As the Earth filled the two graves, Harry kept her hand in his, but could feel her shaking; she did blame herself, and felt responsible for the deaths, and for Ginny. Ginny's injury had nearly ended in three funerals, but two events did more for her that day than any other in her life. Luna's training and quick thinking in the ambulance to stop the blood loss had unquestionably saved her life. And her brief encounter in the park somehow told her it wasn't her time. The doctors at the muggle hospital had done as much with their skills as any healer could have done, and she now needed time to heal and recover. She had some remaining pain and stiffness when she tried to walk, and so on her husband's orders; she remained in a wheel chair.
Harry supported Hermione to their home; he could feel her knees wobble from the stress of the morning and the past few days. It had been some time since either had rested or nourished their own bodies; the task just fulfilled had consumed them both. He half carried her back to the cottage, followed by the others to help pass the time and morn the loss. Dobby had left a simple luncheon out for their return, but respectfully did not stay, as he knew this was a very private moment for the family.
The small group entered the main lounge of their home, and remained silent, except for the occasional whimper and sob from not only the woman, but the wizards too, who also felt and shared the grief. Although they all had known each other for many years, and had experienced death before, this was the first time any of them buried a child. Today they buried two infants.
Hermione walked past the congregation and felt compelled to visit a room in the small wizard house no one besides Harry had seen. She cautiously walked up the flight of stairs, past their bedroom, to a smaller room freshly painted in alternating shades of light blue and pink. Two matching cribs sat forever empty along the wall, each filled with a menagerie of stuffed animals. She stopped at the one crib with a light pink ruffle, and stared at the worn teddy bear that sat on the pillow. It was her favorite as a child and wanted to pass it to her daughter. She had thought of leaving it in the casket, but the bear was larger than the child, leaving little room for the fallen angel. She reached in to the crib and held it as she would have held Janet.
All she felt was the emotions pull at her, ripping deep into her soul. Her heart began pounding furiously. She felt her chest rise and fall, but no air seemed to pass into her lungs. She felt the wet streaks on her face, but couldn't raise her hands to clear them. The dull thump-thump of her heart quickened and became so intense she felt her chest pound in pain. The sharp squeeze in her chest radiated into her arms, the numbing cold from the morning spent at the graves broke into an icy sweat. The room tilted to one side, leaving her disoriented. Blackness engulfed her as the side of her face screamed from the pain of the impact with the floor. The jolt of the fall sent flowers of color and light bursting in her vision, they continued flashing in her vision until all that remained was the blackness as she felt herself fall into an abyss. There was no light to see, no sound met her ears, a silent whoosh that she felt on her cheeks as she fell. A single star burst of color flashed, and she drifted toward it. The first ray of light that escaped cut into her vision, she could see several distinct figures, two adults playing with two young children. The four were oddly familiar, when she saw two other adults in the distance. The little girl ran to the man in the second couple, and all she heard was 'Poppy'. She passed the vision catching enough of a view of the second couple to know instantly who they were. That vision caused the rift in her heart to tear deeper.
Darkness engulfed her; she still had the vision of her mother and father with another couple playing with two small children. The force of the wind rushing past prevented her from shedding a tear for that vision. She knew it was her own children with their grandparents.
She closed her eyes, but it did no good in the virtual black within the abyss. She thought back. She held only one regret, Harry wasn't there to hold her, to wake her from this dream she knew she was having. She rationalized it must be a dream; she must have collapsed from the stress. This was only a bout of stress, neither she nor Harry had slept since the accident, and it had been days since she remembered eating, and that last meal had been left in a rubbish bin. Whether she had been falling for minutes, hours or days, she couldn't tell, there was nothing except the wind rush past as she fell.
A new point of light broke through in the distance; she forced her mind to focus on that point. It grew into a ray, a beacon calling her to a destination. She imagined she'd wake up, shake off the stress, have a bite to eat and Harry would put her to bed for some rest and she'd wake in his arms in the morning. She had blacked out only a few times before, once when she touched his scar and it transferred itself to her palm and that incident lasted a couple days. Another time she blacked out was when she fell out of her bed one night from a dream, but she woke the next morning; and the last time was when she died, if death could be thought of as blacking out.
She would wake soon. She had to. This was only stress she kept telling herself. She forced her eyes open, fully expecting to see Harry with his worried look on his face standing over her, stroking her hair.
"Harry?" she called out, finally able to hear her own voice. Her vision was still blurred, but she wasn't lying on the floor of her nursery or in her bed. She was lying in a field of thick grass, still moist with dew. Her body felt numb with pain, as if she landed hard in this field.
A lone figure approached as her vision returning to normal. He was a tall man, taller then her Harry. This man looked to be a full 2 meters tall, dressed in a dark brown hooded cloak over light colored tunic tucked into matching leggings. He wore thick boots laced up the front that reached almost to the knee. A wide strap of a belt cinched his tunic closed, with a number of objects draped to the side. One such object appeared to be a torch. To the other side of his belt, a heavy pouch that she assumed contained those objects most men would normally store in their pockets. His gait brought him swiftly to her side, as he bent to assist her to her feet. His hands were rough and callused from years of labor. As toughened as his hands were, his touch was gentle and kind.
"Greetings to thee, have you lost your escort?" He inquired as he helped her to her feet.
"Excuse me, sir, but I have no idea what you mean." She replied. Without knowing who he was or where she was, the safest course of action was to be evasive in her answer.
"Thou art by thy self in an unsafe pasture. If you have no escort, then art thou a witch? Thou art dressed as one, in the purest of black, and veiled to cover your face. But you are few in years. I cannot believe you could have the skills to practice the dark arts."
Quickly she felt her cloak; she always carried her wand, ever on the shortest of trips to the gardens of her own home. Her pocket was empty.
"Black? I…" she took a quick assessment and realized she still wore her funeral robes. "I buried my children this morning, if you must know." The tone she used nearly surprised her, that she could be so callous to a stranger asking a simple question. "And since we are on the issue of dress, may I inquire the nature of your attire?"
"Aye, I am your humble servant, mum. My deepest apologies for your loss. I am a knight of the realm safeguarding this towns' people from harm. There have been tales and reports of evil lurking within these grounds outside the village."
Knight of the realm? This is shear madness. She thought. "May I inquire you name, good knight?"
"Aye, I am called Sir James of Caerleon." He replied with a graceful bow. At which she could see to his side a broad sword hung beneath his cloak.
" Caerleon? I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with that town. My name is Hermione Potter, my husband and I live in Godric's Hollow."
"Godric's Hollow? Mum, I beg your forgiveness, but there is no place in this parish by that name."
Puzzled they stared at each other. Hermione looked at her new companion, and at the surrounding grounds. Not a single trace of modern technology was evident. The path that wound past the patch of grass she had found herself appeared to be the only road in the vicinity, if that could even be classified as a road. This man, or knight seemed pleasant enough, and she was grateful that he at lease was friendly.
"One other question, sir knight, I seem to have lost track of time, can you tell be the day?"
"It is the twenty-third of May, in the year of our Lord 1479."
Stunned with the date, she looked as if he dealt her a blow from his sword. "What parish are we in? Are we near London?"
"Nay, we are a weeks hard march to London, as for the parish, this is on the outer boundaries of East Barnet, under his grace, Earl and Bishop Clement Augustus Rebus." He spoke the name politely, but not with respect one would expect.
"Rebus?" she exclaimed. "He's here?"
"Aye, mum, ye have heard of his grace?" His interest in this woman changed. She admitted to knowing the Earl. But he needed to know how she knew him.
"Yes." She whispered. The interrogation, however brief was draining her of the little strength she had, and felt her knees wobble; Sir James also noticed her lack of balance and offered his hand to her so she could steady herself.
"If I may ask, is your husband here?"
"No. I think I fainted after the… when…"
"The funeral?"
"Yes. He was with me, but I seem to have been taken away from him."
"Abducted and abandoned here? You must return with me, my own wife will see to your needs."
She took a single step and swooned, nearly falling to the ground, had it not been for the knight that rescued her.
"Harry…" she mumbled his name over and over. She felt a gentle hand wiping the sweat from her brow with a cold cloth. Her last recollection was a dream of talking to a man that claimed to be a knight. She could feel Harry's presence nearby, holding her hand. She knew he would be there; ready to be her knight in shining armor, her protector. She called his name again as she managed to open her eyes, to see a girl dressed in an old time peasant's frock. She sat on the edge of the bed she laid on, covered with thick warm quilts.
"Good morn, milady. Please don't try to sit; my lord fetched you from a field on the outskirts of our village yesterday past noon."
"Who… are you?" she asked from within her daze.
"I am but a servant in the employ of Sir James. I have been instructed to aid you to health, mum."
"Then it wasn't a dream?"
"No mum. I'll take my leave and fetch you proper clothing, are you still to morn?" The girl remained on the edge of the bed; she had a deep look of concern and sympathy at the questions of Hermione's loss.
"Pardon?"
"Sir James said you had a loss that you were in morning. I will fetch proper attire should you require it. How long has it been, if I may ask?"
She pulled on her brain to work through the question. How long? It was only this morning they had the funeral, and only 4 days since the accident. "A few days." She replied unsure how long she was asleep.
"Then you should still remain to morn, who do you morn, a husband? Or is it too soon to talk of it?"
"My children. They were killed in an accident a few days ago."
"I grieve with thee, milady, my mother had such a loss of a child when I was a wee lass, she and the child were taken at birth. Please rest until I return with your gowns."
"Please, tell me your name?"
"Hermia, milady." And with that she left Hermione to ponder these new events. Everything seemed familiar, that man's features and this girl's name, but her mind was still fogged. She closed her eyes, and willed the fog away, 'Think Hermione, use your brain.' She ordered herself.
'Ok, Hermione, review the facts. First off, this is a dream, it must be. It's more then 500 years ago, and that girl…' She sat up sharply, when it finally dawned on her.
"HERMIA!" she screamed.
Within seconds the girl returned. She hardly left the outer room when her name was so sharply called out.
"Did you need something, milady?"
"Please, tell me, are you Hermia Madison? You have a brother, Haimon?"
Puzzled, she closed the door and returned to the spot on the bed.
"Aye to both, how do you know of this? How do you know of him?"
Without hesitation, Hermione threw her arms around the maid and began to feel her grief return, this time for the pain this girl will endure.
"Mum? This is hardly appropriate. I am but a servant and you obviously of noble birth."
Through swelling eyes, she looked at her kin; this slight girl was a focal point in her destiny. She was sitting with the witch that led her to her life with Harry.
"I'm sorry, I know this doesn't seem right, but I know of you and your family, I had wished I could have helped when… I heard."
"Heard? What madness is this?" she stood and looked at Hermione unsure what to say or think. No one knew her brother; he was safe in another part of the country.
"Please," she whispered, "come sit. I know who you are."
"No, this is madness. How could you know of me, and of my family?"
"I know you attended a school, a special school in Scotland. Were you a Gryffindor?"
Now stunned, she sat on the end of the bed, barely able to respond. "No, Ravenclaw. But how?"
"I am a Gryffindor, as is my husband. But you, you're so young, you couldn't have finished."
"No, milady, I have one more year left, this year ended but a week past, and I returned to the employ of Sir James, he has no knowledge of this, I pray he never knows. The Earl has been cruel to our kind. You must not speak of this; there are those that spy to learn of us." She whispered softly, so only Hermione could hear.
Hermione forgot herself and threw the coverings off and tried to stand, only to realize how weak she let herself become.
"Please, stay; I will fetch food and your gown."
Weakly she complied and her kin left, more puzzled then Hermione. The thought that she was in a point in her own past made her think of the possibilities. She could easily remove this Earl and thereby possibly remove Riddle from her past, or future, she couldn't think clearly. Had she kept her wits, her outburst and these revelations would still be secret. She knew most of the details of the coming events, but that was several months away, she had no idea how long this dream would last.
She slumped back into the bed, and curled up, the way she used to curl up in Harry's arms when she felt unsure, when she needed him. How long she lay there she didn't know, time seemed lost, without a clock, time simply existed. She tried to remember any other details.
"Come on Hermione remember." She commanded herself. 'Remember how to remember', "My pensieve!" she muttered to herself. She reached under the nightgown for the locket and the pensieve Harry gave her, they were her two most cherished gifts from him, she cherished her locket as much as her wedding ring, maybe more, but she never admitted that to herself. That locket was the first thing he gave her out of pure love. Her rings were still on her hand; the diamond still sparkled as the day he gave it to her.
"Bollocks," she said, they were both missing. She was about to search the room when the door re-opened. Her great-great-great-grandmother returned carrying a tray filled with food and a black frock over her arm.
"Hermia, I had some personal objects, where are they?" she asked quietly.
"Milady, I kept them. Without my lord seeing them. I knew them to be charmed but thought you were unaware of their powers. I have tried to determine the spells, before you told me you are like me. Here." She reached into her pocket and handed the two objects that shared a silver chain to Hermione.
"Sit." She commanded. "Do you have a wand?"
"Please, any witchcraft would have us both imprisoned."
"I want you to believe who I am." Hermia handed Hermione her wand, shorter than her own. "Maple? What's the core?"
"Yes, maple with dragon's heartstring."
Hermione smiled and took the wand giving it a wave over her pensive and repeated her spell, " Aperire Cogito Sospito Parseltongue ." The iris opened and Harry's image appeared giving Hermia a start.
"Who is this boy?" she asked.
"Harry," Hermione replied with a smile. "My husband, we married shortly after…" she stopped herself from talking about the war. That was long over, or in the distant future, or something. "We married after we finished school."
An image appeared of Hermione covered in fur, causing Hermia to giggle at the image.
"I did not believe you before, but from this you must be a powerful witch. But your manor of dress is strange to me, you say you were a Gryffindor, but I myself have been there for the past six years. When did you leave?"
"We finished five years ago. And we have been married since then. I met him in our first year. It was strange for both of us, I was muggle born, and a dark wizard murdered his parents. He had to live as a muggle with no idea who he was. He's the most powerful wizard alive."
"Merlin is your husband? But he must be near a thousand years old now."
"No. Not Merlin, He's long dead, Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard until Harry came into his birthright."
"Nay, these truths you speak are unfounded, Merlin still lives, he is believed to live in London, and I have never heard of this other you speak of. Surely you must be confused, maybe the lack of sustenance." She placed the forgotten tray of food on the table next to the bed.
Hermione suddenly remembered her forgotten hunger and started with a large portion of roasted chicken. Between mouthfuls, she tried to explain. "Please, Hermia, I don't think I can really explain, but all this to me isn't real. But if it is real then I can't explain more. I know I must sound mad, but please believe me that I only want to help you." She tapped the pensieve and it returned to its original state, and she also noticed the time piece still functioned.
"Hermia, I need to find Harry. I need a wand. Can you get us to London? I can get what I need in Diagon Alley."
"I'm afraid I can't. I'm only good with flying and charms. I have a broom, it can get you there, but I would advise traveling only after nightfall."
"No, I'm not much for flying, it terrifies me. Do you know where Ottery St Catchpole is? I may have friends there."
"Aye, it is but one day's ride on horse back, two by carriage. I know Sir James will escort you there if asked, he is a good man, and he has not love for the Earl, but he is loyal to the King but the King was tricked into appointed that man as the Earl to this parish, so he is forced to obey him. I fear the Earl is an evil man."
"Hermia, promise me, hide your talents, don't tell anyone you are a witch. And pray that you brother remains safe. These are horrible times, and I'm afraid they will last several hundred years. Please promise me that."
"Yes, mum, I vow that to thee."
"Thank you." She sighed.
"Now, eat and I shall return within the hour you help you dress."
"I really don't need help getting dressed, I can manage."
"Nay, how will you secure the backings? I will return. My lord will wish to speak with thee further." She stood and left Hermione alone.
The platter of food was simply prepared, either roasted over an open fire or baked on stone. There was also an abundance of fruits, and noticeably few vegetables; only simple livestock that was easily slaughtered or baked or picked from a tree. This showed her that most agriculture focused on grain for bread; quite appropriate for the era. The contents of the tray had been consumed quickly.
She finally had the strength to stand, and picked up the gown Hermia delivered, it wasn't the same one she had worn at the funeral but closer to the dress of the period, and proved difficult to don properly. Even her knickers had been removed and replaced with period appropriate dress.
A different handmaiden arrived to assist Hermione with the dress, seeing the complexity of the lacing in the back, it was a wonder she ever squeezed into it. The girl silently performed her duties swiftly, leading Hermione from the sleeping quarters down to the main sitting area, closely resembling the Great Hall, but on a smaller, subdued scale. Her host, although a true knight of the King, and sworn to a modest life, had married well. His marriage of eighteen years had been prearranged for his valor on the battlefield. His wife, at first meeting felt honor bound to marry him, and in short time, learned this hardened warrior was a truly gentle man under the armor of steel and mail. The estate where they lived had been part of the dowry, and they had made it into a warm home. Hermione felt unusually at ease as she met her benefactor again, as if he were an old and trusted friend.
"Sir James, thank you for your hospitality and help. I would have been much worse I fear has I been found by any one else. I do understand a woman unaccompanied in these times is at risk."
The kindly man stood as she entered and ushered her to a large leather covered chair.
"Aye, and I would like to understand how you came to be without your escort. I suspect you to be of noble birth, given the fine quality of your garments and your manor."
"I wish I knew. The last I do remember was leaving Harry and our friends to visit…" she stopped for a moment, the events that led her to this meeting still fresh in her mind. "I needed to see their room once more. I still haven't been able to understand why they had to die."
"Please, if it is too much, we can discuss this at a later time."
"Thank you, but I need to understand myself why it had to happen."
"How did it happen? If I may ask."
She thought this out as she waited in her chambers for Hermia to return. "They were six months and died when they were struck as my husband's step-sister cared for them."
"Then this woman neglected them and they died. Tragic."
"No, she nearly died trying to protect them. A carriage struck them and the driver fled from the scene leaving them to die. We buried them that day you found me, but that was in the early morning, so it must have been the day before. I believe I succumbed to the stress and fell unconscious, that's the last I remembered until I saw you."
"Then it may be possible you had been abducted. Could there be a reason for this?" His questioning continued in a vein to determine what he could. Not one question had been malicious.
"My husband is an important man; we have powerful enemies at home and abroad. Anything is possible, I'm afraid. Your servant Hermia Madison was most helpful and friendly, I needed a kind word, and I appreciate her presence. Is she about?"
"Aye, she is tending our small ones; I'll fetch her if you wish."
"Thank you, I would like to thank her personally." With a nod of his head the lord and master of the home dispatched another servant to complete that task.
"Sir James, I would like to repay your hospitality, but as you can see, I don't have the means. If I could get to London, we have holdings there and I might be able to get word to Harry."
"This 'Harry' is your lord?"
"My husband, yes. I have some distant relatives only a day's ride. If you could escort me to Ottery St Catchpole, I could get word to my family."
"Yes, I can arrange for your escort, it would be my honor to accompany you on this mission."
"Thank you kind sir." At that moment Hermia was ushered into the chamber.
"Hermia, I want to personally thank you for your help and kind words, I have been distraught. And please, I would like you to join me on my journey. I feel a kindred spirit between us."
"Then she shall be your hand maiden as long as you require her services. But as the hour has drawn late, and I have business with the Earl this evening, I shall beg your forgiveness, as I must leave. Good day Madam Potter."
Hermione stood and left the chamber, her distant kinsman close behind.
"Come, Hermia, walk with me." She held her hand to the younger girl, who refused due to her perceived position.
"I cannot, it isn't proper milady."
"Then walk with me so I don't faint again," she commanded with a knowing wink.
Arm-in-arm they walked from the main building for a tour of the grounds.
By her best guess, she had been in this temporal reality only one day, she began to wonder if Harry knew where she was or if he was trying to find her as hard as she was trying to find a way home.
They all sat in the main lounge of the cottage waiting for Hermione to re-join them; every person there knew she needed their support to get through this time of grief. Ginny was the first to ask about her whereabouts. Since she wasn't allowed to expend her strength to even climb the flight of stairs, Harry left his friends and extended family to find her.
He reached the top of the stairs knowing she was in the nursery, and called out for her. "Moine, everyone's still downstairs, they're here for you, I know how you…" he stopped in mid sentence as he turned the corned. There she laid with her eyes wide open and a blank expression on her face. He fell to her side as quickly as he could, and began to shake her.
"Love, WAKE UP. Please don't leave me too." He screamed.
He pulled her to his lap hoping she simply fainted from the stress of the day. He looked deep into her eyes, and knew she was no longer there. All he held was an empty shell of the woman that he vowed to spend his life with. His outburst brought his friends and companions of the day, save one, bursting into the room to find him holding her in his lap gently rocking her in his arms, nearly repeating the events of five years past.
Ron was the first there, dropped to their side, and grabbed Harry's arm. "Harry, is she…" he couldn't finish the thought.
Harry shook his head, "No, her body's alive, but it's like that day when she was… no, this is different." The stress of the morning and now to find her gone bore heavily on his shoulders, and he let his emotions flow.
Ron reached to his friend and touched her face lightly, looking for any reflex to his touch. He gently closed her eyes and looked in her face.
"Harry, she'll be fine, she's got to be. There's got to be a reason." He mumbled, the bond he shared for most of his life with these two showed at times of stress. Whenever any of the three were in difficulty, the other two always managed to help. This was one of the few times Harry needed Ron's comfort, Luna was too aware of the close ties between them, at times it was a point of jealousy that told her she was still number four of three. Jealous or not, there was a person in distress of unknown origin, and another with a history of extreme protectiveness over her.
"Ron, help him get her to her bed. She'll be more comfortable." Luna instructed; the caring healer within ever present. Harry gently held her in his arms as Ron helped them both; no one noticed the teddy bear as it slipped from her hands.