Disclaimer: I am not a smart man, and I probably lost a few more brain cells writing this chapter. So if those of you who are obviously smarter than me spot any flaws in the logic, please do let me know. Thanks, and have fun!
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Bathsheda yanked Cassian into his own office by the sleeve, slammed the door with her foot, and spun on him.
"Alright," she said. "You need to hear this before I start doubting my own brain."
Cassian blinked. "Is this about the firewhiskey? Because I warned you—"
"No. Shut up." She crossed to the nearest armchair and dropped into it with more force than necessary.
He raised an eyebrow. "Proceed, then, Professor Babbling."
"I saw Hermione Granger today," she said urgently, fingers doing the thing she did when she was worried. "First time she sprinted past like her robes were on fire. Second time? Nothing. No sign of her."
He tilted his head. "You do work in a school, darling. They tend to appear randomly."
"In the same place. Same corridor. Same bloody patch of sun on the floor. Same hour."
Now that got his attention. "You sure?"
She gave him a flat stare. "I'm not in the habit of inventing Gryffindors."
He scratched his jaw, pacing a little. "Two versions, same place, same time."
"Exactly."
"Granger in one, not in the other."
"Correct."
He stopped pacing. "That is wild."
"Yeah, love. That's what I'm saying." She eyed him warily. "So I'm cracking."
"That's always option one."
She hurled a cushion at his head. He ducked, laughing, a breathy Whee-heh-heh-heh-heh! that escaped him before he could stop it.
Bathsheda paused mid-glare. "Were you a dog in another life?"
Still grinning, he shook his head. "No, I was human still."
She narrowed her eyes, squinting at him as if trying to stare through the crack to see if he was telling the truth. He only chuckled harder.
"Anyway. Without her running past, it wasn't even a memory," she went on. "Just... blank. Like the corridor didn't matter at all. But then she barrels through, and suddenly it's stuck in my head."
Cassian hummed. "That does sound like a crack. Either your mind or reality."
"Twice, Cass. She came flying out of the Charms wing, robes everywhere, books half out of her bag, hair like a cursed thistle."
He chuckled. "Classic Granger."
"How can I have two versions of that moment?"
Cassian frowned so deep his eyebrows nearly kissed. That alone made her stomach dip.
"Let's first make sure what you remember is not artificial."
She shook her head. "No. This isn't a dream I convinced myself was real. These are stacked. Two clean copies."
He leaned back, studying her. "Like a palimpsest?"
She blinked. "Exactly. Both written in, both legible. I just don't know which ink dried first. That's not normal."
"Correct," Cassian said, dry. "Gold star for the Professor."
She didn't react. Only claimed his mug of tea, sipping without any shame.
"So we're dealing with fractured realities now. Fantastic. Can't wait to scribble that into the lesson planner. Monday, Dementors. Tuesday, alternate timelines."
He flopped sideways, head in her lap with a theatrical sigh. She raised the mug to save the tea, obviously not to prevent him from scalding himself.
"Mummy," he muttered pitifully, eyes shut, "are you finally losing it?"
She thumped him lightly on the temple.
"Ow," he grunted, cracking one eye open. "Abuse."
Her hands slid into his hair, fingers threading through like she couldn't decide whether to soothe or scalp him. "It is how I love."
"Still ow."
Her hands stilled. She let out a long breath.
"Then there's only one explanation."
Cassian shifted his head against her thigh. "Here we go. Do terrify me."
Her mouth tightened. "Time Turner."
He blinked. "Come again?"
"Time Turner."
Cassian stared. "No."
"Yep." She raised an eyebrow. "It fits."
He sat up, dragging a hand down his face. "That's a restricted artefact. Level Four. Ministry clearance. You'd have better luck sneaking a dragon egg into the cast— alright, go on."
"If I'm remembering both versions of a timeline... that's the only thing that makes sense."
Cassian shook his head. "That shouldn't be possible. With Time Turners you don't get a 'first and second' version. There's only ever the one that always happened. No one remembers an earlier draft because there never was one. That's the whole point."
"I know." Her voice dropped. "I shouldn't remember both. I only lived one of them while Granger lived both."
Cassian's eyes slid toward her. "No. Technically, you both lived once."
Bathsheda frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
He flicked his wand. A fine golden line appeared, floating in the air.
"This is time. Past to future, one-way street."
She watched the line unspool.
"You walk this line once," he said. "Live an event, remember it, move on. Linear, clean."
The line split under his wand, one strand curling backward before rejoining the first.
"Now toss in a Time Turner. Say Granger spins back a couple hours."
Bathsheda leaned closer. "Right."
"That loop, that's her. To her, time flows straight. 13:59, 14:00, turn, then 11:00-and-one-second. She lives that hour once, continuously. Just placed earlier."
She stared at the glowing stitch. "Then a version without her shouldn't exist."
"Correct," he said gently. "Not as history. Your memory is perfect, not prophetic. If you have two tracks, one isn't a second past, it's a blind spot you filled wrong. Or a vantage point without her in it."
"It is not a memory gone wrong." Bathsheda's jaw set. "Same moment, down to the minute details."
"Perception can be exact and still incomplete," Cassian said as little dots appeared, tiny Bathshedas walking along the line. "See? You only walked once through that hour. The event didn't fork. Maybe your noticing did."
She folded her arms. "So there was never a corridor without Hermione."
"Not for anyone inside the hour," he said. "From eleven to twelve, the building contained two of her. The loop was always sewn in. If you remember nothing, that's a gap in your perception, not reality's occupancy."
"That's maddening."
"Welcome to doing time arithmetics before tea. The version where she runs past you, that's not an after-effect. That's how it always happened. She didn't change anything. She was always meant to be there." He flicked the wand again, another stick-Hermione appeared, shadowing the first.
She tapped the mug against her knee. "Tell it straight."
Cassian tapped the loop mid-air. "The only way you'd remember her not being there is if, for a blink, time didn't have two of her."
Bathsheda's fingers tightened. "Meaning?"
He sighed. "Meaning you're remembering a version where she didn't use the Time Turner."
She stared at him. "That's not how it works."
"Nope." He tossed his wand onto the armrest. "Logically? No. Magically? Also no. But you're remembering it. If this were ordinary memory bias, we'd stop here. But you remember identical minute details in both versions, enough that I have to consider a real inconsistency."
She squinted at the line. "And if one isn't real..."
"Then it begs the question," he said, meeting her eyes, "where the hell did it come from?"
Bathsheda's lips thinned. "If I can recall two histories, what stops me recalling three? Or ten?" Her voice had gone raw. "What happens when the fabric frays further than a corridor? What happens when a classroom doesn't agree on the spell it cast, or a healer doesn't agree on whether they saved a patient?"
Cassian rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing. "That is really a nice question. So far, it seems the phenomenon is isolated by proximity and time fractions. We are certain it's tied to Miss Granger. And if you're correct about the Time Turner..." His tone dropped lower, "...then that means someone near you needs to alter the timeline for you to feel it."
Bathsheda's breath hitched. "So I would have memories of what if any time someone close to me tampers with time?"
He nodded slowly. "That is actually quite a good skill. Dangerous, but good. If the Unspeakables learned of it, they would force you to work for them. Go as far as experimenting on you."
Bathsheda deadpanned. "I am not a test rat. And stop salivating."
Cassian smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. "I'm just saying. You're practically a Time Police." He leaned back with a glint in his eye. "My hot girlfriend is now a temporal law keeper."
"Temporal?" she echoed, arching a brow. "Darling, you make me sound like an experiment gone wrong."
"Or gone right," he countered, grinning. "Just think of it. Everyone else stumbles through one thread of history while you're straddling two. You're living proof the fabric frays."
She rolled her eyes, but her hand clenched around her mug. "If I'm the proof, then maybe the fray isn't in the fabric. Maybe it's in me."
Cassian's smile faltered just a fraction.
Silence settled. Both staring at the line in contemplation.
Finally, Bathsheda said, "You sound far too calm about this."
Cassian gave a crooked smile. "I'm not calm. I'm categorizing. It's either magic... or physics. Neither are relaxing."
Her brows rose. "Physics?"
"Muggle science," he said, scratching his scalp. "They've got a whole branch devoted to the way reality behaves when it can't decide on a single answer. Quantum mechanics. Delightfully cracked."
"Sounds magical."
"It is magical!" He gestured at the golden loop. "In their model, particles can exist in two states at once. Two positions, two velocities, two realities, all smeared together until someone looks. They call it superposition. You don't get one answer until it's measured."
Bathsheda's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I measured wrong?"
"I'm saying," he replied, "maybe you experienced both. Like the corridor was a particle and your brain caught two states at once, Granger present, Granger absent. Both versions collapsed into memory instead of one."
She gave him a look. "That's absurd."
He spread his hands. "So is a lion turning invisible under a Cloak. Or a quill that writes on its own. Absurdity is our business."
She sank back, muttering, "Muggle nonsense."
"Maybe," he said, tone light but eyes sharp. "But useful nonsense. Because it offers a framework, if you remember both, it's not proof you're broken. It's proof you brushed against the kind of physics that gives even their cleverest professors headaches."
"That's not comforting," she said.
"It wasn't meant to be."
Cassian grinned suddenly. "Look on the bright side. If you keep this up, you'll be the most terrifying proctor Hogwarts ever had. Imagine telling a fifth-year, 'Don't even think about cheating, I'll remember both the version where you did and the one where you didn't.'"
Bathsheda snorted despite herself, then froze as the thought curdled. "Cass... what if I start remembering things that never could have happened? Not just two Grangers, but two wars. Two deaths."
His grin dimmed, but he didn't look away. "Then we'll need stronger tea."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then he snorted. "Gods save me. I should've gone into accounting."
She glared, "You suck at arithmancy."
The gold line still glowed above the table, loop shining like a snare.
Bathsheda stared at it, shivering despite herself.
(Check Here)
You ever think about how many worlds you consume without leaving evidence you were there?
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