Mirage Of Truths
Summary: A mishap throws Hermione into the past, which sets an array of unpredictable events into motion. Can ancient secrets and unsolved mysteries of Hogwarts help her correct the past? Or would it help a certain young Dark Lord gain even more power?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.
Note: This disregards the seventh book in terms of character death and it's epilogue.
Chapter 1:
Engage Hen Mirror
Howling winds carried the voices of the damned over bloodstained terrain. The smell of death permeated the air. Nothing living existed, except for a small solitary figure grieving deep in the valley. Her gaze somber, she spoke into the seeming abyss of bodies. "Dull eyes hold no twinkle, as evil holds no boundaries. Souls shall anguish, blood shall run, but sunlight shall shine with the dark's burial…."
Hermione rose sharply, gasping for air, as her heart pounded anxiously against her chest walls. The vivid images lingered in her mind, blurring reality and leaving her confused and dazed. As if sensing her turmoil, her bed gave a sudden lurch and sent her tumbling onto the chilly hardwood floor. Untangling her limbs from the thick wool, she peered through the blanket at the world around her before glaring at her bed. It had been charmed to avoid the morning sun that streamed through the bedroom windows, and had chosen that moment to scamper into a dark corner.
Tossing the blanket aside, she rose from the floor and rubbed her wrists, which had borne most of the impact from her fall. Her long hair flying with an occasional spark of static, she trudged wearily toward her study while mulling over the dream that had set her in such a state of disarray.
"Did thy come between a centaur and his wrath?" questioned a lounging knight, who resided in a portrait that depicted him and a lovely lady taking tea in a castle garden. Engrossed in her thoughts, Hermione wordlessly bypassed him.
The knight frowned. "What? No witty repartee, my lady?" Surprised at the lack of response to his barb, the knight made a slight sound of dissatisfaction before calling after her once more, "May the radiance of the sun vanquish your foul mood so your acid tongue be free to joust once more!" He then turned back to his companion who gave him such a saucy wink all thoughts of the home's inhabitant quickly dissipated.
Entering her study, Hermione maneuvered around the maze of papers, and other scattered research that lay upon the floor. Stepping around her desk, she ducked underneath an agitated silver and copper colored plant whose flowering buds were shooting off a sleeping dust. Finally reaching her destination, she opened a cabinet drawer and pulled out a small pensieve. Her wand in her right hand, she focused on the dream before placing it into the pensieve to analyze later.
Putting aside her worries, she turned her feet toward her kitchen, carefully side-stepping another pile of books that she had been studying until late at night to complete her final year of her apprenticeship.
Shuffling about her kitchen and boiling some water, Hermione glanced at the Mugglish grandfather clock and was surprised to find it was already 11 in the morning. She groaned; though she may have a little time off before she finished her final year of training, her parents and friends had already planned her vacation time for her, and judging by the time she was already behind.
Creating a checklist in her mind she counted off the things she still had to do before her dinner with the Weasleys at five that afternoon. With a sigh, she remembered that not only did she also have the annual Granger family gathering later that night, but she still had to tidy her flat, pack, and do a bit of shopping. Since not everyone in her family knew that she was a witch, she had to utilize discretion in her Apparating, and had to figure out a way to contact her parents so they could notify her when the coast was clear. Figuring she could tackle this later problem as she came to it, she set out to get ready.
oOo
The narrow corridor made for an uncomfortable waiting place, so Ginny Weasley was eager to accomplish her goal quickly. The explosions that currently came from behind the slightly crooked bedroom door before her were nothing unusual, and Ginny barely noticed them. "What's taking so long?" she hollered, annoyed at having to raise her voice to be heard.
Despite the ruckus, Ginny's question still made it to the ears of the occupants. The noises ceased, and the voice of her brother, Fred, could be heard through the door, "Hush, Ginny – you can't rush art."
"Art? Yeah right. From the sound of things, more like falling ap-art." Ginny quipped.
Her words were met with a hideous growl, followed by the sound of furniture being overturned. Several shouts and explosions later, the breathless voice of George replied. "Joke if you will, dear sister, but you will blinded by our brilliance."
Ginny snorted, "I'll wear shades and an anti-flammable robe, now get your bums out here, Fred, George – and you too Colin. I don't even want to know how they got you involved in their disaster making. Mum has dinner ready." Suddenly a loud squawk was heard. "Do you have a chicken in there?"
Fred answered Ginny with a scoff, "Of course not. Anyway, did any of the greats stop to eat before they made their big discovery?"
"I don't care if they did or not! You are going to prepare for dinner. So move your bums, NOW," Ginny commanded, striking the door several times more. She paused, listening to the muffled whispering and the shuffling of feet coming from the other side of the entryway. Ginny rolled her eyes at their scheming.
"All right, all right," grumbled the twins as they emerged from their room with Colin Creevey and a purplish chicken, tagging along behind. Colin had been seen frequently with the twins in the past month, which in Ginny's opinion was quite curious. When she tried to prod her brothers for information they were evasive, citing that they needed Colin's photography skills for promotional reasons. Ginny didn't really buy this, but had to admit it could be possible since Colin was the second best photographer in the wizarding world, his career skyrocketing at a surprising rate after Hogwarts. He took many exclusive shots that left publications like the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, Spella Weekly and many others willing to trade their wand arm for some absolutely scandalous photos.
"You know, we do need a test subject – " said George, looking imploringly at his sister.
Getting down on one knee Fred added, "Oh great sister of ours, will you consider –"
"No and no," Ginny interrupted, crossing her arms in front of her.
"But – "
"No – and that's final. You two better stop whatever it is you're making, and stop bringing all this junk to the Burrow. If Mum finds out she'll toss you like a garden gnome, you know she said no tinkering."
"You blow up the inside of one flat, and all of a sudden – " George made a face.
"–no tinkering –" Fred waggled his fingers.
"–no creating –" George mimed a fainting spell.
"–and no touching of anything." The twins finished together.
Ginny, rolled her eyes, before continuing to scold the boys, "You're lucky that's all Mum told you. If you didn't destroy your flat – " She stopped abruptly as she noticed Fred and George miming her angry tirade with the purple chicken dancing at their feet.
Giving her a slightly sheepish smile at being caught, George answered, "We know. No more lecturing, Mum."
Ginny huffed, "Fine, just hurry up. Oh, and Colin you can wash up though there before dinner," she added, indicating a door to her right to the strangely silent boy. "Oh, and get rid of the chicken." She sniffed, before disappearing down the stairs.
oOo
The aroma of mouth-watering cuisine wafted through the air, accompanied by the din of clanging pots and the chatter of merry inhabitants. Inside the kitchen a large wooden table was laden with an abundance of food that included pasta, salads, sizzling plates of beef, fried potatoes, onions—all waiting to be devoured.
Amid the nattering that currently dominated the Weasley household, the flames in the kitchen's fireplace flared green, signaling that someone was about to enter through the Floo Network. As the red-haired, weather beaten form of Charlie emerged from the fireplace, Molly Weasley let out a cry of welcome before ushering him in and rejoining the current feast.
" 'ey 'ermione, can 'ou pass the 'tatoes?" Ron mumbled through a mouthful of stuffing.
"Chew, Ron." Hermione said as she made a face, and wiped off a drop of spittle that had made it to her face from Ron's inquiry, before pushing the bowl of potatoes closer to Ron.
"Sorry." Ron said as he swallowed, before he piled a large heaping of potatoes onto his plate. Hermione just rolled her eyes. When it came to Molly Weasley's cooking, the boys all became ravenous wolves, and ate until gorged.
The sound of slurps and the smacking of lips reigned for a bit, before Arthur broke the silence, turning to Hermione and asked, "How have your lessons been, dear?"
"Yeah," Fred inserted while grinning, "invite any more vampires over?"
"Battle any more killer rabbits?" George added, while conjuring a rabbit-shaped mist that promptly attacked Ron's hair.
"Reject anymore lovesick ghouls?" Harry chirped in cheerily, while Ron futilely tried batting away the magical rabbit, which only disappeared after a sharp glare from Mrs. Weasley.
Hermione scowled, "No, no, and for Merlin's sake when will you let that go."
"Never," the boys chorused. Hermione groaned. Ever since she had taken on the apprenticeship in the unwritten magics she had been bombarded with the weird and weirder. She had made the mistake of telling her friends, who had responded by teasing her relentlessly over some of the stories.
She shot the boys a glare, as she recollected one of the incidents. It wasn't her fault that her Floo had malfunctioned, nor that the building repairman had been a vampire. She's sworn to give all creatures a chance, regardless. How was she to know that they had fired him three days before, or that he had taken a particular interest in her? He had fixed her Floo after all, though she had quickly decided to relocate after catching him peering through her window as she had gotten out of the tub.
Harry jokingly insisted that she must have taken a permanent dose of Felix Felicis, which always kicked in at the last second to save her arse. Grumbling that he was one to talk, Hermione vehemently disagreed. If she had any luck, she maintained, she would not have been in the situation in the first place. Her last minute saves were not due to luck, either, she insisted, but rather her growing skills. Privately however, she had to agree, considering some of the stories she had not shared with Ron or Harry.
"I would have loved to take some pictures," Colin joined in. Hermione looked at him in disbelief.
"I would just settle on being there, makes me wish I applied," added Ron wistfully.
"Now boys, leave poor Hermione alone. I'm sure she doesn't want to spend her holiday reminiscing over that horrible program," said Molly, standing up. Hermione shot her a grateful look.
Trying to change the subject, Molly then added, "Now who's up for some peach cobbler?"
"I'm sure Hermione is!" Ron and Harry tittered in reference to another unusual event Hermione had faced. Grimacing and not at all appreciative of the reminder, she reached out to smack them upside the heads.
oOo
The night air bathed the three individuals that sat huddled on the porch steps. Their forms illuminated by a bit of light streaming from the windows. Hermione sat between Harry and Ron grinning, her sides aching from all the laughter at Ron's swamp tale. They didn't often get to spend time together like they used to, due to their jobs and Hermione's apprenticeship and it was nice to be able to chat like they did in the old days.
"Why don't you owl them?" Ron queried after their more amusing discussions had died down, and Hermione informed them that she had to go join the end-tail of her family gathering.
"Ron, if my aunts ever thought I was unusual before, an owl carrying a letter from me would certainly cinch it. I'll have to phone them from my place to make sure I won't end up Apparating in front of Aunt Enid or someone." Hermione sighed as she put away her currently non-functioning cell phone, vowing to herself to sit down and figure out a way to get rid of the magical interference in cell phone connections.
"Well, you brought your bags and stuff. Surely you don't mean to take it all back to your flat?" Ron queried as he stood and grabbed a stray garden gnome that had been edging toward Hermione's purse and flung it several meters away, where it lay dazed, before stumbling in another direction.
"Obviously, I didn't think this through correctly," Hermione said distractedly as she picked up her two small bags and purse.
"You, not think something through, gasp, Harry what's the world coming to?" Ron joked as he elbowed Harry, who chuckled.
"Hush - Ron, Harry- honestly –" She turned to her friends to reprimand them, when two heads popped up behind her and interrupted.
"Did my ears deceive me Fred, does it seem we have a lady in distress?"
"No-" but Hermione was cut off before she could say anymore.
"Yes, indeed George, and it seems we can be of assistance. Follow us." Hooking their arms under Hermione's they began to pull her away, luggage and all.
"Really boys, it's not necessary –" said Hermione as she struggled to free herself from their grasp.
"Come now, what sort of gentlemen would we be if we didn't offer our fair lady aid?" Hermione gave up, finding resistance futile and allowed Fred and George to escort her toward the backyard. When they finally released her, she turned to scold the boys, when she paused and did a double take. Standing not five meters from her was a red, cast iron telephone box, slightly taller than her own height. It looked quite ordinary excepting three mirrors glued to the windows inside the box, a purplish feather duster tucked into the bottom most corner, and several small colorful crystals patterned across the back on the outside.
"Ta-da, fully functional as well." The twins indicated with a flourish.
Hermione shook her head in disbelief before turning to Fred and George suspiciously. "All right, what's the catch?"
"Catch, what catch? Can't we help a friend in need, from the kindness of our hearts?" inquired Fred.
"Help- yes, kindness – I have my doubts." Hermione glanced hesitantly at the phone booth.
"You wound us with your words, milady," George said as he placed his hands over his chest.
"All right where did you get it, and what did you do to it?"
"Do? Why no-" Hermione glared at them. "All right, dad brought it home from work, and tasked us to unstuck what's stuck."
"That's stupid," stated Hermione
"I know, we could be doing so many better things with our time– " began Fred.
"No, your story, you don't honestly expect me to believe that," said Hermione knitting her brows.
George exchanged a glance with his brother before speaking. "Fine, we nicked it -don't tell mum- and tried to get it to work here. It should work, but we still have some tinkering left to do, to completely transform it. Anyway, here are some coins. Have at it." George pulled out several sticky coins from his robe pocket that seemed coated with a purplish residue.
Hermione peered at their faces, looking for any trace of dishonesty. Finding none, she took the coins hesitantly and headed toward the booth to call her parents and make her arrival known.
Ron, who had followed along with Harry, turned to his brothers and asked, "No really, what's it going to do?"
"Nothing yet, Ronnikens. Why's everyone always so suspicious?" Fred frowned.
"Because they generally have good reason to be.... wait, what do you mean not yet?" Harry questioned.
"Oh that, we haven't hooked up our gizmo, yet," George said.
"I pieced it all together about an hour ago, why are you guys going to try it out?" added Colin who had just stepped outside.
"Uh-oh," the twins spoke in unison, before turning toward Hermione, who was currently standing in the booth, with a very bewildered expression on her face, as the telephone booth began to rattle and spark.
oOo
3 minutes prior
Leaving the boys behind, Hermione approached the booth slowly. It didn't seem threatening. Though with the twins one could never be too careful. Stepping inside she placed her bags onto the floor and picked up the receiver, depositing the coins the twins had given her. Before she could dial the number to her parent's home, a smooth female voice spoke. "Good afternoon, and to what location may I direct you?"
Hermione nearly dropped the phone in surprise. She looked at the receiver briefly before replying, "um. . . London."
"Please enter your destination time." The melodic voice responded.
She glanced out through the glass, puzzlement written all over her face. None of the boys were looking at her since their attentions were on the approaching Colin. Assuming that the telephone booth was asking for the current time she checked her watch. She saw it was already 7:56 pm, and quickly decided to base it on a 24 hour clock, before punching in 1-9-5-6. Suddenly the voice said, "Thank you. Please wait momentarily while we connect you to your destination."
Considering Hermione had not entered a phone number, she had a sinking feeling something was about to go very wrong. The phone booth was beginning to give off a flickering light. Panicking, she tried to push the glass doors open. She was able to open it a crack and wave her hand out before a voice came on and stated in a serene tone, "please keep your arms and feet inside the vehicle at all times."
'No' thought Hermione worriedly. She had a pretty good idea what was about to occur and it was a final destination she wished to avoid. 'This can't be happening.' She began pounding on the glass more incessantly. She briefly thought about using her wand, but realized that any spell that would cause the glass to shatter could have a seriously negative impact on her, given the small area.
She looked out through the glass windows of the booth and could see the boys yelling at her. She tried to make out what they were saying.
"Engage- hen – mirror?" What on earth? Hermione thought to herself. The yells from the boys grew louder as they moved closer.
"Disengage the mirrors?" How? Attempting to pull some of the mirrors from its place was proving fruitless, and they weren't being held up by the typical sticking charms. Hermione began to despair.
She turned back toward the boys for help. One of the boys had just reached the booth, and was attempting to pry the doors open. He offered her his hand, which she clasped, in an effort to pull her out of the rumbling machine. But it was too late and they both disappeared amid the crackling lights.
oOo
Pop. The telephone booth reappeared in a seemingly empty side alley, called Omlen Den. A slightly drunk wizard blinked his eyes at the structures sudden appearance. He glanced at his bottle of Ogden's and then back at the muggle contraption, before hobbling away toward the more crowded street.
Hermione let go of Colin Creevey's hand, and leaned her head on the door in front of her, which buckled open on her sudden weight, causing her to stumble out. 'Now it opens,' Hermione thought. She looked around dazedly, before walking limply toward a groaning Colin.
"Colin, Colin – are you all right?" Hermione slightly shook Colin, trying to see if she could elicit more than just the moans that Colin was currently giving.
"What happened – scratch that - I know what happened- where – er- when are we?" Colin grunted as he picked himself off the ground and dusting off the jeans he wore under a wizarding outer robe and began taking in his surroundings.
Hermione narrowed her eyes, having a strong feeling her hypothesis was about to be proved correct, "What exactly do you mean- out with it."
Colin looked bashful for a second before collecting himself and uttering the words Hermione had hoped not to hear. "We've traveled back in time, I believe, if that store is anything to go by."
Peering in the direction that Colin was pointing, Hermione had a sinking feeling that Colin was correct. A tall building stood in the middle of the street, looming over the other stores with the words "Morgana's Minks" printed directly above the front door. Plush coats and cloaks danced arrogantly in the stores window display, turning their backs on the poorer spectators that stopped to observe them. The infamous store was built in 1895 and served as a front for numerous illegal activities, with the highest discretion. Everything could be bought there or obtained at the right price. It was closed permanently in the late 1950's, when the Gringott's goblins discovered tunneling plans that would lead directly to the bank, thus exposing the business and its' numerous frauds. It was later mysteriously burnt down.
"I knew it, I knew it, Fred and George are so dead when we get back. So how do we work this thing, just dial in the year we want to go to, and viola, right? We're not stuck in 1956 forever are we?" Hermione grabbed Colin's hand dragging him back toward the telephone.
Wisely, Colin didn't correct her that it was technically his fault they were in this mess, in more ways than one. Considering her curly hair was beginning the spark and glimmer like the machine did minutes ago, he felt it would be a safer option to keep quiet.
"1956? Anyway, yeah, I just got to double check if the wire connections and capacitor in the back of the machine are good. Then we should be good to go back, ideally."
"Ideally?" Hermione raised her brows.
"Well technically, this was its' first voyage, and –" Colin paused as he stood around the back of the contraption. "Hermione, you better come here."
"What is it n – oh - "
There, lying on the ground was Professor Dumbledore.
oOo
"Oh, my goodness, Colin, we've killed him." said Hermione anxiously, seeing her former Headmaster's prone form lying next to her, his body still.
"We- but – oh gosh, this is bad." Colin turned away nauseous.
"Please, don't be dead, please don't be dead," chanted Hermione, as she knelt closer to Professor Dumbledore and turned him onto his back. Airway. Breathing. Circulation. The words ran through Hermione's mind, ingrained from the healer classes she had taken before quitting the program for her current apprenticeship. "Please, don't be dead." Reaching out she felt for a pulse with one hand, while getting a hold of her wand in another. Hermione then muttered a basic diagnostic spell under her breath. Several dark glows hummed around the Headmaster's more critical injuries. Hermione changed her mantra in her relief at finding him alive. "Please wake up, please wake up." Attempting to stem the bleeding, she whispered several Episky's over the cuts bleeding most profusely. She looked at him again, noting his breathing was still shallow and an abundance of blood matted his hair
"Colin he's alive, but we've got to get him to St. Mungo's." Hermione conjured a stretcher fit to carry the Headmaster.
"But the timeline!" Looking confused and frantic Colin wrung his hands together, his eyes darting to the opening of the alleyway wary of anyone that might intrude.
"Colin - the timeline will be in ruins if he dies and I can only stop the bleeding. I don't have everything with me to cure him, we've got to get him to the hospital." Hermione's panic had increased three-fold at Colin's mention of the timeline. She had frequently been told of the dangers of interfering with time when she had the time turner and now she had, though not on purpose, created the biggest blunder of all.
"What about the time machine?" asked Colin, as he hurried to shield the apparatus from view, so it would not attract any curious witches or wizards that may attempt an investigation of the unusual mechanism.
Hermione paused, acknowledging Colin's concern, it would not do to come back and find their mode of transportation missing, "Good point. You stay here, I'll take him." Hermione placed a blanket over the Headmaster. Then waved her wand to secure him and ensure they would not be separated in the apparation.
"You'll be seen!" Colin exclaimed worriedly.
Quickly disillusioning herself and the Headmaster, she worriedly turned toward Colin, and said, "No, we won't… we can't be." She then silently Apparated away with Dumbledore in tow.
"Hermione? Hermione? Are you still there?" Colin called out. Realizing she had indeed gone, he looked at the apparatus, which had begun to smoke. Groaning, he approached the back of the machine to survey if any damage was wrought in the booths travel through time.
Lost in his analysis of the machine, he did not notice the purplish clump of feathers inside the machine move. Poking its head from under a wing of feathers, black eyes observed its surroundings. Deciding things would be safer outside the machine, a familiar purple chicken stumbled out onto the stone alley. Once in the open the creature fluffed its feathers and stretched its wings, delivering a soft cluck of annoyance at the sight of its purple wings. Wings that should have been white in color.
Hearing a clatter, the chicken turned toward the sound and saw Colin working on the machine. The chicken observed him momentarily, an intelligent gleam in her eyes, recognizing him as one the trio of individuals that had used her like a common lab rat. She decided it best to make an escape.
"Where did I drop my wand?" Colin muttered. Looking around the dirty alley, he finally located his wand not even a foot away. Picking it up, he failed to notice a cluster of purple leaving the alley.
Beginning to work, he murmured, "At least things can't get worse."
.oOo.
A golden clock in the Hogwarts headmaster's office ticked away, the only break in the currently consuming silence and growing tension in the room.
"I'm dreadfully sorry; he should have been here by now." Wallace Rugen was extremely nervous, as evidenced by his hand running agitatedly over his now bald head. It was unlike Headmaster Dumbledore, to be so late. He glanced at the time, then at the polite young man who had been calm up until this point. Noticing the subtle signs of irritation on the young man's face, Rugen hastily added, "perhaps you can come back, so we may carry on the interview at a later date, when all parties are present."
The man briefly raised one of his eyebrows before replying, "I assumed a deputy headmaster, could carry on interviewing potential staff without assistance."
The man's assumption was correct and left Rugen stumbling over his words, "Yes, - but – that is to say… Headmaster Dumbledore was extremely insistent on his presence during the interview."
The man frowned, "Surely not that insistent, as he has yet to make an appearance."
Rugen hedged, "I'm sure something perhaps waylaid him." Then as if on cue, an owl came through the open window, brushing past the maroon curtains, and dropped a letter in the deputy's outstretched hand. Rugen unfolded the note and read through it. The notes contents must have been unsettling as color drained from his face. Taking a deep breath, Rugen made a quick decision, as he turned toward the seated party.
"You're right," Rugen began, "your credentials are impeccable, and your resume - the most impressive I've seen, in fact I believe you will make a fine addition to our staff. Welcome on board."
"Thank you, for entrusting me with such a precious task, after all that is what the minds of children are, I assure you, I won't disappoint." The man paused and before Wallace could say anything, he added, "I do hope everything is all right with the headmaster."
Wallace looked at him startled, "How did you – I mean – I just received word about his condition–" As Wallace blathered on, the man took note of the deputy's words as well as his surroundings. A mass of old volumes lined one of the walls, while trinkets decorated another. Of particular interest was a cupboard that was partially open, providing him a good view of what lay inside and what he hoped to later obtain.
The truth was he did not know what had happened, and was referring to the headmaster's absence. Quickly interrupting before Rugen turned into a blubbering mess, "What an unfortunate occurrence, I do hope his case takes a different turn, he will be in my thoughts. If you'll forgive me I must take my leave to make several necessary arrangements."
"Of course, of course… thank you for your well wishes … now let's see." Rooting through the papers in front of him, Rugen looked up, "I believe I have most of what I need. I will owl you the remaining paperwork."
"Excellent," the man said as they both stood up and headed toward the exit of the office.
"Oh, and let me be the first to congratulate you Mr. Riddle, or should I now say Professor Riddle, on your new Defense Against the Dark Arts post," stated Rugen somewhat jovially before bustling back into the office.
"No, thank you, Mr. Rugen."
It was perhaps a good thing that Rugen rushed back inside to take care of business. Else he may have reconsidered his decision on hiring Tom Riddle, if he saw malevolent grin that had spread across the future dark lord's face.
oOo