A/N Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy the chapter! If you're enjoying the story, please follow, review, and favorite. The majority of this story will be told from Hermione's POV, but sometimes we need to see what other, pivotal characters are thinking, as you'll see here.
Spyrals: Thank you, I hope this update keeps you interested!
Guest: Hopefully this chapter will give you some deeper insight into the meeting between Hermione and Dumbledore. Thanks for reviewing!
Princessjoke: Thank you! You'll see a little more flustered Tom here too
Mulbr: Thank you so much! I thought it was important to address the fact that Rowling had a specific take on time travel and that it was very difficult and/or impossible to go back in time to change the future. Enjoy the update!
Albus Dumbledore sat himself down in his favorite arm chair next to the fireplace. Sleep would not come to him tonight, he had much to think about. A time traveler, a young girl he'd never seen before who knew him well, was not someone you came across on a regular basis. It was obvious that she had known him, the confusion, wonder, and sadness that filled her eyes when she looked at him told him as much. He'd also gently peaked into her mind, just to be sure she was telling the truth.
He saw pain, violence, bloodshed, and death. Those were the things that constantly circled her mind. The poor young girl had come from a warzone of the worst kind. He saw a glimpse of a young man with shaggy brown hair, glasses, and the most peculiar shaped scar on his forehead. He saw him laughing, zipping around on a broomstick. He saw him hunched over a table in a tent, angry and defeated. And then he saw him dead, his body hitting the ground, his wand rolling away from his lifeless hand. There were dozens of people scattered across the grounds around him. Many were dead, others were crying out for help. They were at Hogwarts, a Hogwarts that looked little like the one he was presently in.
He saw himself through her eyes, a much older version of himself, long white hair with a matching beard. It was the welcoming feast, he was in the Headmaster's seat giving the welcoming speech and she had listened so eagerly. He saw himself again, older, speaking to her inside of someone's home. She had trusted him completely. It was there he stopped looking for specific memories, it was dangerous to see too much of one's own future.
From there he looked into her heart. It was tired, worn, desperate. Her soul held the marks of someone who had used dark magic and light magic, someone who had cast the Killing Curse enough times to do it with ease. But she was determined and her intentions were good. She wanted to stop the darkness that swept across her time. Albus Dumbledore knew that sometimes you had to fight darkness with darkness. Like that young girl, no one side was completely innocent.
She wanted to save her friends, her family, but time travel was a strange thing. You couldn't change what has already happened. What a person had seen in their own time, things that they know have happened, those will always happen. She couldn't save her friends, not that he would tell her that. She was strong, he could see that within her, but everyone had a breaking point and there was no need to push her further towards hers. She had come here because she had always came here, and the things she would do would be what she had always done. The paradox of time travel, the paradox that ensured you couldn't change a thing about the future you had come from.
There was no way for her to return to her time. At least none that were known in 1944. Whoever she had been in the future, was a girl she would never be again. She was brilliant, choosing Callidora Selwyn as her identity. Dumbledore had heard news of the bombing of her ancestral home and the death of Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn. Callidora's body hadn't been found, he guessed that it never would have been. It would have taken months for her to so carefully arrange her identity in this time. First to find an identity she could assume, without killing someone, then to create the legal paperwork to prove her identity and get the Selwyn family vault key… This was no ordinary girl. He would be keeping a very close eye on her.
Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr was livid. Angry wasn't a strong enough word to describe his current state of mind. Pity any student stupid enough to be out of bed so late and cross his path right now.
He was the most powerful and intelligent student in Hogwarts. In time, as his knowledge and mastery of magic progressed, he would eventually become more powerful that Albus Dumbledore. There was no questioning this, they were facts. Until tonight. Until some little chit of a girl not only recognized his intrusion into her mind, but she pushed him out! That did not happen to Tom Riddle. He was Lord Voldemort, a direct descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin, and she had stopped him. She had the element of surprise tonight. Next time he wanted to take something from her mind, it would end differently.
He couldn't deny that she was powerful, the most powerful person of his age that he had encountered. He would not deny that, he wasn't a fool who would underestimate anyone, enemy or friend. But which would she be? It was the not knowing that made him even more angry.
He stormed through the door to his Head Boy dorm, wandlessly slamming it closed behind himself. If anyone had been in the hall, they would have run away, quickly.
He fingered the wand in his pocket, her wand, the wand that he so conveniently forgot to return to her when he left her outside of the hospital door. He pulled it out and flipped it through his fingers. 11", Blackthorn. He squeezed it until he felt it pulse in his palm. Dragon Heartstring. It would be a powerful wand in the hands of a skilled, powerful wizard. Or witch. The wood was incredibly smooth, well worn, and flexible. It was far more worn than a wand that had only been in use for 6 years should be. This wand had belonged to someone else, but why would a Selwyn, an extremely wealthy pureblooded family, have a used wand? He held it up, eye level, and slowly twirled it around for a closer inspection. It had seen battle, there were several scorch marks that were so deep they couldn't be removed with cleaning and polishing. Dark magic. Why would a 17 year old Selwyn girl have a powerful old, scorched wand?
He closed his eyes, squeezing the wand tightly with both hands. It pulsed with Dark magic, and not the kind that was left when one was hit with it. It was the kind one was left with when it cast it.
He gripped the wand in his right hand. "Prior Incantato," he said. The wand shocked him so hard he dropped it. He picked it back up and repeated the incantation, over and over, gritting his teeth to ignore the shock the angry wand gave him each time, revealing the spells that had been cast with it. There were the usual spells, Accio, Lumos, Scourgify, Aguamenti, Reparo, amongst the many spells. There were powerful spells, like the Patronus, but what caught his attention were the Avada Kedavra's that had been cast very recently, possible even earlier that day. There were traces of Crucio, Imperius, Fiendfyre, Inferius, and several other spells that felt Dark, but he'd never heard of. Like… Sectumsempra? And another spell, definitely cast sometime that day, so dark and twisted and confusing that he had no idea what it was.
Tom Riddle didn't curse often. He preferred the use of more eloquent terms to express himself. But really all he could think was, who the fuck was this girl?
Callidora Selwyn was welcomed into the hospital wing by Madam Berwetia, a very kind, elderly Healer. She ushered the young girl straight in, immediately fusing over the state of her clothes and the scratches that covered her pale skin.
Madam Berwetia demanded to know what happened. She told her, about the muggle bomb, searching the rubble for her parents, apparating into the Forbidden Forest, running from an unknown creature, only stopping when she reached the gates of Hogwarts. The same story she would tell everyone, except for Albus Dumbledore of course.
"Oh my dear girl, I am so sorry!" the healer exclaimed at the end of her tale, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll get those cuts cleaned up, repair your poor skirt, and get you a good night's sleep. This is the most comfortable bed in the whole hospital wing. Hop up for me." She patted the bed in the far corner of the room.
Herm… no… Callidora, climbed onto the bed, silent while the healer buzzed around her. She reached a hand up to hold her beloved wand, a comforting habit she'd developed over the past year. She had a moment of panic when it wasn't there because, she remembered, the Head Boy had taken it before allowing her onto Hogwarts grounds. It was a smart move, a stranger with a wand could do an unknown amount of damage. But Tom Riddle had her wand and that was not a comforting thought. She would retrieve it from him first thing in the morning, after Headmaster Dippet agreed to let her complete her final year of magical education here at Hogwarts.
She felt much better after Madam Berwetia had finished. She was still in desperate need of a shower, but there would be time for that tomorrow. She swallowed the potion the witch put in her hand and immediately recognized the taste of a Dreamless Sleep potion. The elder witch held up the sheets for her to crawl in, and she was fast asleep before the Madam had finished tucking her in.
A bright, blinding light is what woke her in the morning. She shot straight up, reaching up her sleeve for her wand that wasn't there. He heart skipped a beat, her eyes were wild, and then she recognized the large window set in the ancient gray stone walls. Hogwarts. She was safe inside Hogwarts. In 1944. She sighed in relief, then relaxed back onto the bed. It didn't take long for Madam Berwetia to notice that her patient had awoken.
"Good Morning, Miss Selwyn!" Madam Berwetia greeted her. "What a beautiful day it is! The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky! Headmaster Dippet would like to see you this morning. Someone should be here shortly to fetch you. I'll help you get ready."
She didn't even have time to respond before the Healer had pulled her to her feet and was circling around her, waving her wand. She felt her hair being pulled and tugged, her clothes straightened, the layer of oil and dirt on her face washed away. After the witch stated that she was done, Callidora glanced in the mirror on the wall.
Her face was clean, with a skin brightening charm to cover the dull paleness one would have after spending a year on the run, hiding in forests and caves with little interaction with the sun and only occasional sleep. Her hair was also clean, pulled, pinned, and curled into a befitting 1940s style. Her clothes had been cleaned and repaired. Overall, she looked like a proper young witch in 1944.
When the door to the hospital wing creaked open, she looked over to see the tall form of none other than the young Lord Voldemort himself striding in.
"Good morning Madam Berwetia, Miss Selwyn," he nodded to them with a smile, like a proper young gentleman. Madam Berwetia ate it up.
"Good morning Tom!" she said. "You're here to escort Miss Selwyn to the Headmaster's office?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he smiled more brightly, if it was even possible. "With pleasure. Miss Selwyn?" He held out his arm for her to take. She slipped her arm through his, ignoring the spark she felt when her skin touched his and he guided her out the door. She glanced around the castle, after all, she'd never seen it before and things looked so differently in the daylight. She looked over at her escort as they walked under a window. His dark brown hair, perfectly groomed, was silky and shiny in the sunlight. She could see the different shades of green sparkling throughout his irises. The ones that were now intensely focused on hers.
"I was so exhausted last night, I only realized this morning that you still have my wand," she told him.
"Yes, I do," he informed her. "Such an interesting wand it is. Well worn and battle-marked, like it once belonged to someone else, much older than yourself. Wherever did you get such a wand?"
"That, Mr…" she trailed off, as though she couldn't remember his name.
"Riddle. Tom Riddle." He smiled at her, his perfect teeth gleamed white in the morning light. He was so graceful, polite, handsome, powerful and charming, with a subtle hint of darkness behind his gorgeous green eyes. In the daylight, she now understood how easily someone could be enthralled by the charms of the young Lord Voldemort. "You may call me Tom."
"Well, Mr. Riddle, that's a secret."
He cocked his head at her. "I'm an excellent secret keeper."
It was her turn to smile at him. "I'm sure you are. I do hope you didn't try to use my wand. I'm afraid it's deadly loyal to me. I would appreciate it if you would return it to me now."
"I'll return it as soon as the Headmaster has accepted you as a student. I don't feel it's safe to let a stranger so familiar with dark magic wander the halls of the school with a wand."
"How would you know whether or not I'm familiar with dark magic?"
"I'm an excellent judge of character, Callidora. May I call you Callidora." It was phrased as a question, but said as a statement. "Here we are." He pulled her into the eagle statue that she had to pretend like she didn't know. "Just follow me please. Founders!" he firmly stated the password and pulled her onto the second stair as the winding staircase rose from the floor.
"How creative!" she said excitedly. "I've never see a hidden winding staircase before."
"You'll find that all of Hogwart's staircases move. It's best to give yourself at least 5 extra minutes to get to classes in case you have to take a long way around, or a staircase moves while you're on it." The staircase halted, he placed his hand on her lower back to steady her when she jolted. He guided her into the Headmaster's office ahead of himself.
"There are you are, Tom. Thank you." The headmaster said from behind his desk. He was an older wizard, with long gray hair and a long gray beard not unlike Albus Dumbledore had in her time when he was the headmaster. Dippet's robes were a dark, navy blue velvet with a matching wizard's hat atop his head. "Miss Selwyn, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat." He gestured towards one of the chair in front of his desk. Tom Riddle sat down in the other chair. How presumptuous of him to assume that he would be staying for the meeting. But she was surprised when Dippet just nodded towards him, indicating that he was welcome to stay.
"Thank you for seeing me this morning, Headmaster," she said.
"I wanted to personally welcome you to Hogwarts, Miss Selwyn. I've already spoken to Professor Dumbledore. He's already apprised me of your situation so there's no need for you to repeat the story to me. You have my condolences. I have accepted you as a 7th year student, we only have to sort you and do a quick test of your abilities to determine your class placements."
"Thank, sir, so much! I'm not sure what I would have done if I couldn't complete my education."
"Don't be silly, a Selwyn would never be rejected from Hogwarts. I'm only sorry that you had to join us so late, and under such sad circumstances. Tom, could you please get the Sorting Hat?"
Riddle stood up and snatched the Sorting Hat off of it's stool, then dropped it over her head. It fit much better this time around, on her fully grown 17 year old head.
What a conundrum we have here. I see that I've sorted you before, but I have no memory of that. A time traveling Gryffindor? But a Gryffindor you are, no more. Once called Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn, now you call yourself Callidora Selwyn, a pureblood. I see the plotting, the planning, the magic you used to get here. You'll do anything you have to, to achieve your goals. "No cost too high," you said so yourself. There's only one place for you now.
"Slytherin!" the hat shouted so loudly it echoed through the office.
"Wonderful!" the Headmaster nearly shouted after it. Riddle plucked the hat off her head and placed it back onto it's stool. "That's Tom's house. I'm sure he won't mind showing you around and introducing you to the other students. Tom?"
"Not at all, Headmaster," he answered.
"Very good. Miss Selwyn will need to get her school supplies and I'm afraid the staff is so busy preparing for the start of classes on Monday. Please escort Miss Selwyn to breakfast, and after return to my office. I'll arrange a portkey for both of you to go to Diagon Alley today. I hope you didn't have plans, Tom."
"Nothing that I can't rearrange Headmaster."
"Excellent. Now, if you can return her wand, we'll get through these tests quickly."
Riddle pulled her wand from his robes and handed it to her. A wave of relief washed over her, feeling her familiar friend humming in her hand once again.
The tests didn't take long. She passed the tests for Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Ancient Runes with flying colors. Dippet said she would be placed in advanced classes, like she didn't already know that. She informed him that she had no interest in Divination or any other class other than Defence Against the Dark Arts. Dippet asked her to produce a Patronus. So she did.
As time went on, it was harder and harder to recall such a joyous memory, but she could still manage. She thought back to the final feast of her first year, her arms around Harry and Ron as they all grinned and laughed when they won the house cup for Gryffindor. She would never forget the shock on Neville's face that day, watching the green change to red. She cast the spell, but her playful, carefree Otter had disappeared months ago. It was the silver, ethereal form of a Runespoor that spilled from the tip of her wand now. The fully formed three headed snake slithered and bolted across the room before she dismissed it with a second wave of her wand.
"That was spectacular Miss Selwyn. It's obvious that you will take Advanced DADA as well. I'm very sorry that I will only have the privilege of you as a student for a single year. I won't keep you two from you breakfast. I'll see you back here in an hour."
Tom Riddle offered her his arm again. She would be walking into the den of snakes, on the arm of the king himself. At least it wouldn't be a dull morning.