On the first morning of exam week, Harry, Ron, and the others rose early as usual and headed to the Room of Requirement for over two hours of practice. However, even as they emerged from the room drenched in sweat, there was still no sign of Hermione. Normally, Hermione was the second earliest riser, right after Harry.
Ron cautiously glanced around, ensuring no enemies were lurking nearby, before muttering, "Weird. That mother dragon didn't show up for training today?"
"Perhaps Hermione's not feeling well," Harry suggested, waving his wand to cast a wide-range Scourgify over the group. He then led them toward the Great Hall.
When they arrived for breakfast, they happened to spot Hermione trudging toward them. Her bushy brown hair was a mess, she yawned widely, and she carried a bulging bag of books slung over her shoulder.
"Hermione, did you oversleep? We didn't see you at practice this morning," Ron said, eyeing her sleep-deprived appearance.
"It's fine, it's just a normal thing. I'll just find a place later to…" Hermione trailed off mid-sentence, her eyes suddenly widening. She stared at Harry, mouth agape. "Harry! What's wrong with your face?! Did someone hex you? Was it Malfoy and his gang?"
"Malfoy hexed me?" Harry frowned at Hermione, reaching up to touch his face. He turned to Ron and the others. "Is there something odd about my face?"
Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville scrutinized Harry's cheeks intently. After a full minute, all four shook their heads.
"Harry looks normal to me," Ron said.
"You call that normal?!" Hermione gaped at them as if they'd lost their minds. "Those scale-like things on Harry's face—you're saying that's normal?!"
"Oh, you mean these?" Harry poked at the dragon scales on his face with a grin. "I did this myself. Pretty cool, right? Haven't you noticed them before, Hermione?"
"Before… they were there?" Hermione's tone grew uncertain. "Maybe… maybe I just didn't notice."
After breakfast, the third-years began their Transfiguration written exam. Harry finished his answers quickly, double-checked them, and handed his paper to Professor McGonagall well ahead of time. As he left, Hermione—who'd also submitted her parchment early—followed him out, staring at him with an odd, curious expression.
"Harry, you finished that fast?" she asked as they sat on a bench outside the exam room. She looked at him as though seeing him for the first time.
"Maybe the questions were just easy," Harry replied, leaning back comfortably with his hands behind his head.
"What about question twelve, then?" Hermione pressed, clearly testing him. "The one about precautions when casting Transfiguration spells on small animals—how many did you list?"
"I think it was six," Harry said, tilting his head to gaze at the ceiling. "The first one was…" He began comparing answers with Hermione.
Half an hour later, Ron emerged, having turned in his paper early too.
"Hey! Harry, Hermione, you're here!" The redheaded boy bounded over cheerfully. "Any idea what McGonagall's got planned for the practical exam? She said it's fifty percent of our final grade, the written's forty percent, and the last ten's from homework and class performance…"
Hermione stared at Ron, dumbfounded, as he rambled on. Her worldview seemed to shatter. "Ron, you finished that quickly?"
"Compared to you and Harry, I'm way behind," Ron grumbled, though he soon straightened up with a smug grin. "Still, handing it in early feels great. No wonder you two always do it."
"We always hand in early?" Hermione echoed softly, her face suddenly darkening.
"Uh, Hermione, you okay?" Harry asked, noticing her shift as Ron strutted off toward the practical exam area. He started to stand, then paused, sensing something off about her.
"Oh… it's nothing. I just remembered something," Hermione said, giving Harry a gentle push. "Go on ahead, Harry. I'll catch up."
"Alright, I'll head over then," Harry replied, casting her a few glances. His eyes lingered briefly on her slightly oversized front teeth before he strode off toward the Transfiguration practical.
A few minutes later, Hermione joined them, but her troubled expression suggested whatever was bothering her wasn't easily resolved—at least not on her own.
And there was something else Harry couldn't quite shake.
Soon, the Transfiguration practical began. Professor McGonagall assigned the third-years a challenging task—at least for the average student at their level.
For Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville, though, it was a breeze. The Transfiguration they used in combat was far more complex than McGonagall's exam questions.
So when Hermione fretted that the turtle she'd transfigured from a teapot looked more like a terrapin, Ron and the others stared at her as if she needed her eyes checked.
Seriously—Hermione's Transfiguration skills were second only to Harry's among them. Just a few days ago, she'd casually conjured a swarm of bees from a sandpit to chase Ron and the others around. The memory was still vividly etched in their minds.
Someone that good at Transfiguration claiming her turtle looked like a terrapin? Who was she kidding?
After a rushed lunch, they headed upstairs for the Charms exam. Professor Flitwick's written test was straightforward, and Harry finished first as usual, followed by Hermione, then Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville.
The Charms practical went well too, judging by Flitwick's satisfied expression. Harry figured he and Hermione had aced it—though her Cheering Charm was a bit weak. After his scales deflected some of its power, the remaining magic only coaxed a couple of chuckles out of him. Meanwhile, Harry's Cheering Charm hit Hermione so hard she doubled over, pounding the desk with laughter.
After dinner, the students returned to their common rooms to review for the next day's exams.
"Harry, did you and Hermione have a fight?" Ron asked, nudging Harry with his elbow as he watched Hermione haul a stack of books to a corner to study alone. He lowered his voice. "Want me to go talk to her?"
"No need. I'll speak with her later," Harry replied quietly, glancing at Hermione sitting far off.
By ten-thirty, the students trickled back to their dorms after studying. As the common room emptied, Hermione stretched languidly, rising from her chair with her books in her arms, ready to head to bed. Just then, a figure appeared out of thin air in front of her.
"Har—ry!" Startled mid-thought, Hermione jumped, clutching her chest. She stepped back, glaring at him. "Can you not scare people with that Invisibility Cloak? It's not funny!"
Harry ignored her complaint. After studying her face closely, he grabbed her wrist. "Mind taking a walk?"
Though phrased as a question, his tone left no room for refusal.
"Uh… a walk's fine, but—"
"Whatever it is, we'll talk when we're back."
Harry tugged Hermione's hand, pulling her firmly out of the deserted Gryffindor common room. They stopped on the eighth floor in front of a tapestry. Harry paced back and forth before a stretch of wall, and soon a door materialized. He pushed it open and led Hermione inside.
Beyond the door lay a vast, empty cathedral. Bright sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows overhead, casting a mosaic of light and shadow across the polished marble floor.
"Harry, why'd you bring me here?" Hermione asked, eyeing him warily as she edged toward the door.
But with a flick of Harry's hand, a massive stone wall sprang up, sealing the exit tight.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Her voice trembled as she faced this strangely unfamiliar Harry.
"You're asking me what I'm doing?" Harry advanced on her, his green eyes blazing with fury. "Stop pretending! You might look like Hermione, and you've done a decent job mimicking her, but you can't fool me! Your spellcasting, those oversized front teeth that Madam Pomfrey fixed back in first year, the way you're off around me and Ron—it all screams you're not the real Hermione! Tell me—where'd you hide her?!"
The small witch crumpled to the floor under Harry's terrifying aura, her eyes wide with fear as she stared up at the dragon-like Harry Potter. Her right hand clutched her wand, but she wielded it like a first-year, scrambling desperately away from this familiar stranger—every bit a lamb before a tiger.
"Tell me now, or I'll rip you apart!" Harry charged forward in two strides, seizing her by the collar and hoisting her up.
Though he acted ferocious, his heart pounded with dread. The last time something like this happened, if he hadn't had a Protection Scroll on hand, Halsin would've been gutted by that doppelgänger. Could he save Hermione in time now?
"B-but I am H-Hermione Granger!" the brown-haired girl stammered, her brown eyes brimming with hurt, fear, and regret—but none of the cruelty Harry associated with a doppelgänger.
"Nonsense! You can't be Hermione!" Harry roared. "I've been her classmate for nearly three years—I know who she is!"
"But I am Hermione!" she sobbed. "I might not be the Hermione you know, but I'm still Hermione!"
"Still won't admit it?!" Harry almost laughed in frustration at whatever this impostor—doppelgänger or otherwise—was pulling. "Fine. If you insist you're Hermione Granger, then you'll answer my questions. I'll use magic to verify your truthfulness—no resisting. If I sense any resistance, you're done. Got it?"
The girl took a shaky breath and nodded.
"Good." Harry narrowed his eyes dangerously, casting the second-level spell Detect Thoughts. "Simple question: describe the first time I met Hermione Granger."
Harry froze. After asking several more questions—each answer slightly off from his own experiences with Hermione, yet her memories ringing undeniably true—he stared at the tear-streaked girl he'd terrified and scratched his head. "Oh, Merlin. This is a mess."
And so, Harry dragged Dumbledore out of bed.
"So, this Miss Granger hails from a parallel world similar yet different from ours, and you, Harry, suspect our Miss Granger is currently trapped in that world?"
Dumbledore rubbed his temples. Parallel universes were a bit much for a wizard over a century old, but he'd pieced together the issue from Harry and Hermione (Parallel Edition)'s accounts.
"It seems likely that one of the two Miss Grangers—or perhaps neither, but certainly a Time-Turner—malfunctioned, swapping the users across parallel timelines," Dumbledore said slowly. "The question now is how we return both misplaced Miss Grangers to their proper places."
"So, Professor Dumbledore, do you have a plan?" Harry looked at him hopefully, while Hermione mirrored his expression from the other side.
"It depends on Nick's analysis of this Miss Granger's Time-Turner," Dumbledore replied. "For now, Miss Granger, would you mind if I handed your Time-Turner to Nick for study?"
"Please, Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Nicolas Flamel, I'd be grateful," Hermione (Parallel Edition) said, pulling a small hourglass from her robes and offering it to him.
"Wait! Professor, can I try something first?" Just as Dumbledore rose to summon Fawkes, Harry grabbed the Time-Turner's chain. "I recently mastered a spell that might help."
True Seeing activated.
In Harry's hand, the Time-Turner transformed into a slowly spinning magical array glowing with faint blue light. He noticed the outermost layer was slightly misaligned. Reaching for the dial, he gave it a small clockwise twist.
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