"I was angry with my foe/ I told it not, my wrath did grow."
-William Blake "A Poison Tree"
August 1942
Hermione arrived with a small pop in Hogsmead. Her clothes were outdated by fifteen years, so once again, she transfigured them, before making her way to The Three Broomsticks. Inside, she sat down at a table, after ordering a butterbeer, and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from her purse.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
My name is Hermione Granger and I would like to transfer to
Hogwarts. Unfortunately, I am transferring from Hogwarts, so I don't
have any documents. I was rather hoping that you would be able to meet
me at The Three Broomsticks in a half hour so that we may discuss this
problem.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
Hermione borrowed an owl from the bartender and sent the owl to Dumbledore. In less than twenty minutes she had her reply.
Dear Miss Granger,
I would be delighted to make your acquaintance.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
So, for lack of anything better to do, Hermione sat down in one of the booths near the door and waited. While doing so, she pulled one of the many books she had out of her bag and read. After a half hour, a tall presence loomed over her, dragging her from her reading.
"I presume that you are Miss Granger," Albus Dumbledore remarked calmly.
"That I am, Professor. Will you please be seated?" she answered with a smile. It was good to see him alive.
"I will. Now, Miss Granger, I must admit, your letter was very intriguing. Do you mind explaining to me how it is possible that you are transferring to Hogwarts from Hogwarts?" he asked.
"Not at all. But, before I do, would you care to order something to drink? It's a rather long story and probably quite shocking."
Dumbledore nodded and excused himself to the bar. While he was away, Hermione put the book she had been reading back into her bag and took a sip of her butterbeer. After Dumbledore had come back, she took a deep breath and began her story.
"I just came from the year 1928, and before that, the year 1998. I am not of this time, but rather a time traveller. You see, in my original time there is a dark wizard who calls himself Voldemort. He was defeated in 1981, but at the end of my fourth year, 1995, he rose again. He gained more followers and more supporters and grew stronger than ever before. At the end of my seventh year at Hogwarts, he attacked the ground. Everyone was killed. You, sir, had been killed the year before by a double agent. I had suspected this might happen, so I had taken precautions. I looked up a book on time travel and I discovered that I could go back in time. Although it wouldn't fix anything in my own time, it would create an alternate time line that began from the first moment I stepped into this time. The first thing I did was rescue a baby from a dismal life at an orphanage. His name is Tom Riddle and had I not taken him away he would have grown into a very powerful and terrible wizard, Lord Voldemort. I was hoping to head it off at the beginning by giving him to a family that would love him and raise him right. Right after I did it, I stepped forward in time to this moment, to see the results of my actions. If I had not succeeded in saving him back then, I was hoping to continue now by attending Hogwarts with him," Hermione explained to Dumbledore, who was listening very seriously.
"Miss Granger, do you not believe in fate?" he asked her, a worried expression on his face.
"Sir, I believe that the nature of a person's experiences define who they are. When you change their experiences, you change who they are, who they will be."
"I suppose then that you don't know about Tom Riddle's current experiences," Albus Dumbledore told her, a slight warning note in his voice.
"Well, no, that's why I'm here. That's why I want to transfer into my sixth year at Hogwarts, so that I can observe the results. I would have preferred following him into his first year, but while I can pass as sixteen, there is no way I can pass as 11. So, if I messed up, then I will just have to try and fix it," she answered honestly. That was, after all her plan. Try not to screw up too bad and then fix it later.
"Well, Miss Granger, I suppose I will leave everything to you. However, I will warn you, getting to know Tom Riddle will be difficult. Are you, by any chance, pureblood?"
Hermione paled slightly, feeling as if she had been punched in the gut. Had she gone through all of this only to change nothing? She shook her head. "No, I'm muggle-born."
"Well, that will make it easier, but Tom Riddle doesn't trust or like anybody. He comes from a good family, you did right in that, but his first year he was sorted into Slytherin. Because Slytherin is mostly a Pureblood house, and he is a half blood, he has been treated rather badly. In fact, he never eats in the Great Hall, because there have been instances when his housemates have tried to poisoned him. The rest of the school shuns him, not only because he's in Slytherin, but also because they are afraid of what the other Slytherins might do to them if they associate with him. He hates purebloods and I think he would like to rid the world of them," Dumbledore told her. She quickly digested this information and sat back in her seat, rather dismayed.
"So, eventually I stopped Voldemort from becoming muggle hating and instead created a pureblood hating Voldemort. Well, I suppose that was effective. So, Professor, what do you suggest? Shall I present myself as the muggleborn that I am, or should I masquerade as a pureblood and try to prove to him that not all purebloods are bad?"
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at her from behind his glasses as he smiled almost mischievously at her. "Well, Miss Granger, I do believe that sometimes a little masquerade can be fun." Hermione grinned back at him and held up her butterbeer.
"To masquerades," she toasted.
"To masquerades indeed." They clinked glasses together and Hermione started showing him the things she brought in her beaded purse.
"Attention students!" Headmaster Dippet called from the staff table. Hermione stood apart from the Great Hall in a small room, waiting to be called for sorting. The First Years had already gone ahead and now the hat was sitting there innocently, waiting for her. She knew where it would like to put her, but she had no intentions of allowing it. Dumbledore and she had agreed it would be best if she went to Slytherin, so that she could keep an eye on Tom and befriend him. And so, she had taken a new last name.
"Students, please. I have a further announcement to make that will take but a minute, and then you can eat. We have a transfer student joining us this year from Beauxbatons and I do hope that you all try your best to help her fit in and find her way around. She will be starting her sixth year and if she is behind in anything, please don't hesitate to offer your assistance. Please welcome Miss Hermione Dumbledore, our very own Professor Dumbledore's niece," Dippet announced and Hermione stepped out from the room. Dumbledore had helped her get some period clothing and the school uniform, so that she didn't look so out of place. Nervously she made her way to the stool, on which the Sorting Hat was sitting, and placed the hat on her head.
"Miss Dumbledore, no, that is not your name. Miss Granger, she who steps so easily across time, I have sorted you before," the Hat murmured in her ear.
"No, that was not you, but rather who you would have been had I never arrived here. It is an entity completely separate from yourself. Now, I have a mission that I must complete, so put me in Slytherin already and I can get on with it."
"Oh, Miss, a mind like yours would be wasted in Slytherin. You could find your true potential in Ravenclaw."
"No. I will go to Slytherin, whether you willingly allow me to or I have to force you to. I have already gone through school. I have finished school and I know my potential."
"I suppose."
"SLYTHERIN," the Hat called and she removed it and calmly made her way to the table. No one cheered. The Slytherins didn't know what to make of her, for she was Dumbledore's niece in Slytherin and the rest of the school was not only equally confused, but ready to dislike her, should she prove to be just like the rest of the Slytherins.
"Good evening," she said to the tall black haired boy she sat down next to.
"What's a Dumbledore doing in Slytherin," was all said in reply. He wasn't rude bout it, at least, not terribly, and he didn't seem like he was immediately ready to hate her.
"I suppose I'm just rather ambitious. After all, that's what the Hat told me. I'm ambitious and I have a great desire for power and knowledge," she lied.
"Well, in that case, I'm someone you ought to know. The name's Alphard Black; I'm sure you heard of the Blacks. We are, after all, quite an influential family," he told her, smiling easily at her and making her wonder if she might have detected just a bit of sarcasm in his voice.
"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Black," she responded and held out her hand. Instead of shaking it, he raised it to his lips, giving her the barest of kisses. His dark eyes sparkled mischievously and she felt herself blush.
"As you're also a sixth year, we'll have the pleasure of sharing all of our classes. I am most looking forward to it, Miss Dumbledore," he informed her.
"Now, now, Black, you're not planning on keeping Miss Dumbledore all to yourself, now are you?" a boy with a rather familiar smirk asked, sitting down across from her. He had grey eyes and dark hair, but he looked very familiar.
"Well, of course I was Malfoy. A girl as lovely as this one should know the best," Alphard responded with a smirk of his own. Hermione held back her gasp, but she could feel her eyes widen in surprise. Malfoy. This would be Draco's grandad then.
"Abraxus Malfoy," he introduced himself, giving Alphard a small glare. He held out his hand and as she took it, he also raised it to his lips.
"Charmed, I'm sure," she remarked and then glanced up and down the table. There was no sign of Riddle. She hadn't thought that he would miss the welcoming feast, even though she knew he never took his meals in the great hall.
"If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure, Hermione, may I call you Hermione? Malfoy only thinks he's something special, but he's really not that great. You really should just stick around me," Alphard told her, getting her attention from the rest of the table.
"Black is, of course, wrong as usual, Miss Granger. I am the person you need to know. I will introduce you to all the important people and make sure you stay away from riffraff like Black here. Although, his cousin, Araminta Meliflua, has the proper idea about things. In fact, I believe this Black here is just the worst of his family," Malfoy countered. Alphard rolled his eyes.
"My cousin Araminta is completely deranged. She thinks muggle-hunting should be a sport," Alphard told her. Hermione tried to hold back her expression of disgust, but she must not have been very successful since Alphard shot Abraxus a triumphant smirk. "If you want the right sort of friends, then you really need to stick with me Hermione, and ignore people like Malfoy."
"I'll keep that in mind," Hermione replied. Then she stood up. "It was nice meeting both of you, but I would really like to get some rest now. It's been a long day."
"Should I escort you to the Common Room?" Abraxus asked, standing also. Alphard scowled and stood also, opening his mouth to say something along the same lines, no doubt.
"No, that's not necessary. My Uncle made sure that I was well acquainted with the school layout before the year began. I will see you all tomorrow. Good night." She left the boys standing there, staring after her, and made her way to the dungeons. Perhaps Tom Riddle would be there. Once there, she said the password and walked into the damp green and silver room. A boy sat on the couch in front of the fire.
"Hi," she greeted. He turned and she was struck by the resemblance he had to his father. His black hair lay neatly on his head and his blue eyes were cool and guarded. He straightened his back slightly and his entire body became stiff. In fact, he didn't seem much different than what she would have expected from Lord Voldemort. However, he wasn't supposed to be Lord Voldemort.
"Hi," she said again, since he hadn't responded to her first greeting. "My name's Hermione Granger. I mean, Hermione Granger Dumbledore. My mother's maiden name was Granger, so it's my middle name. She's dead though, died in childbirth. What's your name?" She could have smacked herself for her mistake, but hoped that he hadn't noticed her verbally fall on her face.
"I'm Tom Riddle. Did you say your mother's maiden name was Granger? Was she also named Hermione?" Tom asked, curiosity evident in his eyes. She furrowed her eyebrows, wondering why he wanted to what her mother's first name was, however fictional her mother was. Seeing her confusion, he continued, "My father told me the woman who saved me from the orphanage and brought me to him was named Hermione Granger. Are you perhaps related to her?"
"Uh, yeah. That must have been my mother. She used to do weird stuff like that, at least according to my father. I never knew her after all," she told him, mentally saying in her mind, 'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.' How could she have forgotten that? Of course Riddle would tell his son what happened. It was part of telling him he was magic.
"Really," Tom drawled, "Your mother went to a lot of orphanages and took children to their real parents?"
"No, well, yes, I mean sometimes. I don't know! I never knew her!" Hermione burst out nervously.
"I see. Well, dinner is almost over. I think I will be heading to bed. Good night," he finally said after observing her for a while.
"Yeah. Good night. It was nice meeting you," she replied, cheeks pink from embarrassment as she practically ran up the stairs.
