the_debt_of_time

"I hope so too, Miss.. ."
"Granger. Hermione Granger."
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger." His eyes twinkled when he smiled at her.
"Now, I have a question for you. The security wards around Hogwarts, put up by my own
wand―" Hermione's wide-eyed gaze fell upon the Elder Wand on the desk, "—are pieces
of very sensitive magic. They have the magnificent ability to prevent Apparition, you see.
That being the case, they also alert me when breached, and I was alerted within the hour
that a breach took place in the form of Apparition. Something which should not be
possible."
"It wasn't Apparition, sir. It was a Portkey," She corrected with a frown, her
stomach churning a bit at the reminder. "Well, sort of. Sir, I need your help."
"I will be happy to advise you as best I can. I trust you'll be forthcoming in helping
me as well? I might have a few questions for you."
She hesitated to speak again, remembering the rules that had been drilled into her
by Professor McGonagall during her third year when she had been given a Time-Turner
to use for her classes. Thus far, she already had broken the most important one: do not let
yourself be seen. But without any answers to how and why she had arrived here—not to
mention how to get back—Hermione handed over the folded piece of parchment with
Remus's words on it.
Dumbledore took his time looking over the letter, his impassive face showing no
concern or fear like she was feeling. Hermione was about forty percent certain that she
would somehow get in trouble for whatever it was that Remus had done to her. Eventually,
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and looked up from the parchment. "What year do you
come from, my dear?"
The simple question caused Hermione's eyebrows to rise into her hairline. "You
believe me?"
He chuckled. "While I don't consider myself overly attentive of the latest Muggle
fashions, I can't imagine your clothing is of this era."
Hermione glanced down at her attire which she did not find to be so strange, but
she recalled seeing photos of her parents from the seventies, and she could not help but
let out a nervous laugh. Yes, she must look terribly strange. "1998, sir."
"Quite a trip."