Hermione pressed herself against the cold stone wall of the Hogwarts corridor. Her cheeks were burning, and her heart was thudding heavily in her chest. She had only just got out of the dungeons, and now she was doing everything she could to stay unseen. Every sound seemed too loud: the tap of her footsteps, the rustle of her robes, even her own breathing. 'Make sure no one sees you,' Foster's voice kept ringing in her ears.
"I have to make it in time..." she whispered, quickly turning the corner.
The corridors were almost empty, but she still kept to the shadows and tried not to look at the windows, as if someone beyond the glass might see her. Several times she thought she heard footsteps approaching, even Filch's familiar wheezing grunt, but each time it turned out to be only a draught, or an echo from some other part of the castle.
At last, after slipping past a few students, Hermione reached the hospital wing. She opened the door to the ward as quietly as she could and breathed out in relief: Pompik had just woken up. The elf was sitting on the bed, confused and frightened. His large eyes darted around the room, and his ears twitched as if trying to catch the first sign of danger. The Polyjuice Potion he had drunk on the orders of his mistress, Miranda Ravenclaw, had worn off. Now he was himself again: small, frail, with wrinkled skin and a long nose.
"Oh, Miss Hermione Granger!" he cried, perking up the moment he saw her. His face brightened as if he had just been rescued from the worst nightmare of his life. "Pompik didn't know what to do! The potion wore off, and Pompik is still here! Mistress told Pompik to wait and not leave until you came back! Pompik was afraid he would be found out!"
"Quiet!" Hermione hissed, putting a finger to her lips and glancing round nervously. "You'll wake everyone!"
But it was already too late. In the corner, on the rug, the cat stirred. Mrs Norris had just come round after being petrified. Her amber eyes opened, looked around the room, and settled on Hermione and the elf. She narrowed her pupils and gave a hoarse meow. A chill ran down Hermione's spine. Mrs Norris tried to get up, but her paws gave way and she flopped onto her side, letting out a much louder, more piercing:
"MEEEEOW!"
Hermione was ready to throttle the cat. Mrs Norris's meowing had not only set Hermione's nerves on edge, but woken everyone else too. Children began stirring around the ward, slowly waking up. It looked as if the Mandrake Restorative Draught had finally worked, reviving them one by one.
"Quickly, Pompik, go!" Hermione whispered, throwing an anxious glance at the door.
The elf looked at her one last time, gave a childlike sob, and Disapparated with a loud crack. Hermione darted to his bed and slipped beneath the blanket. She took a couple of deliberately slow breaths to steady herself, made herself look sleepy, and listened.
Almost at once, footsteps sounded outside, the ward door opened, and Madam Pomfrey appeared on the threshold. She cast a quick look around the room. Seeing Mrs Norris, who was still trying and failing to get to her feet, the nurse threw up her hands and hurried over to her. The cat kept meowing pitifully, and sleepy, indistinct sounds came from the neighbouring beds: someone shifted irritably, someone muttered something, and from the far corner came a yawn.
As she passed Hermione's bed, Madam Pomfrey glanced at her in passing, then suddenly stopped and turned towards the girl lying under the blanket.
"Miss Granger?" Madam Pomfrey sounded genuinely bewildered.
Hermione did not realise at first that she was the problem. She had been watching what was going on far too intently, her eyes wide open. Catching herself, she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, pretending to yawn, and made herself look as if she had only just woken up.
"Oh, Madam Pomfrey..." she mumbled in a deliberately sleepy voice. "Has something happened?"
"Considering the circumstances, you look rather too wide awake, Miss Granger," the nurse said, frowning as she looked her over carefully. Her gaze slid to the sleeve of Hermione's robes.
"And... you seem to have managed to get changed already? On your own?" Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows rose.
While pretending to yawn, Hermione had not thought that she would give herself away by putting her arm out from under the blanket. It really seemed to have thrown Madam Pomfrey. She had even forgotten about the cat, who was still fighting a losing battle with gravity. Hermione swallowed nervously, but tried to look unruffled.
"I suppose the Mandrake draught just worked quickly. A very good draught," she said, trying to make her voice sound as sincere as possible. "I feel perfectly all right already."
"And you know about the draught?" The nurse looked at her with even more suspicion. "That is even stranger. Still, if you are all right, I see no harm in it. Incidentally, Professor Dumbledore asked me to let him know at once when you came round," she said, turning. "I'll go and let him know now."
Madam Pomfrey left the ward, and Hermione breathed out in relief. But a second later, alarm bells went off in her head:
'Dumbledore asked to be told? About me specifically? But why? Could he have suspected something? Worked out the switch? No, surely not... Although... what if he has? What am I supposed to tell him? The truth? And why not? I haven't done anything wrong. I only freed a wizard who was in trouble... a wizard who is not exactly on good terms with Dumbledore.'
She turned over everything she might say in her head. What words should she use? Confess? Keep quiet? Talk her way out of it? But while Hermione was still trying to decide what to do, the door opened again. This time Madam Pomfrey did not come in alone. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall followed her in. Both of them looked serious. Dumbledore stopped, tilting his head slightly, as if studying Hermione with a gaze from which nothing could be hidden.
"Miss Granger," he said, with a slight emphasis. "I believe you are well enough to speak with us," he nodded towards Professor McGonagall, "in my office?"
"What?" Madam Pomfrey cried indignantly. "I protest! She has only just come round after being petrified! She needs at least a day's rest. She won't be able to stand! She won't make it."
Dumbledore smiled briefly as he looked at Hermione, then turned to the nurse.
"Why don't we ask Miss Granger herself whether she can make it to my office?"
"Miss Granger? Why?" Madam Pomfrey looked in surprise first at Dumbledore, then at McGonagall, as if expecting support from her, and then at Hermione herself.
Hermione still did not know exactly what to do, but she had made up her mind about one thing: she would not lie.
"I can walk," she said quietly, lowering her eyes.
"But... Miss Granger, you don't understand what you're saying," Madam Pomfrey began, then fell silent.
Hermione had already swung her legs off the bed. She slowly got to her feet and, trying not to meet the nurse's eyes, straightened up.
"I can make it, Madam Pomfrey."
"And I, for my part," Dumbledore added gently, "promise to escort Miss Granger back to the ward myself, and return her to your care as soon as our conversation is over."
"On your responsibility, Albus," Madam Pomfrey muttered, still unable to believe her eyes. "I do not approve of this."
"Thank you, Poppy," the Hogwarts Headmaster said with a nod.
His faint smile vanished almost as soon as he looked at Hermione again. Then, without another word, he turned and walked towards the door. Hermione followed him, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
***
The Headmaster's office was far too quiet. Only the steady ticking of a clock on the wall and the faint creak of Dumbledore's chair broke the silence. He was leaning back, his fingers linked over his stomach, his gaze fixed on Hermione. She sat opposite him, trying to look calm. But the longer the silence dragged on, the more nervously she worried the hem of her robe, unable to make herself look up and meet the Headmaster's eyes. McGonagall stood to one side, slightly behind Dumbledore, her arms folded and her brows drawn together. Her eyes moved between the Headmaster and Hermione, full of confusion and worry.
"Well, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said at last. "Would you care to tell us something?"
Hermione tried to answer, but the words stuck in her suddenly dry throat. She felt her face grow hot.
"I..." she began, her voice unexpectedly hoarse, and stopped.
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, studying her over his half-moon spectacles.
"What am I supposed to tell you?" she managed, trying to hold back the tremor in her voice.
"Well, for instance, where you have been," Dumbledore said calmly.
Hermione tried to look puzzled, but he immediately added:
"But please, for Merlin's sake, do not tell me you have been lying in the hospital wing all this time." There was a clear note of insistence in his voice now. "Because, after examining 'your' body more closely, I found that it was, alas, not yours."
As he said this, he spread his hands.
"So who was it, Miss Granger? Though I am even more interested in where you were. And why you needed this whole masquerade in the first place."
Hermione hesitated for only a second. A stubborn, fierce feeling flared in her chest: she had been protecting Hogwarts. That meant she had done the right thing. And she would do it again, because in the end, just as Foster had promised, the basilisk had not killed anyone. That was what mattered most. As for whatever was going on between Foster and Dumbledore, that was their business. Let them sort it out between themselves.
She looked at the Headmaster with determination.
"I... Glug. Glug, glug..." came out instead of words.
She froze, stunned. Her tongue refused to obey her the moment she tried to reveal Foster's secret. The Non-Disclosure Charm was still working.
"Are you choking, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, with a touch of alarm.
Hermione shook her head, trying to work out what to do. Dumbledore frowned, his gaze growing harder.
"You want to tell us the truth?" he asked.
Hermione nodded.
"Someone helped you? Who?"
"Glug... glug..." escaped her again. She looked at the Headmaster in confusion. "I can't..."
"Ah," Dumbledore said quietly, raising his eyebrows slightly. "A Non-Disclosure Charm, is it? Curious. Very curious."
He leant back and began tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair.
"So what are you hiding from us, Miss Granger?"
"A Non-Disclosure Charm?" McGonagall repeated, disbelieving, and looked at Hermione.
Hermione nodded again, looking away. McGonagall laced her fingers together, her eyes narrowing.
"Miss Granger, who used that sort of magic on you, and why?"
Hermione tried to answer, but only a gurgling sound came from her throat. Her face burned with embarrassment, and tears of helpless frustration shone in her eyes. Exclamations broke out among the portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses. They immediately began talking over one another, loudly discussing what was happening.
"It seems you are not allowed to speak even about that," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "A Non-Disclosure Charm... hm... interesting and complicated magic. Still, like many other spells, it is not without its loopholes."
"Albus, what are you trying to –" McGonagall began, but stopped short as soon as she met his intent gaze.
For a second, something like a silent duel seemed to pass between them. Then Dumbledore turned back to Hermione, leant forwards in his chair, rested his elbows on the desk, and said:
"Miss Granger, there is one reliable way around this spell. But for that, I would have to enter your mind using Legilimency."
"Legilimency?" McGonagall gasped. Her voice shook with outrage. "Albus, I hoped you had another solution. This is unacceptable! She is only a child! Legilimency is... it is wrong!"
"I quite agree with you, Minerva," Dumbledore replied calmly, though there was firmness in his voice. "That is precisely why I will do nothing without Miss Granger's consent. As far as I can see, she wants to tell us the truth. The spell stops her from speaking, but it cannot stop her from willingly giving access to her memories."
"But even so, this is... this is an invasion of privacy, of her thoughts..." McGonagall insisted.
Dumbledore nodded as if he understood, but gave the Head of Gryffindor no answer and looked back at Hermione.
"The choice is yours, Miss Granger. If you refuse, I will not insist. But then we have a serious problem. As Headmaster, I cannot ignore the fact that you were replaced and disappeared for several weeks."
Hermione lowered her eyes. The thought of someone rummaging around in her mind made her uneasy, even if it was Dumbledore. But what else could she do? Besides, sooner or later, the truth would come out anyway.
She took a deep breath and nodded.
"All right," she whispered. "I agree."
McGonagall frowned in displeasure, but this time said nothing.
"Excellent. I promise to look only at what concerns your disappearance," Dumbledore said gently. He rose from his chair and walked over to Hermione, wand in hand. "Relax, Miss Granger. It is quite painless. Just think about what you want to show me."
Hermione closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. The cold touch of magic slipped into her mind. Images from her recent adventure rushed past her inner eye: the dungeon, the Eye of Chronos, the Vault of Time, Foster...
A few seconds later, it was over. When Hermione opened her eyes, she saw that Dumbledore was back in his chair. His face was deeply thoughtful.
"Terry Foster," he said at last, almost in a whisper. His voice sounded strangely sad. "That name has not been heard at Hogwarts for many years."
"Terry Foster?" McGonagall repeated. Her face remained stern, but surprise flickered in her eyes. "Who is he? The name seems familiar, but I cannot quite place it..."
"A Ravenclaw graduate. He showed exceptional ability in Transfiguration. But he became known to the wider world as a researcher of Time Magic."
"Ah, yes... now I remember." McGonagall's face softened a little. "But I seem to recall that everyone thought him a fraud."
"I think the fact that Miss Granger released him from the Vault of Time rather suggests that the rumours about his knowledge of Time Magic were not entirely groundless," Dumbledore said.
"The Vault of Time? So it exists?" The Head of Gryffindor's eyes widened noticeably.
"There can no longer be the slightest doubt about that," Dumbledore replied quietly.
Astonished exclamations came from the portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses. It seemed this news had caught the interest even of those seasoned witches and wizards.
"You knew him, Professor?" McGonagall asked, collecting herself a little.
"'Knew him' would be putting it rather strongly, Minerva," Dumbledore replied quietly, and turned his gaze to Hermione. "But I am familiar with his work. His research into Time Magic was truly revolutionary. To be honest, his knowledge in that field surpassed, and now perhaps it would be more accurate to say surpasses, anything known today. Including my own."
Hermione felt a stab of unease.
"Then why... why has everyone forgotten him?" she asked carefully, looking from Dumbledore to McGonagall.
Dumbledore laced his fingers together and slowly shook his head.
"Because his research was shrouded in darkness," he said at last, his voice sad. "Over time, the magical community began to notice a curious pattern. In places where Foster carried out his experiments, Muggles began disappearing without a trace."
"Is it true, then?" Hermione blurted out.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "It seems Muggles became victims of his experiments. The Ministry of Magic investigated at the time, but they could not prove anything. After all, no bodies means no evidence. And we have not yet learnt how to search for people lost in time." He spread his hands. "So it never went beyond suspicion."
"Albus, that is terrible," McGonagall said, sounding shaken.
"I quite agree with you, Minerva," he replied quietly, without turning round. "And when those rumours began to spread, Foster simply disappeared. No one knew where he had gone... until this very moment."
He looked at Hermione. She sat there pale, her face tense and her lips pressed tightly together.
"You... you really think he might have harmed Muggles?" she asked, her voice unsteady.
Only a short while ago, she had almost managed to convince herself that all those rumours were nothing more than the usual schemes of Foster's enemies.
"I do not know, Miss Granger," Dumbledore answered gently. "But suspicions like that do not arise out of nothing. I will not judge his motives or his methods. However, I strongly advise you to be extremely careful about trusting people like that."
Silence settled over the room. Even the portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses fell quiet, watching with interest and waiting for what would come next.
"Incidentally," Dumbledore continued, "as you have no doubt noticed, you can now speak to us about him. After all, we already know the secret the Non-Disclosure Charm was hiding."
Hermione swallowed nervously.
"I..." she faltered, searching for the right words. "I didn't think he was dangerous. He said freeing him was the only way to save the students. That he had calculated everything. If I hadn't helped him, Harry and Ron and I, and many others... we would all have died. And Hogwarts would have been closed. Forever. That's what he said."
She looked at Dumbledore as if searching his eyes for confirmation of Foster's words. He studied her for a long moment before answering.
"It is entirely possible that he was telling the truth. But the opposite is no less possible. No one can say for certain what would have happened. However, that does not change the fact that his past actions leave far too many questions unanswered. We can only hope that Mr Foster does not cause any more trouble. His knowledge of Time Magic surpasses that of anyone now living. And such power in the hands of an unstable man can be dangerous. Extremely dangerous."
"Unstable?" Hermione asked in surprise. "He seemed quite calm to me –" But she stopped at once, remembering Foster's behaviour after he had been freed.
"You should not judge by appearances, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a faint smile. "Some people are very convincing at pretending. Muggles, perhaps, would call him... er... a sociopath, if I remember the word correctly."
"A sociopath?" she gasped.
"Yes." Dumbledore sighed heavily and lowered his head slightly. "His genius may have overshadowed his humanity. Unfortunately, great minds sometimes lose touch with moral limits."
He was silent for a moment, then added more quietly:
"What's done is done. I would like to say that the past cannot be changed, but..." He stopped, thoughtfully turning his wand between his fingers, and finished with a distant look, "...but I am afraid things will be far more complicated now."
"It certainly will be more complicated!" one of the portraits suddenly declared, loudly enough to draw everyone's attention.
A wizard with a long white beard and tired eyes behind round spectacles looked out from the frame. His robes were austere and old-fashioned.
"I remember Foster all too well," he went on. "He always had a taste for unconventional solutions."
Dumbledore turned to Hermione and explained:
"This is Armando Dippet. He was Headmaster of Hogwarts when Terry Foster was a student here, before I began teaching."
Armando gave Hermione a courteous nod. Dumbledore turned to the portrait.
"So, Armando, you believe he will still resort to unconventional methods?"
"Believe?" Dippet raised an eyebrow. "I am certain of it, Albus. If he has broken out of the Vault of Time, then time is no longer an obstacle to him. And judging by the legends, he may have learnt a great deal there. I doubt he simply sat in the Vault twiddling his thumbs."
"Yes, I think I must agree with you there," Dumbledore said, slowly shaking his head. "Time travel is no longer just a fairy tale."
With that, he turned to Hermione. At his words, she instinctively closed her hand around the amulet beneath her robes. Dumbledore noticed the movement. The corners of his mouth twitched into a knowing smile, and he said:
"Incidentally, could you show me Mr Foster's gift, Miss Granger?"
McGonagall looked at the Headmaster in surprise, then turned to Hermione. Hermione flushed, but slowly pulled the shining amulet out from under her robes.
"What is that, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, astonished. "I hope it is not another Sky Vortex?"
"No," Hermione answered, barely audibly. "It's a Time-Turner."
"A Time-Turner... So it's true," McGonagall breathed. "He really did create one?"
Hermione only shrugged. The Head of Gryffindor ran a hand over her already neatly combed hair, cleared her throat, and asked, now with clear alarm in her voice:
"But why do you need it, Miss Granger?"
"I..." Hermione blushed. "I wanted to take every subject next year, even the ones that clash."
For the first time since the conversation had begun, a truly warm smile appeared on Dumbledore's face. He chuckled softly, while McGonagall opened her mouth, then shut it again, stunned.
"Every subject?" she managed at last. "Miss Granger, I saw your application and was just about to discuss it with you when you... er... were petrified. I mean, it simply isn't possible..."
She broke off, her gaze moving from the Time-Turner to Hermione. The meaning of Hermione's words had finally dawned on her.
"Well, Miss Granger, while your aims are admirable, I hope this really will be limited to lessons," Dumbledore said, with a hint of irony in his eyes. "However, if you do not mind, I would like to study this little object while you are away for the holidays. Partly to make sure it is safe. And partly, I must admit, out of purely scientific interest. Besides, I really cannot allow you to go wandering among Muggles with an amulet like that."
He fell silent for a second, then, noticing Hermione's hesitation, added:
"But I shall certainly return it to you when you come back, provided, of course, that the amulet really does turn out to be safe."
Hermione hesitated for a moment. She glanced at McGonagall, as if expecting support from her Head of House, but McGonagall only looked back at her, waiting. Hermione reached for the amulet, her fingers involuntarily tightening around the chain. She really did not want to part with it. In truth, though, she had no choice. Slowly, she took the Time-Turner from around her neck and handed it to Dumbledore.
"Only..." she began, "Mr Foster warned me..."
"That no one must see me in the past, and that I must not meet myself?" Dumbledore interrupted, a little too quickly, without taking his eyes off the amulet. "Yes, Miss Granger, I heard those warnings in your memories."
He turned the Time-Turner in his fingers, studying every detail with interest.
"How interesting... and how tempting..." he murmured. "How much could be put right... how many mistakes could be avoided..."
For a moment, his gaze clouded over. An unpleasant shiver ran down Hermione's spine.
'Can Dumbledore himself be trusted?' an unwelcome thought slipped through her mind.
But a second later, he looked at her as if nothing had happened and said quietly:
"Hmm... a dangerous little thing. Extremely dangerous..."
Hermione's stomach clenched with a bad feeling. But she said nothing. She only hoped, quietly, that the Headmaster really would return the Time-Turner to her next year.