my lord galore, working around fanfic doc manager is confusing.
anyways this is my first fic! please enjoy!
Prologue.
On the island of what used to stand Azkaban, Hermione Granger casts a ferocious spell on an inmate when he doesn't give her what she wants.
"Give me." She snarls. "Give me the blood-bound to your estate now, Lucius."
He spills blood as he opens his twitching mouth to speak. "Mudblood, you will find nothing there. Everything has been burned."
She grabs his tattered shirt and shakes him. "That is not for you to decide, give me the blood-bound."
He attempts at a smile and his blood-stained teeth unsettles her.
"What dark Magicke have you been dabbling in, ?" He asks. "Here you are, breaking into the land of what used to be the most feared Azkaban, yet with an army of Dementors at your disposal to do your bidding. Why, I'd say you're a striking resemblance of someone I used to serve just months ago."
She holds her breath.
"Was it the death of Weasley that has gotten you this desperate?"
Her grip on him loosens for a slight second.
"No? Is it Potter?"
She throws him back to his cell and steps on his hand. He lets out a stifled cry.
"Voldemort is dead, Malfoy. Before I'm on my way to torture your wife and son, give me the goddamn, fucking blood bound."
Out of reflex he curls on the ground before her, his other hand reaching for his broken one. The mention of his family triggers him, and he starts to tremble. When she applies more pressure on her foot, he eventually gives in and screams the location of his estate's deed. Whimpering as she takes her foot away, he desperately scurries to the corner of his cell.
"You've made a wise choice, Malfoy. It seems that no matter the filth of your sorry existence, you're good for at least one thing."
He begins to mutter under his breath questions on the whereabouts of his family. Hermione remains silent, simply observing the state of the man before her. She could almost laugh at the irony. The Light had prevailed, of course they did, but the casualties were far too much to bear. Too many of them were too young to fight in the war. Too many had died, including this man's wife and son.
Narcissa and Draco had turned sides at the Battle of Hogwarts when the Phoenix offered them protection, realizing they had helped Harry get away. They were good people, people who still wanted to do good despite being forced to do wrong at the hands of an evil man. It was Lucius who eventually killed them, a moment of insanity brought about by their betrayal they say, and the reason why he was brought to the island in the first place.
"Ms. Granger, you must tell me where they are." He begs. "If not, promise me you will inform them of our cottage in France that will hide them. You are good, right? You must do this for me. Voldemort will find them and kill them, I tell you. You were in the same class as my son, my son Draco, oh my son Draco, always a coward he was, goddammit he got me into so much trouble for my Lord, goddammit- goddammit- goddammit- "
She is suddenly overwhelmed with disgust at the sight of the elder Malfoy. The war had done a number on all of them, but the Wizarding World did not have enough order to deal with the aftermath of the remaining Death Eaters who had survived the war. The hoax of a man they had served under had done nothing but harm, ripped apart their families and identities no amount of magic or healing could fix. And all for what?
The dementors behind Hermione senses her restlessness and begins to approach her in aid. She wipes a frustrating tear from her eye and turns her back on the groveling man.
"You are not even half the man Draco Malfoy was," she spits, gripping her wand tighter. "The coward has always been you."
"Me?" Lucius laughs. "I am not a coward, how dare you even speak to me you filthy WHORE OF A MUDBLOOD-"
"Lucius Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy Family of Wizarding Britain," She shouts over him. He quiets down at his name. "Under the orders of the Ministry of Magic brought upon by myself, Hermione Jean Granger, First Class member of the Order of Phoenix under name of good Dumbledore, I hereby announce your execution for the known murders of Narcissa Malfoy and Draco Malfoy."
The dementors rustle at her command and begin to approach the man in the corner. He cowers immediately and tries to hide. When he realizes there's nowhere else to go, he turns back to Hermione and profusely begins to beg. She looks down at him as the dementors stalk closer.
"You sick son of a bitch."
The actuality of war is that no one wins. Nothing is gained, but all is lost. Those who are strong move on, and the weak succumb to the war even after the battle has been fought.
Hermione Granger finds herself at the threshold of both the two sides. She has been strong enough to see all but the death of her own life, and soon realizes her indifference to her current reality is not due to desensitisation, but moreso her ability to hyper-compartmentalize. She has indeed accepted her reality, the death of all her friends and family, but she finds her only way of coping is to indulge in delusions that she will somehow find a way to bring them back.
She knows deep down it is a dangerous plan if she's ever heard one, but all that matters is the possibility. The Magicke she can conjure is vast, as well as her resources. If anyone is to be able to change this fucked up reality by defying the laws of the universe, it would be her.
She always had a knack for Time Magicke, anyways.
The Malfoy Estate is home to many a secret, Ancient Darke Artifacts being of most abundant. Hermione knows most of them, having heard of them from Draco during their time together, but she knows there are more. If not actual objects that could be of use, she could always turn to their vast library of resources to gain more knowledge. With the location and blood-bound granted to her by Lucius' word, she is free to apparate directly on-grounds.
He was right about one thing of course, the Estate had indeed been burned to the ground during the war. It was planted by the Order, followed through by Draco himself. However, Hermione's newly earned Time Magicke could work in numerous ways, and returning an object back to its pristine was a doable task, while rather magically consuming.
Her decision to pursue Time as her dominant plan of action was quite transparent. She was familiar with it enough, after having used it on a daily basis during her Third Year. The Time Turner McGonagall had given her belonged to her, and much like a wand, the magicked object had grown accustomed to both her and her intent of use. It had chosen her, and continues to do her bidding even now. She knows, however, that its abilities are finite, and she soon would have to find an alternative way to hone its Magicke. She had an inkling she would find the answer at the Malfoys.
Hermione sighs as she looks around at the sheer size of the land. It had taken her a full hour to walk around the perimeter once, putting up protective wards and spells.
"Bloody hell, this is going to be a bitch to turn back." She mutters under her breath as she finds her way to the area most magically apparent. She removes her Time Turner from around her neck and places it on a burnt tree stump.
"Obiectum Tempus Reditus." She clearly enunciates, closing her eyes to concentrate on releasing her magic towards the Turner. She feels the familiar tug of her core pulling herself to the tree, granting it the necessary magical source it needs to do her bidding. It grows stronger by the second, but she holds her ground and continues to focus. It is only when she feels her wards begin to falter that she stumbles to a stop. She opens her eyes and looks around.
The beautiful exterior of the estate was in view.
It takes Hermione six days to perfectly return the Malfoy Estate to its original state, including all of what was in it at the time it was burned. She falls ill almost immediately afterwards, but persists regardless. The Ancient workings of Time Magicke always has a toll on its user, and despite the capacity of her skills and magic, Hermione knows she needs to work quickly in order to properly execute her plan. It took her six days to bring back the Malfoy Estate, but it takes her just one to find what she needs.
She finds herself visiting St. Mungo's Hospital often, and today she deems it even more distasteful than usual. The stench of white bleaching the blood engulfs her, and suffocates her. She makes her way through the empty hallway, stopping just short of the door that reads 'Potter'. She knocks once, then quietly makes her way inside.
The room smells of white, and is as empty as usual.
The Boy Who Lived only lived until the age of 20, and she had seen him through.
They had gotten separated one day after being ambushed by Death Eaters in the Forest. When she felt her magically charmed pendant burn through her chest, she made haste to kill her pursuers and return to his side.
"Harry! Harry!" She had called out desperately, dizzying herself desperate. Her chest was pounding, her blood rushed to her ears, her entire world had started to spin. When she saw the hallow figure of Voldemort's robes, she immediately vented a curse his way. He smiled at her as he apparated away, and she felt her entire body go cold.
"Harry! No, Harry," She cried as she fell at his side and pulled him tight. "Harry, I'm so sorry, oh God, Harry, just what has he done to you—"
Harry was shaking in her arms, sputtering blood from chattering teeth as he tried to speak. She knew it was from the shock of the dark curse. She had immediately apparated them to the safety of the hospital, but he was losing blood far too quickly for any spell or potion to heal. All she could do was cradle him, crying and kissing his cheeks and forehead. She had never felt like this before, even after the death of Ron, and all she could see was the red of Harry's blood and the green of his eyes, seeing too far past her. She knew that if she hadn't found him, that son of a bitch would have stood as he did, watching Harry bleed to death.
Now she would be the one to have to watch him, instead.
Harry Potter's last words were words of hope. Hope, and an apology. So she did as he would have wished.
Hermione's method of leading the war had changed in his absence. With the time she had with herself, she had drowned in deriving tactical war strategies. She was able to quickly win back most inhabited land and countryside townships in a matter of weeks. Her allocation of resources and spendings were also very efficient, and it wasn't long before the war, whilst always in their favour, had dramatically began to shift.
And did the death of Voldemort come soon after.
It wasn't as satisfying as a confrontational death would have been, but it was the end of him regardless. It was rather a slow, impending one, and Hermione feels now that it did suffice. A slow deterioration of his health and body as his horcruxes continued to be pursued and destroyed. And in the end, she did do as she wished.
His forged flesh and skin could no longer contain his magicke that he might as well have been dead for months leading up to it. After Hermione had killed Nagini, his last known horcrux after Harry, Voldemort had almost ceased to be, both his soul and body too weak to maintain itself. Hermione didn't have to, he was hardly of man and even a stupefy would have sent him to Hell, but she approached him anyway.
"I knew you would be the one to find me." He had said, his voice grasping for anything corporeal. He was seated in a grandiose of a chair in the midst of the forest. She had been searching for him for 8 months. "How you've really changed, mudblood. It should have been you, not Harry Potter, that I needed to kill."
Hermione says nothing as she sees his body flickering, Magicke being the only strength keeping him alive. He held his Elder Wand but rests it at the manchettes of his chair. While it is pointed at her, she knows he can't even conjure a mere Luminus.
"I have underestimated you, I realize that now." He continues. "You have impressed me in the most fascinating ways."
She sees him smile and her heart rapidly begins to pound at her chest.
"Yes," He hisses. "It is so very interesting how a mere mudblood is able to achieve all that you've done. The brightest witch of the age, I hear. My, my, I do believe it now. Had I an entire soul, I would have been most intrigued by your existence."
This was not the Voldemort she wanted to see. She wanted to see him suffering, begging, desperate. She had fought and waited far too long for this moment to have it end like this.
She wanted him to beg for forgiveness, to spare his pathetic self of a life, she wanted to relish in being the one able to grant him that. That was the only reason why she incessantly sought for him alone. She didn't want him to go to Azkaban, or be given the Dementor's Kiss. No, Hermione Granger did not have it in her to give him that mercy. She wanted to kill him herself, give him exactly what he deserved.
So she does.
She uses her own magic to to keep him alive, going back each hour and hour to curse him again and again. She had designed and created so many torture spells from Harry's death til now that she knew could break the mind of even the most brilliant, and she smiles as she curses him so. She goes back the hour again to try a different one, the same one, a new one, and a used one.
Again.
Again.
Once more.
Again.
Each time, Voldemort's magicke slips even further, and it is only at the tenth hour that he realizes. Perhaps it is the lapse of Time so incessantly used in such a short period that allows him to recall from the previous hour, or perhaps he really is that brilliant. Regardless, Hermione is pleased, and continues to do her wish. He merely chuckles.
"I am honoured to be the recipient of such venomous hatred." He says, his voice barely a faint of a whisper. He is so weak, so weak, but she still cannot afford him the mercy of death. "You really are quite something. I'm curious to what other clever curses you've designed for me. Surely this is not merely enough to satisfy you."
She churns her Time Turner again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
On her 57th turn, she comes back to see the seat empty, his robes, shoes, and the resting Elder Wand the only indications that he was ever there.
Hermione Granger had exhausted Voldemort to death and simultaneously won the war on July 7th, 2000.
She had also created 57 alternate timelines.
HELLO! My first harry potter fanfic! Thank you so much for reading through this hot MESS of a chapter with probably hundreds of grammar mistakes asdlfkjasldkf
It's all over the place right now because I understand Hermione in this fic is OOC and I needed to show some of that instead of just plopping her down in the past with my baby and being like hELLO YES TIS MY OTHER BABY, HERMIONE, AND U TWO MAY NOW KISS, u know what im sayigng? slow and steadyyyy (it burnssss though)
I'm actually really nervous uploading this entire thing though because it's been over three years since I last wrote anything lol will i even be able to see this fanfic through who knows lol pls send help.
anyway PLEASE LET ME KNOW HOW I DID! I would really appreciate it and it would help a lot!