June came to a close, and Hermione had a shiny new plan for tackling the Dumbledore problem. She had held on, stubbornly, for as long as she could, but she's had enough of Borgin and Burkes. After Voldemort's surprise visit, Borgin stopped bringing up Tom Riddle completely. Which was a welcome relief, because she could never hope to surpass the greatness of Tom Riddle, shop boy extraordinaire.
After she learned that Borgin was now attempting to train her to go out and learn how to convince people to part with their treasures, she'd decided a line had been crossed, and it was truly time to part ways.
She learned a lot about shady sales tactics, but she didn't know if she actually learned. Much of it was manipulation and lying with confidence, and she was terrible at both. Even when she went undercover for cases, and disguised herself countless times, it was never quite like this. But she had to figure it out. She needed to learn the art of deception to survive in this time period.
Eye contact. Confidence. Eye contact.
She knew that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position had just been made available, very recently, and suspected Voldemort was the culprit. Clearly, he was preparing to use the cover of applying for the position at Hogwarts as a reason to be at Hogwarts when he hid his latest Horcrux, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem.
Hermione knew that Dumbledore had always been suspicious of Tom Riddle, ever since he first met him at Wool's orphanage, and Riddle's questionable actions as a student solidified Dumbledore's mistrust of him. He would never give him a teaching position at Hogwarts.
Hermione reasoned that if Voldemort didn't want the position anyway, she'd take the opportunity to apply for it, even if it only lasted a year. She hoped that she would be back in her own time, by then. It would be ideal for her. She could teach, which was something she was always interested in. Her bossy, know-it-all self just loved showing others the proper way to do things, and though DADA wasn't her strongest subject when she attended Hogwarts, she had improved leaps and bounds ever since the end of the war.
She would also have the Hogwarts library at her disposal. With unlimited access as a professor, she would be able to explore the restricted section more thoroughly. Most importantly, the position would provide her with a salary and a comfortable place to live.
The truth was that her morale was extremely low now. With Voldemort back for good, she couldn't stay in Knockturn Alley. If she wanted to stay connected to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts was likely the safest place for her. In her spare time, she'll be on the Horcrux hunt, and avoid Voldemort at all costs.
Her biggest obstacle was Dumbledore. She could never trust him, but she needed him to trust her, or at least convince him to give her the job. In her time period, Dumbledore had allowed a series of wildly inappropriate and frankly downright suspicious individuals to take the DADA position. Quirrell, Lockhart, and Barty Crouch Jr. disguised as Moody? Even Umbridge sent by the ministry was able to take the post.
She couldn't be any worse than them.
She will just have to tell Dumbledore the truth and hope that her potential usefulness as someone who will help him fight another rising Dark wizard will be enough to convince him. If Dumbledore decided to turn her into the ministry, well, it was a chance she would take. But she suspected that he would try to manipulate her to the best of his abilities instead. The difference was that she was prepared this time and not a naïve child.
She had owled Dumbledore to set up an interview and was extremely cryptic in her letter. In his reply, he accepted, but couldn't meet until mid-July, frustratingly enough. He was a busy, important wizard, she supposed.
Finally, it was mid-July, and Hermione was at Hogwarts, sitting across from Albus Dumbledore. She studied him for a moment, his wizarding fashion sense was as extravagant as always, but he had fewer lines on his face, and his hair was auburn streaked with white.
"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered.
"No, thank you." Hermione smiled softly. The eccentric wizard had always loved those muggle sweets.
"You are here for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, am I correct? You didn't attach a CV to your letter, and you have no references. There are no records of a Hermione Kraus, anywhere, in fact. Your letter made it clear that you preferred an in-person meeting and that it was absolutely imperative that you speak with me, and that the future of the wizarding world was at stake. Forgive me, Miss Kraus, but I wasn't sure what to make of you from your letter."
She decided honesty may be the best course of action.
"My real name is Hermione Granger, I'm a muggle-born witch and my date of birth is September 19, 1979."
"A time traveler? What year did you travel from?" Dumbledore was astonished.
"2004, sir. I'm an Auror, actually, and I fought in a wizarding war when I was a student at Hogwarts. One of the darkest wizards to ever live started a terrible war that spanned decades. I've fought against and helped defeat this wizard, and I have knowledge of the future that could potentially save many lives."
"How did you arrive here? Surely not with a Time-Turner?"
"I was hunting a wizard selling dark artifacts on the black market, and I came across an anomaly that brought me here."
"You shouldn't be telling me any of this, actually," he sighed. "Terrible things happen to those who meddle with time."
"Well, it's too late for me. I've already time traveled, I've already meddled with time. I've tried to stay away, in the shadows. I've actually been here for months! I figured that I might as well try to change things for the better. You will need my help. After you see all the atrocities that occurred under this wizard's power, you will want my help. This will be for the greater good."
"Who is this wizard?" Dumbledore's voice was very soft, as if he already knew the answer.
"He goes by Lord Voldemort, but you knew him as—"
"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore interrupted.
"Yes, and he has done unspeakable acts to ensure his immortality, making him a very difficult wizard to defeat. I implore you to use Legilimency on me so that you could see for yourself. It would also give you insight into my character, and prove that I am who I say I am."
Dumbledore looked pained. He was completely silent for several moments, but he eventually cast the spell. An hour passed as Hermione selected very specific memories for his viewing pleasure. Everything went by in a blur, and soon Dumbledore was suitably informed. He didn't know absolutely everything, but it was enough to convince him. She didn't let him view all of Voldemort's actions, just the main events. She also prevented him from learning of his own actions in the war against Voldemort, his death, her distrust of him, and her more questionable activities as an Auror.
"This is a lot to process, Miss Granger. What exactly do you want from me?" asked Dumbledore.
"Give me a year to find his existing Horcruxes in secret, and I will destroy them, rendering him mortal once more. What you do with the wizard after that, is up to you. I just need some guidance on time travel, and some help to understand my current situation. I've been given the rare opportunity to help make a better future, for all of us, with my knowledge. I couldn't just sit back and do nothing. I...also need a place to stay. I've been at Knockturn Alley for the past few months, working in an antique shop, and I feel that it is a waste of my abilities. I believe that I am qualified to teach DADA, if you'd allow it."
Dumbledore shook his head gently, took a deep breath, released, and closed his eyes. Hermione wondered if he fell asleep, after several minutes. She was absolutely panicking now. He was going to reject her request, and turn her into the ministry, and possibly obliviate himself of this whole encounter to preserve the timeline.
"I will grant you your request, for now. Your role in the Second Wizarding War, your experience as an Auror, and nine Outstanding NEWTs scores are enough to show me that you are more than qualified to teach DADA. I will assist you with creating an identity — fabricating a believable background and obtaining false documents. I'll assist you with obtaining information about your method of time travel. It is very unlikely you will ever make it back to your time period, however. I don't want to give you false hope. All we can really do now is hope that your being here did not destroy the fabric of time. I won't meddle in your hunt for Tom's Horcruxes, at this time. However, I will turn you into the ministry myself if I feel you are abusing your knowledge of the future here, or if your actions prove to be disastrous," he warned.
Hermione was astounded. "Thank you so much sir, I won't disappoint you. This was more than I could have hoped for, truly. Though, is there any way I can move into the castle before school starts?"
"Miss Granger, you may move into the quarters designated for the DADA professor, today, if you so desire."
Lord Voldemort sat across from Albus Dumbledore in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts. It was the end of July, and school was on summer break.
Dumbledore took in his old student's appearance. He recognized the poisonous influence of dark magic immediately. Tom Riddle was no longer the charming and handsome head boy. The wizard sitting before him was much paler than he remembered. He had shadowed features and blood-red eyes. He could also see that Voldemort's features were somewhat blurred. Like something about him was inhuman, but one couldn't quite point out what it was that made him seem so.
Dumbledore was greatly disappointed, but not entirely surprised. Especially not after what the mysterious Hermione Kraus shared with him last week about his former student.
"Do you know who I am?" Voldemort asked.
"I know what you are known as. But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings." Dumbledore had that infuriating twinkle in his eye. Voldemort had always detested it.
The burning vehemence in the glare Voldemort leveled on Dumbledore may have intimidated a lesser wizard, but Dumbledore was no ordinary wizard. This was a wizard who had experience in defeating powerful dark lords.
"What is the purpose of this visit, Tom?" Dumbledore asked genially, but firmly.
"I want the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. I know there is an opening. Dippet wouldn't give it to me when I graduated, even though I was more than qualified for it. I suppose you had a hand in that. How about now? I think I'm quite ready for it."
"You know that I will never allow it. I cannot have you so close to potentially corruptible minds. These students are not here for your use. Also, I suppose you had a hand in the position becoming available so suddenly?" A hint of steel had entered Dumbledore's voice.
"Well, there is no one more qualified. That is the absolute truth," Voldemort said.
"Actually Tom, the position's been filled by a highly gifted witch, about a week ago. I would say that you're too late, but we both know you have ambitions beyond teaching. Now, tell me why you are really here at Hogwarts."
Voldemort's fists clenched. "Whoever you have hired will greatly regret ever stepping foot into Hogwarts. In fact, they will regret ever meeting you in the first place."
"Is that a threat, Tom? You should know I don't take kindly to threats," Dumbledore challenged.
"I don't care what you believe, Dumbledore. Your time will come eventually. I will savor your demise and I promise you, it will be by my hand."
Dumbledore tensed. He looked into Voldemort's bloodied eyes and immediately attacked his mind with Legilimency. Voldemort resisted sharply and returned the spell to his old professor. A wandless and bloodless battle of power and wills ended in a draw, with both wizards grimacing and gasping for breath after several long moments.
"I wish your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor the best of luck."
Voldemort stood up abruptly, and with an imposing whirl of his shadowy robes, left the office.
After leaving the office, Voldemort quickly cast a powerful and little-known invisibility spell that only left the barest hint of magic in the air. Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem hidden in his robes also became invisible. The spell was infinitely more useful than the disillusionment spell. Voldemort ensured he was not being followed with detection spells.
None of the portraits, which were mostly empty anyway, witnessed the tall, cloaked wizard on the seventh-floor walk by a blank wall three times and enter the Room of Hidden Things. He had discovered Hogwarts' deepest secret as a student, and the discovery was his alone. Thus, this Horcrux of his shall remain here forever, protected by the old magic in the castle that changed his life.
Once inside, Voldemort dropped his invisibility spell and removed his Horcrux. He gazed at the inscription on the diadem — Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.
Wit beyond measure indeed. He carefully placed his Horcrux on top of the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. He took one last, measured look at it before he turned and left the room that now hid a piece of his soul.
He recast his invisibility spell and walked down the staircase until he reached the main hall. High on the satisfaction of accomplishing his objective today, he dissolved the invisibility spell. He would exit Hogwarts as Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard of all time.
He had no need to hide, not anymore. This is who he is. He had achieved immortality, many times over, and nothing can stop him, not even Dumbledore.
Voldemort decided to generously impart a little gift to the school. As he walked, he swirled his yew wand in a complex series of flourishes and whispered an incantation under his breath. A burst of violet exploded from the tip of his wand and seeped into the magic of the castle.
A sense of calm and satisfaction permeated his being. No one will be able to hold that DADA position for more than a year for as long as he lived, and he will live for a very, very long time.
School was a month away from being in session and was closed, or so he thought. No student was allowed to stay for summer breaks. He knew this because he was forced to return to the orphanage every summer when he was a student. Thus, he stopped straight in his tracks when he noticed that an unknown, oblivious witch appeared to be walking straight towards him.
His footfalls were silent, and she didn't hear his approach. Lost to the world around her, she was reading a book, while walking. No one ever does that. No one normal, at least.
He took the opportunity to study her. She wore violet robes with long chiffon sleeves that nipped in at her wrists. The fabric wrapped becomingly around her chest and waist before it flowed neatly towards the ground. His gaze couldn't help but linger on the line of her thin waist as it dipped into curvy hips.
Long, thick, caramel brown curls cascaded loosely behind her back. She was graced with a heart-shaped face and a pert nose. Straight white teeth dug into her pillowy lower lip as she concentrated on her reading. Thick, lush eyelashes cast delicate shadows over her high cheekbones.
She had an unassuming air of innocence that many women in his acquaintance lacked, with their heavily made-up faces and coy smiles.
He didn't generally observe witches or their features for an extended period of time. It just wasn't a constructive use of his time and energy at this point in his life.
But he just knew, this witch was special. She was special because she was at Hogwarts when no one else besides himself and Dumbledore should be.
She was special because she must be the 'highly gifted witch' who managed to pilfer the Defense Against the Dark Arts position he had coveted for over two decades. If the position couldn't be his, no one else should feel entitled to it either.
She wasn't worthy. He was sure of it.
He loathed her.
Completely enthralled, Hermione was reading the grimoire of a Renaissance necromancer while headed to her quarters on the third floor close to the DADA classroom. No one was in the castle besides Dumbledore, and he was usually away on business during the summer break and never available to her. There wasn't even a shadow of him this past week.
She believed the subject of necromancy to be highly relevant to why she was brought to the past in the first place. She remembered the way Elias Higgs' soul was absorbed into the artifact. The necromancer's writings suggested he was interested in soul reaping, which may be related.
Horrified, but also supremely fascinated, she just couldn't put it down once she opened it. Now that she didn't work for Borgin and Burkes, and was a paying client, she found it was easier to influence Borgin to procure rare texts on the Dark Arts for her.
Her heart still ached at the thought of trading in several of her rarer books from her beaded bag in order to afford it.
Eager to get back to her quarters that Dumbledore so kindly allowed her to stay in before school started, she nearly crashed into a tall, imposing figure wearing a heavy black cloak and hood in her path.
Startled, she immediately thrust the incriminating book to her chest to hide it from view and cast a quick glamour on the cover wandlessly and nonverbally as her gaze traveled up the wizard's form to lock onto penetrating blood-red eyes.
Lord Voldemort — again! He must stop showing up into her life out of the blue like this. Her poor heart just couldn't take it! She knew he was coming at some point, but she didn't think it would be here and now, and never would she have imagined bumping into him like this.
She rarely left her quarters. The one time she went out, calamity strikes. This was a great opportunity to remind herself to never leave her room again.
Gasping, fear gripped her heart as it started to race. Blood drained from her face as she immediately went into a defensive stance and drew her wand against him. He was going to kill her, here and now. She was sure of it. The lethal animosity flowing off him set off all her alarms.
She had hunted hundreds of dark wizards in her career but this one, this one never ceased being the subject of the very worst of her nightmares, even years after the war ended. The memories of the physical torture she suffered at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov have long only generated nebulous feelings of dull misery in the recesses of her mind.
The insidious thoughts brought on by Voldemort's sibilant voice, however, when she wore Slytherin's locket while hiding in the wilderness, still frightened her. During those dark times, she had the foulest thoughts, about everything, about everyone, about herself. All her training and experience, every rational thought, left her mind at that moment.
She was nothing but a tightly coiled ball of nerves at the edge of the abyss, and if she didn't react now she will fall.
Voldemort's lips curled in amusement as the witch suddenly threw a Transmogrifian Torture curse at him. He was begrudgingly impressed. She was wholly unexpected, and intriguing.
He flicked the curse away with a wave of his wand, as if swatting a pesky fly. Nonetheless, he was perturbed, as he was not expecting such a dramatic response from a complete stranger. His curious gaze dragged away from the peculiar fire in her expressive whiskey-colored eyes to the small book she was trying to shove into the folds of her robes at her bosom.
It appeared nondescript and unassuming, but he can always sense a book on the most forbidden of Dark Arts. He himself of course had read thousands and could recognize the magnetic poison of dark magic anywhere.
At his casual dismissal of her powerful curse, her look of complete dismay and subsequent dread greatly pleased him.
"You must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," he taunted.
"Yes, I am. How would you rate my performance so far? Poor, I suppose," she muttered dejectedly.
He leered over her form and smirked derisively, "I'd give you a Troll, actually. Old Dumbledore must be losing it. How in the world did such a young witch like yourself manage to become a professor at Hogwarts?" Rage steadily darkened his face as he took in the speechless form of the witch in front of him. His bitterness over Dippet's rejection of him for being too young to teach when he graduated had never, ever left him.
He continued, "Better yet, how did the poster wizard of the light hire a dark witch like you?"
She gasped. "I'm not a dark witch!"
"You just tossed a curse one step shy of the Killing Curse at me, a complete stranger to you," he seethed.
"I….well you are clearly a dark wizard who meant me harm. You just appeared out of nowhere. Didn't your parents teach you not to sneak up on unsuspecting witches walking alone?" Hermione anxiously threw out before she closed her eyes briefly and winced.
"I only stood in your path," he hissed. His wand hand was trembling with fury. He itched to extinguish the fire in her eyes before killing her, slowly.
"You were pointing your wand at me!" She gestured at his drawn wand.
"To defend myself from your exceptionally unwarranted dark curse. You will clearly be a danger to the students once school starts. I wonder what spells you will impulsively toss out when a student is late to class or talks back to you? The Cruciatus curse, I imagine? I can recommend much more creative curses to you, if you'd like. I can even demonstrate them now," he sneered and spun his wand between his fingers once before leveling it on her.
"I would never hurt a Hogwarts student," she bit out angrily, shaking her head. She slowly backed away from him.
Did he initially think she had an air of innocence about her? Well, he was wrong. She was an absolute menace. A complete harpy. He was growing weary of her righteous fury when she was in the wrong in the first place. Nonchalantly, Voldemort summoned her wand into his hand and smirked at her sudden look of utter despair.
"Well, I wonder what the Aurors will say if I report you?" he asked, tapping her wand against his chin. His cruel, bloodthirsty eyes narrowed on her.
"You wouldn't. They wouldn't believe the likes of you." She clenched her fists now in anxious frustration.
"Oh? So if they cast Priori Incantatem on this lovely vine wood wand, they wouldn't find that you just cast the Transmogrification Torture curse?"
Her face fell. Apprehension entered her eyes.
"You...well you just caught me completely off guard. It was…the aftermath of Grindelwald. My parents were killed by Grindelwald's defeated followers even after he was sent to Nurmengard and I still react impulsively sometimes." Her eyes were darting around, avoiding him, before they snapped to his and held his gaze.
He looked highly skeptical with one darkly arched brow. "A likely story. Do you know who I am?"
"No, as you said, you're a complete stranger. I just met you," she insisted.
"I am Lord Voldemort. I was here for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. But it appears I was too late," he sneered.
She scoffed, "The headmaster would never let you have that position."
"Oh? And why is that?" he demanded.
"You're…! You look like the very thing students are taught to defend themselves from."
Voldemort chuckled. Low and dark. "I suppose you're right. A futile effort, then, coming here. However, one cannot help the way one looks. How very impolite of you, Miss—?"
"The way you look is a direct consequence of your choices in life. So, I don't believe I was being rude. It's not as if you were born looking like that. No one is born with blood-red eyes and skin the color of snow." Hermione winced as if she instantly regretted her words, again.
An impulsive witch.
"Oh, so insolent. Little witch, you clearly need to be taught a lesson and put in your place. You have no discipline. But you are no simple witch. Who are you, and why are you here? Do not lie to me. I can always tell. I can feel that you are quite powerful and are dabbling in dark magic, and I will not hesitate to turn you into the Aurors." His lip curled up at the irony of his statement.
Her hand absently reached towards her chest, where the book on necromancy lay, and her eyes darted around again. She stammered, "All right, fine, I'll tell you. Somewhere more public, not this abandoned hallway with no witnesses and portraits."
He released an amused puff of breath. "You are quite the paranoid little witch, aren't you?"
"Constant vigilance," she muttered underneath her breath.
"What was that?" He ducked down towards her. His piercing eyes roamed over her face.
"Nothing!" She flushed at his sudden proximity. She began walking more quickly towards the Hogwarts entrance. "The Three Broomsticks, then?"
"Lead the way," Voldemort smirked as his crimson red eyes scrutinized the witch rushing away from him. He deftly twirled her wand between his long, slender fingers before he fingered it contemplatively.
He wasn't going to let her escape him.
A/N: Meet cute. Spark fly! Let me know what you think! :)