Search Home Read Write Forum Login Register
A/N:  I have to thank and give credit to one of my readers Lirael Wood for the idea about what goes down in Binns' class :D

September 5, 2019

It’s hard to admit, but after my conversation with McGonagall, I went to an unused classroom and cried.  Doesn’t that make perfect sense?  After all that had been suddenly sprung on me, I think anyone would have cried.  So I am not weak.  I had, however, figured out why people were never meant to know that future.  Besides the fact that it was downright depressing, what was I supposed to do when I got back to my time period? Was I supposed to tell Dumbledore that he was murdered?  How could I not tell Harry that he murdered the Dark Lord? How was I supposed to even look at Ronald Weasley without dying of embarrassment? How was I supposed to hear Fred’s name without bursting into tears?  I don’t know what I am going to do after I get home.  I really don’t.

But, for the moment, that is insignificant.  Because it seems that here and now, more and more things are happening to jeopardize my secret.  It started when the new Transfiguration teacher asked me my last name, since no one had told it to her.  How was I supposed to say Granger when the daughter of Hermione Granger was sitting off some distance to my left?  It escaped my mind, and I had already said “Gra—” before changing it abruptly to “Grayson.”  Smooth.  I never thought I would say it, but I need to be more conscious of my surroundings.

The others had been surprised to learn my first name, they had even commented on the fact that it was the same as that of Rose’s mom.  I was starting to wonder how stupid these people really were.  I was sure that I would have figured it out, had I been the student and someone else related to me time traveled and landed in my era…especially if they committed the same stupid errors that I had been committing.

Yesterday, we had had History of Magic in the morning and Herbology in the afternoon.  I made my way to Binns’ classroom alongside Scorpius, Rose and Albus.  It seemed that I was now part of their little passé, even if it was a fact that Rose accepted with more than a little—and might I add obvious—chagrin. 

We entered the room and sat down, closer to the front than the back (at my persuasion, of course).  I immediately got out my note taking equipment, and set it all out on my desk.  I glanced sideways, and noticed that Rose was doing the exact same thing, a fact which made me irrationally angry.  She was my child, but she was a little brat, so how dare she be so similar to me?

I was surprisingly glad to see that the Malfoy and Potter genes in the two boys were hard at work, as they were both gazing absently around the classroom, as if put into a stupor by the mere atmosphere of the room.

Binns began his lecture, and everything was dead silent but for the scratching of two quills.  Care to guess whose?  It wasn’t until halfway through the lecture that Binns ventured out of his soporific monologue to ask a question to the class.  I, of course, knew the answer.  I glace at Rose made me positive that she did not know it.

I smirked, and raised my hand before speaking.  “1219, Professor.”  It was the right date, I knew it even before his response.

“Yes, very good,” Binns paused, and looked out over the crowd to my face.  Suddenly, a very large, very unlike Binns smile captured his face, and spread over his features.  “I can always count on you, Ms. Granger.  You always were the only one who could keep up with the intellectual requirements of this course.”  He turned back around to the blackboard, and his lecture began again, leaving me sitting in my seat flabbergasted.

He couldn’t even ever get my name right when I was actually a student, why did he have to get it right now?  I turned slowly around to the others, attempting to put a nonchalant expression on my features.  Albus was trying to hold back giggled, Scorpius was watching me with the same look on his face as when I had accidently called him Draco, and Rose was watching me with poisonous eyes.

“He never knows anybodies name,” I said with a shrug.  Thank God that much was true.  At least, they all seemed to accept it.  But it was a close call, and my heart was racing like I had just run a marathon.

After that nerve-wracking occurrence, we headed down to the Great Hall to scrounge up a little something for lunch.  I was halfway through my meal when a little ickle came up to me, looking a bit nervous.

“Are you Hermione?”

“Yes,” I answered kindly.  “What’s the matter?”

“The Professor wants to see you in the greenhouses.”

“Professor who?”

The boy paused, looking uncomfortable.  “He…said not to say his name.”

I looked at the first year incredulously, then sighed and turned to the others.  “Guess I’d better go.  Probably just wanted to catch me up on what we’re doing.  You know, make sure I’m up to snuff.”

I left them sitting there, and walked with all of my things out to the greenhouses.  I entered the designated one for third years, and saw a man with his back turned to me, bent over a pot of some kind.

“Professor?”  I asked hesitantly.

He straightened up like he had been branded with a hot poker, and slowly turned around to face me.  I took in the gangly figure, the large teeth, the sticking-out ears.  All of my belongings crashed to the floor, and I think my jaw might have hit the ground.

“N-Neville?”  I asked haltingly.  Was that Neville bloody Longbottom?

His eyes got wider as he heard my voice with clarity.  “Good God,” he said quietly.  His voice was different: deeper and grainier, but it was still distinctly Neville.  He sighed incredulously.  “Minerva said that…but I didn’t believe her.  Couldn’t believe her.  Not until I had…not until I’d…not.”  He was babbling on nonsensical words but it didn’t make any difference to me, because I was seeing the grownup Neville.

I stood there, with my mouth gaping idiotically and a flabbergasted look on my visage, and he stood there, looking at me like he was seeing a ghost.  Suddenly, he began to laugh.  And because he was laughing in such a lighthearted, Neville-ish way, I started laughing too.

Oh the irony. 

“I…can’t…believe…it,” he gasped.  I suppose it was unbelievable.

“Neville,” I said happily.  “You’re a professor! The Herbology professor! I am so happy for you!”

He nodded, still smiling.  “And Head of Gryffindor House,” he conceded.  He shook his head, and continued to look dumbstruck.  “I can’t believe this has happened.”  He smirked.  “I always knew you weren’t really as responsible as you appeared.”

I scoffed in indignation at that point but I knew he was right.  I was obviously…well…kind of stupid. 

He smiled at me kindly.  “Headmistress McGonagall spoke to me.  I know why you’re here.  Or at least, I know as much as you and her do.”

“I don’t understand,” I confided in him.  “I’m thirteen.  I don’t know why I am here at all.  What can I do that my adult self can’t do?”

Neville shook his head.  “I don’t know Hermione, honestly.”  He looked up at me seriously.  “But whatever it is, you can bet that it will more important than we can fathom.  This is Dumbledore that we’re talking about.  Get ready for the storm.”

A/N: Nobody found the movie quote in the last chapter! I'll give you all a hint, it is from Ferris Bueller's Day Off!~~Chelsea

Track This Story: Feed


Write a Review

out of 10

JOIN HARRY POTTER FANFICTION


Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.

Register Today!