Hey y'all. I hope you are all as healthy and safe as you can be in these crazy times. I have a lot of excuses for why this update is coming 4 months late. Some are legitimate. Most aren't. All I really want to say is that when I finally got to courage to check all the reviews tonight, I was expecting people yelling at me for disappearing. Instead everyone was so kind and supportive, so here is the next chapter. I hope to have another one up sometime next week. Enjoy!
Chapter 11
Hermione was thinking about destiny. She couldn't help it, not after the day she'd had. The Chamber of Secrets. Somehow Harry and Draco had found themselves in the Chamber of Secrets.
Now Hermione wouldn't say she remembered their all-school game of hide-and-seek from her second year. She vaguely remembered something like that occurring, but she certainly didn't recall Harry finding himself stuck in the Chamber of Secrets. That was the kind of thing she imagined she would recall.
Destiny. Prophecy. Fate. They weren't things Hermione usually took the time to consider. She'd always found divination to be a crock full of baloney. Everyone else seemed to think it was real, but Hermione had never been convinced. Perhaps the prophecy regarding Harry and Voldemort had come true, but perhaps it hadn't. It hadn't made much sense, after all. "Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives." What did that even mean? Harry and the rest of the world seemed to think that meant Harry had to kill Voldemort or Voldemort would kill Harry, but really, that wasn't what it said. Because quite frankly, Harry and Voldemort had both lived simultaneously. Sure, the prophecy could be interpreted metaphorically, that neither could live unchallenged while the other lived, but if one part of a prophecy could be a metaphor, then the whole thing was rubbish, wasn't it? The whole thing could be one huge metaphor, after all. In which case it meant nothing. Never mind the fact that it implied that Harry could only die at Voldemort's hand, in which case Harry would have become immortal after Voldemort died…
Now Hermione would never have said that to Harry, of course. He'd considered the prophecy fulfilled and been content with that. But Hermione hadn't been. It all seemed too outlandish for her. Destiny, prophecy, fate—Hermione didn't believe in that. She believed in choices. She believed in logic. Perhaps every prophecy was true if you interpreted it with the benefit of hindsight, if you made it true, but besides that, there was no such thing as destiny. Hermione had been certain of it.
Now, she wasn't.
It was just too much of a coincidence. She'd confiscated the diary, ensuring the Chamber wouldn't be opened, and then, suddenly, Harry's game of hide-and-seek ended in a six-hour trek to Salazar Slytherin's evil lair. There was absolutely no logical reason why confiscating a diary should cause hide-and-seek to become so deadly. None what-so-ever.
Which meant that the reason wasn't logical. The cascading events—Malfoy Sr. asking his son to investigate why the chamber had gone unopened, Draco happening to summon a snake, Harry using just the right words in parseltongue to open the passage, the boys falling down—they were so improbable they should have been impossible. But they weren't. Everything had come together exactly right so Harry still ended up in the Chamber of Secrets at the age of twelve.
At least he didn't free the basilisk, she tried desperately to reassure herself. And no one has been petrified. Things are changing. They are.
But not enough. That was the problem, things were changing, but not enough. Which meant there was some force, some inexplicable force, fighting back against Hermione's changes. And the only name she could think of for such a thing was Fate.
But if Fate was real, really real, then what in the world was Hermione supposed to do? Hermione couldn't even keep Harry out of the Chamber of Secrets; she couldn't possibly prevent the Battle of Hogwarts. How was she supposed to make any meaningful changes at all, how was she supposed to protect Harry, if Fate determined he must be the one to kill Voldemort?
"No, Albus! For once in your bloody life it's your turn to listen!"
Sirius's shouting drew Hermione back to the present.
"He's my godson! You don't get to decide anymore what I do and don't get to know! I get to know everything. I get to tell Harry everything if I damn well pleased. If I'm supposed to act like a bloody adult, I'll expect to be treated like one. Now tell me—why haven't you told anyone that Voldemort spent a year teaching at Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore glanced over at Hermione and she shrugged, feeling a little guilty. She didn't exactly regret the tidbits of information she'd given Sirius over dinner; she just regretted that she'd told him the same night Harry got lost in the Chamber of Secrets. Fate's hand was not something she'd taken in account when planning how to use Sirius to change the future.
It was too late for this anyway. Hermione hated that she'd become such an old woman, but it was eleven o'clock at night, and she didn't have the energy to listen to grown men argue. Harry and Draco were both alright, this time. News of the Chamber's existence would spread across the school within days, but since none of the students were parselmouths, they should be safe. Hermione was more concerned about Lucius Malfoy, but the pompous Death Eater had been legitimately concerned for his son's safety. Hopefully, he'd realize a bit earlier in this timeline that helping Voldemort and caring for his son were incompatible. Hopefully.
"I understand your anger, Sirius. I care deeply about Harry myself. Still, you must see this from my point of view. At the moment, Voldemort is weak, incredibly so. More importantly, he is alone. Quirrell knew of my suspicions and went looking for Voldemort. Now Quirrell was just a fool, but what do you imagine would happen if a Death Eater with power and wealth heard their former master lived? What would happen then? Friendship, family, love—these are what make a wizard strong. At the moment, Voldemort is alone and his supporters are more afraid of the Wizengamot then their master. For now, that is the best we can do. With any luck, the next generation will be grown before he returns."
Sirius didn't seem the least bit calmed by Dumbledore's rather reasonable explanations, "Don't say that. Don't you dare say that. If this is about that stupid prophecy…"
"You're aware of the prophecy?"
Sirius just glared at the man. If this wasn't so serious, Hermione might have found it amusing. "Of course I know about the prophecy. Lily and James were terrified! But it's a load of horse dung. Prophecies aren't real and Harry is not the only one who can kill Voldemort."
"You're wrong," the words escaped Hermione's mouth before she'd even thought them. Immediately Sirius's furious glare turned on her. Still, Hermione held firm, even if her voice wavered. "I mean, I'm no expert, and I have to admit I'm skeptical but… but what if Dumbledore is right? What if Harry really is the only one who can defeat Voldemort once-and-for-all? Maybe holding him off until Harry is of age, teaching Harry how to defend himself… maybe that is all we can do."
"Of course you're on his side," Sirius barked. "And to think, I thought you honestly cared about Harry."
There were many things Hermione would take. She was a woman, a muggleborn woman at that, and she knew that, sometimes, you just had to have thick skin. But if there was one thing she was not about to permit, it was questioning of her motives. Sirius's words made her angry in a way she'd never imagined, "I do care about Harry! Of course I care about Harry, but I'd rather we face reality and prepare him than bury our heads in the sand and hope it all works out!"
"Prophecies don't always come true. The Hall of Prophecies is full of of prophecies that never came true," Sirius reminded them. There was something in his eyes though, a certain fear that hadn't been there before Hermione spoke. Maybe he was worried that if she believed it too, it just might be true.
"Au contraire, my boy," Dumbledore countered sounding far too proud for the situation. "The Hall of Prophecies is full of prophecies which have not been fulfilled. There is a grave difference between the two. Had the words been spoken and yet both parties unaware of the prophecy's existence, it is quite likely it would have gone unfulfilled. But that was not the case. Voldemort learned of the prophecy in-part, and he acted upon it. And in that choice, he marked Harry as his equal, giving Harry the power to defeat him, a power even I fear even I lack. No, I am afraid to say we are eleven years beyond the prophecy remaining unfulfilled. The only action which it spoke of was Voldemort marking his equal, and through his free will that has come to pass. The rest of the prophecy is simply the consequence. Harry has this power now, though he does not know it—and I dare say should not know it for a great many years. When Voldemort returns, and it is only a matter of when, he will come after Harry until one of them kills the other. That is not fate; that is fact. Even if he did not fear the power Harry has—and I am certain he does— Harry is a symbol of resistance against him, of his weakness. No, I fear the prophecy has been fulfilled. It is only a matter of how long until it comes true."
That… that made sense, and Hermione wasn't the least bit happy about it. It was true, then. She couldn't change things, not completely. She could alter them. She could ease some of Harry's suffering, save some lives, but in the end, it would have to be Harry and Voldemort. It would always have to be Harry and Voldemort.
Sirius must have realized Dumbledore was telling the truth also, because he slunk into a seat, looking defeated. For a long moment, the man sat with his head in his hands. Finally, he looked up, appearing far older than he'd ever been. "I'll take Harry and go abroad. If Voldemort can't find us, he'll have to give up."
"He would not. You would spend your whole life on the run—and that is no life at all. Besides, would Harry truly wish to condemn the world to Voldemort's terror?"
They all knew he wouldn't. Harry was just good like that. After all, wasn't that Harry's power? He could love, love deeper and more intensely than the rest of them combined. He'd never run away when they were all in danger.
"Sirius, I understand this is upsetting, but you must admit, we are in a rather advantageous position," Dumbledore remarked smiling as if it wasn't a very inappropriate time to smile.
Sirius certainly didn't appreciate it. "Oh yes, because the twelve year old fighting a mass murder is definitely advantageous. You do realize that if this prophecy is true then Harry is the only one who can kill Voldemort. If he dies, we're all screwed."
"Sirius," Hermione felt rather shaky, but her voice came out confident. "You're missing the point. Voldemort isn't around. He needs help, and at the moment he's alone in Albania. All we have to do is delay him. Harry is a powerful wizard. With time, he'll be Voldemort's equal in more ways than one. If we can give him that time—limit Voldemort's political support, turn his followers against him, destroy any horcruxes— and train Harry, he'll be prepared to fight back when it is time. And I know he'll want to. No one is saying he has to do this alone. In fact, if Harry's power is love then he mustn't do it alone. He'll have us."
"And who are you in all of this, Professor Watson?"
Sirius's words stung. They were fair, very fair, but they stung. Maybe they stung because they were so fair. Who was she in this timeline? A teacher who'd known Harry for a month? A woman who'd gone on one not-date with Sirius? A member of the nonexistent Order of the Phoenix?
Because she wasn't Harry's friend. She wasn't even Hermione Granger. And while she could probably tell Sirius the truth without Dumbledore obliviating him again, she didn't really want to. It still seemed wise to keep that information as close to the breast as possible. If she told Sirius exactly how it went down the first time, what a disaster it had been, he'd no doubt grab Harry and run for the hills. Slow, Dumbledore had told her. She needed to take it slow and steady.
"I'm his teacher, Lord Black. I stand in loco parentis, and, furthermore, I care about him. And I care about defeating Voldemort for reasons that are none of your business."
"She is also Harry's tutor," Dumbledore added, a broad smile across his face.
"What?" Sirius shook his head. "Why does Harry need a tutor?"
"He's saying I should give Harry private lessons," Hermione explained. "That way Harry will be even more prepared. As his guardian, it would be your right to hire me, though I think it may be less suspicious if I was to offer private lessons to all students." Images of the DA flashed through her head. "Though there is the question of what we're going to tell Harry. Now I'm certain Dumbledore would like to tell him nothing."
"He is too young."
Typical Dumbledore.
"I, for one, think that's foolish. I've already told Harry that Voldemort believed Harry to be a threat, and after last year, he knows Voldemort isn't truly gone. I did mention that he might want to know occlumency before learning much more. But you're his godfather, Sirius. Ultimately, you have to decide."
Sirius seemed legitimately shocked to be handed the choice, but Hermione was quite proud to see him sit back and legitimately ponder it. He'd been telling the truth during their disastrous dinner; he really was trying to be a proper adult. It both surprised and pleased Hermione.
"Could you teach him occlumency?"
Hermione frowned. Could she? In the original timeline Harry had been rather rubbish at occlumency, but then, Snape wasn't very good at teaching anything. He'd picked up occlumency before Ron during their auror training, even if neither of them had ever mastered it to the point that you couldn't tell they were occluding. Hermione herself struggled with that unless she put effort into it.
But who else could teach him? Sirius wasn't around during the school year. Dumbledore would probably come up with some excuse why it couldn't possibly be him. Snape was definitely out of the question. So all that left was Hermione.
"I can try. He's rather young to learn, but it's worth a shot."
Sirius nodded, then took another moment to consider. "For the moment we stick with the simple truth. Voldemort is out there and will come back. When he does, Harry will be in danger for having defeated him twice already, so he needs to learn how to be prepared. I'll tell him about the prophecy myself when I think he's old enough to understand or when Voldemort comes back—whichever comes first."
Even Dumbledore seemed content with that arrangement. He beamed brightly, "Perfect. Then it seems Harry shall be well taken care of."
"There's still the matter of the horcruxes, though," Hermione interjected. Dumbledore seemed less appreciate of her mentioning those in front of Sirius, but he just sighed, didn't start obliviating again. "I told you, Sirius, that we found one. Dumbledore suspects Voldemort wouldn't have been content with just one. I'll take it upon myself to… research where others might be if there are others, but I may need your assistance in finding them. And destroying them… Sirius, I hate to ask it, but what would be your thoughts on allowing Harry to go back down to the Chamber, with us of course, but to lure out the basilisk. They're easy to kill with a rooster. All we need is for Harry to open the doors."
"Absolutely not. Are you insane?"
Sometimes Hermione felt it. But at the moment, she was just tired, "We can't keep parts of Voldemort's soul just lying around. I need basilisk venom if I'm going to safely dispose of them. Harry is the only parseltongue I know of, and only a parseltongue could open the chambers. I don't think it's a coincidence that Harry and Draco ended up down there. I think it's fate."
"Fate," Sirius scoffed, rubbing his beard. "Fine, but not until after the first quidditch match. He has too much on his plate already, and I'd like him to get in a bit of training first. Surely this horcrux has waited eleven years. It can wait a few more weeks."
That was fair. Hermione was nervous about leaving the diary in Dumbledore's care much longer, but he seemed unaffected after a month with the thing. Hopefully they would be fine to leave it until then. And Hermione wouldn't mind getting in a few training sessions with Harry first. Maybe the dueling club wasn't a terrible idea…
Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "It may also be wise for us to recruit other allies, a new Order of the Phoenix, so to speak. If Voldemort does return, it could be useful to have contacts within the ministry. I'm not sure I trust Fudge not to simply dismiss the truth out of inconvenience."
Hermione didn't remember telling Dumbledore about her fifth year, so she supposed he was just perceptive. That or her occlumency shields were worse than she thought and she'd make an absolutely terrible teacher. But that was a depressing thought, so she figured she'd settle on the former.
"And, as Lord Black, I may be able to limit the political power of his supporters. Starting with Lucius Malfoy, the git."
Things were coming together surprisingly well, and Hermione smiled. They'd have their work cut out ahead of them, but she suddenly felt like she had a path. Up until that point she'd just been floundering, changing things when the moment seemed to permit it, or hiding in the background doing nothing at all. Now there was a plan. Train Harry. Destroy the horcruxes. Delay Voldemort. When he finally did come back, they'd be much more prepared than the first time around.
Fate. It was such a tricky subject. It felt oppressive, burdensome, but in a way, it was freeing. It gave them purpose. It gave them a path. And it gave them hope too. Hermione was still nervous that her changes would result in even more death than the first time around, but she was steadily hopeful. Destiny would still come to pass. Harry would still win. But with her help, he'd hopefully have a smoother time of it. For the first time since coming to the past, Hermione's future felt clear.
"Well then, if that is settled it is quite past my bedtime," Dumbledore announced, standing up and stretching. "I shall discreetly begin recruiting for the Order, and will inform you both when we are ready for our first meeting. I trust, Jean, that you can see Sirius out through your personal floo?"
She frowned. What was Dumbledore playing at? If he thought for one second that Sirius was going to be a part of her newly crafted plan for the future, well he had another thing coming.
You're being defensive, she told herself. Sirius just needs a way to leave and he's giving us a chance to talk privately. Considering we showed up together, he probably doesn't realize it wasn't actually a date.
Hermione hoped the rational side of her was right. She really didn't want to deal with it if she was wrong.
"How come Dumbledore trusts you with all of this?" Sirius asked her once they got to her chambers. Hermione was a bit surprised that was the first thing he'd said, but she supposed it made sense.
Too bad she didn't have a good answer, "I'm a Professor. Why wouldn't he trust me?"
"Quirrell was a professor," he wisely noted. "Where you what? Head Girl in your year?"
Actually, yes, but that was one of the many things Hermione couldn't admit to. "I didn't go to Hogwarts. My family and I moved to Boston when I was ten, so I attended Ilvermorny instead. Dumbledore and I just have an understanding. He knows I'll do anything to stop Voldemort."
"But why? What did he ever do to you?"
Wasn't him being a murderous maniac enough for her to dislike him? Did Hermione really need a personal vendetta to be worthy of Sirius's trust? Perhaps she did. It was hard for Hermione to hide her passion, after all. It stood to reason that there was a reason behind it.
"I had a friend," she tepidly began, unsure where she'd end up. "He was the one who told me I was a witch, actually. We lived near each other and he saw me doing magic, told me all about it… This was back here in Britain. After we moved, I tried to keep in contact, but he… uh… he died. Whole family killed in a raid by Death Eaters. The war never felt distant after that, even if I was safe in the States. Now I'm here and I find out he's back, that he was never really gone at all, and it makes my blood boil. These kids, my students, Harry—they don't deserve to grow up like we did, terrified for themselves, for their friends. They deserve better."
Sirius nodded slowly, "Yes, they do. And we're going to give it to them."
