grown up with the threat of them being pretty constant every spring. She viewed him as a friend and a mentor, and was pretty sure he viewed her as the reverse. His house was in a muggle area and he had American beer and butterbeer in his electric refrigerator.

She’d loved visiting it. She knew his concern was legitimate and not just because he was worried he’d be stuck doing more work.

“Not at all, I assure you.”

“Okay. I trust you to be honest with me if you’re overextending yourself.”

“Thank you. I am going to take a few days off this summer, though. July thirtieth through August fourth.”

She added an additional day, just in case. Just in case of what she wasn’t sure. If she didn’t need it, she’d be back on the third and no one would be the wiser. If she said she’d be back on the third and didn’t come back, a search party would be sent for her.

“Okay, you’re certainly entitled to somewhat of a summer holiday.”

“Thank you. I’d like to take this Saturday, too, and do some shopping ahead of my trip so that I’m ready. And in case I don’t find all that I need and need to go elsewhere before July. I’m caught up on my studies.”

Even missing two days she was only behind a bit on reading. She’d be able to make that up in no time.

“Of course. Do you need an escort?”

“No,” she said quickly.

“All right,” he said with a nod. “You’ve certainly earned a day or two off. Saturday seems like a perfect day for some ingredient gathering,” he said with a kindly wink.

It was a perk of being his prized student. He should absolutely not be allowing her to leave school property, but she worked so hard without question or complaint that he always did things like this for her. He wrote it off as potion purchasing or ingredient collecting and no one questioned him. Or her.

There were times it came in handy to be a know-it-all swot!

“Thank you, Sir.”

Saturday came and she showered and dressed for the day, going to join Aiyanna for a late breakfast. She assured her friend that she was still okay and would return later that day. Other than the scars that had appeared, and just as suddenly faded she felt fine. It was the weirdest thing. She wished she could explain it and hoped Severus, or someone, might have a better answer than the nothing that she was coming up with. She promised to bring something back for Aiyanna if she made it to No-Maj Salem.

She made her way to the small magical village that served the area. It wasn’t too different from how she recalled Hogsmeade being. She stopped at the bank first thing. It was a very tiny branch of Gringotts. There were no vaults here or anything. One was only able to obtain money from an account. She didn’t have a vault in Boston, but she imagined people were probably able to transfer things from their vault if they needed to. No one she knew would have such knowledge. She had little need to keep much actual money, muggle or magical, on her person. So she would need some for shopping.

“Hi! I have some funds in account based out of London’s branch that I’d like to transfer here if I could,” she said, getting out her identification and wand to show it to the goblin. Wandless magic was quite normal here and most were adept at it so things weren’t quite as tied to one’s wand as they had been in London. Her parents had their identification to access her account in London. She’d never had to do this before so hoped it would work.

The goblin slid a piece of paper in her direction a few minutes later with a sum of galleons that rather astounded Hermione. How she’d known funds would be there above what her parents gave her she wasn’t sure, but she had.

Her parents had been pleased to know that they could access Gringotts in Diagon Alley and deposit funds that she’d need for her schooling here that way. Of course, everyone at Ilvermorny believing her parents were squibs, ie., magical, assumed that was the reason they had the ability to enter Diagon Alley. Hermione had shown them how to access it years ago. How she’d known how to, she hadn’t known at the time, but she had.

Like so many other things, she had just known where to go and what to do. They were the ones who had mentioned there’d already been an account in her name with funds in it for her the first time they deposited money there years ago.

Usually her parents told Gringotts to transfer the money directly to her Ilvermorny account, always holding back a little at Gringotts in case of an emergency or something where she couldn’t get a hold of them or her aunt and uncle. Shopping wasn’t exactly an emergency, but it went above and beyond her normal school expenses.

The amount in the account was way more than seven years of a little extra. It was a pretty substantial amount. She filed that away with all of the other unanswered questions that she had.

She told the goblin how much to transfer and how much she wanted given to her today, including some in muggle dollars. The financial exchange was completed and she then went to the post office. From there she could floo to wizarding New York, which was where she planned on spending her day.

And her money.

She used the backpack with an undetectable extension charm that she’d created after her third year. There’d been several times over the years that Hermione wondered how she knew these things. No one else that she was aware of knew how to create one as a student let alone at the age of fourteen. She was pretty sure a few of her professors would be hard-pressed to do so.

She wasn’t sure if the memories that had suddenly been returned to her this week had anything to do with her knowing things, but she was pretty confident they did. As if the knowledge she’d gained before had been there all along, bleeding into her brain without her knowing it.

It was after dinner time at school by the time she finished with her shopping, so she shrunk her bags and placed them in her backpack before making her way from magical New York to No-Maj Salem.

There was a comic book store there that she enjoyed visiting to see what was popular amongst No-Majs from a pop culture standpoint. There was a restaurant nearby that she’d enjoyed in the past, too. She stopped at a candy store on her way out of town to buy some treats for herself and Aiyanna before heading to wizarding Salem and back to Mount Greylock.

“Professor Brown mentioned to me you’ll be gone for a few days,” Aiyanna said when they were sitting together, picking through the chocolate goodies Hermione had gotten.

Aiyanna loved when Hermione brought her No-Maj sweets. It was funny because she’d grown up living mostly as No-Maj. Her parents didn’t go to Salem or indulge in much outside of their Native American foods and traditions. She knew what these things were, though, so she’d clearly had them. Just not often. She supposed it was no different than her missing the British treats her parents sent her every few months.

“I am. I have some research I need to do and figured that would be a good time to do it. Before I’m immersed in college courses,” she said with a shrug, taking a bite of a delicious chocolate covered potato chip.

Hermione remembered the first time she’d had such a thing. It hadn’t sounded as if it’d taste very good, but it was delicious! Aiyanna had the same reaction when Hermione described them to her. The younger witch seemed to like them, too.

“I will miss you,” she said.

Hermione made sure to keep the discarded sweets box. She would have to use it to make herself a portkey when the time came. There was no way she could go to the portkey office in Salem. She could not announce to anyone where she was going.

Hermione Granger had led a pretty quiet life this go-around. No scandals. No gossip. Word of her supposed budding romance with Viktor hadn’t traveled beyond the walls of the school, thankfully. She wasn’t about to change that by anyone placing her publicly with Viktor on the other side of an ocean from where she was supposed to be.

“I’ll miss you, too, but it’s only going to be for a few days, and I’m sure Professor Brown will have things for you to do while I’m gone.”

Of course, come end-August she’d be heading to Scotland and likely wouldn’t see Aiyanna much after that. Her parents had already told her to expect to spend time at home over breaks from school. She sensed they weren’t going to pay for her college and let her come to America to see Aiyanna instead of seeing them. She’d been very lucky they let her come to Ilvermorny, truthfully.

Hermione chose not to focus on that just yet. Even with her memories … returned? Altered? What was it? She wasn’t sure.

Aiyanna was still a good friend and Hermione knew even though she’d be a seventh year student next year and almost done with her own schooling that her friend was not looking forward to Hermione leaving and returning to Europe. She’d say home, but she’d be in Scotland not Britain. Truthfully, she didn’t really consider her parents’ house home anymore.

Aiyanna wasn’t quite as gifted in potions as Hermione but she was good. Partly because she simply wanted to spend time with Hermione so she drove herself to be and do better. Hermione had enjoyed teaching her.

Eventually, after walking around the castle some they made their way to their own houses for the night. Hermione was grateful for the time to herself. She had a lot to think about.

And to write down.

She wasn’t sure if the memories would stay for good or if it was just a way for her mind to catch her up. Like a computer rebooting or something. Like the scars that appeared and seemed to have faded away again. Faded not completely disappeared. She wanted to write down everything that she could. Being Saturday night she could really stay up as late as she needed to.

She was not going to forget!

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com