{1-Trust Your Gut}

Hermione wasn't sure how... or why she felt like waking up that day was different, but for some reason, something felt off.

There was no explaining her dread as she awoke to consciousness, her mind fuzzy and intuition going haywire. It was as though her mind was blinking like a neon "Open" sign did at night, but this one read more like an alert.

Hermione's eyes were heavy, and the foreboding feeling simply wouldn't shake. So, with trepidation tearing through her limbs, she opened her eyes and saw the same ceiling she'd fallen asleep under the past evening. It was dusty wood and beams, and if that wasn't a tell of the classic Hog's Head Inn, then she didn't know what was.

Relief filled her, and she stood up, grabbing her purse on the counter and shoving it over her shoulder.

Her evening in the Hog's Head Inn had only been for her worrisome nature of the upcoming school year. She'd decided, among a few other students who'd fought in the battle, to finish her final year at Hogwarts. It wasn't a hard decision to make, not really, because she needed a good education to foster a prosperous career in the ministry. She didn't want to miss out on any opportunity that could come from her having the full set of N.E.W.T.s, and she didn't mind learning. Never had she been like Harry and Ron, wanting nothing to do with reading or such, though they were both very bright in their own way. They were smart enough to take the fast-track Auror courses that was offered to them when Kingsley became Minister for Magic.

She had decided to travel lightly with her beaded bag, not wanting to carry a case so as to not draw attention her way. Everyone knew who she was now, for she was one of the Golden Trio that had fostered the end of Voldemort's sudden uprising. It was tedious, avoiding reporters with scribbling quills, and blinding cameras that repeated her five seconds of pain on an infinite loop. Hermione hated it, and she was glad to be going to Hogwarts, with professors who knew her, and students just the same.

The day was bright, for once, and Scotland seemed warm for September as she tugged a new set of clothes on and went downstairs to check out. The person who had been there the prior evening was not there now, but she'd hardly expected him to have been. It was afternoon now, and she was going to take her time climbing to the castle. By the looks of her watch she had plenty of time.

"How much do I owe you?" She asked, looking at the wizard in dirty-tan robes.

"4 Galleons and a Sickle."

Hermione did not remember the rate being that low, but she wasn't going to complain about the lower cost. The reason she'd even decided to pay in the morning was of how late she'd gotten in, not wanting to bother with the math. The wizard the previous night had recognized her anyways, and called her good for it.

She gave the man his money and smiled, wishing him a good day and leaving the premises with little problem. The inn had always been very dry, business wise.

Hermione walked through the crisp air and followed the path to her destination, feeling quite well as excitement bubbled. Oh, she'd been looking forward to these classes for almost two years now, though she doubted she could learn as much in a classroom as she did in a tent in the woods trying to save the world. But, Hermione enjoyed her education, as she'd thought so many times before, and was ready for a mundane year at Hogwarts.

Hermione, like Harry, was never destined to have such a thing, however.

When she walked up to the Professor at the gate, obviously one of the new hires, for she didn't recognize him, she smiled politely.

"I'm here for my Seventh Year."

The man looked at her strangely, but then shrugged and flipped through his parchment roughly, obtaining the final page on his stack.

"Name," he said coldly.

"Hermione Granger," she supplied, though she was sure she wouldn't have needed to.

Regardless, he took it and looked over his list, then back up at her with more scrutiny. She really hoped she wasn't taking his subject on her timetable.

"You're not on here."

"Sorry?" She said, "There's no way that's possible, I talked to McGonagall personally just a few days ago to assure I was all set for my classes."

"You're not on here," he growled again, and Hermione took the hint that she wasn't going to make her name magically appear on it when he thrust the list at her to make her have a look herself.

She grabbed it, the parchment heavy in her hands when she began to scan over the names. It wasn't until she barely reached a good way down the list that her foreboding feeling came back.

Sirius Black

Hermione's heart skipped as she looked back up at the Professor who pursed his lips impatiently. She could only imagine what he must be thinking of her bewilderment when she went back to the list.

Just a ways down listed, Lily Evans.

Remus Lupin

Peter Pettigrew

James Potter

Hermione would have stopped reading, but she found one name in particular that flooded her mind as being so young...

Severus Snape

She cringed, wondering how in Merlin's name she'd landed back over twenty years in time, then began to breathe heavily, shoving the list back into the Professor's hands harshly, nearly sprinting away around the corner of the castle.

Hermione leaned on the warm stone wall and tried to calm herself, but apparently the ruddy feeling that morning was nothing to have pushed away so lightly. She was twenty-one years back in time, and she hadn't touched a time-turner since third year! Her heart palpitated aggressively in her chest as she looked around at the nice weather, and the clear sky. Why would't such a nice day be filled with such a horror?

She couldn't think of a way to get back, could hardly even dream of finding a time-turner that wasn't under seven different locks and keys in the ministry, and Hermione still needed to finish her final year! She couldn't wait around for twenty years to roll by, not fazing her as everyone else aged and fought a bloody war! How would Time just expect her to sit by idly as Harry's parents were killed and forced him to live with his Aunt and Uncle who hated him, and how would she be able to live knowing what Pettigrew would one-day do to them all? She wouldn't, couldn't just watch as everything went by and killed her resolve.

It didn't take long for Hermione to decide exactly what to do.

She pulled a couple books from her bag and read over the various charms that she'd been studying, a special project per se, for research to hopefully dazzle her way into a higher rank in the Ministry than just a starting position. It was motivated from her time abroad, knowing how hard it was to just have polyjuice potion on hand, Hermione decided there needed to be a spell that could change her appearance.

Now, creating a spell was a complicated thing, but free-time had been easy to come by when waiting in a forest for the right time to show themselves. She looked at her spell and coaxed out the words, feeling the magic set in place as she repeated the needed phrases. The enchantments would make anyone who looked at her see, and feel, something completely different from what she truly was. In this case, she basically turned herself into a boy version of the Hermione everyone knew. Brown hair, brown eyes, just a deeper voice and... well, male.

She transfigured her beaded bag into a satchel and transfigured her clothes, pulling a mirror from her bag and again wondering how in Merlin's name she'd landed back twenty-one years in time. At least her purse had landed with her.

As she walked towards the Professor again, Hermione got her story clear in her head of just why she had approached him earlier.

"Year and name," he said blankly, not bothering to glance at her.

He must have learned his lesson when she approached him and caused such a fuss.

"Uh, Florizel Granger, but I'm a transfer student, new to the school, for my last year. I'm supposed to meet with Dumbledore."

This caught the man's attention, and he looked up, to find the same person as before, only a male version, and he narrowed his eyes on her.

"And who was the Hermione Granger I just found looking for her name on my list, hmm?" The man seemed overly suspicious, so Hermione panicked quickly, but held her resolve and recalled her story.

"Well, my sister, you see, just graduated Beauxbatons last year, and well, she's not too right in the head, but mum sent her with me anyways, and I lost track of her, but she's home now, apparated back when she got to Hogsmeade and figured I was all good," Hermione said confidently.

Her voice sounded the same to her, but the man was hearing the one she'd created for him.

He seemed to stop his worries and merely gestured her over to Filch who Hermione realized had joined him at the gate.

"Follow Mr. Filch here, he'll take you up to Dumbledore's office and check out your transfer story. Be worried, however, if it don't add up, he'll have you on the train back before you can say bludger."

Hermione nodded diligently, grasping her satchel tightly as he wrote her name on the sheet.

She tried to walk like a man would, but decided it was no use and that she would merely tweak the charm to change her mannerisms slightly that evening. That is, if Dumbledore didn't actually throw her back into the world, no education and nothing but time to waste.

She took the familiar path through the castle and sighed as she reminisced about all the things that had... or would happen at the school. A lot of it was bad memories, but some stuck out as good. It took nearly no time at all, she thought, when they'd finally reached the Headmaster's office.

It occurred to Hermione that she was going to have to do some severe convincing if she wanted to stay at the school and convince Dumbledore of her innocence. She merely wanted to get a head start on N.E.W.T.s so that when she went back she could simply ask McGonagall if she could challenge all the exams. It was a solid plan, really, that is it all rested on her convincing Dumbledore that she meant no harm and only wanted to study there.

Hermione realized she would have to do a lot of lying, and suddenly her idea no longer seemed foolproof when they were at the door of Dumbledore's office.

"Sir, I have a young boy here to see you," Filch yelled after he knocked.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice sounded, and Hermione then also realized that she was about to interact with someone who was dead... whose voice she hadn't heard in a little over a year.

Her nerves were nearly non-existent now.

"He says he's a transfer student, DeLancey wanted him checked out first before just lettin' him roam the castle," the caretaker mumbled, unimpressed by the situation.

Dumbledore hardly looked any different from what Hermione remembered, though it was easy to see where he'd aged in twenty years.

His glasses dipped down from his nose, and Hermione felt something in her, alerting her that the knowing look on his face meant more than that he'd possibly figured out she wasn't a boy.

"Thank you, Filch, I will speak with him to get him sorted out," Dumbledore said kindly and softly, rather calm for having a stranger before him.

When Hermione was alone with the Headmaster, she was told to stand across from him, and in the politest of ways, he leaned back, fingers at a peak and asked, "So, what has you masquerading as a boy, young lady?"

A/N

I brought titled chapters back! Haven't done that since Professor, so I thought I'd surprise everyone. 

Anyways, hope y'all are excited for this new read! It's gonna be pretty good I think, but then again I'm the author haha, so I can only hope that it's well done!