Title: Time is a Healer

Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione are suddenly and inexplicably thrown into the Marauders' sixth year at Hogwarts. Delighted with this chance to meet his parents and reunite with the recently deceased Sirius, Harry soon starts to cut his ties for the future, leaving Ron and Hermione seriously worried. And what's the monster that's starting to stalk Harry?

Timeline and Spoilers: Books 1 through 5, at the beginning of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts (very beginning)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and any related characters and setting are all the property of J.K. Rowling and not me.

Extra: 'blah' = thoughts

AN: I have edited this story so that each chapter is no longer than 10,000 words. The original chapter 13 was over 30,000 which was ridiculous. Therefore returning readers the new chapter is chapter 20, not chapter 16. Thanks.

Chapter One: In Which It All Begins:

Hermione Granger hurtled through the corridors fleet slipping and sliding on the well-polished floor. 'I don't believe it!' she groaned, as she glanced desperately at her watch. 'Twenty past! I've never been so late for a lesson ever!'

She didn't know how she'd come to be so late. One minute she was dozing in the common room, next zooming through the empty halls. Well, all right, being asleep wasn't quite the best way for one to pay attention to class time, but honestly – twenty minutes late? She threw another glance at her watch. 'Eleven twenty four! Is time speeding up or something?'

She launched herself on the nearest staircase, but she had only taken a few leaps, before the stairs lurched and she was thrown against the stone railing: the staircase was moving. Righting herself, she tried not to jiggle impatiently on the spot whilst it swivelled to its new destination. Already she was gasping for breath and her book bag was beginning to drag on her shoulders.

The staircase came to a grinding halt and Hermione jumped off, onto the new corridor. Almost immediately, the staircase began to slide away again and Hermione realised with dismay that she had never been in this part of Hogwarts before now. The elaborate tapestries that hung on the wall were a complete mystery and she had never seen the portraits before. Several wizened wizards stared at her just as intently as she did them.

A small beeping at her wrist brought her back to reality – the watch now read 11:30. This unexplored corridor would have to wait – right now, she had to get to Charms. With speed induced by a slight panic, Hermione set off, her legs protesting slightly. She chose speed over carefulness.

'OK, so I've never been in this particular corridor before,'she told herself, dodging an ornamental vase on a stand. ' But, it's on the same floor, so Charms has got to be around here somewhere.'

"Tempus temporissss…."

A ghostly whisper echoed around the halls and brought Hermione back down to Earth. She continued running, but looked over her shoulder in shock, intently searching for the owner of the voice. But there was no one, or, indeed, no thing there: just the seemingly endless corridor. Hermione had to blink sudden tears from her eyes – for a moment that had sounded like Sirius.

As she twisted around, her foot caught on the hem of her robes and she tripped. Instinctively, she flung out an arm to catch hold of something to stop her fall. Dimly, she registered cool metal on her skin before a sharp pain flared and warmth drenched her hand. She caught a brief glimpse of a wizard and a sword before she fell on her back to gaze at the ceiling.

Even that change of scenery was short lived as her momentum caused her to roll back over herself. As she knocked her head on the floor, Hermione mentally screamed, 'I don't have TIME for this!'

It was so quick that she thought she had imagined it. A flash of blue light and a overpowering wind, but it lasted barely a second. And when Hermione grounded to a halt, everything was as it was before. Well, apart from the fact that she, and all her books, were sprawled over the now blood splattered floor.

She tentatively examined her hand. Despite the fact that it seemed to be bleeding a lot, it didn't actually hurt very much. Concluding that it was probably shallow, Hermione didn't bother about tying it up. She feverishly gathered up her belongings and shoved them in the bag, not even wincing as the once glossy books were smeared with blood and dust. She was too late.

Setting off again she checked her watch and groaned. Only 20 minutes left! Where was the time going? She rounded a corner and saw with relief that it was the same corridor as her charms classroom. And she sprinted the last few feet, to skid to a halt in front of the classroom.

If she hadn't have been in such a big hurry, Hermione would have noticed something funny about the corridor she had just come down. For one thing, it immediately closed up behind her, looking for all the world as innocent, solid wall – which it was. If Hermione had been thinking straight she would have known that she had never been down the corridor before for the simple reason that it didn't usually exist. But her head was too full of impending detentions and point losses to pay attention to anything as unimportant as an nonexistent corridor.

So she wrenched open the Charms door and burst in, slamming the heavy door behind her. "Sorry I'm…l-late, Pro-professor," she gasped, in between gulps of air and clutching her stomach. "I was…"

She stopped as she caught sight of the class – the wrong class. She had never met any of these people before – never even seen them. They stared at her in varying degrees of mirth. Hermione was suddenly extremely self-conscious and could feel the heat rising from her cheeks, making her already pink face turn red, right down to the roots. She was extra aware that her hair – although magically smoothed that morning – was sticking up in odd places and that her robes were askew as a result of her fall. Her robes were smeared with dust and blood and her hand steadily trickled blood onto the stone floor.

"Err…you are?"

Hermione jumped at the squeaky voice and turned to face Professor Flitwick, who was staring at her with polite confusion. There was something funny about the way he looked, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"W-What?" she gasped, a little confused herself. Why was he asking for her name?

Flitwick assumed a look of great patience and the tone of someone explaining something very obvious to a child. "What is your name?" he repeated, staring at her. Hermione blushed even more (if it was possible) as the class began to giggle.

"But you already know my name, Professor," she protested. What on Earth was going on? Flitwick, asking for her name, when she had excelled in every exam he had ever set?

"My dear girl, if I already knew your name, I would not be asking," Flitwick pointed out, as a few people began to snigger.

Hermione was getting really confused now, even as she hesitantly answered him. "Hermione."

Flitwick seemed to be waiting for a surname, but Hermione didn't offer one. Instead she looked around the classroom again. With a shock she saw that the class was indeed Gryffindors, but was being shared with Slytherins. And she didn't recognise any of them.


Hermione whipped her head around to face Flitwick again, and immediately wished she hadn't, as her head ached sharply. 'I must have hit it harder than I thought,' she reflected, but then realised that Flitwick was saying something.

"…house are you in?"

House? 'Now this is just getting annoying.' "Gryffindor!" she cried, exasperated. Maybe he couldn't see it – for goodness sake, she was wearing the Gryffindor colours on her bloody uniform!

"And which year?" Flitwick inquired, pausing to throw an annoyed glare at the class, which were trying really hard not to laugh out loud at her.

"Sixth year!"

Silence. The class had stopped clutching their bellies and sniggering. Instead they just looked at her in shock and surprise, as if she was insane. Hermione began to half wish they would go back to laughing. This shocked silence was even worse and it made her tummy do a little back flip in her stomach. Even Flitwick looked a little surprised.

"Sixth?" he repeated, incredulously. Hermione just nodded. She silently tried to will her hair slowly back into place, but nothing could stop the flush in her cheeks. "Well, erm, you will just have to sit in the back of the class for the remainder of this lesson," continued Flitwick, doubtfully. It looked as though he had made a quick decision. "You must be a transfer student."

What? ' Wait a minute – does this mean that this is the sixth year charms class? And he thinks I'm a transfer student?' Hermione had half a mind to protest, to find out what was really going on, but her hand suddenly gave a painful throb. A pounding headache began to beat at her temples and exhaustion crept over her. 'Later,' she told herself. 'I just need to sit down.' She nodded.

"Well, you can sit over there with Potter."

Weariness vanished. "Harry? Where?" If Harry were here, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. At least she would know someone. But why hadn't she spotted him already?

"Harry?" squeaked Flitwick, confused. "No, no, no – James. James Potter. Over there, look." And he motioned with his hand to a desk at the back.

Hermione followed his tiny arm with a feeling of dread. At the back, a boy raised his hand at her. He was identical to Harry in nearly every single way, except there was no lightning scar on his forehead; the eyes that twinkled mischievously at her where a hazelnut brown, not emerald green. And the person that sat next to him was not Ron. It wasn't even any of the other Gryffindors. Hermione would have preferred even Draco Malfoy over the strikingly handsome, black shaggy haired boy that sat next to Har – no, James? It was unmistakably, Sirius.

Being impossibly faced with two dead people, Hermione gave up trying to find answers. She fainted.

~Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~

"Do you reckon she needs the Kiss Of Life?" The voice was male and low, but had a merry tone.

Laughter. Lots of it.

"James!" This one was feminine and sounded both shocked and disgusted.

"Because, you know, I'd be happy to volunteer," the first voice continued.

"Why should you get all the fun, Prongs?" asked another male voice, this one a sort of booming bark. In the swirling blackness that was surrounding her, Hermione sort of recognised it – it was certainly familiar – but she didn't know where from. At the moment, the conversation didn't make much sense. Her brains were agonisingly rising out of the dark, dank muck that was very keen to hang on to them.

"Well, seeing as my good looks caused her to faint in the first place I should offer my services in reviving her – she was obviously so awe-struck at my perfect physique that she couldn't handle it and thus, fainted."

More laughter.

"Umm, gentlemen, maybe we should take her to the hospital wing, yes?" suggested a squeaky voice, but he was drowned out by the second man's booming laugh.

"You, Prongs, surely not," he dismissed the other man – Prongs, what sort of name was that? – and added, "Besides, she clearly looked at me last, so it would have been my handsome features that made her faint –"

"More like your ugly mug," muttered Prongs, but even a half-witted, semi-unconscious Hermione could tell he didn't really mean it.

" – so I should be the one to administer the young lady's kiss of life," concluded the other man, with a chuckle.

"You boys are disgusting and perverted," snapped the female.

"But, Evans, we're only providing a service," protested Prongs, indignantly. "We do it just to help others – you think this is all for ourselves?" he asked, in mock horror, as the giggles started to mount again. "You know, Evans, if you were ever to faint, I'd be the first to step up and revive you. But then, you know, if you'd go out with me now, we could get in some early practice. You know, to practice my, uh, technique."

All Prongs got was a hhmmphhh and a lot of laughter.

"You know, Padfoot, I really do think we should take her along to Madam Pomfrey," commented a quiet voice, which held a note of amusement nevertheless.

"What!" Padfoot sounded scandalised. Padfoot, another bizarre name. Most frustrating of all, she had the feeling she knew that name – and Prongs – just like she recognised nearly all of the voices. Why was she surrounded in blackness like this?

"But Moony, my dear pal, all we need is right here," cried Padfoot and made a horrible smacking sound.

The laughs were coming thick and fast now. Someone jostled her hand and pain hit her in waves. And the pain did something for her what this extremely confusing and bizarre conversation couldn't – it cleared away the last of the muck in her mind. Memory came flooding back – late for charms – that corridor – falling – cut hand – wrong class – Flitwick didn't know who she was – transfer student – and Potter. James Potter and Sirius Black.

Hermione sat up as quickly as her aching bones would let her and... SMACK!

Hermione gritted her teeth as, once again, her head threatened to burst. Her temples throbbed and a funny roaring noise filled her ears. She rapidly blinked watering eyes and her vision swayed dangerously in front of her. Dimly she heard someone cursing and swearing. She dug her fingernails of her uninjured hand into her palm until they bled. For a few more seconds all her senses screamed in agony, then the pain lessened.

Taking deep, calming breaths, Hermione looked around. She saw a few students huddled anxiously around a black haired adolescent clutching his head and swearing violent. Tiny Professor Flitwick looked a bit shocked and was tentatively approaching the group of teenagers, all of whom were considerably taller than him.

This was all Hermione could see before her vision was blocked by a pair of concerned emerald green eyes and a shock a red hair.

"Hey, are you alright?" asked who was unmistakably Lilly Potter – no, not Potter. Evans. Or was it? Hermione was so confused that she felt tears well up in her eyes and her head began to spin again. She looked at her shaking knees.

"Er, Her-Hermione?" prompted the other teenager, uncertainly.

Hermione looked up. "I'm fine," she lied and before anyone could stop her she jumped up off the floor and sprinted out the door.

~Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~

Hermione ran and ran, not knowing where her labouring steps took her, only that she was running. At the back of her mind she realised the bell must have gone as the halls were now milling with students. In fact it was exceedingly hard to get through and students kept calling out indignantly.

This was impossible. She couldn't have travelled back in time, could she? That was – well, not impossible. After all, she had had that time-turner thing in the Third Year. But years? Decades? Besides, she hadn't got the time turner anymore, so that was out of the question.

Could it be a dream? It was certainly bizarre enough. Her hand got snagged against a passing Hufflepuffs bag and the resulting pain put that out of the question. And even as it was bizarre, this Hogwarts was entirely real, too. Besides, her head ached too much for it to be real.

A practical joke? No, it wasn't even funny. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws would never think of such a thing, it wasn't vicious enough to savour the Slytherins twisted humour and nobody in Gryffindor would find it funny.

Was she going insane? ' Well, if I am, then I'm saner than everyone else around here,' she thought, with a detached sense of wry humour.

That brought her to the worst, and scariest, scenario. She was dead. It wasn't really that far-fetched. After all, James, Lily and Sirius were dead. She felt an uprising of guilt and sorrow at the last. Although she wasn't as close to Sirius as Harry had been, she still felt a great loss at his death. She had tried to put on a brave face for Harry, but she was hurting inside, all the same. 'Sirius, oh god, I'm sorry,' she whispered mentally allowing a slight respite into grief, before getting onto the more pressing problem.

Could she be dead? It was a possibility. But then she was pretty sure that Professor Flitwick was still alive and kicking, as was Remus Lupin. Now she realised that his was the other voice – quiet and silently amused. So she struck this off the list, leaving her with no more plausible situations. She was at a loss. What was she to do?

Her feet suddenly clattered to a stop. Hermione came out of her thoughts and smiled. Of course – Dumbledore. How could she have been so stupid? Dumbledore would know – he knew everything – and he would know instantly what to do.

Or, at least, she hoped he would.

But there was one little snag: she had no idea where Dumbledore's office was. Harry would be able to take her there in an instant – but Harry wasn't there: that was her problem. Even Ron had been to the Headmaster's office, although she doubted he could tell her where here where it is. He wasn't the most reliable of people when it came to finding their way around Hogwarts.

Her stomach growled suddenly – she was starving. Looking at her watch, she realised it was lunch time. She smiled again – hopefully Professor Dumbledore will be there. Plus she was starving – all that running and apparent travelling through time was quite hunger inducing. Turning about face – her subconscious mind had lead her feet towards Gryffindor Tower – she headed down to the Great Hall.

~Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~ Time is a Healer~

AN: Thank you for reading and a special thanks go to psy who gave me the Latin translation for 'time is a healer'! Thank you!