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Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of the characters, I just like to play with them
The company Shecklemeyer and Sons was the largest creative interest in the magical world. They put out more products for use by witches and wizards than any other in England. Despite its large size it was difficult to get a placement in the company because of how well they treated their employees. Once you were hired on at Shecklemeyer and Sons you would be a fool to leave before retirement.
The last office on the left was one of the smallest but it had the nicest view. Despite its size, getting placed in this office was a reward for hard work that was done well. The name plate on the door read ‘Hermione Granger.’ Inside the office it was fairly Spartan, only one or two pictures of herself, Ron and Harry and one of Harry and Ginny’s wedding day graced her desk and of course one of her parents. Outside the office, the view overlooked the Thames and it was here that she gazed when looking for inspiration.
Hermione had been working for Shecklemeyer and Sons since they had gotten a hold of her NEWTs results. They had come to her looking for a new recruit in their Research and Development branch. From the day she set foot in the company she had been their rising star, the one to watch.
Her career with the company was not only intellectually stimulating, it was also quite lucrative, affording her a very comfortable lifestyle. The only drawback was that her personal life suffered, however, that was not the company’s fault.
Ron and Hermione had made an honest go of it but it became obvious that close friendship wasn’t necessarily a basis for true love. When he was honest he would admit that her greater salary was an issue for him as he had been raised in a traditional family where the wife stayed at home while the husband was the breadwinner. The fire in the bedroom was closer to lukewarm and finally, after about a year, they parted as friends. Since then, she had thrown herself into work, believing that she may not be cut out for long term relationships.
Hermione sat at her work space, wand in hand, pouring over a small, flat, rectangular slab of onyx. A grid of sterling silver squares adorned the glossy black surface of stone and into each were inlaid a cut square of rutilated agate. The feathery tendrils of gleaming grey inside the milky white stone were partially hidden by numbers made of gold, one through thirty one, a number for each square which was perfectly centered in the agate.
Over the grid, carved into granite and inlaid in the onyx was the word ‘Month,’ and next to that was the numeral ‘0000.’ Next to those numbers were another set of numbers that read ’00:00:00.’ Hermione’s tongue was poked out from inside of her mouth in an upward curve, a sure sign of intense concentration.
All around the calendar were a series of runes, inlaid in gold and at the very bottom of the calendar, within the frame of runes, was the word ‘Name’ inlaid in silver.
Next to the calendar sat a bar of pure gold with what appeared to be strips carved out of it. She was bent over a book, making notes on a piece of parchment and glancing occasionally at the calendar. Every so often she would flick her wand at the bar of gold and then at the calendar and another rune would appear in the glossy black. Finally, Hermione lifted her head, a satisfied smile on her face.
“There,” she breathed, “all finished. Now let’s see if it works.” Tapping the letters that read ‘Month’ with her wand she changed it to read ‘September’ and the word ‘name’ to Hermione Granger’. She then changed the four zeros to ‘1991’ and the set of zeros and colons to read ’12:30:00.’ Then she tapped the numeral ‘1’ and suddenly her office took on the semblance of the Hogwarts express and the carriage she had been located in with Neville Longbottom.
The only part of her office that was easy to make out was her desk which the calendar was sat upon. Just as she hoped the calendar had recreated every detail down to Longbottom’s lost frog Trevor, the sound of the train on the tracks and the witch pushing the trolley. She watched for a few minutes and had to smile at the bossy, bushy haired child she had been.
Hermione picked up a piece of parchment that was a copy of the official arrest record for Sirius Black and examined it carefully. This calendar had been commissioned by the Ministry to investigate charges of false arrest that had been filed against Cornelius Fudge by Harry Potter. Harry still grappled with the loss of Sirius and wanted to bring the responsible parties to justice.
Hermione tapped ‘September’ and changed it to ‘November,’ changed the year from ‘1991’ to ‘1981’ and then changed the name to ‘Sirius Black.’ She scanned the report for the time of the arrest and then set the hour to thirty minutes earlier then when Sirius was apprehended. She tapped the numeral ‘1’ once again and then held her breath.
The scene from her first ride on the Hogwarts Express abruptly changed to a city street lined with muggles who were watching two wizards, a short, fat, watery eyed blond and a tall, wildly handsome raven haired…
Hermione took a step from around behind the desk, scarcely able to believe that this was Sirius. As they shouted at each other in the middle of the crowded street with muggle spectators playing witness to the fight of the century, she moved closer and closer to the dueling wizards.
None of this was actually happening, there was no harm that could befall her but she was still startled and let out a little yelp when the street was torn apart. She suppressed the urge to run to Sirius’ side and help him to his feet and nearly drew her wand on Pettigrew herself.
Realizing that she didn’t really want to see anymore for she knew this story and its bitter ending and so she flicked her wand at the calendar to stop it but the scene continued to play on. Frustrated, she walked back to her desk and tried to concentrate amid the sounds of wailing muggles and an outraged Sirius. Unable to make the disturbing images disappear she did finally pause the action sequence, thankfully before she had to watch Sirius’ arrest. The sound of his miserable laughter had given her the beginning of a tremendous headache.
The current issue with the calendar was a minor glitch because it did work, which would be good news to a certain bespectacled best friend of hers. Selecting a fresh piece of parchment she penned a quick note. She crossed the room, squinting her eyes to make out a perch upon which sat a sturdy looking owl. “Here, girl,” she said, fixing the note to the owl. “Take this to Harry.” The owl opened its great wings and soared out through the open window, into the dark sky, on its assigned task.
Hermione returned to her desk, fumbled about for her chair and then sat. She took out a new piece of parchment and began making notes on her creation, a report for her superiors. A few minutes into her work there was a soft knock on her office door.
Hermione looked up and smiled at the newly hired witch, only a couple of months on the job, who was holding a small bowl in her hands. She had just finished her education at Hogwarts in June and had received high enough marks on her NEWTs to give Hermione a run for her money.
“Good evening, Ms. Granger,” greeted the young witch, not sure what to say about the frozen scene.
“Good evening, Miss Hardfoot, what can I do for you?” Hermione smiled genuinely for she really liked this young woman. Seeing her bewildered look Hermione laughed just a little at the predicament her office was in. “Gadget gone awry,” explained Hermione.
Miss Hardfoot nodded and took a deep breath. “This is my first assignment and I was told you were the person to see about runes. I’ve almost got it worked out…” she trailed off hesitantly, glancing at her creation.
“I’d love to help,” assured Hermione sweetly. “What does it do?”
“Well, it’s designed to recover small lost items and it does work,” she pointed at her earrings. “I lost these two years ago. The last place I remember seeing them was in my ears in the mirror. I put my hands around the bowl and thought about my earrings and then just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “they were in my ear.
“So what’s the problem?” asked Hermione.
“They were supposed to end up in the bowl,” said Miss Hardfoot, her tone betrayed her frustration.
“I see, well, just put it on my desk and I’ll – “ A gangly young wizard in jeans and a buttoned up white lab coat slid into Hermione’s office, catching himself on the door frame. In his hand was a phial of potion and in his shock at the scene inside the office, the potion slipped his grasp.
Distracted by the intrusion, Miss Hardfoot didn’t notice that she had just placed her bowl on top of Hermione’s calendar. Hermione was too busy scowling at the clumsy young wizard to notice anything but his efforts to reclaim the phial.
Every lurch forward served only to aid his inevitable fall to the floor as his arms and legs reached out wildly in all directions, trying, vainly, to catch his potion and right his balance. In once last attempt at capturing the small glass bottle, an arm reaching valiantly out in front of him, managing to instead bat it directly at Miss Hardfoot’s bowl which was settled completely on Hermione’s calendar, the edges of which covered the name ‘Sirius Black.’ The glass shattered violently against the bowl, spilling potion all over the it, the calendar and spraying the rest of Hermione’s desk.
The calendar and bowl began emitting hard, sharp popping and groaning noises as the stone from the calendar and the metal from the bowl began to fuse, bubbling and boiling into each other. Instantly the scene inside the office flickered and then was gone. The runes slid freely over the warped, badly misshapen object that had replaced the two creations, finally settling into overlapping, mostly unreadable patterns.
Hermione turned bright red as the anger built quickly into rage. Months of work had gone into that calendar and now it was ruined, smoking and letting off sparks.
Suddenly the whole mess glowed brightly, twinkling and shimmering, then disappeared completely only to return, totally silent and still. No more smoke, no more sound, no more anything.
A sharp rap on the door pulled all three of them away from the mess on the desk. A tall, distinguished looking wizard, balding but still handsome, in well tailored robes stood in the doorway, his inquisitive smile drifting into a concerned frown.
He lent a hand to the gangly young wizard, helping him to his feet while keeping a wary eye on his star employee who was glowering. His gaze roamed from her to the chaos on her desk and took in a sharp breath of air.
“Hello, Mr. Shecklemeyer,” said Hermione in a miserable tone.
“That’s not?” he asked, his voice hushed with fear.
“I’m afraid it is,” replied Hermione, wand twitching in her hand as she glared at the young wizard.
“I must contact the Ministry immediately. They were going to go public tomorrow. When I get back I want a full explanation for this... this…” He threw up his hands in defeat and spun on his heel.
Hermione fixed her gaze on the young wizard. “Mr. Hornbeam,” she fumed, “exactly what did your potion do?”
Mr. Hornbeam swallowed and blinked a few times. “It, uh, it takes two or more magical artifacts and combines their abilities into one. For instance, I have in my office a combined Foe-glass and Sneakoscope. You get the warning while being able to see who you’re enemy is.”
“And did it turn into a pile of goo?” asked Hermione snidely.
“N-no,” he answered. “It’s actually quite useful and works too.” He glanced at the warped metal and stone on her desk. “I don’t know what happened here. Maybe the magical properties weren’t compatible.”
“You think?” snapped Miss Hardfoot, her temper finally breaking.
“Mr. Hornbeam, you are never to set foot in this office again. In fact, you are never to come within two feet of this office.” Hermione came around from behind her desk, smacking her wand into her hand, emitting sparks from the end each time.
“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” quailed Mr. Hornbeam nervously, eyes on the agitated wand. He stood stock still, afraid that any movement might set her off.
“Get out,” said Hermione dangerously. Mr. Hornbeam couldn’t leave fast enough for his liking. Three seconds after he left her office she heard a loud crash. Hermione flicked her wand at the door and shut it with a soft snap.
Hermione conjured a chair for Miss Hardfoot and returned to behind her desk. She indicated with her hand that Miss Hardfoot should sit. “Alright, tell me exactly how your bowl worked, something happened and I think we better figure out what.”
“Well,” began Miss Hardfoot. “It works off of the theory that multiple dimensions can occupy the same space.” Hermione nodded. “Ok, so…you think about the last place you saw the object and then place your hands on the bowl. The object is pulled through dimensional space and time. The magic actually creates the dimension and when the object is pulled out of it, the created dimension collapses. You have your object without leaving any trash behind, so to speak.”
“So, when the object is pulled forward the created dimension collapses while in this dimension you have two sets of whatever the object was, right?” Hermione was very impressed with the young witch.
“Right! It would be unethical to leave countless ‘waste’ dimensions around. The company wants to mass produce this and the repercussions of cluttering the universe that way are unknown. The end result is that one dimensions has, say, two identical sets of earrings,” she pointed at her ears. Miss Hardfoot gazed gloomily at the wrecked bowl, half of one side melted almost entirely into the calendar.
“And you say it worked, it just didn’t bring the object to the bowl?” asked Hermione.
Miss Hardfoot nodded. “What did yours do?”
“Well, the Ministry wants to launch a full investigation into the unlawful imprisonment of Sirius Black,” began Hermione.
“Ooh, I heard about that,” cooed Miss Hardfoot. “I saw a photo of him in the Prophet, all cleaned up and wearing nice robes, a very handsome man, such a shame about his death.”
Hermione smiled sadly. “He was a good man, flawed, but still a very good man. That’s him just there, albeit much younger.”
“Did you know him?” asked Miss Hardfoot, a little awed, turning to look at the angry and grief stricken image of Sirius Black.
“Yes, I did,” answered Hermione. “He was my best friend’s godfather. He meant the world to Harry. I was really hoping this would bring him some closure.”
“So, what was your, calendar, was it?” Hermione nodded. “Yeah, what was it supposed to do?”
“The charges that were filed against Cornelius Fudge are pretty serious, it seems he acted on his own accord in circumventing the judicial process. There was actually quite a bit of that going on back then but so far none have been proven innocent the way that Sirius was.
“After Pettigrew was questioned under Veritaserum he confessed to everything. The Kiss was performed resulting in his death only a few minutes later.” Hermione tapped her fingers in agitation on the bar of gold which sat on her desk next to the twisted and malformed disaster. “It was Pettigrew’s account of that day that brought to light that Fudge was the Ministry official who arrested Sirius.
“There is no record of any warrant and it is known for a fact that no trial was ever held. Fudge denies arresting Sirius and claims and that it is just a matter of Pettigrew remembering it that way and none of the Aurors on duty that day can quite remember either. When Fudge was asked to produce his own memories for examination he refused filing document after document in an effort to stall the process. As it stands right now the Ministry will have its hands tied for years trying to sort out all the legal red tape.”
“So then enter you and your calendar,” supplied Miss Hardfoot.
“Precisely,” agreed Hermione. “Fudge can refuse the Ministry his own memories but this calendar acts as a sort of Pensieve for the memories of a certain point in time.”
“So, there were some similarities between the two devices, they both reach back in time,” reasoned Miss Hardfoot. “How does the calendar know where to pull the memory from? You could end up watching a shepherd tend his flock in the Falklands.”
“Oh, the calendar is enchanted to find a specific person and show what is happening to him or her…” Hermione trailed off. “And your device retrieves objects by creating duplicates of…” Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh, Merlin…Miss Hardfoot, please tell Mr. Shecklemeyer I had to leave. I fear disastrous repercussions to Mr. Hornbeam’s two left feet!” She grabbed her purse and dashed out the door leaving behind a bewildered Miss Hardfoot.
Hermione didn’t wait for the lift down to the ground floor, opting instead to fly down the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her. Once out on the street, she looked around for muggles and then spun on the spot, disappearing with a sharp ‘crack.’
Reappearing in the alley behind number twelve, Grimmauld Place, she raced around to the front and opened the old oak door. “REMUS!” she screamed. “REMUS!”
A door opened from a few floors up followed by the sound of feet tromping down the stairs. Disheveled and clutching their house robes, Remus and Tonks peered over the banister at her, Remus looking worried, Tonks annoyed.
“I’m sorry,” wailed Hermione. “But it’s urgent! Please Remus! We have to go to where Sirius was arrested!”
Adjusting his robe again and shifting his feet, Remus looked puzzled. “Why?”
“Hurry! I’ll explain on the way!” Hermione jumped in place from all of the nervous energy she was trying to hold in. Trusting her to know what she was talking about, Remus turned on the spot and fled to his room.
“You’re timing is lousy,” commented Tonks dryly.
“I’m really sorry,” pleaded Hermione. “It’s just I can’t do this alone, he doesn’t know who I am.”
“Who doesn’t know who you are?” asked Tonks bewildered.
Hermione never answered her question because the next moment saw Remus hurriedly exiting his bedroom, kissing Tonks on the cheek with a quiet word in her ear and then he was sprinting down the stairs to Hermione. Tugging him by the wrist they exited the Black Manor, rounded the corner and turned onto the alley running behind the ancient house.
“You want to tell me why we’re going to the place that Sirius was arrested?” asked Remus.
“No time,” urged Hermione. “We’ll see soon enough.”
Holding her firmly by the hand Remus spun on the spot landing moments later in the middle of the street in a muggle neighborhood. In front of them, coughing and retching was a young man on his hands and needs, trying in vain to master his body.
“It can’t be,” whispered Remus. “It’s impossible.” He turned accusingly to Hermione. “How can this be?”
“Magical accident at Shecklemeyer and Sons,” she answered simply.
“We have to send him back! The timeline!” he hissed desperately.
“The timeline will be unaffected,” replied Hermione. “Now, come on, he needs our help.”
“What do we do?” asked Remus.
“Why don’t you try saying his name,” offered Hermione.
“It’s not as though I can’t hear you,” croaked Sirius from his position on the ground.
“Sirius?” asked Remus tentatively.
“Who wants to know?” asked Sirius belligerently.
“It’s him,” said Remus dryly with a wry grin.
Sirius pushed off the ground to rise up on his knees. It was the first moment that Hermione was able to get a good look at him and despite his ragged appearance from his trip and all that had just transpired for him, he was still unbelievably handsome. His hair fell carelessly forward into his eyes which were a tempestuous grey, full of passion and life. This was not the man she knew who had fallen haplessly through a mysterious archway or been shut up in his family’s home. This was something altogether different.
Wiping his mouth on his sleeve he glared balefully at Remus and Hermione, wand raised and pointed at them. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Don’t you recognize me, Padfoot?” he asked using his nickname from their Hogwarts days.
Sirius squinted at him, wand still raised. “No.”
“You’re a bit older,” offered Hermione.
“It’s me, Moony,” explained Remus.
“Bullshit! This is some Death Eater trick. If you’re Moony, prove it.” Sirius was focused on Remus but he let his eyes drift over to Hermione a few times.
“The night before the Christmas hols in our fifth year I caught you snogging Lily in the Astronomy Tower.” Hermione took in a shocked breath of air.
“Lily,” said Sirius, choking back a sob. “Oh, god and James…” Against his will his eyes leaked tears in angered grief. Sirius took in a long, sharp breath of air through his nose to steady himself. Slowly, he lowered his wand, studying Remus’ face. He shook his head. “I don’t believe you,” he said harshly, but there was a trace of doubt in his voice. “You look like you could be Moony’s dad but I saw Moony just the other day and believe me he could not have aged that much in less than a week.”
“Well, you’re as tactful as ever,” remarked Remus lightly. “Would you like me to continue to mention embarrassing moments from your youth? There was a particular incident in the prefect bathroom that I happened to walk in on.”
Sirius’ eyes widened in shock. “You swore…”
“And I’ve kept my vow,” interrupted Remus.
“This is just too…too much…” said Sirius trailing off. “I was right here, not ten minutes ago about to get arrested for the…the…” He had to take a breath to ground himself before he could say the words. “The m-murder of J-James and Lily.” He looked around for the first time, noting the changes warily, seeming to expect Ministry officials to jump out of nowhere. “What happened?”
“Ask her,” replied Remus.
Sirius’ gaze fell on Hermione. “And who might you be, beautiful?”
“Oh…oh…Hermione Granger is…me,” said Hermione awkwardly, turning a little red with embarrassment.
A slow grin spread across Sirius’ face which had a tremendous affect on him. When glowering and angry he could be just as frightening as the Sirius she knew but ‘her’ Sirius had never looked so…so…
Mesmerized, Hermione didn’t pay attention to the fact that Sirius was addressing her.
“You in there, love?” said Sirius. “Nudge her, mate.” Remus pushed against Hermione’s shoulder.
The light shove startled her. “What?” she growled, embarrassed at having been caught gawking at Sirius. Instead of letting her off easy, allowing her to keep her dignity, Sirius used it torment her, just a little.
“Well, if you’re all done sexing me with your eyes do you mind telling me what happened?” Sirius recognized prey when he saw it and for the moment she definitely looked like prey.
The word ‘sexing’ seemed to bounce around in her head, severing her brain from her vocal chords. She made a few small gasping sounds as her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. If possible, Sirius’ grin grew wider. He was all teeth, gleaming in the streetlamp light, pleased, that after the night he’d had, he still got a tiny patch of fun.
“While we’re young, miss,” urged Sirius. “Except for you, of course, Moony. Too late for that.” He was doing his best authoritative mockup for her, which was a sham at best but when her blush actually went deeper he released a low chuckle.
“Stop that!” demanded Hermione. “This isn’t easy on any of us.”
“Well, arguably it’s a lot easier on you that it is on me, so please, let’s just have it.” The act of impatience and irritation sold well to Hermione but not to Remus.
“Go easy on her, mate,” requested Remus, sounding very tired.
“Go easy on her?” asked Sirius was false incredulity. “She’s the one bringing strange men into who knows where for who knows what.”
“It was an accident!” she shrieked, her voice shrill as her temper broke. “And it wasn’t my fault! It was a combination of things with absolutely stellar timing. I didn’t mean to bring you here! Now if you’ve quite decided that we aren’t Death Eaters and that this isn’t some elaborate plot to seduce you, I suggest we head home and try to sort this out.” No sooner had the last word left her mouth then she Disapparated with a sharp ‘crack.’
“Seduce?” said Sirius while breathing a laugh.
“She’s not the easy mark you’re making her out to be, old friend. You’ve caught her off guard but once she has her bearings back you’d really rather have her as a friend.” Remus gave Sirius a look to let him know he was not fooled.
“What did I do?” asked Sirius, all innocence. “You know after the day I’ve had you should be thankful I’ve kept my sense of humor.”
Remus chose not to reply, opting to simply offer Sirius his hand to help him to his feet. No sooner had Sirius stood to his full height, he immediately doubled over in pain, emptying the contents of his stomach, which, since he hadn’t eaten in about twenty four hours consisted mostly of acid and bile. He spit and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve again, coughing because of the acid burn in his throat.
“You alright, mate?” asked Remus concerned. Sirius just waved him off, taking a step away. He leaned against the streetlamp for support.
“I’m fine,” he rasped against his sore throat, as tiny beads of sweat dotted his brow.
“You look sort of clammy. Do you think you can side along? I’ll feel a lot better once we get you inside.” Remus took a cautious step toward Sirius until the raven haired man nodded his head. He put a firm hand on Sirius’ wrist and then spun on the spot, taking the sickly time traveler to the one place he hated like no other.
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This chapter was certainly unique.
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...and then...HIM!
Oh, glory, I know we "see" our Sirius's different (and my god, I love what you've done with my Gary!Sirius). Not a big fan of leather pants on him (sticky logistics and all....), again, that's just me. But, alas, his humor is just spot on. You nailed it with the humor with Remus and his snogging Lily....excellent guilt. Excellent. I won't like that I was snickering as I read it...just snickering! I haven't snickered in ages, so thank you. It was a good, guilty, teenage snicker too. I love his spunkiness.
Now, I'm sure you're expecting me to get all philosophical on you, like you do mine (and I LOVE it), but I'm actually just enjoying the tale. I don't sit back and enjoy too often, so I'm going to do just that. I'm pretty sure we will not be stealing ideas (which, of course, I worry about) but, our timelines are vastly different.
His flirtation. A little soon, but then again, you can NEVER keep a good dog down! You might want him to go down, but you can't keep him there if its not going to benefit him. ;)
The Moony's dad reference - priceless.
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Well... the leather, he rides a motorcycle right? Yes, I know it doesn't stand a chance to actually wreck but it would be have been a fine excuse for him to show off his derriere (especially to muggle girls which I think he has a thing for - or maybe even just muggleborns because it fits with his rebel to the magical world persona).
Well, he's an arrogant, egotistical, narcissistic prat. Some of this is coping behavior and some of it is really him. He's a handful to be sure. I have to balance several aspects of his personality so that he comes across as well rounded and fully human. He is a little different with different people but just like the boy on the playground who thinks a girl is cute but is intimidated by her girlness, he pulls her pigtails and sticks his tongue out at her (albeit the adult version). She's not a floozy, but he likes her, misjudges her and ultimately falls for her.
I worried about his flirtation being a little soon but am hoping to show this to be a part of his personality.
The banter is fun to write, he keeps at it because she reacts, makes it fun for him and the poor SOB doesn't realize he's falling.
I'm puzzling over this line of your review and am wondering if it is advice to writing him or a statement of solidarity with the character. If it is the former could you expound on it?
You might want him to go down, but you can't keep him there if its not going to benefit him.
Thanks for giving this a read. As one of my favorite authors, your thoughts are really valuable to be. :)
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Ulitmately - I LOVE the calendar. VERY very clever and it's believable. You hear - I can totally see it working, so don't doubt your invention.
You make leather pants work. Perhaps I might be one to throw in a pair in his closet for my Sirius. But, alas, my Sirius is always older ;) and GaryOldman-y. LOL.
As for my "Going down" reference. Don't read into it. It was ME trying to be cheeky with inuendos. I sincerely meant nothing behind it, other than ORAL PLEASURE REFERENCES.
...savvy?
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Going down... duh. I was at work on the phone and in uber read into everything mode. Sorry.
*giggles*
Oral.