AN: Heyy so this is my first ever fic. I've been uploading it on AO3 for a while now but figured why not crosspost since someone asked me about it. I've been pretty good about uploading Sundays and it's still my aim but unfortunately it's not a guarantee.
Also - if there are relevant trigger warnings I put them at the beginning of the chapter as well as there being a general warning list for the fic as a whole at the end of this note.
I will say that this first chapter is a lot darker than the rest of the fic, it's kind of a the only way is up situation. Anyway - ty! Hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything that you recognise. They all belong to she-who-shall-not-be-named, who I in no way support. I just like to play with her characters occasionally because I think we can all do better things with them now.
Warnings for this fic as a whole : Explict Language, Explict Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Character Death, Selfharm/Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Miscarriage (it's probably an overzealous list but I just wanna make sure I've covered my bases)
Also! Come follow me on twitter/tiktok MS976_ I post trailer edits and all sorts of other fun stuff there!
This chapters TW: Violence, Selfharm, Suicide (also if you ever feel I should add a warning please let me know and I happily will.)
PART ONE : AWAKENING
They had been trapped here for weeks.
Initially, they had tried to contact the remaining pockets of the Order, but they had never succeeded. Then they started losing people.
Ron, just gone, vanished, in an attempt to find the few remaining family members he had left. George shortly after, to the pain of losing not only his other half but the rest of his family too. Kingsley had been last, this time able to make it back to Grimmauld before succumbing to the cutting curse some unknown Death Eater had thrown at him.
By now, it was only Hermione left. The last member of the Order of the Phoenix, the sole survivor of the Golden Trio. Alone, alone after everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.
She tried not to think back on it too much, but it was hard not to. Hard to escape the memories echoing around her head with no-one there to stop them. That feeling of triumph when Harry had revealed himself in the Great Hall having escaped Death for the second time. It had made the pain that came after so much more unbearable. That moment of hope, before things spiralled out of control.
Somehow, despite it all, despite destroying the Horcruxes and having the Hallows, and everything. Harry had still lost. She'd watched as his body slumped to the ground when the green of Voldemort's Avada made contact with his chest, for the third and this time final time, with a strange detachment. Like an out of body experience, one she wasn't truly there to see.
It was hard to say what happened next. Somewhere between Voldemort's glee at having finally defeated the Boy-Who-Lived and the Death Eaters' celebrations at their victory, the last vestiges of the Order of the Phoenix started to fight. Not that it had lasted long. Molly was the first to go. Having killed his favourite follower Voldemort had quickly turned his wand on her, Arthur also going in his attempts to save his wife. Ginny too had been lost that day, between the heartbreak of losing her brother, her parents and her beloved, it had been too much. She just didn't have it in her to fight back anymore. Not that Hermione really knew how she had made it out either.
She and Ron had been fighting together, trying desperately to escape the Death Eater's keen to claim the honour of killing Harry Potter's best friends, when Voldemort had called for silence once more. Again, offering the chance to come to fight for the 'right' side. This time though, people started to join him. Their last hope, having died with Harry. It was McGonagall that had surprised Hermione. Stepping out and calling those who crossed cowards, shooting curses into the crowd of Death Eaters somehow taking out Yaxley, but to no real end. Gryffindor to a fault, McGonagall too had been struck down by Voldemort's own wand, unwilling to betray one of her students even in death.
McGonagall's proclamation prompted a second order from Voldemort. This time calling for his followers to round up anyone who refused to pledge their loyalty to the cause. At this chaos reigned. Death Eaters attempting to capture the resistance, members of the Order of the Phoenix fleeing, so many of whom Hermione would never see again. She still didn't know what had happened to Bill, Fleur, Percy, Neville, any of them. Amidst the chaos, she and Ron had somehow found a bewildered-looking George, and together they'd fled the castle. Unsure of where to go, and this time unprepared to escape to the woods they decided to take their chances on Grimmauld Place, not that they had much in the way of other options.
Arriving at the dilapidated house, they found they were not the only ones to flee to the Order's old headquarters. There were several tense moments between their group and Kingsley Shacklebolt while they ascertained each other's identities. Following that, though, a jarring silence fell over them, as they attempted to process what had happened.
Once the silence had settled, Kingsley finally spoke, revealing that he and Aberforth Dumbledore had fled together, after seeing several others leave or get captured, but Aberforth had caught a stray hex while apparating.
His body was in the living room.
And so, the four of them had become the occupants of 12 Grimmauld Place. Stuck there, waiting and hoping and trying to plan, but there was little they could do. They had been there a month when Ron started to grow restless. The thought of his remaining family members out there somewhere, potentially alone and in danger placing him on edge.
Hermione could understand his desire to try and find anyone else, especially family, but the truth was they had heard nothing. They had had no visitors, recieved no replies to their daily messages on the DA coins, nothing. There had been no sign that any of the Order of the Phoenix had survived, and so she was reluctant to leave the relative safety of Grimmauld without a plan.
In the end, the decision had been taken from her. Ron slipped out under cover of darkness to try and find his family, or news, or anything. They never heard from him again. George didn't last much longer after Ron's departure. It became clear after several days of no news from Ron that the worst had likely befallen him. Facing being the only Weasley left, George chose instead to join his twin. One could never have lasted long without the other anyways.
That left Hermione and Kingsley alone in Grimmauld and seemingly the world. It was a strange existence. Something about knowing you can only rely on this one other person, different somehow from that time alone in the forest with Harry. As hopeless as it had been at times in that tent, there had always been the underlying reassurance that Harry had been meant for it, born to defeat the Dark Lord.
Instead, there was her and Kingsley, bonded not by friendship but helplessness, a literal lack of any other options. No destiny was driving them, and they had no real mission to focus their energies on, just the two of them trapped within the walls of Grimmauld, hoping for something, though they didn't know what.
Hermione's first venture into the library was out of the desire to do anything but sit around and wait. She had spent some time in there over the summer before her fifth year but, in reality, Mrs Weasley had kept them busy cleaning, and the texts held in a library belonging to the Black's had been deemed too dark for children to read anyways.
Still, they had no other plan, and books had always held the answer for her in the past, and so Hermione started reading. She gained no pleasure from the Black family's books, so many of them repeating the same hateful bigotry she had just fought a war against; lost a war against. But she didn't know what else to do. At some point Kingsley had joined her, both of them craving action but having no other ideas of how to achieve anything. They still hadn't heard anything from the outside.
It was after several days spent reading in that library that she stumbled across it. It was a book she never usually would have opened; bound in some kind of skin she was nearly certain was human. It had no title, only a dark, ominous feeling that made Hermione almost afraid to read it. She doesn't really know why she did. It outlined all number of foul practices; rituals to bind a wife to you, stonger than the Imperious, completely impossible to throw off. Ones to ensure the birth of a male heir, ones to reanimate the dead, and then there it was. A ritual to send a soul back. Back before they had been born.
Hermione didn't mention it at first. She didn't know how to bring the possibility up. It was dark. Really, truly, dark in a way the Order of the Phoenix never would have considered before, but things had changed. Everything had changed. There was no Order anymore. There was only her and Kingsley, alone in the world, and with no other options Hermione could see. And so she studied it silently, learning its intricacies, trying to determine how it could work. Eventually though the time came that Hermione had to explain her plan to Kingsley, she still didn't see any other options, and they would only get one chance at this. The ritual had to be performed at the summer solstice, and they would not last another year holed up in Grimmauld Place, of that she was certain.
She was surprised when Kingsley didn't immediately write it off, more so when he agreed with what she had come up with. The ritual was specific. It must be performed at sunrise on Midsummer to represent the rebirth, it must be paid for with lifeblood, and the caster must be tethered by blood too. Beyond this, it gave vague warnings; there was no real guarantee that it would work, there was no way of knowing if it had previously; after all, their current timeline would be destroyed. Instead, it would restart, back at the moment the caster was reborn.
Even its explanations of rebirth were unclear. The caster could only return to a time before they had been born, and they would be written entirely out of existence during this second lifetime, but it didn't explain what they would be born as. It did explain why the tether was necessary, though. Some way to tie her to the past, to fit her in where she was meant to be going. They hadn't technically discussed it, but Hermione's whole plan was based on her being the one to return, and Kingsley had voiced no objections.
Technically the ritual required two tethers. Although, one was far more easily found than the other. One a tether of blood and one a tether of time. Hermione knew when she wanted to go back to. Just long enough ago to stop it all, to stop Harry from spending his entire life fighting, to stop Voldemort from ever being reborn, to stop the Potter's from dying in the first place. She didn't want to go too far back but far enough that she had plenty of time to change things, She gave herself five years, hoping to make it to 1976. Five years to find the Horcruxes, defeat Voldemort, and ensure that nothing like this befell the world again. It was a long time, but she needed to be thorough, there could be no mistakes this time.
The tether of time was easy to find. Regulus Black once again contributing to the defeat of the Dark Lord in the form of a journal Hermione hadn't realised he kept until she found herself in his room thinking back on that moment of joy when she, Harry and Ron had realised who R.A.B was. The diary itself was a tragic read, full of pain that a fifteen-year-old should never have experienced. The pain of losing his brother after he ran to the Potters, of being left alone in this House and to the pressures of being the perfect heir, but it suited Hermione's purposes. A physical tie to 1976, made stronger by the fears and thoughts poured into it.
It was the blood tether where Hermione struggled. It would be simplest to use Kingsley's, he was with her after all, and if her plan failed, she might have no choice, but she wanted someone closer. She wanted some guarantee she would have an in with the Marauders, so she sent off a Patronus and prayed they had somehow survived.
Hermione nearly wept when she got the reply. Andromeda's swan Patronus speaking at her shock to hear from someone else but that she and Teddy too were alive and had been hiding. It was then her and Kingsley made their plan. Since she was the one who would be returning, he would go and collect the Tonkses and bring them to Grimmauld, leaving behind a vial of his blood just in case.
She knew she should have felt bad bringing Andromeda and Teddy here under false pretences, but she mainly felt the faint stirrings of hope in her chest for the first time since she watched Harry's body hit the floor of the Great Hall. It wasn't as if she was going to harm the child. She only needed a little of his blood. Even if the ritual didn't work and nothing happened, it would be for the best. Kingsley wouldn't be left alone, and Andromeda would have the protection of an Auror and the wards of Grimmauld Place.
If it did work?
Well, then everyone would be better off, and so Hermione felt no guilt letting Kingsley slip out of Grimmauld to retrieve the blood she needed. It was Teddy's blood that was so vital to her plan. He wouldn't have been born in 1976, instead tethering her to one of his parents. Hermione hoped and prayed that the magic would choose to tether her to his sixteen-year-old father rather than his three-year-old mother, but honestly either would do. She didn't know what form the tether would create, although the book indicated it would likely be a blood relation of some sort and so it was Teddy's blood that she was relying on.
She was alone for several days. Receiving no news from Kingsley, she instead focused on the other parts of the ritual. It required a silver athame, an item she found in Grimmauld's study, as well as open flames. She supposed she could use one of the many fireplaces, but instead set up a kind of brazier in the courtyard that was still covered by the Fidelius. Having prepared as much as she could, Hermione returned to the book to look over the rebirth rune the ritual demanded but instead found herself contemplating the warnings once more.
It might not work. She may have been about to die for nothing, have her death contribute nothing towards ridding the world of the Death Eater's but again, if it did work, she could change everything, and could she really turn down that opportunity? No, she had to do it, because if there was even the slimmest chance it could work, then it was worth it.
Having rationalised away any concerns the ritual may not work, she turned her thoughts to the other warnings it listed, those that were less clear. That she would be judged by magic itself as to whether she deserved the chance, the opportunity to try and rewrite history.
Hermione didn't know what would make her deserving or not, whether it was her reasoning for going back or her actions in this life. She only knew she would be judged. The other warning it listed regarded fate, and Hermione honestly didn't know what it meant. It only stated that some things were destined and to destroy that destiny risked destroying the destined itself. She may not have know what it meant, but she knew it wasn't enough to stop her. Not at that point, when she was only waiting for Kingsley to return with the correct blood and for the sun itself to assume the right position.
It was the evening before the solstice when Kingsley hadn't returned that Hermione began to think that it may not go to plan at all. Of course she still had the vial of Kingsley's blood, and when the sun came up tomorrow, she was going through with the ritual no matter what, but she was still hoping that they'd make it here before then. The plan worked so much better if she was somehow related to Remus or Sirius.
She was lying in bed trying to get some sleep, not that she knew why she was bothering, when the noise started.
The front door opened, and there was the slumping sound of a body falling to the floor. Grabbing her wand, Hermione cautiously made her way downstairs to find Kingsley by the front door. He was alone, and even from a distance, Hermione could tell he was badly injured. Coming close she could tell a cutting curse had torn its way across his abdomen, she didn't know how he made it there.
Levitating him onto a sofa in one of the parlours she knew there was nothing she could do. He needed a hospital and a team of Healers, not an eighteen-year-old in a run-down house, but she was all he had, so she cast the healing charms she knew and summoned a blood-replenishing potion from somewhere. She dreaded to think how old it is but knows it was the best chance she had. Forcing it down his throat, Hermione sat and waited for him to wake.
After half an hour or so Kinglsey began to rise. He couldn't sit up, and Hermione knew he wasn't going to last long, but hopefully, she could get some answers.
"What happened?" She enquired quietly, not wanting to disturb his peace too much but still needing to know. She felt terrible about it, but she mainly wanted to know if he managed to get the blood. Losing everyone had changed her somehow. She knew he was going to die anyway, but Teddy's blood could make all the difference as to whether they both died in vain, and so it was what she was mainly focused on.
Shakily, Kingsley explained, "they have people around the house, but I got past them, at least I thought I did. Then I apparated all over the place to try and hide where I was going. Andromeda's managed to keep her house hidden this long, and I didn't want to lead them right there if possible. I got there yesterday evening, but I needed rest before I could try and get them out of there, so we said we'd wait until tonight to move. I don't know how they found us, they must have tracked me from somewhere, but they made it to her house in the morning and got through her wards not long after that. Andromeda put up a good fight, and we killed the two that had found us, but they'd already called for help at that point.
"We took a couple of minutes to try and grab things, and I used that time to get a vial of blood, and we tried apparating, but they followed us. Andromeda was carrying Teddy when they got her, killed them both instantly. I knew I had to get the blood back to you, so I started apparating away, but they caught me with the hex. It took me this long to get back here because of it. But, I'm in time, and I have the blood."
Hermione felt a chill settle over her at that statement. They both knew what they had just done. They had sacrificed Andromeda and Teddy for his blood, removing them from the safety of their home for the promise of a chance to re-do it all, literally bringing death to their door. Kingsley too was going to die because of this endeavour, his skin already the sickly pale that spoke of blood loss and his breathing taking on the rapid, shallow breaths of someone going into shock. He didn't have long.
Hermione searched his robes for the vial and quickly found it. She could only hope it was all worth it. By the end of this, the ritual would have taken four lives rather than one it called for. She sat with him until his breathing stopped and then closed his eyes for the final time. It felt cold in a way that unsettled her, but she needed to prepare for the ritual. It was the height of summer and sunrise was early, she didn't have long.
Showering Kingsley's blood off, she put on a thin robe and made her way out to the ritual space she had made in the garden. It was still dark out, so the courtyard was lit by the central brazier, but that was okay, Hermione didn't want to see what she was about to do.
It was time.
Only minutes before sunrise Hermione set Regulus Black's 1976 diary ablaze within a cauldron. She wasn't making a potion, not truly, but it was convenient. Having collected them, Hermione mixed the vial of Teddy Lupin's blood in with the ashes and combined them into a paste. Using the silver athame from some unknown Black ancestor, she began carving the ritual of rebirth into her own flesh, right above her left breast. It was painful, and the only thing that allowed her to complete it was the determination that this wasn't all for nothing.
Having carved the rune above her heart came the part that genuinely sickened her. She used the athame to force the mixture of Teddy's blood and the ashes of the diary in the wound. It is necessary, she told herself, you must ensure the tether is truly a part of you, part of the rune, a part of the ritual. This part was worse than the initial cut though, agitating it, infecting it somehow.
There were no words to speak, no chants to perform, nothing like the magic Hermione had done at Hogwarts. This was entirely different. Instead, she waited the few moments for the first rays of the sun to make their way up into the sky marking the start of the summer solstice, a true time of rebirth. When they appeared, she leant over the brazier and opened her throat. Giving her lifeblood to the flames, she dropped the athame into the fire, and the ritual was complete.
Hermione Granger was dead.