AN: After losing enthusiasm for my most recent fic, I have decided to steer away from the most common request I get of Hermione/Tom captive stories and go for something a little more open. I've wanted to do a plot that has more weight than the stuff I have been asked to do over the past few years, something with more of a moral question to it. In this case: Is taking one innocent life, to save the lives of many, justified?

This is still an eventual Tom/Hermione story, but, as always, my Hermione is not weak or suddenly going to decide she is actually evil so if you like fluff, I am NOT your cup of tea.

Otherwise, please, enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

They slammed unceremoniously into the worn carpet of the Headmaster's office, coughing yet gasping for air as the heavy marble bowl wobbled threateningly on its pedestal. Harry reached up to steady it and grimaced as the thick mercury liquid slopped over the side into his hair and onto Draco's cheek. Ron gripped Dumbledore's chair with paler than usual shaking hands and fell into it with a deep wheeze while the Headmaster himself used his bookshelf to steady his legs. Hermione flipped her loose curls out of her face, gasping when her fingers came away spattered with blood.

'Hermione?' Harry crawled to her side, gripping her head between trembling hands. 'Hermione, you're hurt.'

'I-I don't feel hurt.'

'I see blood, it's all through your hair.'

'I don't think that blood is Miss Granger's,' Dumbledore made a very cautious path to the pair, lightly slipping his finger along the strands. 'This is old blood; I think it must have dripped on her head in the chamber.'

Hermione dry retched, making frantic swiping motions at the mass of tangled curls. 'Oh Merlin, get it out, get it out!'

Draco pressed his muddied hand to his forehead with an irate groan. 'Calm down, Granger.'

'Miss Granger, Miss Granger, please stop,' the elderly wizard's grasp stilled her movements. 'We will get you to a shower and you can wash up, just don't hurt yourself.'

He motioned to a blank panel between the frames of two Headmaster portraits and light was just visible along the carpet from beneath. With Harry's hands under her arms, pulling her into an uneasy stance, Hermione found her balance enough to stagger in the direction of the almost camouflaged door. Ron too had found his feet, if not entirely his breath yet, and looked from the seemingly tranquil swirling quicksilver to the Headmaster.

'What the bloody hell just happened?' He cried finally.

Harry flinched. 'Merlin, Ron, turn the volume down. My brain still feels like it's trying to escape through my nose.'

'Sorry, sorry, but what was that?'

'We changed something, Mr. Weasley, as best I can figure,' Dumbledore carefully lowered himself into his chair. 'As thorough as I thought we were, obviously something we did caused the memory to reject us.'

'But what was it, Professor?' Harry groaned, rubbing his throbbing temples. 'We waited for Riddle to open the Chamber of Secrets himself, we kept our distance, we stayed out of range of the Basilisk...,'

'I know, I know Mr. Potter, but clearly there was some small incident we didn't account for.'

'That makes no sense,' Ron scratched at caked grime coating his arms. 'We even made it out fine; no one was in that bathroom when the entrance closed.'

'He's right and then suddenly we get thrown back here,' Harry shook his head in frustration. 'What could have happened?'

'Talking in circles probably won't solve the mystery, Potter.' Malfoy was intent on scraping free the thick, mouldy dirt from under his nails.

Dumbledore's wizened brow had creased in a frown. 'You're absolutely right, boys. There was no one else in that bathroom.'

'Professor?'

His suddenly solemn blue eyes flickered up to the trio of boys and Harry's stomach instinctively sank into his feet and Ron audibly gulped behind him. 'In 1943 Tom Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets...,'

'We just took that history lesson, Professor.' Malfoy sighed.

'It wasn't the only tragedy to strike Hogwarts that year, Mr. Malfoy,' Dumbledore continued patiently. 'The death of a Ravenclaw student and the expulsion of another student also followed.'

'...We somehow prevented the death of Moaning Myrtle.' Harry jumped, not expecting Hermione as a plume of steam followed her from behind the wall and she ruffled a plain white towel in her damp locks. 'That's it, isn't it, Professor? Myrtle should have died in that memory and we stopped it somehow.'

'I suspect you're absolutely right, Miss Granger.'

'Hang on,' Malfoy held up a pasty hand. 'I thought we couldn't affect the past through a Pensive; isn't it basically just watching a memory?'

Dumbledore nodded softly, his glance flickering to the marble bowl. 'That's correct, however that is not a Pensive.'

Harry frowned. 'What is it?'

'It's called a Scry.'

Hermione's hands stilled in her hair and she stared blatantly at the elderly wizard. '...You sent us

into a Scry?'

'What's a Scry?'

'I felt it would offer a more complete examination of the memory.'

'But the risks, Professor! I thought all known Scrys were locked in a hidden vault in Gringotts?'

'What is a Scry?'

With an apologetic shrug, Dumbledore offered Hermione a meek smile. 'There's only one place safer than Gringotts, Miss Granger.'

'They might rethink that after this, Professor!'

Harry pushed his way between Hermione and Dumbledore, leaning over the Headmaster's desk and slamming his hands down. 'What, in the name of Merlin's beard, is a Scry?'

Dumbledore held up his hands, his eyes regaining something of their twinkle once more. 'My apologies, Mr. Potter; a Scry is not unlike a Pensive, in fact they use the same basic magic, however a Scry is considerably stronger. Rather than simply viewing a memory it offers the ability to actively change it.'

Draco frowned, casting a wary glance at the bowl as though it may be listening. 'How many of these are there?'

'Four known to exist and three of which, as Miss Granger correctly said, are housed in the highest security vault of Gringotts bank.'

Hermione came to sit on Dumbledore's desk, folding the towel neatly on her lap, as she pushed her disapproval of the Headmaster's actions to the back of her mind for now. 'So we have changed the course of history; Myrtle survived Hogwarts and that must mean Hagrid was never expelled.'

Ron frowned, trying to wrap his brain around the snowball of consequences. 'So he's probably not the grounds-keeper and Myrtle won't be haunting the girl's bathroom.'

'For starters,' Hermione scoffed. 'How can we possibly know how far this spiralled; without Myrtle's death, there's every chance Professor Dumbledore never had the revelation of just how deadly Tom Riddle could be.'

Harry's emerald eyes widened, his gaze scanning over Hermione's shoulder along the portrait lined wall at her back. '...I think Hermione's right.'

'What are you talking about, Pot-,' Draco's lucid blue eyes turned into saucers as he too noticed the line of scowling Headmaster portraits; rather noticeably there were two new faces following Armando Dippet.

'P-Professor?' Ron's voice held the panic they all felt and Dumbledore was suddenly very spry as he got to his feet, approaching the wall as he bent at the waist and almost pressed his crooked nose to the canvas.

'Well, well, that's very interesting.'

'Now that you have all finished gibbering and using the Headmaster's private facilities,' the portrait on the end growled, the man's oddly curled eyebrows pulling together in disapproval. 'What are you doing in the Headmaster's office?'

'May I ask who the current Headmaster is?' Dumbledore asked politely, clearly resisting the anxiety that was plaguing his students.

'Lucius Malfoy, of course,' the wizard's painted eyes snapped to Draco's stunned face. 'You have his son with you, for Merlin's sake.'

Draco daftly looked over his shoulder before mentally slapping himself and affixing his usual look of pompous superiority across his regal features. 'We've just been, rather foolishly, playing in a Scry, sir,' he said quickly. 'I think it might have addled their brains a bit.'

'Oh shut it, Mal-,' Ron huffed out a breath, forced from his ribs by Hermione's elbow.

'So I heard,' The portrait raised his extravagant eyebrow. 'Who is this Myrtle character?'

'Long story, sir, I'm sure it's too late to bore you with it,' Draco motioned to the heavy stone staircase. 'We've disturbed you enough for one night, after all.'

'In many senses of the word.'

The dry sneer followed them down the staircase as Dumbledore, Harry, Ron and Hermione took the hint and quickly fled the office, a wash of relief following the scrape of the stone gargoyle rolling shut.

'Very quick thinking, Mr. Malfoy, thank you.' Dumbledore inclined his head as Draco gave a modest shrug, but the pink tinge on the tip of his cheek bones betraying a certain pride. 'Now it seems we are left with some loose ends.'

'That's an understatement, Professor!' Hermione huffed. 'We have to fix this, we have to go back into that memory.'

'And do what, Granger?' Draco ran his hand through his platinum blonde, slicked back hair. 'Kill

Myrtle ourselves?'

'What? No! Of course not.'

'Well that's the problem; she should have died to tip off Professor Dumbledore about what Riddle was capable of,' he shrugged. 'It's either than or set something else in motion to give him away.'

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, puffing his cheeks out with a tired sigh. 'Well, that's not a terrible idea. If we could get our hands on that Scry again, then couldn't we go back to before our arrival and set it right?'

'Technically, Harry, yes we could,' Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, no doubt running dozens of scenarios through his mind. 'However there are very few tangents of the timeline that would lead to us never arriving in that memory; so it would need to be considerably earlier than the date we have just come from.'

'Okay, well let's do that!' Ron's tone betrayed his panic as his eyes darted around the halls. 'This version of Hogwarts is bloody awful!'

Finally taking a moment, the group looked around and the changes to the castle were not exactly subtle; the walls seemed darker and a phantom creak echoed through the hall around them. There were silver and green carpets lining the floor as far as they could see and ornate snakes ha been chiselled into the skirts of the halls; they seemed to writhe the longer the group stared. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, unsure if the castle ha actually dropped a few degrees or if the shivers were born of their overly serpentine surroundings.

Malfoy gave another shrug. 'It's not so bad.'

Ron snorted, but kept his snide remarks after a warning look from Hermione and she took a deep, steadying breath. 'All right, if we're going to do this, let's do it now before we get discovered in this timeline.'

'Miss Granger is right,' Dumbledore reached into the arm of his robe to free his wand before motioning to all of the students in turn. 'You will all need to venture back into the 1940's and set in motion a fitting reason for my past self to take early action against Tom Riddle.'

'You're not coming, Professor?' Ron's voice wavered slightly, earning an eye roll from Draco.

'I think it wise for someone to stay behind and watch the changes as they occur; if there is anything resembling an apocalypse I can pull you from the Scry. Besides, I am the only one among us whom actually existed at that time; it would be far too risky.'

Hermione frowned, fixing her slightly grimy jacket around her shoulders. 'You can do that, Professor?'

Tapping the tip of his wand on all of their shoulders, watching as the teens all shuddered and their clothes morphed on their bodies. 'It wouldn't be easy, but it is certainly possible as a last minute escape plan.'

Harry plucked at the sweater that had replaced his jacket, raising a dark eyebrow at the similar one Ron wore and the off-white button up shirt Draco was currently frowning at. His curiousity turned into amusement as he eyed the green pencil, knee-length skirt and white, heart-cut shirt Hermione was now adorned with. She ran her hands over the thin, white belt that circled her narrow waist and she glanced up at Dumbledore with a dry stare.

'Is this really necessary?'

'I'm afraid so, you'll all be sent back to the 1940's via the Scry and you will need to look as though you're from the time,' he tucked his wand back into his sleeve. 'Mr. Malfoy if you would please make your excuses to the portraits once more and fetch the Scry bowl.'

His blue eyes bulged for a moment. 'How the hell am I supposed to do that?'

'You were perfectly quick on your feet earlier, Mr. Malfoy, I have confidence you'll think of something.'

Looking at the ex-Headmaster as though he had gone mad, Draco just shook his head with a low grumble, standing in front of the gargoyle and leaping back as it began to spin without orders. Deciding it was probably down to the fact he was the headmaster's son, Draco rode the stairs upwards until he had disappeared from sight. Harry tussled his already unruly hair while Ron fidgeted in his soft wool sweater, running his finger in the inside of his collar and Hermione slapped his hand away.

'Will you stop it, we have to look natural.'

'Our clothes aren't going to be the issue with that,' Harry snorted. 'We have no idea how to act in that era!'

Dumbledore chuckled at their obvious nervousness, but rested a kind hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 'Act like a gentleman, Mr. Potter and you'll be fine. The goal is to go unnoticed and orchestrate whatever you must to bring back the future we all fought so hard for decades ago.'

'What if that's easier said than done?' Hermione voiced the group fear. 'What if Myrtle's death was the only trigger that gave Riddle any kind of opposition?'

A dark manner fell over Dumbledore's demeanour and his hand dropped back to his side, limp with a painful resignation that fell over the trio of students too. 'A future where Hogwarts is tainted and Tom Riddle is free to murder and torture at whim cannot be allowed to pass...Under any circumstances.'

Her stomach clenching painfully and her throat suddenly dry with fear of her own realisation. 'Professor...Do you mean to say if the death of Myrtle is the only way to get our future back...,'

His silver hair glinting in what little moonlight was permitted through the heavy emerald, velvet drapes, the ex-Headmaster's nodding sent a cold shiver through all three of their spines, but no one dared clarify Hermione's thought. Thankfully the weight of the moment was lifted by the earthy rumble of the stone steps curling their way back to the hall; Malfoy perched at the base and clutching a marble bowl tightly to his chest. He took slow, deliberate steps as to not splash any of the shimmering liquid on the carpet and placed the Scry at Dumbledore's feet with a faint thud. The heavy quicksilver threatened to spill over, but gradually settled back into the embrace of the speckled marble and swirled expectantly.

The metallic sheen glinted off Dumbledore's heavily lined face, casting light reflections from his half-moon spectacles onto the walls and he motioned the teenagers closer. 'I will ensure you arrive in the evening where you are less likely to encounter a large crowd and you are all to make your way to Headmaster Dippet.'

'What are we supposed to tell him?' Malfoy motioned to all of them. 'We can't just drop into Hogwarts unannounced.'

'You will be arriving in 1942, during the height of fear of Grindelwald; as such you will explain that you are fugitives from France and Germany seeking sanctuary in Hogwarts,' He smiled at all of them, his eyes twinkling and yet somehow harbouring a deep concern. 'Be sure to change your family names at the very least, especially you Mr. Malfoy, and tell no one of your true purpose.' Dumbledore freed his wand from his robes once more, twisting it before him in a perfectly rectangular motion as papers suddenly materialised in his grasp.

Ron flipped through the pages Dumbledore handed to him, watching as the other three got theirs in turn, they seemed to be faux birth certificates and other identification. '...You can whip up birth certificates that easily?'

'Extreme circumstances and what have you, Mr. Weasley,' Dumbledore tapped his crooked nose with his knobbled finger. 'These should give you just enough credibility to deflect any initial suspicion. Gentlemen, be gallant and betray no knowledge of the castle and Miss Granger, be demure and betray no knowledge.'

She gave the old wizard a wry smirk, knowing he was only really half joking, and carefully pulled her high ponytail tighter. 'I know, Professor, I know.'

'One final word of advice,' Dumbledore bent at his slight waist to dip the tip of his wand in the silvery pool, gently encouraging the swirling pattern to speed up. After some determined twirling, the Scry spun of its own accord and became a perfect, flat reflection of the ceiling above. 'As tempting and as justified as you may think it is, no one is to take revenge on Tom Riddle in this time.'

Harry and Ron swapped guilty glances, both knowing they had allowed the dark thought to cross their minds, although unspoken and Hermione simply dipped her head. 'Professor, we're not killers.'

'Moral justification is a heady drug, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore pressed sternly. 'I need each of your words that you will do whatever you can to see Tom Riddle is exposed through circumstance and not through violence, do I have them?'

'I couldn't kill someone!' Hermione tucked a loose curl behind her ear. 'You definitely have my word.'

'Yes, Professor.' Harry nodded.

Ron scuffed his shoe sulkily across the stone flaw, but followed suit regardless. 'Yeah, I promise.'

Draco shrugged yet again. 'I'm not going to kill him.'

After eyeing each of them for a breath, Dumbledore gave a curt, accepting nod and motioned into the Scry with his aged, oddly nimble hand. 'Very well. Each of you are to step into the Scry as you did before and remember to hold your breath until you hit solid ground. I'm sorry we have no time for a more thorough plan, but I believe if any one can right out mistake...It's you four.'

'Clean up our own mess, blah, blah, blah.' Malfoy's cold drawl was quickly swallowed by the shining liquid and Ron followed with a blatantly fearful look. His red tufts of hair were barely out of sight before Harry's new, shined shoes stepping on top and he have Hermione an encouraging smile as he sunk.

Hermione dipped the tip of her green heels into the Scry, nearly toppling as Dumbledore's hand landed unexpectedly on her shoulder and she turned to him with wide eyes. 'Miss Granger...This time will be harder for you than most. Be strong and remember, no one can take away who you truly are.'

She gave a small frown, but could not deny the silvery tendrils of the Scry curling around her ankle any longer and allowed it to pull her into the bowl. It swallowed her form, encasing her like cool, slimy quicksand until it abruptly stopped and she found an unexpectedly soft landing out the other side.

''Mione...Get off.'