AN: Hello everyone! This my second fic on this account, but it's my first non-OneShot and my first go at Harry Potter! I really hope you all enjoy it! If you would be so kind as to leave some feedback, I'd very much appreciate it. Also, keep your eyes peeled. The rating may jump to M in the future. I'm not sure yet. If it does, any M rated stuff will be marked with a warning beforehand. NOTE: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. I'm merely borrowing these characters to use as an outlet for my creativity. All rights go to JK rolling. Enjoy!
SUMMARY: Voldemort has won andHermione Granger is the only living member left of the golden trio. As she sits in the battle field awaiting death, it becomes clear that she has given up all hope. That is, until she remembers the Time Turner that she had third year. HERMIONE/TOM RIDDLE.
A Clockwork Riddle
Bodies. There were bodies everywhere. Death Eaters, friends, witches and wizards of all ages. Everyone was dying.
And Hermione Granger, the courageous Gryffindor, was scared.
She was scared for her friends, for the future, and for herself. As much as she told herself she would gladly die for what she believed in, there was still that voice, that instinct to live, crying that it was too soon, that she wasn't ready to go. Her wand was clutched tightly in hand, her knuckles turning white. Everywhere she turned she was blocking, and counteracting spells. Stupefying one Death Eater after another. It was all too much.
The Battle of Hogwarts they'll call it. They place where it all began for her could very well be where it all ends. Her parents might never remember her. Her friends might all perish. There would be no one to mourn for her, for what Death Eater would mourn a mudblood?
"Crucio!"
"Protego! Stupify!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Running. Blocking. Shielding. Stupefying. Over and over and over again. Exhaustion was sweeping over Hermione and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep this up.
Then it stopped. Hermione reached what felt like the eye of the storm. Every Death Eater currently too preoccupied with killing everyone she loved to bother with her. She looked around, making sure to keep tabs on all sides and angles. Who knew where Death Eater scum could be hiding. Suddenly she heard something behind her. A killing curse in her direction, followed a familiar voice yelling her name. Hermione turned.
She saw red hair.
There was a flash of green light.
A scream.
Then nothing.
Gone.
Dead.
Ron.
Hermione, only a few feet away from the attack, couldn't move. Ronald Weasley had jumped in front of her. Saved her. Died. She was in pure shock. Immobilized. Like it was all a bad dream she was about to wake up from. Even if her mind willed her to run, to fight, to access her Gryffindor strength, she couldn't. She watched as the body of Ron Weasley fell helplessly to the ground and with it fell her heart as well.
Gone.
Dead.
Ron.
There was a wand pointed at her. The stance of the death eater that killed her red headed friend. Eyes full of darkness. Only one goal, Kill the mudblood.
Gone.
Dead.
Ron.
She looked up, eye contact made. Her eyes reflected just as much darkness. A sudden fiery vengeance filled her where her heart used to be.
Gone.
Dead.
Ron.
Hermione drew her wand, pure hatred coursing through her veins, controlling her actions. Her nostrils flared as she pointed her wand at her victim.
Gone.
Dead.
Ron.
Dead.
"Avada Kedavra!" Yelled Hermione, as a green light flashed from the tip of her wand. The Death Eater fell. His body next to Ron's.
Hermione dropped her wand suddenly as if it were burning her. Frightened of her own hand, she brought her palm up to her face, examining it. Never had she thought she would take someone's life. Never had she thought she was even capable of such a thing, and to take it so easily without second thought... It scared her. It happened so fast. In only ten seconds she lost a best friend. In only ten seconds she snapped and killed.
War changes people.
But Hermione knew she didn't have time for self-reflection. This was war. To forget that would be a great risk. She would deal with all the psychological consequences of the battle after they won. If they won.
Quickly she knelt down to the body of Ron, picking his head up and placing it on her lap. His skin was pale, cold, and lifeless. She knew this was always a risk. That one or all of them would die. She had just hoped that if it had to be someone, that it would be her. Hope that she would never have to see someone so dear to her look so lifeless. Stupid git, he should have just let her die. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry and kill and die. But she was stoic. The chaos around her, the adrenaline in her veins, it was suppressing the inevitable grief.
She knew she had to get up. War and death were commencing all around her. Harry was off, fighting to save their lives. Ron fell dead. Along with Fred, Tonks, and Lumis. The death eaters ranks far outmatched their own. And if Harry didn't win, and win soon, then they would break through to the parts of Hogwarts where so many scared first years lay hidden.
Hermione leaned down to kiss the top of Ronald Weasley's head. Before grabbing her wand and leaving his body in the middle of the battle field, next to the death eater who so viciously murdered him. Running to the nearest open enemy, she raised her wand to him.
And then heard something deafening.
A scream.
A scream that mimicked Ron's.
A death scream.
From the voice of a raven haired boy.
It was as if time had stopped. The wands dropped and the fighting ceased from Death Eaters and Order members alike as they turned towards the sound.
Gone.
Dead.
Harry.
Crumpled on the floor, lied the boy who lived. Now dead. His glasses broken, just like they were when she first met him. Memories began to flood her mind like a flip book.
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see then."
" Aghhhemm. Sunshine, daises, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"
"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? Of course I've only tried a few simple spells myself, and they've all worked for me. For example...Oculus Reparo. That's better, isn't it?... Holy Cricket, you're Harry Potter. I'm Hermione Granger...and you are...?"
"I'm...Ron Weasley."
"Pleasure. You two better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon."
If Hermione thought her heart couldn't fall any further, she was very very wrong.
The snake himself was hovering over Harry's body, a sickly smile spreading on his face. He knew he had just won his victory, his immortality, his rule, everything. And that made Hermione's stomach drop.
"You see? Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!" Voldemort proclaimed to the people of the silent crowd, who were watching with either a sense of terror and shock or pure exultation.
"Come my friends. Remove your masks. No longer must you live hiding your identity. We live in a new world. A better world." At his command, every death eating removed their skulls masks revealing their faces, sickly smiles upon each one.
Gone.
Dead.
Harry.
No. Not Harry. He was their last hope. Their only hope.
It was as if a heavy weight crushed Hermione's last bit of will. She was going to die. They were all going to die. Voldemort had won. It was all over. The Death Eaters seemed to feel it too, for they quickly gained confidence in their fighting and began to rapidly take down the members of the Order and Dumbledore's Army. Everyone seemed to be drowning in the same hopelessness as Hermione. To her left she saw Luna taken down by Goyle. To her right went Neville. Looking down, she saw the perished body of Ginny Weasley. There was no longer a point in fighting. Everyone was dead. She was the last member of the golden trio. The last member of Dumbledore's army. Only a few order members and professors lay standing.
Acceptance began to wash over Hermione. This was the end. But maybe that was okay. She had been fighting for so long. So many years had she lived in fear and danger. A long sleep didn't sound so terrible.
But Gryffindors don't give up. Gryffindors are courageous.
Gryffindors fight till the end.
But war changes people and she quickly silenced those voices. It was the end. Hermione no longer felt like a Gryffindor. It was too hopeless, too hard, to be the courageous young woman she once had been. She made her way back the body of Ron, and held him close. She didn't want to die alone.
She felt so sorry for everyone. Every young first year, every muggle born, every muggle, every blood traitor. The people that were either subjected to death or a life of torture and slavery. That was Hermione's biggest regret, that she was leaving the future to become a living hell for so many innocent people. She buried her face in the cold crook of Ron's neck, closing her eyes tightly and waiting for the relief of death. Any moment now a Death Eater would find her, and that would be the end. Maybe it was just her time to go. Maybe it was fate. Time for the rule of the Death Eaters. Time for end of the golden trio. Time.
Gone.
Dead.
Ron.
Harry.
Time.
Dead.
Time.
Ron.
Harry.
Time.
Time.
Time! That was it! Of course! The thought hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. She could still fix this! There was still hope. She'd have to be quick before they caught her, but this war wasn't over yet. She could undo it. She could bring them all back.
Hermione's hands cupped Ron's face in her hands, allowing her thumbs to trace over his cheek.
"I'm going to fix this. You're going to be alright. Harry is going to be alright. Ginny, Luna, Neville, Dumbledore, everyone. I'm going to stop this. I promise." And with that promise, Hermione jumped up and sprinted past the damaged great hall, heading towards the Gryffindor common room as fast as her legs would carry her.
It felt like those nightmares where you're trying to run, but something is stopping you. No matter how hard Hermione willed her legs to pick up speed, they simply stumbled along. If Hermione wasn't so acutely aware of the sound of the ground hitting her feet, she would have sworn she was running in molasses. Her heart was beating incredibly fast, and her thighs burned as she practically crawled up the moving staircase.
The common room. She just needed to make it to the common room.
Hermione heard someone scream that horrid muggle-born name at her a few yards back with pure hate and spite. She was being pursued.
The common room. If she could make it there, then she could get away. She could end this nightmare.
A green bolt of magic headed towards Hermione. She forcibly tripped herself avoiding the light as it barley zapped above her. She laid on the stairs a little too long, feeling dazed and breathless, the wind knocked out of her from her fall, and her adrenaline escaping her quickly as her energy failed her. She heard footsteps gaining up on her.
Go hermione. Go.
Harry.
Ron.
Dead.
Time.
She jumped up continuing on to a new staircase while the one behind her moved to a new destination.
Lose the Death Eaters on the stairs. Keep climbing. Go.
Hermione didn't dare to look back, hoping that she lost her pursuers in the moving of the stairs. She looked ahead and a feeling of relief washed over her as she saw the portrait of the fat lady, who was hiding behind a tree within the frame. She almost crashed into the painting, having a hard time stopping the force of her running.
"Tapeworm!" Hermione practically wailed, hoping the password from the previous year would suffice. The fat lady peaked from around the tree, visibly shaken up from the battle commencing through the castle. She was clearly hesitant to trust anyone.
"Please! Please! I need in. If you want this to stop, you'll let me in please! It's crucial to the order!" Hermione was banging on the portrait now, begging for entrance, knowing that it wouldn't be long before they caught up to her.
Hermione heard the click of the door as it unlocked. She didn't have time to react or thank the portrait. Relief would come once she ended the mission. She sprinted into the common room and up the stairs up to the girl's quarters.
It had to be here. It just had to.
She was supposed to give it back to Mcgonagall in her third year. After all, it did belong to the ministry and was such a precious and rare treasure. She was supposed to give it back, but she didn't. She couldn't. And Mcgonagall didn't ask for it either. It was as if she knew. As if they both knew that one day it might come to this. An unspoken agreement. So Hermione had hid it under a floorboard just for a time such as this. But that was long ago, and never did she feel the need to check that it hadn't been stolen or moved. There's was too much going on in her later years of life to even think about her secret treasure. Would it still be there?
She began ripping up floorboards, searching for any signs of a gold chain. If it wasn't here, then hope was gone. It had to be here.
Rip. Nothing.
Rip. Nothing.
Rip. Nothing.
Damnit! She couldn't which remember floor board it was.
Keep going. Don't stop. They're coming Hermione. Find it.
Rip. Nothing.
Ron
Rip. Nothing.
Harry
Rip. Nothing.
Dead
Rip. Nothing.
Time.
Rip. Nothing.
Then, a sparkle. Something golden. The time turner! It was there! Hermione found it! Hope was alive! Ron and Harry would soon be alive! She was going to go back and stop this. Stop Tom Riddle before he ever had the chance to become this humanoid monster. It was the only way. By doing this, this war would have never happened. Harry would have his parents back. Hermione's would remember her. Everyone that died from the command of Voldemort would still be here.
She grabbed the golden trinket from the floor board, holding it in the palm of her hand, carefully examining it.
Exactly like it was four years ago.
This was going to work. Hermione felt what was almost a surge of excitement from holding the lives of everyone she loved, holding the new future, in her hand. Hope filled her and resurrected a long lost smile. She was going to make everything okay.
She just needed to turn it and-
"Boo... Guess who?"
Hermione's breath hitched and her face became white as a sheet. That voice. She would never forget that voice. Hermione's arm instinctively began to burn as she relived that horrible moment in Malfoy manner. The pain. The unbearable traumatic pain that, that night held. With that night came the nightmares that to this day, would still haunt her.
Hermione looked up, meeting black eyes. Black eyes, cracked teeth, ratted dark hair, boney pale skin, and a sunken face. Hermione looked up, meeting eyes with Bellatrix Lestrange. She quickly hid the Time Turner behind her, praying that she hadn't noticed it.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here. It's the filthy little mudblood thief. Tell me dear, does your arm still hurt?"
Hermione swallowed, visibly distraught from the sight of the mad women in front of her. But she couldn't forget the mission. Too much was at stake to be thrown off guard now. So she took the time turner and began to turn it from behind her back.
Turn.
"Pitty about your friends. It must have been awful to watch the light leave their eyes." Bellatrix's eyes narrowed at Hermione, a wicked smile played her face as she teased her.
Turn.
"Potter was never going to stand a chance against the magnificence that is the Dark Lord. You and all those blood traitor filth were doomed from the start."
Turn.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure to kill you nice and slow. We can savior the moment together. Girl-to-Girl."
Turn.
Bellatrix drew out her wand. "Any last words before I end your worthless mudblood life?"
Turn.
"Yes. Goodbye."
And with that, Hermione quickly placed the time turner around her neck, and pressed it with her palm, just as a green light was fired towards her from a furious Bellatrix Lestrange.
Then it all went black.