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[[!meta title="Chapter 1: Escape"]]
Harry awoke to darkness, discomfort, and impossibility.
He was in the cupboard. Impossible. He and Hermione had personally flattened
this entire house shortly after the war. The Weasleys had disapproved, saying
Harry should forgive his relatives, but this was before the love potions had
kicked in again and removed his free will.
How could he be in the cupboard?
And why was he *small?*
Harry began to hyperventilate. Nothing was making sense, this couldn't be
happening—
"TIME TO GET UP, FREAK! WHY DON'T I SMELL BREAKFAST COOKING?"
The tiny door was wrenched open, and Harry saw a dead man silhouetted against
the morning light.
"DON'T MAKE ME DRAG YOU OUT OF THERE, BOY! GET UP!"
Harry started moving on automatic. Even after nearly 150 years of adult life,
he would never forget the rules and demands of the Dursley household. He
rushed out of the cupboard and hurried to begin preparing his captors' meal.
As he slaved away in the kitchen, Harry tried to reason through his situation.
A stolen glance at his uncle's newspaper confirmed the date — July 31st, 1987.
Seven years old. How was he seven years old again?
He was pretty sure he could still feel his magic, but to be certain he'd need
to reestablish his Occlumency, and with the damage Snape had done there was no
way he could manage that in this emotional climate.
An accidental glance at his reflection on a spoon was another shock. His scar
was *wrong.* After Voldemort's defeat, the scar had rapidly weakened and
eventually healed over. Now it looked like it was just beginning that process.
Whatever had caused him to return to 1987 must have destroyed the horcrux as
well.
Harry struggled through the day, barely paying attention to his surroundings.
He had to escape, had to get in touch... with whom, exactly? Harry didn't
trust anybody in power in this year. If only he had Hermione to help him make
sense of this situation.
By the end of the day, he'd managed to calm down enough to begin to cope with
the situation. Locked in his cupboard, in the dark, he meditated and put
together the barest underpinning of Occlumency. It was enough to give him some
rudimentary access to his wandless magic.
And so, Harry wandlessly and silently unlocked the cupboard and sneaked out of
4 Privet Drive. His plan was to beg his way into his trust vault at Gringotts,
and then buy a plane ticket out of the country and hopefully into a real life.
In a few years maybe he'd find some way to introduce himself to and rescue
Hermione.
Plans, in general, had never gone well for Harry Potter.
She was waiting for him at the bus stop one block away. "Hello Harry," she
casually remarked, "sorry for the time travel. I was wondering when you'd
manage to get out of that house. My parents are waiting in the car just over
there, if you'd like a ride?"
"Hermione?"
<hr />
"Wake up, Hermione, you need to get ready for school! And happy birthday,
dear! We'll have a cake and presents for you when you get home!"
"Mom? But you're dead! And it's not my... oh no, it worked. But that means...
why am I at home? I must have gotten the time travel wrong! What year is it?"
Hermione, let it be known, had always been a very intelligent young girl. Dan
and Emma Granger had soon gotten used to her breathlessly working through
problems out loud, and tried to do their best to stay caught up with her
reasoning and supportive of her curiosity. This was not to say that Emma was
prepared for this particular line of thought, especially not early in the
morning.
"Darling, time travel? What are you talking about? Are you feeling okay?"
"No. What year, please, mother?"
"1986. September 19th, your birthday. Darling?"
"My birthday. My seventh birthday. I must have miscalculated, it was supposed
to be seven months before the ritual, but it was seven years after my birth
instead. It was only supposed to be if Harry or I died unhappily... but I
suppose that makes sense," Hermione was muttering to herself while her mother
looked more and more distraught. Noticing this suddenly, Hermione interrupted
herself, "Can you go fetch Dad? We need to talk about something as a family.
And it might be best if both of you cancel your appointments today."
"Hermione? What's going on?"
"Please, Mom. It'll be easier with both of you."
"OK, darling. I'll be right back with your father."
"Thanks." As Emma turned to leave the room, Hermione added, "I love you, Mom.
I promise, it's happy news."
Now alone in her room, Hermione immediately began checking the state of her
mind and her magic. Occlumency needed repair, but that was to be expected and
Hermione had always been skilled at the mental arts. Her magic felt strong,
stronger than it should for her young age; she had her adult power available.
First things first, practice basic control.
When Dan and Emma Granger walked back into their daughter's room, they could
find no words to speak. Hermione was sitting calmly on her bed, with a dozen
books orbited around her, flying a complicated dance to some unheard tune.
Hermione smiled at them. "Mom, Dad, look! Magic is real, and I'm a witch!"
<hr />
"Just so I can make sure I have this all right, let me summarize."
"Go ahead, Dad."
"Magic is real. You can use magic."
"That's right."
"You're a time traveler, from the future."
"From December of 2124, yes."
"But you *are* our daughter?"
"Yes, Dad, I am your daughter Hermione."
"And you fought in a war at age 17, along with your best friend Harry."
"A war we nearly lost, yes."
"And so because you were worried that you would lose, you arranged for you
both to be sent back to the beginning of that war in the case of either of
your deaths, so you could try to warn people?"
"That's right. It was a contingency, in case things went wrong."
"But you didn't die. And you won the war."
"Well, the purebloods were still in charge. But I suppose technically we won
the war, yes."
"And then Harry and you had unhappy lives because of these purebloods."
"Very unhappy."
"And then you died?"
"I don't remember dieing, although I'm not sure if I would. The magic would
trigger if either Harry or I died unhappily. We were both old, and I'm sure we
were both unhappy enough. I know I was."
"And then you came back, but not to the beginning of the war?"
"I miscalculated when I setup the magic. It was supposed to be seven months
before the ritual, but time travel is not well-studied magic, and I must have
set the target for seventh year after birth instead."
"So... what do we do? Should we be finding some wizard to warn?"
"NO! All the wizards in power here in Britain are evil! I think this country
is doomed, frankly; at least the magical side is. We have a few years before
they'll take notice of me, and I think it may be best if we just leave."
"Leave Britain? Just like that?"
"Well, not just like that. Harry won't be coming back for almost 11 months.
He's my best friend, we have to rescue him too. But we should prepare, because
rescuing Harry will probably make someone in power notice us."
"So we need to make a plan?"
"Yes, we need a plan."
<hr />
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry, it's me."
"Why are we in 1987?"
"Remember the ritual we performed at the Ring of Brodgar?"
"That was time travel?"
"Of a sort. I'll explain in the car."
"OK. I trust you, Hermione."
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