Chapter Text
30th of June, 1994, King's Cross, London
Hermione had just something she thought she would never get the courage to do—kiss her four-year-long crush on the cheek. It wasn't much but it was something.
The rumours she had been dating Victor Krum this year had been terrible; he had asked her to the ball so that he didn't have to go with a simpering fangirl—and all that ended up happening was that she got put under a lake and targeted by all the simpering fangirls. He'd been a perfect gentleman, spending time with her. But wasn't anything more than a friend, despite what everyone else was saying.
Even worse, it made her crush think she was interested in other people; she can only hope she has just changed his mind. Sadly, there wasn’t much hope of that, he wasn’t as dense as Ron but that didn’t make him quick on the uptake. But one had to give the boy who jumped atop a troll for them a little leeway. More so when he also killed a Basilisk that petrified her and fought off a hundred or more soul-sucking demons that were going to… eat her soul.
He was ever the hero, even if he didn’t want to be recognised as one. Beating a dragon—even if it wasn’t in a fight—and surviving a dark lord’s murder plot. Even if he had been forced into the last two they had happened and he had survived. Even when so few believed the dark lord was back she knew he was. Harry had said so, and she would believe him. Always.
So, while Hermione walked towards her mum—who was waiting for her with a smile on her face—she was contemplating how to help Harry with his latest predicament. He needed comfort; he'd so recently seen someone die, been tortured, and used in a dark ritual. He needed help and training to be better prepared for the next time something went wrong. She wished she could help him over the summer, but his relatives—because they don't deserve to be called family—wouldn't ever let her in their house.
And she knew he couldn't come to her. Dumbledore had told her it wasn't safe, and really, it almost certainly wasn't. Her house was muggle, unwarded, unprotected. If you-know-who attacked her home she couldn't put up much of a fight and neither could her parents.
"So, that's the boy you like, is it? Think he got the message?" The teasing voice of her mum startled out of Hermione out of her thoughts just in time to see the hug coming. Harry was one of the few who knows what Hermione's hugs are like; crushing, emotion-filled hugs meant to show how much she cares, and she got them from her mum.
As much as it felt right, it was a little off somehow.
"Mum!" Her indignant cry was met with light chuckles as she was released. "Where's Dad?"
"He's busy—emergency at the clinic. Couldn't find any parking so we're going to have to walk a bit." Hermione nodded at that. Finding parking anywhere near King's Cross is a nightmare; it could take hours if they don't arrive early enough.
While Hermione trailed after her mother she went back to her ruminations. Her thoughts flickered between Harry, how to fight back against Voldemort, and the uses of the reporter in her pocket. The one that she’d had in her literal pocket rather than bribed.
One could almost feel pity for Rita. Almost.
Distracted she didn’t pay much attention to where she was going beyond following her mum. When she was grabbed by her and pulled into an alleyway she tried to shriek in alarm—only to find her mother's hand covering her mouth and pressing her tightly to her mother's chest.
Suddenly the world was a straw and she was being pulled through it. As the world popped back into existence with an audible Crack she tried to take a deep breath—
Only for it to happen again. And again. And again.
After what felt like an eternity, and left her heaving onto the ground, the world stopped. It was a testament to her disorientation that it took a few moments to realise she had been kidnapped. She struggled to get upright, pulled out her wand and turned to face her kidnapper—her mum—no, someone disguised as her Mum.
"Hello, Hermione." The witch disguised as her mum was pointing her wand—a very familiar Vinewood wand—at her "My name is... well, let's go with Mia for now. Not my name, but it's not as if I deserve one I like considering what happened." The sad smile on her mother's—kidnapper's—face was confusing, as was her relaxed posture.
Confused by her kidnapper or not, however, Hermione was still terrified. She was in a forest clearing, alone with a witch who was older and more powerful than she was. "What are you going to d-do to me?"
"Ah, well. Save you—and Harry, I hope. At the very least I'll try."
"How is kidnapping me saving me? What do you want? Where are we?" Falling back on old habits, Hermione pushed her nervousness aside with her curiosity and started blurting out questions. "Why does your wand look like mine? And what on earth do you mean by saving Harry?"
"I mean, saving you, and Harry, from Dumbledore and Molly's manipulations. But first I have to hope this works, the temporal mechanics are rather convoluted and technically impossible. Not that it has stopped me so far." Wands still raised, facing each other down, Hermione was unsteady and could still taste bile in her mouth. As it was, she couldn't help but feel more intimidated by the strange witch, and the next words only made her feel even more terrified.
"I, Hermione Jane Granger-Potter, adopted heir of the House of Potter by blood and ritual, Regent of House Potter, do claim the life debt owed to the House of Potter by Hermione Jane Granger, created on the thirty first of October, nineteen-ninety-one."
A brief flash of light flared from both their wands, and a sort of magical weight settled over Hermione from those words. An even greater mental weight settled over her, one of fear—she knew about life debts, of course she did, as soon as she had been rescued from the troll she had read up about them.
She owed one to Harry for saving her from the Troll, and again from when they time travelled and his Patronus had driven away the Dementors by the lake.
But life debts didn't become real unless claimed, and Harry never would, so she had never brought it up. But here she was, staring at someone—some stranger who had claimed her debt. Her arm dropped on its own and she started crying, there was no way she could help Harry now. Whoever this was owned her until the debt was fulfilled.
She started crying; she had become a liability and she was going to be turned against Harry. It was the most obvious thing. Her best friend would hate her for betraying him.
Her worries and tears grew greater with each passing moment until the polyjuice faded on her captor in front of her eyes and she fell into a stunned silence.
Her captor hadn’t drunk anything, nor taken a different dose of polyjuice, yet their features warped and shifted into something surprising. Not to that of some stranger, but her own. She was staring herself in the face, a second Hermione, one who had started crying herself.
"I, Hermione Jane Granger-Potter, call in full the life-debt owed to the House of Potter by Hermione Jane Granger, to fulfil the debt she shall step forward and provide a hug. So mote it be."
The woman had told Hermione to call her Mia, but after hearing the ritual wording for the second time it clicked that she hadn’t said that was her name. She had said she was Hermione Jane. She was herself. A duplicate—a doppelganger.
Hermione's movements were sluggish due to shock as she the compulsion to move forward gripped her. Stepping up to the stranger—her duplicate—she hugged them. One which as it was returned made clear why her mother’s hug had felt wrong before.
It was her own hug, imperfect at delivering that comfort she so strived to provide, but full of sincerity and emotion regardless.
Even though she quickly felt the magical compulsion fade, she clung on anyway, unsure of what was happening. She hadn't been controlled, her kidnapper was herself, her looming life-debt was gone, and she was crying while being held in her own arms.
Considering less than an hour prior she had kissed her dearest crush, it was turning out to be quite the day for highly-strung emotions.
A few minutes passed as they held onto each other, finding comfort in the familiar yet strange embrace. "Come on, up, we can sit and talk in the tent." The duplicate said, and moments later Hermione found herself pulled to her feet and dragged towards an empty clearing—where suddenly a tent popped into existence. As she entered it became clear was a magically expanded one, like the one the Weasley’s had used at the World Cup.
"This is where we'll be staying for a while; I need to teach you the basics at least, and then you need to decide what you are going to do. I won't force you, it wouldn't be fair, but right now it's not safe." Her voice continued in a whisper, "Not safe at all. Even with the debt gone."
"What happened to mum, dad?" Her confusion was keeping her from reacting excessively; that and the small bit of trust built from the life-debt being cleared by a simple hug. If she was going to be used that action made no sense at all.
"They're fine; in France at the moment as practise's sale finalises. They'll be in Australia before the end of Summer, safe."
"What? Why!" Hermione shouted, but quickly found herself silenced and pushed into a chair with a mug of hot chocolate poured and set in front of her as she was unable to continue demanding answers.
"Because... because six days from now they would be dead, you would be with the Weasley's, and Molly Weasley would be your new guardian."
Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. Her parents, dead? There was no way she would trust divination for something like—her duplicate had said ‘Technically impossible temporal mechanics’. The fact she had a duplicate in the first place! She travelled through time?! She tried to yell, to demand to know how the Mia—her duplicate—had done it and why, but the silencing spell held strong.
Either unaware of or ignoring Hermione's revelation and attempts to speak, her doppelganger continued. "Which she would then use to claim our inheritance as Dagworth-Granger's descendant, and with a little trickery twist our life-debt into being owed to the Mouth - sorry, Ronald." The venom in Mia's voice was palpable as she mentioned Hermione's second friend. To the point where Hermione flinched back in response, abruptly ceasing her attempts to interrupt.
"We would even be forced to be nice to Dad's murderer. Dear Professor Snape used the attack on us to show his loyalty to his dark-lord. Hard to say if it was his own initiative or not, or if he was even willing, I never got the chance to question him."
With a flick of her wand Mia removed the silencing spell on Hermione, who apprehensively started speaking again, "I don't—why? Mum, dad, dead? And no one would believe me about Professor Snape?"
"No, they'd believe you—after all Snape would admit it himself. But, 'For the Greater Good, Professor Snape's cover must be maintained, even if it means sacrifices'." Mia's voice was caustic, and she looked ill as she finished speaking. "I hate the greater good and everything it stands for.
"And, after all, just like Mother Molly always says: 'They're just Muggles'"
Hermione found everything Mia had said difficult to believe. Professor Dumbledore was a great wizard and knew what he was doing, and Mrs Weasley would… Mrs Weasley had said that something much like that to her. Said that her parents, being Muggles, couldn't have raised her properly. That Hermione should listen to her over her own parents because Muggles would never understand a witch.
Because they were just muggles. Hermione shivered at the thought, remembering how easily Mrs Weasley had turned against her after her fight with Ron and just how believable it made Mia’s story. She didn’t want it to be true; Ron surely couldn’t be involved in something so cruel… not intentionally.
She reached out for her mug of hot chocolate, only to find herself receiving a stinging hex to her hand, "Ow! Hey!"
"Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is how I got caught the first time; I'm still a stranger, dangerous, not trustworthy, and you would drink something you didn't see prepared? Do you want to be potioned into being a pet for a redheaded pig?" Mia's spat out bitterly, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel it was directed at both of them.
"Are you saying that it's potioned? Why would you tell me if it—"
"It's not, but the food at... At… Ugh, Fidelius charms. At Headquarters, is. Loyalty, Love, Will Suppressants, basically everything necessary to make you fall in love with the Mouth." She grimaced and looked down. "Just like what happened to me."
"It took months before I started desiring the pig, but I stopped loving Harry before he arrived; stopped caring Mum and Dad were dead because Mother Molly was there to fill in the gap. We were smart, smarter than Dumbledore, so..." She choked up as her eyes started watering, "so she wanted us as a breeding sow for her pig. Dumbledore just wanted us away from Harry, distant, and Molly's plan was convenient. He claimed he didn’t know, but he must have. I don't think he hated us. We were just in the way."
"I... I don't believe you. I, no, I can't. Even if you have time-travelled, they wouldn't. Ron wouldn't; he's my friend, Harry's friend..."
"I didn't even say I had... but I must have implied it," Mia muttered while giving Hermione a little smile. "And yet, Molly did tell you that story about brewing the potions; oh, Arthur's not under them, now. He was at the start, but he does love her, and his children. It's why she thinks it's acceptable; 'fake it until it becomes real'. Only, after nine years, it never became real. Not for us, not for Harry." Mia shook her head.
"That was just a little story! It doesn't mean that she's going to use love potions on me, this is ridiculous!"
"Considering you have a low dose loyalty potion in your system keyed to Ronald and the Headmaster, have done for some time, I don't think you can say that. Entirely incidental mind; it's a consequence of sitting near Harry at mealtimes. I don't think that Dumbledore even knows Molly doubled up the potion so it works for her son as well as him."
Hermione found the idea of a loyalty potion keyed to Ronald believable, if only just. She did forgive him very easily every time he was cruel to her. But the headmaster... He's Dumbledore. She just can't imagine anyone she knows doing it, but the way both she and Harry forgive him for everything had always been strange. "I still can't believe they would do it. They're not evil."
"Evil, no. Manipulative and unethical, yes. We're just Muggleborn, we don't matter; children of animals, they're just doing their duty educating the savages. Don't you remember how Arthur treats Mum and Dad?"
"... Like zoo animals."
"Exactly. It's much like the gentlemen explorers who travelled the world. Not exactly evil, some maybe not even cruel, but they thought themselves better, superior. Racist, classist, bigots."
They both remain sat in silence for a while, Mia quietly sipping away at her hot chocolate as Hermione worked through everything she had been told a second time.
"What's the charm to detect contaminated drinks?"
Mia didn't answer, and instead got up and pulled a book off of a shelf and passed it to Hermione. She quickly scanned through it while occasionally glancing at her duplicate.
"I'm underage."
"The wards on the tent block detection. It's not even hard to do. According to the ministry I'm underage too; although my wand isn't, which is what matters." Mia sounded amused; as if she found the ministries efforts to track underage magic funny.
Hermione took a minute to practice and then cast a spell on her drink, then a different one on a hair she plucked from her head. The first didn't give a result, but there was a faint light blue glow on the hair.
"You miscast the first one, needs a tighter spiral. You should also never rely on a single cast; false negatives can happen."
Repeating the spells twice more and receiving a nod Hermione finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. She grimaced as it mixed with the taste of vomit in her mouth, but she ignored it and drank more to wash the taste away. "Alright. I've been potioned, I believe that. But I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt for now."
"Good enough; now six days for you to get the charms down, basic Occlumency and to make a decision."
"What decision?"
"Go to Australia with Mum and Dad to keep you safe and let me take your place to keep Harry safe; or go to headquarters with me, and we come up with some kind of story for why there are suddenly two of us. Or you could betray me, not like I can stop you."
Hermione stares at Mia with a baffled look on her face, "You're a time traveller, why don't you already have a plan?"
"I was supposed to merge into you, I hardly expected to come back in my own body, I've spent the last week rather frantically preparing for this because all my plans had to be adjusted to account for you." Mia sighed. "And, at the end of it, I can't help being sad; even if I succeed in every way possible, one of us is almost certain to get heartbroken." She turned away to stare at the ground. "Me, preferably, I don't deserve him. Not after what... happened."
Hermione didn't respond as she was feeling somewhat overwhelmed and decided to settle in to study the book she had been given instead of asking more questions. When she finished with the book on detection charms Mia placed a set of three books on Occlumency on the table, which Hermione quickly dove into. Neither spoke until Mia said she was going to bed, and Hermione only gave a short acknowledgement.
In her mind there were a few thoughts of betraying her kidnapper, running to Dumbledore and informing him; but an undercurrent of fear kept her in the tent and reading Mia’s books.
Could it all be real? What if Mia wasn’t lying? There had been a lot of events over the last four years that had eroded her trust in authority figures. She wasn’t a twelve-year-old girl who trusted adults implicitly anymore. Not after they failed to do anything helpful, or even did the exact opposite, so many times.
Hermione wrapped herself up tightly in the unfamiliar blankets, trying desperately to ignore the growing fear that the world was far crueller than she had ever believed possible.
When she finally succumbed to sleep it was only nightmares of potions and manipulative headmasters that greeted her.