Disclaimer:
I sadly don't own the wonderful world that is Harry Potter; those rights belong to the beautiful and talented J.K. Rowling. I do however own the ideas behind this fanfiction, though it won't bring me any money.
Authors note:
I have rewritten the first 2 chapters slightly as I had a change in plans. Apologies for the wait.
This story is set in 3rd year around 7th of July.
CHAPTER 1: THE STRANGER
_o.O.o_
She looked back at the piece of parchment to see her mother's name, Emily Rosier. 'Where have I heard that last name before?' She pondered, trying to bring up all the wizarding families she had heard of. Then it struck her, Rosier as in Evan Rosier, the famous pure-blood Death Eater, who was killed by ex-Auror Alastor Moody. She remembered reading over it in some old Daily Profit articles about the trial for Igor Karkaroff's freedom where he tried to sell Rosier out before finding that he was in fact dead.
'Just wonderful… How am I meant to explain to Harry that my biological father is a mass murdering psychopath, who wants him dead.' She was really starting to worry. She got up from her desk chair and went to her bathroom to run a bath. She put vanilla bath salts in the water and let them dissolve. While she was waiting, she stripped off and looked at her body in the full-length mirror. She had started growing curves in the right places and was rather skinny but definitively not anorexic. 'I wonder how much of this is my real look though. Eugh, another thing I have to worry about after just filling out nicely.' She got into the bath and relaxed, thinking about everything that had happened through her years at Hogwarts.
She thought back to second year when Harry and Draco had been dueling.
* She heard Professor Lockhart count down, 'Three – two – one – go!' he shouted. Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, 'Serpensortia!'
The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.
'Don't move, Potter,' said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. 'I'll get rid of it …'
'Allow me!' shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight towards Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, ready to strike *
Hermione watched as Harry walked towards the snake. 'Siahhh ssashi… Siahhh si es… Leave him alone…' She looked at Ron who had a scared appearance, "Pssst, Ron." She whispered, "What did he just say at the end?"
"What do you mean? All I heard was a hissing sound." He replied back, whilst keeping his eyes on Harry and the snake.
"That's all I heard too …" She quickly lied back, 'No way am I telling anyone that I understood that. They'll think I'm related to the heir as well and I really don't want that much attention.'
She came back to reality when she heard knocking on her bedroom door. "Honey, dinner is almost ready."
"Okay mum, I'll be down in 10 minutes." She felt weird calling her 'mum' when she knew that she wasn't her real mother.
'How am I going to bring this up with them? Explain that I know I'm not really theirs…'
Hermione got out of the bath and draped her dark green towel around her. She quickly dried herself with her towel and used her wand to dry her slightly damp and frizzy hair. She put on her undergarments, a pair of dark blue sweat pants and a slightly oversized beige sweater. She headed out her door and down the stairs for dinner.
Hermione arrived at the kitchen table to see a banquet of her favourite food: roast chicken, roast beef, roast pork with gravy, peas, corn, honey carrots, potato mash, roast pumpkin and cauliflower. She leaned over her chair and was instantly reminded of the many Hogwarts feasts she had attended.
The smell was so familiar but it seemed different, tainted somehow. "Mum, dad, where are you?" she asked, not noticing the unfamiliar magical essence in the living room.
"We're in the living room, darling." Her adoptive-father, Ian, replied. Hermione wandered into the living room and immediately tensed up as she saw an unfamiliar teenager sitting in the light green armchair.
"Who, are, you?" she questioned in a monotone voice.
"Hermione, it is best if you sit down. We have a bit to explain." Her adoptive-mother, Jean, replied quickly not wanting to waste time.
Hermione did as she was instructed and sat on the other light green armchair, opposite the stranger. Her parents were sitting on the light green loveseat in between the two armchairs. A minute passed before Ian Granger decided to break the awkward silence.
"Hermione dear. Your mother and I aren't you real parents. We were having difficulties and when we thought all hope was lost an old friend of mine told me that he and his wife had just had a child but weren't able to keep the baby due to his wife dying of a postpartum haemorrhage. He didn't believe that he would be able to raise his daughter correctly without his wife so he asked whether Jean and I would adopt her. And that is how you came into our lives. We were so glad that we were able to raise you and treat you like our own daughter but your mother and I feel like we should let you go back to your real father and experience the world you were meant to live in. The wizarding world that is." He finished whilst watching Hermione for any facial expression that could give him a hint to her thoughts.
Hermione quietly went through all the information whilst keeping a blank expression. She nit-picked for something of use when she remembered that they were not alone.
The stranger watched Hermione's face for any sign of emotion. He expected to see hurt or anger but she was like a blank canvas. Nothing was on her face; no expressions not even a sense of emotion written along the curves of her beautiful features. He couldn't deny the fact that she was beautiful even if she was his daughter and only heir.
Though no one could tell just yet that they were related at all, but if she were this beautiful now then she would be even more stunning when the glamour was removed.
Hermione looked to her adoptive-father and in a rather odd tone she spoke, "Aren't you going to introduce us father?"
Ian looked at his daughter of almost 15 years. He caught her gaze for a few seconds then looked towards his old friend who nodded in approval of Hermione's request. "Hermione, this is your real father and old friend of mine, Tom Riddle." Ian told his adoptive daughter who had a look of shock on her face.
Hermione couldn't believe it; the parchment was right but why did it have to be right. She shook her head in disbelief; she refused to believe the solid evidence that sat in front of her.
"Why, why did it have to be you? You, who killed my best friend's parents and tried to kill him as well, just why, why did it have to be like this?" Hermione cried out, tears trickling down her face.
Hermione ran up the stairs, tears now streaking down her face. She slammed her door closed, not wanting the evil aura to seep into her room and taint her pure soul.
But little did she know that downstairs the aura she so feared was an aura of innocence lost, the innocence of a young father who wanted only the best for his daughter and only heir.
Tom took in the silence that hung in the air of his friends. He had known Ian for 42 years, just a babe when he was brought into the orphanage. Tom had deeply cared for Ian, treated him like his own blood for many years, protecting him from the bullies of the orphanage. Such as young Billy Stubbs, whom Tom later hung the boy's toy rabbit from the rafters.
When Tom left for Hogwarts each year, he feared what may happen to the young child, would he come back and find the boy had been adopted or died from a mere cold.
He was not as cold as people believed, his parentage and famous lineage had changed him, but it was mostly for the better. Access to Salazar Slytherin's tomes had made him aware of lost spells, artefacts, and magic that he wished to share with those who were worthy.
Since he was a boy, he had been on a mission to save the Wizarding World from the one true darkness that plagued it, Albus Dumbledore. He had been attempting to find the horcruxes that Albus had created over the years but had only managed to track down two, Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. He was unsure of how many more there were to find and destroy.
During the 45 years he had to himself he had managed to destroy the stone, but it took a toll on his body. Luckily, he had come across an ancient regeneration potion that was able to restore his body to its usual form.
He had regretted creating his one and only horcrux as Myrtle didn't deserve that fate. He had found the Secrets of the Darkest Arts book in the restricted section of the library during his fifth year and at the time was prejudice with those whose blood he considered unworthy of magic. He knew now that Salazar was wrong in that regard and that magic should be shared among those who were worthy regardless of blood status.
He had managed to create a glamour charm powerful enough to completely change the genetic makeup of a person, which also allowed them to revert themselves to whichever age they fancied. It was something that he was super proud of as it was a nod to his ancestor Salazar Slytherin who was a creator of spells, charms and various enchanted artefacts.
20 minutes of silence passed between the trio before Jean Granger spoke her mind. "Tom dear, I think you best go talk to her. She may have calmed down enough to talk reasonably about the pressing issue."
Tom nodded in agreement and headed upstairs. Upon reaching Hermione's door he knocked ever so softly, that one might have mistaken it for Crookshanks treading down the hallway.
"Go away!" she snivelled.
"Hermione, I'm not going anywhere till you open this door and have a peaceful conversation with me." Tom replied calmly.
Hermione shivered at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. 'I suppose I should give him a chance, it's how I was raised. After all everyone deserves a chance.' Hermione got up from her bed and unlocked the door, hesitating before opening it.
"You may come in.," she whispered.
Authors note:
Hello everyone, this is my first story and all feedback is welcome. If you have any questions or concerns please let me know either through the review or private messages. I'll hopefully have chapter 2 up soon after I get over a bit of writer's block.
Sections marked with * are taken from the book, and that content belongs to J.K. Rowling and her alone, I'm just borrowing it.
Reviews are most welcome, thank you.
