Author's Note: Many thanks to bunnyhops of Granger Enchanted, my new beta. She did a brilliant job. Thank her, and check out her stories on GE!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Damnation

Chapter Two

May 2nd, 1945

Minerva McGonagall woke up with the false presumption that today was just a normal day.

She might have noticed had she been looking, that today she had risen early enough to shower before breakfast, which was probably the first sign of unusual occurrences. The past few weeks, the professors had been tripling the seventh year students' workload, and last night had been the end of a strenuous homework and study schedule she had forced upon herself.

Most days, time would only allow her a simple Cleansing Charm.

As she pulled her school robe on, a small, content sigh left her lips. It's almost over, she thought with glee, pinning her damp hair into a tight bun. Seven years of hard work, and all that was left to complete was her NEWTs, which would start with Potions the following Monday morning.

She had already made her study sheets to review before each individual exam. Hopeful, she grabbed her schoolbag full of completed homework, closed the door behind herself, and without a second thought walked down the stairs and through the common room.

Several people waved as she made her way to the Great Hall, a first year, whose name she couldn't recall, but who wore the crest of Slytherin, asked if she knew where the always elusive Head Boy was located. She shrugged, telling him a bit too firmly that she was not and never would be Tom Riddle's babysitter before walking away and not letting the thought of Mr. Perfect ruin this beautiful day for her.

Just as she was turning the corner to the Entrance Hall, the stone walls surrounding her trembled slightly, then gradually increased with intensity. Frozen in her place, Minerva contemplated possible options and outcomes. It was either an earthquake, which was highly unlikely due to the magic which created Hogwarts, or an attack on the wards protecting the school from outside forces.

There was also a distinct possibility that a certain someone was about to make a rather ungraceful entrance back into her life.

Just before the sound reached its apex, and with her wand in hand, the brunette broke into a sprint, heading for the Great Hall to help any and all students as was her duty. She passed students of all ages, their faces full of confusion and fright, and waved for them to follow.

Less than 10 yards from the imposing doors of the Great Hall, a bolt of lightning, blinding and beautiful, struck the ground beside her, the force and voltage scorching the ends of her clothes and bag while propelling her into a wall immediately to her left. A deafening crack was simultaneous as the blue embers and still visible sparks soared together, compressed into a dark silhouette, and popped one last time before the now defined and whole person promptly collapsed into a heap of robes.

Minerva braced herself against the wall, her mind trying to process the events which had just occurred, yet again, realizing not only had someone just appeared out of nowhere inside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but this action had also caused her precious homework and books to be rendered useless. Halfway between anger and shock, a loose wand suddenly rolled to a stop at her feet, the tip glowing still and emitting waves of heat even her leather shoes could not protect her toes from.

Her eyes shifted between the group of students, the heap lying between the growing semi-circle, and the wand on the floor. Decision made, she cast the wand into temporary oblivion with a simple bit of altered Transfiguration, told the nearest Prefect to find both Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore, and proceeded to kick the unconscious witch in the shin.

When that did nothing, she cast a simple 'Ennerverate' and watched the brunette stir. Once the witch had sat up and smiled bleary-eyed, Minerva couldn't very well take it anymore, seeing as her normal morning had not only been interrupted by thought of Tom Riddle, but she now had another miscreant to attend to. Again.

Already red in the face, with a hex on the tip of her tongue, she mumbled incoherently for a moment then shouted, "Where the bloody hell have you been, Granger?"

xXxXxXx

Hermione had been briefed by Albus Dumbledore more than a few times. Over the course of six months, she had made notes she remembered word for word, heard things from the man she could still hear perfectly, and shown memories which became burned into her memory.

"Only if all is lost," he told her. "Only then must you avoid repeating your actions. If Harry, before your departure, is not going to succeed, or if he has already perished, Merlin forbid, you must do all within your power to change this. One action, Miss Granger, and the world may never see Lord Voldemort as we have experienced him."

All of it, she had taken in, reviewed, and was certain that, if at least her arrival was correctly timed, she would now be in Dumbledore's office next to his Transfiguration classroom.

Lord Voldemort was not a stupid man, she realized, because he had connected the dots. Dumbledore and Minerva had both been certain that any memories of his last two years attending Hogwarts were consumed with his exponentially growing powers and not the brown-haired bookworm with whom he had chosen to study. It seemed such a trivial fact for one to remember while taking over an entire civilization.

The look he had given her, as the light consumed her and just before her body burst into mere atoms, told her all she needed. He sent her where she would interfere the least. And here she was.

"Miss Granger, I hope you understand our concern, you have been missing for a few weeks," a younger, auburn-haired Dumbledore was saying. However, she could not respond, did not know where to begin. "When did you end up after you left? You look battle-worn."

Her gaze lifted from the floor and into his bright blue eyes. "Did you say—"

"When?" he offered with a smile.

Nodding, she stood and handed Dumbledore the packet, hoping he could restore her sanity, help her find a jumping point. He reached out, eyes widening when he saw his own script, and opened the over-stuffed envelope Hermione had so desperately clung to during her travel.

xXxXx

Several hours later...

Hermione lay awake upon what was told to be her bed in the Slytherin dormitory. Dumbledore had decided, with great finality in his voice, that to complete her mission, it was time to go about as she had before. Which, of course, gave Hermione no hope of knowing what was to come, because that had not been her, yet at least, who had joined Slytherin house at the beginning of her sixth year.

Turning over and fluffing her pillow, she groaned. From here on out, her actions and words were uncharted territories. Is this how Harry felt the moment before he made his decisions only hours ago?

Merlin, it hadn't even happened yet. Abruptly, she sat up, threw the blanket to the side, and made her way into the common room quickly, knowing, for whatever reason, that the man of her thoughts would be there.

Tom Riddle, dark-haired and handsome, sat on and armchair close to the fire, head hung limply backwards, mouth agape. Hermione stopped quickly. She could end this now, it was her choice, it was what Harry and Ron expected, one swish of the wand and the future, as it was, could just have been a nightmare. Harry would still have his parents, the Weasley's would have Fred, Tonks and Lupin could raise Teddy themselves.

Deliberately and slowly, wand in hand, she approached the young man, who was somehow sleeping soundly. It didn't take long before she stood before him, wand aimed at his heart and the words on her tongue, when he awoke. At first he was startled, seeing the wand a foot from his chest. But the moment their eyes made contact, a smile broke out on his face and Tom Riddle was out of his chair, holding her in a tight embrace with his head buried in her hair.

"You left without saying goodbye," he whispered. "I never thought I'd see you again."

All the while, Hermione's mind went from furious to excited, and made an emergency stop at shocked. This was not something she remembered from the Pensieve. This was not supposed to happen.

He pulled back, looking at her face, still smiling broadly. "Cat got your tongue?"

She opened her mouth, but immediately remembered there were no discernable thoughts or replies in her mind. All she could see was his dark blue eyes and the compassion she could feel radiating towards her. This could not, was not, and never would be Tom Riddle. It had to be one of the others she had befriended. It had been hermemories, after all, that she viewed.

All the facts, however, told her this was indeed Tom Riddle. There was no voice that smooth, no one in Hogwarts at this time who looked so alike with him.

Tom's brow furrowed, taking in the scratches on her face, the limp look of her hair, the feeble way she held herself. "Who did this to you?" His voice was spoken with a venom that Hermione knew only he could produce. Still, she looked at him white-faced and with a blank stare.

"The future is, quite literally, in your hands, Miss Granger," Dumbledore had said previously that evening. "Follow your instinct, but act your part. It seems someone else is trying to twist this time as well, and it would be wise for you to achieve what you can, as soon as the opportunity arrives."

"Hermione?"

She looked up, still shocked. Tom Riddle's eyes were glossed over, taking in all her features before he locked eyes with her. Quickly, she put up barriers, knowing he had already become very accomplished at Legilimancy. This made him frown. "Why are you blocking me, Hermione?"

In that instant, Hermione Granger made a very brash decision. It would do no good to lie to Tom Riddle, especially if he already knew her. It could change everything, that's why she was here, after all. Lord Voldemort may have sent her where he felt her to be the smallest threat to his future. Sure, it would go against everything Dumbledore had told her, would go against all her preparations, all their research. But now, there were two playing this game, and Hermione would be damned to let Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort best her.

She shook her head and took several steps backward. "We have never met before," she said, finally. Tom's frown only deepened. "I only just arrived this morning before breakfast."

His eyes flashed crimson momentarily, a scowl replacing his previously held frown. "We met last year, Hermione, on the first day of our sixth year."

"If we had then why am I standing here saying I don't recall ever being here before?" Hermione became irritated quickly. After uncountable hours in battle and traveling fifty years in the past to spend a day being interrogated, it was no surprise she was tired.

Tired, sore, hungry, aching.

Taking a new approach to this encounter, she strolled past him and took his chair, all the while, Tom Riddle not speaking one word, merely moving his body to better see her.

She leaned back, stowing away her wand while the other hand clutched her head. After a few silent moments, she straightened up, finding Tom Riddle kneeling in front of her, a lost look on his face. Hair only slightly mussed from his earlier nap, the fire reflected in his eyes, Hermione only wondered where she had gone wrong before. Maybe further precautions should have been taken.

What if this was a mistake? What if she could have changed all this by not traveling to this time?

Tom Riddle reached out one elegant, long fingered hand, placing it gently on hers. "This is going to sound awfully strange," he spoke quietly. "But I have known you nearly two years now, and I've grown quite close and fond of you. I am not one for such sentiments, but if there is anything you need to discuss, I still remember everything you told me."

She gave him a sharp look. How much had she told him?

"Everything," he answered her unspoken question. She averted her eyes from his, cursing inward for letting her mind wander so. He chuckled. "The question was written all over your face. I know you far better than you seem to know me." Face serious, eyes narrowing slightly, and his hand grasping hers that lay beneath his, he spoke in a cold tone. Hermione flinched. "Were you able to retrieve it?"

"I don't know—"

"Just tell me what happened!"

"I can't, Riddle, I—"

"Where did you go?"

"Other than arriving here this morning, I did not travel anywhere."

He pulled her forward, so close she could feel his breath when he spoke. "Did you once again fail to save my mother?"

That was it; she couldn't handle not knowing so much. With all her strength, she pushed him away from her and stood up, taking her wand out and holding it tightly. "Tell me what happened when I was here before," she demanded. "I need to know everything I have told you."

Once more, his eyes flashed crimson as he calmly stood, barely glancing at her wand, and not moving to retrieve his. "You really have no idea?" he replied with venom. "You don't remember a single word you spoke to me, or even a glimmer of what has happened between us?"

"No, I do not. Is it not obvious? I am absolutely clueless as to whom you truly are, or how you came into my life, other than meeting right here, right now."

"That's the thing, Hermione; it isn't only now that we've met. Merlin, did you actually travel through time again?"

Her mouth opened to respond, but all that came out was random noises as her brow creased together and her mind tried to figure a way out of this. They had planned this for months, every moment, and breath engrained in her memory. Her first and only arrival should have been the very first day of this school year. Not only was she unprepared, but the presence of the future Dark Lord was over-whelming. Hermione needed to strategize, plan a new course of action. First, however, she needed to know what had already occurred.

Making sure her wand was still held tightly, she took a few more steps toward Tom Riddle. "What did I tell you before, Tom Riddle? I must know. It is of vital importance. I am already breaking too many laws to count, and would like to know how many more I might as well add to the list."

"When we met, at 16 years old, you told me that you were in fact a time traveler, from my future, coming to warn me of a terrible war. That only I could prevent. Other than basic details, you never divulged much more." He scowled as he spoke the last sentence, obviously disappointed at having never convinced her to tell him all the information.

Things could not possibly get much worse. It seemed that she had already, or would, go back in time to befriend Tom Riddle. Dumbledore had been wrong, the way things happened were very, truly different. But they had been her very ownmemories Dumbledore collected. His plans had gone farther back, she realized when he told her how he acquired them. Her old Headmaster had been working to rid the world of Lord Voldemort long before he had even become more than Tom Riddle.

"Now, unless you put down your wand, my little lion cub, I will take it as a threat against my life and do whatever is in my power to stop you," his voice brought her from her reverie. Tom held his wand loosely, as if she were no challenge to him. Of course, how was he supposed to know that she had fought him and his army only a day ago?

She thought quickly as she lowered her wand and let it fall to the floor. It would not do her well to test him. Tom took one step and retrieved it, only to place it in her inner robe pocket in one swift motion. She was surprised, though she didn't show it, that he did not carry a rancid odor reminiscent of death and blood. The snake-like wizard she knew to be was akin to the Muggle biblical Pale Horseman named Death. It was off-putting to inhale the rather attractive scent of myrrh. Unmoving, but locking eyes with Tom Riddle, she barely spoke above a whisper, "Did I, perhaps, leave anything with you in order to provide me with similar transportation?"

He opened his mouth, looked away, and frowned, before nodding swiftly. He silently went to his dorm room, re-entering the common room with a large, old tome. Tom glanced at it one last time, almost angry, and reached out to hand it to her.

Carefully, she took the book from him. Instantly, hidden locks clicked open. Hermione opened the cover to find a perfectly carved, Rosewood box. Inside was a letter folded neatly into a square, one glowing blue cylinder, and two vials of a very viscous yellow potion. The light emitting from the single cylinder was rather blinding, so she put it down and instead took the letter, setting the book absently on the coffee table. Hermione's instinct flared delightfully, sure that this was from her future self, knowing she would arrive at the incorrect time. Smiling inwardly, she unfolded the letter and sat on the armchair behind her.

A cough startled her just as she had settled in and she looked up to see Tom Riddle cock his eyebrow at her.

"Let me read the letter. I'm sure I left something as a 'reminder'," she told him with a wink. He sighed and took a place across from her, glancing into the box.

"I tried so hard to open that," said the young man, turning his head to the side, eyes still set on the light. "I didn't think you would just cast a simple charm like that."

"Only opens to my touch," she nodded, leaning forward slightly to take in the future Dark Lord. The one, who only hours ago, had done something eerily similar to the feeling that vial gave her. Same blue light, same unimaginable blue haze compressed as a liquid. It had given her the shivers.

"Yes," he replied, raising his voice. "But so very simple. I was expecting some great wards above that, though. It took me two days to even touch it with my bare hands." He chuckled lightly at this, a strange flash passing through his eyes. Not crimson in nature, but golden. This stunned Hermione briefly, but she didn't want to give him any reason to think she was not the same girl he knew. She would be, yes.

Looking back down at the letter, she frowned at her own handwriting. For, it truly was hers, but her points had never been so sharp, it was always loose. It was neat as ever, but this small change had her curious.

"Hello to... well, me.

Hope the first journey wasn't too hard on you. I remember thinking my body would never stop aching. Don't bother with Pepper-Up, as planned. Rather, find some chocolate. I've found that the magic used in the potion only needs pleasant thoughts, like a Patronus. Quite strange, I think, which led me to some startling conclusions. Don't worry, you'll get there. I would know.

What I have to ask is of grave importance. When you arrive, I will have been gone about six weeks. No doubt, you have spoken to Dumbledore, and he is well aware that things are about to get a bit confusing. I cannot tell you what I am doing, intellectual paradox, you can only first learn any piece of information once.

Though, what I am proposing is for you to achieve what I did not. It did not work. You should understand what this means. When I received this box, it only contained the blue cylinder, and a single vial of the yellow potion. Now, however, I know things are not as they seem.

Time is very unhappy with us, Hermione. You-Know-Who did not take into account the harm he would cause by not letting things come to pass. We were meant to be in this time, meant to live those memories which were taken from another version of us. By not following the proper order, we have broken the time-line.

As you have already deduced, the blue cylinder is a contained version of Dumbledore's time-travel spell. The yellow you will find in the 1654 Teacher's Edition of Advanced Arithmantic Potion Making. I urge you to seek this book out immediately, as well as the following:

History Of Hogwarts: Blood War, Unabridged, 32nd Edition

Time and the Traveler, First Edition

Phoenix of the Ages, 4th Edition

Witches of Power, 2ndEdition

I also encourage you to find books you have already completed, and compare. You will have obviously noticed the lack of author's names, Time and the Traveler will explain this.

The book I have included is a journal. I implore you to read it in chronological order, because it will help you plan your day to day movement until your next departure. You will make this journal as well, during your travels. It would do well to keep it; things will have started becoming muddled already. This is the only account I have been able to keep, and it will not be necessary to create your own. It is tied to neither a time nor location. It merely exists without pretense. You will understand how this is possible once you've read my work.

One last thing, remember love, life, and peace. Keep hope, in yourself, your mission. Know that by merely receiving this box and its contents, you have attained a small victory. You-Know-Who thinks he's won by sending you here, remember that he has not. We have the power to change the world, and we bloody will.

You,
Hermione J. Granger"

Heart pounding wildly and tears threatening to spill, Hermione refolded the parchment and set it back in the box before collapsing backwards in her chair. At that moment, she realized the magnitude of her mission had been multiplied tenfold. She glanced over at Tom, who quirked an eyebrow, and groaned.

In that moment, she very much wanted to stomp down to the private quarters of Albus Dumbledore, and make sure he would spend the next 40 years fearing the name Hermione Granger.

Author's Note: Hello! Sorry for the long wait. I needed to find a new beta, because my volunteer ran off on me, never to speak again. I hope she's okay.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please leave me a review, let me know what you think of it.
-Lee