At last, the first of September had arrived. Back to Hogwarts! Back to classes, the library, new spells. Hermione was almost bouncing with anticipation. All summer she had been waiting for this day, rereading her textbooks, drawing up schedules for the year ahead — and now this happy day had finally come.
She had already said goodbye to her parents at King's Cross and was now standing on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, gripping the handle of her suitcase. The train rumbled dully, pouring out thick clouds of steam, and the air buzzed with excited voices. Students in robes darted everywhere, parents gave last bits of advice, some hugged goodbye, and a first-year clung to his mother's skirt and sniffled miserably.
Hermione looked around with interest. How she loved this place! But even so, her eyes kept sliding back to the clock.
Where were they?
She was waiting for Harry and Ron. She was sure she'd see them any minute now — pushing through the crowd, waving to her — and then they'd board the train together, talking about their summer holidays. But her friends were nowhere to be seen.
Fred and George Weasley walked past, giving her a brief nod, Lee Jordan in tow. They were animatedly discussing the Quidditch team lineup, loudly arguing about Gryffindor's chances this year. They didn't seem worried about anything except the coming season. Their being here meant the Weasley family had already arrived, so Ron and Harry had to be somewhere nearby. In the distance Hermione spotted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with Ginny. Ron's younger sister was looking around the platform, her eyes shining with keen interest. This year she was going to Hogwarts too.
Hermione frowned. It looked like the whole Weasley family was already here — they couldn't have left Harry and Ron at home. It didn't make sense. Maybe she had just missed them? The platform was crowded, noisy, steam kept rolling off the train. But they couldn't have missed her. She was standing right out in the open, in the middle of the platform; it was impossible not to see her.
'Unless they weren't looking for me at all,' the unwelcome thought jabbed at her.
What if the two of them were having plenty of fun on their own? What if they were laughing, talking about Quidditch, and had simply forgotten about her?
The heavy blast of the final whistle, cutting through the noise of the platform, made her flinch. She couldn't wait any longer. As soon as Hermione jumped into the carriage, the doors clanged shut behind her. The train jerked forward, the wheels squealed, and the Hogwarts Express started to move.
"They're probably already inside," she muttered under her breath, darkly.
She hauled her heavy suitcase into an empty compartment and glanced at the platform rushing past the window, hoping to spot their running figures at the very last moment, but a second later the platform had already slipped out of sight.
"Well, fine. They must have just been in a hurry… probably…" she said out loud, stowing her things on the luggage rack.
But the unpleasant feeling wouldn't leave her. It sat deep inside her, like a splinter that kept catching with every movement. Did they really not care? Everything they'd shared last year… their victories, their fears, the way they'd helped each other. Could all of that really mean nothing?
Hermione dropped onto a seat and stared at the one opposite. It was empty. Harry and Ron were supposed to be sitting there. She blinked, and suddenly the memory of that dark girls' bathroom came rushing back — flooded with tears, last Halloween, when she'd sat there alone, feeling unwanted, and the tears wouldn't stop. Hermione sniffled once, then again, but quickly pulled herself together.
"No. No. No. No way," she said sharply, jumping to her feet. "Crying and feeling sorry for myself is… c-counterproductive!"
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the corridor. If her friends hadn't found her, then she'd find them. That was it. After all, just a few days ago in Diagon Alley everything had been fine! They'd talked and joked and discussed the coming school year. There was no reason to worry. None.
The train had already picked up speed, houses flashing by outside, but Hermione wasn't looking at the scenery — she kept her eyes on the compartments as she walked past.
The first people she ran into from the Weasley family were the twins.
"George…" she began, then immediately faltered. "Er… Fred?"
She really had tried to learn how to tell them apart. But every time she thought she'd got it, the twins somehow managed to confuse her again.
"I'm George and he's Fred," one of them said with the most innocent look, giving her a wink.
"Or the other way around," the other added offhandedly, grinning. "But does it matter? At least you didn't mix us up with Professor Snape. He certainly wouldn't like that."
"Yeah, he's not exactly known for his sense of humor. Just imagine us in his black robes."
Fred wrapped himself in an imaginary cloak, hunched over, and gave Hermione a lofty, gloomy stare, perfectly copying Snape. "Gr-an-ger," he hissed darkly. "Ten points from Gryffindor for daring to breathe in my presence."
The twins burst out laughing, and Hermione couldn't help smiling too — but she quickly got to the point:
"You haven't seen Harry and Ron, have you?"
"Harry and Ron…" one of them drew out the words, as if tasting the names. "Yeah, that sounds familiar. I think they were riding with us in the car to King's Cross. Weren't they, George?"
"Oh right! You mean those two suspicious second-years who kept whispering the whole way?"
"Exactly! Very suspicious."
"Definitely plotting something."
"Or on a secret mission."
"Stop it!" Hermione snapped, stamping her foot. "So they did come with you?"
"Well, they were definitely at King's Cross," one of the twins said with a nod. "By the way, are you sure you're Hermione? Rumor has it the real Hermione never goes anywhere without her loyal friends."
"Maybe she's her evil double. Mrs. Filch, perhaps?" the other added, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Enough!" Hermione burst out again. "I saw you, Percy, Ginny — your whole family — when you came onto the platform. And Harry and Ron never showed up!"
George lifted an eyebrow, then shrugged, completely unconcerned.
"Hope they're up to something fun! Honestly, Ron's friendship with Harry has real potential," he said lightly. "Ever since Ron met him, he's had a decent chance not to turn into yet another boring Hogwarts student like most of the others."
"Just don't tell Ron that," Fred added right away. "Or he'll start thinking he can be as cool as we are."
Laughing, the twins strolled past Hermione and disappeared into the next carriage.
'Looks like they don't care atall about their own brother!' Hermione thought angrily, shaking her head. Though really, why was she even surprised? Had they ever taken anything seriously? But then her eyes landed on the eldest Weasley — Percy, who had just stepped into the carriage from the opposite end.
'He'll definitely help me!' she thought, suddenly encouraged, and headed toward him.
"Percy!" she called.
"Mmm?" he responded distractedly, adjusting his prefect badge on his robe.
"Do you know where Harry and Ron are?" Hermione asked at once.
Percy lifted his eyebrows.
"How would I know?" he said, offended — but Hermione didn't let him finish and quickly explained why she was asking.
It worked. Percy frowned, pressed his lips together, and gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
'At least someone in this family takes things seriously,' Hermione thought with relief. Finally — a responsible person. But Percy crushed that hope almost immediately.
"You're right! It's completely unacceptable!" he burst out suddenly, throwing up his hands. "Not showing up for the Hogwarts Express! When the whole family was already at the station!"
Hermione stared at him, caught off guard, but he charged on.
"That pair…" Percy continued, warming up. "What do they think they're doing? Total disregard for the rules! They're a disgrace to Gryffindor!"
He straightened his prefect badge again, as if to underline the point, and lifted his chin.
"Of course Ron is my brother," he said with great dignity. "But as a prefect, it's my duty to discipline him — and Harry — properly."
Hermione froze, mouth hanging open.
"What?" she managed at last.
"I'm afraid Gryffindor will have to bear the consequences of their misconduct," Percy said with the air of a martyr.
"You… you're serious?" Hermione managed, but Percy raised a hand to silence her.
"Thank you for informing me, Hermione. Now excuse me — I have important prefect duties."
And, leaving Hermione completely bewildered, he walked off with quick, decisive steps. Hermione slowly closed her mouth.
After walking through a few more carriages, she ran into Ginny. Hermione was about to question her, but the moment she mentioned Harry, Ginny flushed scarlet, her eyes widening — and without a word she spun on her heel and dashed off down the corridor. Hermione stared after her, stunned yet again.
'What a strange family these Weasleys are,' she thought irritably, watching the red head vanish at the end of the hallway. 'One's worse than the next.'
Hermione wandered through a few more carriages, checking compartments in the hope of finding at least some trace of her friends. In one of them she saw Miranda, who waved to her brightly.
"Hermione! Come in!" she called.
Hermione slowed, still unsure. She could keep going and continue searching, but… she had already gone through almost the whole train, and there was still no sign of her friends. Fine. She'd deal with it later. It wasn't as if Harry and Ron were the only people she had. She did have other friends. Smiling at Miranda, she stepped into the compartment and sat down across from her.
"Did something happen?" Miranda asked with concern, slightly furrowing her perfectly smooth, pale forehead. "You look worried."
"I don't know," Hermione said distractedly, looking out the window. "Harry and Ron have disappeared somewhere. They're nowhere on the train."
"Oh…" Miranda shook her head slowly, then adjusted the collar of her robe with a graceful little motion and, lifting an eyebrow with a faint smirk, said, "Your friends are far too restless. But they do love getting themselves into trouble, don't they?"
"Yes, they do," Hermione sighed. "And I usually end up in the middle of it too."
Miranda laughed — melodically, slightly mannered, as if she'd just heard a funny but rather predictable joke.
"I don't envy you," she said with a smile.
Their conversation gradually shifted to summer holidays. Miranda, as always, spoke with feeling: which countries she'd visited, which rare pieces of magical art she'd seen — she had a real weakness for enchanted paintings and charmed sculptures.
"In Paris I saw Jean Belmon's Singing Stained Glass," she said with genuine wonder. "Imagine it: ancient glass, painted with spells, changing color depending on the melody! The sadder the song, the darker the shades. And in Berlin I managed to get into a private exhibition of magical tapestries! There was one that wove the memories of whoever touched it right into the pattern."
Hermione listened with interest to Miranda's stories about her trips and impressions. She would've loved to see those exhibitions herself, but she'd spent the whole summer shut indoors, afraid of an attack from the League of Light — and, as it turned out, her fear hadn't been baseless.
When Hermione began telling her what had happened, Miranda kept gasping and exclaiming, pressing a hand to her chest and shaking her head in outrage. But what shocked her most was that the League of Light had used the form of Hermione's friend to get into her house.
"That's absolutely outrageous!" she exclaimed, straightening up. "There have to be some limits! Using a child for a kidnapping… that's low even for them!"
"But it wasn't a child," Hermione reminded her wearily. "Just a wizard who took his shape."
"It doesn't matter!" Miranda threw up her hands. "It's disgusting, unethical, and, honestly, completely lacking in any elegance!"
Hermione allowed herself a barely noticeable smirk. Of course — to Miranda, even crimes had to be committed with a certain amount of finesse.
"At least the Ministry of Magic had the sense to put an Anti-Disapparition Charm around your house," Miranda added.
"Yeah," Hermione agreed quietly. "Otherwise, we probably wouldn't be talking right now."
Silence settled over the compartment. The unpleasant memories rose far too sharply in Hermione's mind, and she had no desire at all to keep talking about them. She looked away, trying to focus on something else.
Miranda, attentive as always, picked up on the shift in her friend's mood right away and switched the conversation to another topic. Hermione listened again, catching herself thinking that every now and then she couldn't help feeling a bit envious of Miranda's busy, eventful life.
As for her… aside from that miserable attack, she didn't have much to talk about. She'd spent almost the entire summer shut away, and Miranda was hardly going to be impressed by Hermione's potion experiments or the magical plants she'd grown in pots on her windowsill.
"Have you heard who's going to be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Hermione suddenly remembered, brightening.
The news really excited her, and she hoped she could surprise Miranda with it. Miranda, however, lifted an eyebrow with a clearly amused, ironic smile.
"You mean Lockhart?"
Hermione felt a small stab of disappointment — so Miranda already knew.
"Yes," she said, but couldn't help continuing, her voice picking up, "It's brilliant! Someone with real experience fighting the Dark Arts will be teaching us! Nothing matters more than hands-on practice for a teacher."
Miranda watched her closely for a moment, then said slowly:
"On that, you're absolutely right. But honestly, I find it rather unlikely that Lockhart personally accomplished all the things he describes."
"He did!" Hermione protested, lifting her head. "I checked!"
This time Miranda raised an eyebrow openly but stayed quiet, letting Hermione go on.
"I specifically ordered copies of local newspapers from the places he writes about, and everything matches! All those events really happened!"
Miranda still looked skeptical, but then her expression slowly shifted to surprise.
"Well, if you checked…" she said, tilting her head. "Then it's probably true. You never overlook details." She waved a hand lightly, as though brushing the topic aside. "But Lockhart isn't the interesting part — what is interesting is what I found in a few books and scrolls about Time Magic."
Hermione forgot about Gilderoy Lockhart in an instant.
"Time Magic?" she repeated, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.
Miranda gave a mysterious smile.
"Oh, you'll like this," she began, leaning back in her seat. "There wasn't anything specific, but in a few different sources I found mentions of Terry Foster and his experiments. And here's the noteworthy detail — in his Time Magic work he kept using… Ritual Magic."
"Ritual Magic?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "But that's only common in the African school. We almost never use it here."
"Exactly," Miranda nodded. "And from what I've managed to find, Foster spent a lot of time in Africa studying that branch of magic."
"Hm…" Hermione tapped her chin, thinking. "I always thought it was a dying field, and mostly used in Dark Magic," she looked at her friend for confirmation.
"That's true, but not all rituals are dark. Some are completely harmless," Miranda said. "They don't require human blood or sacrifices. As far as I understand, Ritual Magic interacts very strongly with the environment, and that means it can, in return, affect the environment back — including time itself."
The tiny lines on Hermione's forehead showed clearly that she was thinking hard about Miranda's words. Finally she lifted her gaze and said:
"But if only Ritual Magic can affect time, then all the talk about the Time-Turner Foster supposedly created… that means it's not true? Right?"
Miranda gave a sly smile.
"And this is where it gets really interesting!" Her eyes lit up. "It turns out Terry Foster was actually at the origins of modern magical instrument-making!"
"What?" Hermione stared at her. "No way! I mean… why would he do that?"
"Because of Ritual Magic, of course!" Miranda leaned forward. "Instead of waiting for all the external conditions to line up — the position of the stars, the season, the phase of the moon, sometimes even a volcanic eruption — he started creating simple devices that could reproduce those conditions artificially."
Hermione looked at her, mouth open.
"You're telling me those devices could move planets, change the phases of the moon?"
"Of course not!" Miranda laughed, shaking her head. "But he didn't need to move planets. What he needed was to recreate the magicalinfluence of those planets on the environment — specifically, on the place where the ritual was performed."
Seeing Hermione still frozen with her mouth open, Miranda continued with a small smile:
"So it's entirely possible Foster really did manage to create a Time-Turner. That's what he'd been working on for the last several years."
"Incredible!" Hermione breathed, still struggling to wrap her head around it. Her eyes were shining with curiosity. "But is there anything useful you managed to learn from those books and scrolls? Any proof at all that the Time-Turner exists?"
"To be honest, I haven't found any evidence that he ever succeeded in creating a Time-Turner," Miranda said with a casual shrug. "But I did come across a mention of a ritual called Gaze of Eternity. Apparently, it's connected in some way to the Time Vault."
"And?" Hermione asked, impatient.
"And… I couldn't find a description of it anywhere," Miranda said with an irritated flick of her hand.
Hermione exhaled in disappointment. Then her friend, after a deliberately dramatic pause, added:
"But! There's another name that comes up in the sources — Quentin Elmridge. He worked with Foster on Time Magic for years."
"And…?" Hermione was beginning to lose her patience. These dramatic pauses were getting on her nerves.
"And he's still alive." Miranda gave a mysterious smile, clearly savoring the moment. "Yesterday I sent him a letter asking him to explain what this ritual is and how it's done."
Hermione stared at her, stunned.
"You did what? You're planning to use Ritual Magic?"
"Why not?" Miranda said calmly, brushing a strand of hair aside. "It's just research. Besides, what if there really is something behind it?"
Hermione frowned, doubtful.
"I still think Foster was just a regular fraud who fooled everyone and pulled money out of the Ministry for his so-called research."
"Even if that's true," Miranda said with a shrug. "The worst that'll happen is we'll have a few interesting evenings and no results. What's wrong with that?"
She looked at Hermione closely and asked, narrowing her eyes a little:
"You did get that note from Foster — the one I forwarded to you at the start of the summer, didn't you?"
Hermione looked up as it came back to her.
"Oh…" She rubbed her temple firmly. "With everything that was going on, I completely forgot about it. Yes, it's odd, but there could be a simpler explanation."
"Like what?"
"Like Terry Foster is just hiding somewhere, and he sent that note to make everyone think he really discovered something in Time Magic."
"Yes, right, and of course he picked you as the recipient. The world-famous Hermione Granger!" Miranda looked at her friend with a teasing smile.
Hermione paused for a moment, as if deciding whether it was worth continuing this conversation.
"That's exactly the problem!" she finally said, choosing to share her worry. "I don't really trust that note, because the League of Light is after me."
Miranda blinked, and her smile vanished.
"You think… it could be connected?"
"Of course! That's exactly why I might've been the one to get a 'note from Terry Foster.'" Hermione folded her arms. "To me it looks much more like a clever trap — just another way to get to me."
Miranda stared at her in silence, and it was clear from her face that the thought had never even crossed her mind. Not surprising — the League of Light hadn't tried to go after her. For a while they sat quietly, each thinking it over. But soon their conversation drifted to lighter topics, and the girls chatted about this and that until they arrived at Hogwarts.