Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and the movie is produced by Warner Brothers. I own my computer, my story, and that's it.
Characters: Hermione, Dumbledore, teenage Riddle, teenage McGonagall and many others.
Pairing: hints of Hr/R (which I still haven't forgiven her. I mean, Ron? Please…); Hr/TR
Rating: T (for language, violence and some sexual references)
Synopsis: After the war, exhausted Hermione decides to take some time for herself. Her holiday plans absolutely didn't include vengeful Death Eaters, ancient magic, time travelling, or Tom Riddle.
Spoilers: All books.
Betaed by spotpc. (Thank you so much!) All mistakes you see are definitely mine.
Lay Beside Me in the Dawn
"I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.
And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time."
- T. S. Eliot
Chapter I
In the end, all she could do was mourn. The losses: Sirius, Fred, Colin, Remus, Tonks, and Snape…By god, there were so many pointless dead. Just hearing the names killed her a little inside. She couldn't understand how they were dead and she was alive. They had won, but the price of their victory was too high.
The overwhelming guilt - it was too much. Before, she had always been able to process things logically. But there was nothing logical in her restless nights, in her paranoia that haunted her throughout the days. Deep down, she admitted, her control had always been an illusion. She had hardened herself for Harry, Ron, Ginny, her parents and all those who relied on her, but in the process lost the ability to carry her own weight.
It couldn't last. She had to do something.
Hermione's plan was simple. She would take a journey through Europe. Spend time alone and recover. She would return just before the fall semester to finalize her last year in Hogwarts and do her N.E.W.T.s.
It would be her holiday.
She called her mother, and to be honest, wasn't truly surprised by the lack of reaction. She didn't ask questions, sounding almost relieved when she learned Hermione wasn't coming home for the summer break. Hermione pursed her lips, a fresh wave of shame rolling over her. After returning her parents' memories, things had changed. The Grangers had always regarded Hermione's involvement with the wizarding world with a certain care. They didn't voice it, but Hermione had sensed their growing discomfort as the years passed by. Regardless of her best intentions, her memory charm hadn't been something that diminished their distrust toward magic.
She finished quickly, uncomfortable standing for so long in public and having the strained conversation with her mother. She couldn't stop glancing around to make sure she wouldn't be caught unawares, hexed and tormented by Cruciatus Curses. When she ended the call, her other hand was tightly clutched around Bellatrix's – no, her wand! in her pocket. Her knuckles were white, and her fingers numb from the pressure.
Mercifully, Harry understood her. He didn't criticize her, or her decision, didn't demand explanations. For the briefest second, a flash of jealousy crossed his eyes. Then he gave her that same sad lopsided smile.
"I think that's a good idea, Hermione," he sighed, listening to the restless creaking and rustling of the leaves of the Whomping Willow.
"I would do something like that too, if I could. But you know what it's like." He gestured in a way that spoke volumes and laughed dryly. "Percy is coming here next week with the Ministry representatives. I promised McGonagall I'd meet with them. They still need to work through some bureaucratic steps to get the records clear. Sna-Severus did an excellent job in forging the student archives for the Ministry and Voldemort. Almost all the information on the students has been mutilated for the last twenty years."
Hermione accepted the explanation without question-. She had been in the meeting too.
"Besides, I need to see Ginny at the Burrow after everything is resolved. I still haven't told her Shacklebolt asked me to join the Aurors. Which reminds me," he glanced at her curiously, "what did Ron say?"
"Oh, you know him," Hermione sighed, slightly annoyed to feel so guilty for leaving Ron. But everything had gotten so complicated after the final battle.
"He called me a bloody idiot and accused me of being as selfish as Malfoy. Though he didn't call me Slytherins' little henchman. So, I guess that's progress, of sorts." She smiled then. She and Ron would see how things would evolve after she returned, after they both had had time to tend their emotional, mental and physical scars, she told herself. Goddamn it, she deserved to be selfish, even if only for a short time.
"Yeah, you might be right." Absentminded, Harry stared over the yard, his thoughts somewhere far away. It didn't take too much to figure out what he was thinking.
"You think he's permanently gone?" Hermione asked quietly.
The question appeared to rattle him a little. He looked at her briefly, hesitating. "I…don't know, Hermione. I think so. The scar, it feels different." Harry brushed his hair, revealing the lightning-bolt scar - his trademark. Then he laughed again that dry, humourless laugh, placing his hands on the wand in his lap, and patted it affectionately.
"And if not, we just have to take care of him one more time, right?"
Despite, or maybe because the mere idea was so absolutely horrid, Hermione joined his laughter.
(i)
Even the very idea of taking a plane made Hermione all jittery, so she took the train, heading first to Italy: Venice, Milan, Naples and Rome. She spent some time leisurely walking along the cobbled streets, enjoying the feeling of acting like a tourist. Drifting her days away under the scorching sun, among nameless people with whom she didn't share any connection. Occasionally, Hermione noticed entrances leading to the wizarding world. One hidden behind a narrow alley just next to a bar near an old chapel, and another one masked as a façade of a flower shop.
She didn't enter either one.
After a month of aimless wandering from Italy to Greece, and then across the Ionian Sea, her initial numbness started to wear off. She didn't care what time she got up, lying on the bed sometimes until noon and listening to the sound of waves. Unhurried, she left the room and took a stroll on the beach, watching as the waves rolled in, one by one. Life started to feel like life again.
Maybe her prolonged exposure to the non-magical world dimmed the worst memories. Magic and death didn't belong to the white sand beach full of half-naked tourists and locals bathing under the sun. Hermione leaned on her hands and turned to look when a group of laughing girls and boys passed by. One of the boys with red head and sunburnt skin kept his arm around a slim-waisted girl, catching her eye. Her face fell and she sighed as she lay down on her towel. Hermione closed her eyes, firmly casting the image of the nameless redheaded boy out of her mind.
Peck.
She must have dozed. Her face was suddenly itching. Grunting at the inefficiency of muggle sun lotions, she touched her face gingerly.
Peck.
Her eyes bolted open at the repeated light knock. It took some time to get used to the bright light, until she recognized the reason for her disturbance. A tiny, scruffy-looking owl stood next to her, carrying a letter. It hooted softly as if to reprimand her for sleeping under the sun. She yelped as the bird affectionately socked her once again, like a tousled miniature version of Mother Goose.
"I'm awake, you disrespectful little mongrel!" Hermione hissed at Pigwidgeon, nervous that people would notice the owl, before getting up. "And don't you dare to give me that look. No treats for you this time!"
The owl cooed a bit louder this time and Hermione glared at the bird. Maybe sensing her seething annoyance, Pigwidgeon took off quickly. In disarray, it zigzagged across the sky and left her the letter it had carried.
Ms. Hermione Granger
North Beach, 127th towel from the right
Samos, Greece
Hermione folded the parcel open, faintly disappointed when she recognized Ginny's neat handwriting instead of Ron's.
Dear Hermione,
I hope you're doing fine, enjoying your holiday wherever you are now. Harry said that you'd be away most of the summer. I still hoped you'd - come for Fred's funeral. And Remus' and Tonks', and Colin's… Now, come to think of it, I can't say that I blame you for going away.
It's been a difficult summer but we're starting to recover. George is making jokes, though they're not half as funny as they used to be…then. Home's also repaired, and the gnomes have returned. I just threw one out of Harry's bed where it was breastfeeding gnome babies.
Hermione felt her lips twitching as she imagined the sight.
I couldn't bear to mention that to Harry when he wondered at the disarray of his blankets. He's stayed at our place the whole summer. It's quite funny how shy he actually is when it comes to girls. I think he fears that mom would hex him if she saw us snogging. He's also getting well along in his new job at the Ministry, unsurprisingly. You know that he always wanted to become an Auror. Also, some time after you left Shacklebolt visited us and asked if Ron was willing to work as an Auror. Dad got so proud he almost exploded, and mom reacted, well, like mom. You know her; and Ron was so dumbstruck he couldn't speak for minutes (not that I minded). Harry confessed to me, in private, that he had asked Shacklebolt to consider recruiting Ron, although he told me only after I coerced it out of him.
Truly, how stupid does he think I am?
They're doing a great job, going around the wizarding world and hunting the remaining followers of the Dark Lord. Last week, they finally caught Walroy when he was trying to cross the Canal with his comrade, Jugson. It was mentioned in the Daily Prophet. Though, truth be told, too many of them are still free. And they never found Jugson's body.
I've seen Luna a few times over the summer. She sends you greetings and asks you to owl her if you see any traces of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. I'm expecting her to come to the Burrow - next week. As school's about to start, I was wondering if you'd be coming over too? Mom and dad would love to see you, and I know Harry and Ron miss you.
Have to go now. Mom's shouting downstairs that dad's returned from work with Harry and Ron.
Remember to take care of yourself, Hermione!
Lovingly Yours,
Ginny
The letter snapped her out of her illusion of eternal sun, sand and timeless summer. Hardly noticing it, Hermione left the beach, the letter stuffed in her beaded purse. She wandered through the parched roads of the small island town, crowded with small shops that sold every possible useless trinket. She stopped, troubled at her own thoughts. Part of her wanted to return to the wizarding world. The other part still mourned. Blindly, she stared at the items placed in a showcase before realizing someone had addressed her.
Startled, she shook her head. "Excuse me?"
"Seeing something you like, né?" An elderly dark-eyed woman smiled at her. Her dark messy hair had some white streaks, and she wore a black dress that fell to her ankles. The thick wool cloth must be stifling but she carried it effortlessly.
Hermione attempted a smile, "Your amulets are very nice looking. I doubt they actually work though." She couldn't help her remark, inspecting the amulets. The symbol was distractingly familiar, composed of blue and white concentric circles, with an almost black centre.
The woman's eyes crinkled. "You're not afraid of vaskania, ohi?"
"What? The Evil Eye?" Hermione almost snorted, tearing her gaze from the merchandise. "That's a pure folk legend without any basis in reality. Everyone knows that -" She snapped her mouth shut just in time before slipping out something this muggle wasn't supposed to know.
The woman made a funny sound at the back of her throat. "No basis in reality?" she repeated, clearly annoyed. "You young people are so arrogant, trusting you know everything and disregarding the old wisdom."
"Madam," Hermione said somewhat tersely. "I'm not disdaining your wisdom. I merely pointed out that I find the Evil Eye a very vague concept." Besides, according to Why Muggles Believe: The Introduction to Muggle Myths, the concept of the Evil Eye was based on the misuse of Legilimency.
The woman snorted, gesturing Hermione to follow. "I shall demonstrate for you, girl."
Wearily, Hermione followed her inside the dusty store, partly welcoming the distraction the muggle woman provided. Inside the air smelled of salt, water and earth. The shelves crowded with merchandise like lamps, nazars, amulets and sundials barely revealed the painted white terracotta walls. Items also hung from the ceiling, making it difficult to navigate across the floor without bumping one's head. She lingered next to a table, eyeing a row of glass orbs curiously. They looked suspiciously like Professor Trelawney's crystal balls. And wasn't that a One-Sided-Sickle? She stopped and glared at the woman, who had reached a dark wooden counter. Behind it, a colourful wall carpet hung.
"You're a witch!" Hermione accused sourly, and the woman turned around.
"Sophia Logicamus, at your service." She smiled. "And you're Hermione Granger, a muggleborn witch and a friend of Harry Potter." The woman leaned on the counter, folding her arms across her chest. "I must admit I'm quite surprised to meet you in this little muggle village of all possible places in the world."
"Don't you know that under Ministry Muggle Protection Law, Article 24, it's illegal to sell magical devices to muggles?" Hermione sputtered after a silence, gesturing around.
Sophia's expression grew sour as if the mere idea tasted foul. "I have more wit than that. I don't sell wizarding stuff to muggles, if you absolutely have to know."
Hermione blinked, surprised. "What are you doing here?" Then another, more alarming thought surfaced in her mind. "And what do you want from me?" she asked, retreating, her hands flying to her pocket and the familiar shape of her wand.
Sophia smiled calmly, revealing her wand hidden underneath her stained apron.
Before she even noticed, Hermione had drawn her own wand and pointed it at the witch. "Drop that wand!" she ordered.
Sophia arched her brow, keeping her wand lightly between her fingers as if Hermione's threat didn't concern her.
"I said, drop it," Hermione growled, her hand steady. Sophia's apparent calmness unnerved her.
Finally, Sophia obeyed, lowering the wand onto the counter. Unconsciously, Hermione sighed in relief. She didn't lower her own wand though.
"I have nothing against muggleborn witches," Sophia said quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on Hermione. "Nor was I a supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Honestly, I hardly care about Harry Potter either. I'm simply an explorer."
The woman appeared to be sincere but she wasn't convinced. Slowly, Hermione lowered her wand but didn't put it away "Here?"
"Samos used to be the location of Pythagoras' School of Mysteries," Sophia snapped. "I've lived here the last twenty years, doing research and some digging."
"You're a tomb raider!" Hermione gave her a disgusted look, but Sophia only chuckled.
"Please, that word wounds me. I'm not selling any of the items I find. I'm merely…" she hesitated, "collecting evidence."
"For what?"
Sophia smiled, pulled back her shoulders and shoved the wall cloth aside, revealing a hidden door. "I'll show you. If you please."
(ii)
The wide room behind the door looked like a mixture of laboratory, library and office. A large table stood in the centre. A pile of archaic items, lockets, golden coins, lumps of white marble and broken springs were dispersed all over it. She wandered slowly across the room, hardly stopping herself from touching the items, and bent over to read open notes.
- Item no two hundred and six: Diagonal Wheel. Year: around 700th century BCE
- Item no two hundred and seven: A cog, maybe part of clockwork, year: unknown.
- Item no two hundred and eight: unknown, year: unknown
Her gaze fell upon the item that lay in the centre of the table. It was the size of her fist. It's golden surface gleamed in the soft light. The core was a flat, polished orb filled with archaic script and symbols. Dark markings she could barely read. Four orbital rings encircled it diagonally, intersecting each other above the hub.
"That's a sundial?" she asked, quietly, somehow bothered by the item. It reminded her about a long passed memory, and glanced over her shoulder.
Sophia smiled while taking a step closer. "I call it Pythagoras' Device for the lack of a better name. I've gone through all my books, searched the libraries and archives to get some information about it. Thus far I've found nothing, but I have my own ideas." She chuckled softly.
"Pythagoras' Device," Hermione repeated, muttering, and turned to look at the item again. The scientist in her was becoming curious. She could tell by the look of it that it was ancient: a lot older than Sword of Gryffindor, Elder Wand, or Cup of Hufflepuff. It reeked of old magic; so ancient it harboured the Dark Arts.
"The spheres must work as sort of navigation lines. See how they cross the table markings…" she mumbled, almost touching the hub.
"I think so too," Sophia answered, a note of approval in her voice, standing next to her and pointed with her finger at the hub. "That symbol resembles Neptune, under which appears to be Pisces: the two opposing horizontal lines."
"But they are astrological signs. It doesn't make sense. The wizarding world didn't use star signs before the Middle Age," Hermione resisted weakly while peering closer.
"And that's what I'm set to prove." She could hear the grim resolution in Sophia's voice. "I've spent over twenty years in this dust hole, looking for proof." Her voice grew bitter. "Crazy Sophia, they laughed and called me at the Academy, when I told them about my theory that Pythagoras was able to create devices which bent space and time, long before the invention of the Six Rules of Time-Quantum, even travelled through time himself. I'm certain this is the key. I just need to understand it."
"You want me to help you?" Hermione frowned, turning to face the elder witch.
"You're said to be the brightest witch of our time. Surely, you're tempted?" Sophia smiled at her, tilting her head.
Hermione bit her bottom lip, glancing aside. "I'm on a holiday, and I left all my books at home, which makes me a rather useless research assistant," she muttered, forehead furrowed, while stepping away from the table.
Sophia waved her hand casually. "Minor details. I have collected quite a library already on the subject. Moreover, you can - use my fireplace to get your material. It's connected to the floo network."
"I also need to return to Britain for my seventh term, which will commence soon," Hermione commented dryly.
"Hogwarts' library has the best collection of available books about archaic items. Well, used to have. I heard it went through a heavy destruction during the war. A pity," Sophia muttered, seemingly unaware of her own words.
Hermione narrowed her gaze, glancing at the device and then at Sophia. "You could always ask anyone from Ministry's Department of Archaic, Magical and Lost Items. Their archives should be very extensive. And they would be thrilled about your finding."
"I don't trust the Ministry!" Sophia growled angrily, starting to pace across the room. "Not after the events with Voldemort. Not after they so scornfully turned me away."
Hermione hardly blamed Sophia for not harbouring warm feelings toward the Ministry of Magic. The Wizarding government hadn't really kept their promises, trying to hide the return of Voldemort, ruin Harry's and Dumbledore's career; and Hermione suspected more than a handful of people, sympathetic to Dark Lord's cause and those such as Umbridge, still worked in the organization.
"I appreciate your trust in my abilities," she started carefully. "However, even if I could help you, I have a busy year ahead of me, starting with N.E.W.T.s. I fear I have to say no."
"You're declining?" the woman stopped and asked. She leaned her hands on the table, looking at Hermione, incredulous. "I cannot believe this. Aren't you interested in learning the truth about time travelling?"
Hermione started to get annoyed at her persistence. "I've spent the whole last year on the run while hunting various magical items and risking my life for them. I have no wish to embark on a similar journey again. I'd rather have a normal school year, thank you very much, without the usual exposure to Dark Arts, dangerous spells and endless research on ancient artefacts." Her face softened and she glanced at the enticing items spread all over the research table. "But I am interested in the offer. I could do some long-distance work for you?"
Sophia frowned, not answering at first. "Well -"
"What have we here? A mudblood witch without her protectors!" They both looked towards the door upon hearing the unfamiliar voice speaking-."Expelliarmus!"
Like in a movie, Hermione saw her and Sophia's wands flying smoothly across the room, neatly landing in the waiting palm.
A group of three men, each well over forty, stood by the doorway. Their clothing could have been described, at best, as shabby and tattered. The one spelling her wandless stood in the middle, having distantly familiar features, madly gleaming eyes and a vicious snarl glued on his lips.
"You're not worthy to carry her wand," he spoke, a profound disdain in his voice, inspecting Hermione's wand.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Sophia demanded with a snap, and the man stepped closer.
"I have some unfinished businesses with that mudblood. You have bad taste in company, witch. I fear you won't survive that."
And then the memory, hazy and distant, made it's way to Hermione's mind.
"You are the one who they though drowned in the Canal! I remember you now from that night in the Department of Mysteries. You were with Malfoy and Dolohov. Jugson, wasn't it?" she gasped.
"That's not going to help you, mudblood!" he snapped.
"What exactly do you think you'd possibly achieve by killing me?" Hermione tried to buy time, mind racing franticly to come up with a plan. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Sophia shifting. Not daring to pay attention to her too long, Hermione returned her focus to Jugson and his comrades. She raised her chin. "It's not going to save you from Azkaban."
"I'm not going to kill you."
"You're not?" Her brow quirked, questioning the words. That was something she hadn't expected to hear.
"Yet," he corrected. "I'll have my revenge on you, mudblood, in due time. And I intend to make it a long pleasure," he snarled and the two other wizards, Death Eaters, approached Hermione and Sophia with a certain wariness in their movements. They feared her, she realized, though the thought brought her little comfort. Wandless, how could she be of any match to them? Barely having time to brace herself for the imminent experience, she saw his grip fastening on his wand, its tip starting to glow with red light.
"Crucio!"
Hermione screamed when the curse hit her and hunched down on her knees, the pain burning every fibre in her body. She would've thought going through the experience with Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor would have prepared her for this. But no. The pain simply was too much, too intense. She couldn't breath, speak or think. Hermione cried until she couldn't muster a voice out of her mouth. Her screams died off abruptly when the singing pain subsided. He had lifted the curse from her. Unable to do more, down on all fours, she panted for air, tasting the bitter blood in her mouth.
"Pitiful mudblood!" he snarled. "I never understood what made you so special! We should have killed you already in the Ministry!"
Despite the aching pain, Hermione let out a hollow laugh, a lame attempt of her Gryffindor pride, and screamed when he started torturing her once again.
She couldn't tell what happened then. Through the heavy mist of pain that blinded her senses, she thought she heard a sudden scream, a loud bang and clattering. The all-consuming pain subsided just as suddenly, and she heard Sophia's voice screaming at her.
"Get up!"
Half dazed, she obeyed, staggering to her feet, not truly realizing what was going on, or how she was able to move. She heard a shout, and then something whooshed pass her, exploding on the opposing wall. Hermione stared at the black scorch mark. At that moment, everything rushed back into her mind. Her senses registered the fallen table, the grey-haired head of Sophia hunched behind it; somehow she had a wand in her hand. Curses were flying across the room.
"Deprimo!"
Hermione barely ducked the spell that one of the ex-Death Eaters shouted. The force of the spell exploded with a loud bang, leaving a huge hole on the stone floor. The sound rang in her ears, and she gasped, blinded by the smoke.
"Hermione!"
Sophia threw something at her. It clanked loudly when falling on the floor - her wand! Blindly, forcing the ache and the ringing in her ears to the back of her mind, Hermione reached for it. She heard the woman shouting a counter spell, repelling another attack. Frantic, Hermione groped the ground and sighed when her fingers touched the smooth surface of wood. She grasped it tightly, noticing only then cold metal loops wedged within it. Not bothering to look closer, she yanked it off and felt thin metal lines slicing her skin. Oddly, they budged beneath her touch.
Everything started to spin and buzz. She heard Sophia shouting, like from a distance. Had she been hit by a spell? The buzzing grew stronger. She opened and closed her eyes, trying to focus her gaze. The room appeared to stretch and shift. Hermione glanced at her hand and recognized the Pythagoras' Device. Her blood covered the item; crimson red mingling with gleaming yellow, like a twisted Gryffindor emblem. The loops around the golden hub rotated slowly, and the marks on the surface shone red light, shifting and changing their place.
She exhaled sharply, her fingers letting go of the device, but she was too late. Her whole world exploded in white light.
She was still alive? Apparently so, Hermione decided as she heard a clink when the Pythagoras' Device landed next to her face, rolling further on the mahogany floorboard. Hazily, she wondered this. The floor had been stone, hadn't it? The device's circular rings had stilled, the flaming red marks were dark once again.
"In Merlin's name! What are you doing here?"
Hermione blinked when she heard the angry-sounding male voice speaking. She brought up her gaze, a bit too hurried. Her head still buzzed, making it difficult to focus her gaze. In front of her, she discerned a blend of red, blue and yellow: the figure of a man. She blinked, forcing the blurry environment to solidify, and gasped aloud, terrified.
This couldn't be happening!
Very much alive-looking Albus Dumbledore was facing her with his wand aimed at her head. He was wearing a comfortable looking bath rope and fluffy pink slippers. But his blue eyes shone darkly behind his half-moon spectacles as he repeated, taking a step closer,
"I asked you, girl. Who are you and what are you doing in my home?"