Full Summary: Six years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Auror Hermione Granger discovered a mysterious dark object that unexpectedly sent her 38 years into the past.
The year is 1966, and Tom Riddle returned to British wizarding society after a decade-long absence. During his travels, he cultivated an unrivaled understanding of the Dark Arts.
Under the pretense of securing the DADA teaching post, he returned to Hogwarts to conceal one of his Horcruxes, Ravenclaw's Diadem. However, the coveted position had been stolen a week before his arrival by an intriguing witch.
As manipulative schemes emerge, tension builds into a ruinous obsession.
Author's Note: Welcome! I'm very excited about sharing this story, and it's going to be a journey. This fic is mostly written, and I do indeed have an ending! Because of the pandemic, I started writing for this pairing, and it's really helped me. I wanted to give Tomione readers a twist on the time travel AU premise I personally haven't seen yet. I'll try to regularly post each chapter after extensive editing, which usually takes me longer than writing.
Hope you enjoy it! :)
Content Warnings: Eventual explicit smut, angst, torture, murder, morally grey Hermione, power dynamics, possessive behavior, mutual manipulation.
After a long series of dead ends, misinformation, and useless captures, Hermione Granger was finally able to track down the mysterious dark wizard who was the secret keeper to a residence owned by a little-known alchemist. Many had dismissed the alchemist's career and deemed him mad and overly secretive.
The case was brought to the attention of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after it was leaked that several rare artifacts with dark origins were being traded on the magical black market. With some objects exchanged at upwards of thousands of galleons, the situation was garnering international attention.
The origin of these artifacts couldn't be traced easily, and the Aurors decided to put Hermione Granger, one of their most meticulous, on the case.
The duel itself was grueling, and Hermione was disappointed she didn't bring any support. She was merely following up on a lead that she assumed would be a waste of her time, again. However, after twenty minutes, the now bloodied and bound wizard, Elias Higgs, who was at least a hundred years old, readily gave up the information she sought.
"You are more than I ever expected," Higgs groused. "For a Mudblood, you were throwing some incredibly dark curses there. They don't teach that at Hogwarts, do they? Definitely not on the ministry-approved list of dueling spells. I thought the use of spells like that was only allowed during desperate times. The war ended years ago!"
"Dark curses? I didn't see any. No one besides you saw any, either," she said.
"Well, this is no normal incarcerous spell, is it?" He nodded derisively towards the thick, spiked ropes that bound him, which were pulsing with magical energy that steadily drained him of energy and willpower. "Look, I've got what you are looking for. I've never been able to figure out how it worked. All I know is that it's very special. That's what Benedictus always believed. He acquired it during his travels around the world and locked it up in his house as a prized treasure."
Hermione crossed her arms. "How do you know what I'm looking for? Did you know him personally? The alchemist? He must be hundreds of years old."
"I am the secret keeper to his life's work at his hidden residence. He's been gone for decades, and he's not coming back. The Aurors managed to confiscate, well, steal, everything else I removed and tried to sell from his residence, but this particular artifact is different."
"Why are you telling me this? What do you get out of it?" she asked.
"I'm tired of running. I also don't want it to remain a mystery forever. You can try to crack it yourself. You're an intelligent witch, aren't you? The illustrious Hermione Granger, Mudblood heroine of the war and accomplished Auror," he sneered. He quickly choked and coughed up blood. "Something tells me this particular artifact is meant for you. It's one-half of a pair. Perhaps you need both to get it to divulge its secrets."
"I'm not naive enough to walk into a trap, and I'm definitely not going anywhere you suggest without backup. You've underestimated me." Flinging the curls that escaped from her plait away from her face, she pointed her wand at him again. "Don't even think about trying it."
Caught, he withdrew the hand that was sneaking into his cloak pocket. "Oh, perfect. Bring the famous Harry Potter for me, will you? I'd just love to meet the boy who defeated the Dark Lord. Also, let him see what his perfect little Mudblood friend will resort to in order to secure a poor captive!" he yelled nastily.
Hermione's lip curled. "I happen to believe the end justifies the means. In any case, why should I do anything you ask? Sounds like a perfect trap to eliminate both Hermione Granger and Harry Potter at the same time. This was a waste of my time. I'm taking you in now." She reached for his bound body.
"No! If you take me to Azkaban, I will never reveal the location of it to you, or anybody. As you know, no amount of magical coercion can force me to share it. It must be completely voluntary. Veritaserum would be ineffective."
Ignoring him, Hermione grasped his shoulder, ready to Disapparate.
Higgs jerked away from her. "Stop! Wait! Just finish me here then! I sooner die than be imprisoned in Azkaban. I'm sure you're capable of it. I've heard the whispers about you since the war. Of course, there's nothing in any official publication, but those among us, who followed the Dark Lord, know."
Hermione began to breathe more heavily and shot him a hard glare.
Undaunted, he continued, "A real shame though, that little rarity will forever remain in an invisible and intangible house, lost to history." With a dramatic sigh, Higgs shook his head and sneered at her. "Absolute waste. Should've known a Mudblood wouldn't be able to appreciate things that are truly and magically unique to this world."
Hermione hesitated. Bloody Slytherins. Manipulative pricks. She's had enough of them for a lifetime. She shouldn't even bother. There were thousands of rare and dark objects in the world.
But she couldn't just let it go now that she'd come this far. Months of work and she just wanted to move on with her life and if the case just ended here, she'll forever regret it.
She should just call for assistance, to avoid breaking protocol, but the promise of rare magic in an artifact she had no knowledge of? It was too tempting.
Feeling like an absolute fool, she was swayed by his words and her curiosity won out over rationality. Her instinct was to protect Harry first and foremost, and she would never allow him to walk into a potentially dangerous situation. The other Aurors at the office have questionable competency and would only get in her way.
She aimed her wand at Higgs. "Legilimens." As she rummaged through his mind, she was surprised to find it highly organized with decent Occlumency skills. She searched for evidence of deceit and any information about the dark artifact.
No obvious signs of deception, yet. But any additional information regarding the artifact seemed to be locked behind strong Occlumency walls.
After her training with world-renowned experts, she was a decent Legilimens, but lacked the confidence to proceed at the first sign of resistance. She had never gotten over the general wrongness of breaking someone's will in that way. After pulling out of his mind, she carefully considered her options.
Higgs panted in discomfort, face distorted with pain. "That was very naughty. You cheated! Is that ministry approved? I can't believe this. The great Hermione Granger, using ruthless methods of interrogation. I'm going to file a complaint!"
"You really have a high opinion of the Aurors, don't you, Higgs? Robards gives me the freedom to do whatever I want. Harry Potter, who will be the next Head of office, also allows me to do what's necessary. They trust me, as they should. Tell me the location. Better yet, take me there." She hauled his frail body up from the floor and dug her wand into his neck. "Whatever happens to me will happen to you as well."
He grinned, his smile feral and bloody. "Of course, Miss Granger."
Higgs was magically and physically exhausted at this point, and was possibly on the verge of passing out. He muttered the name of the secret location to her.
Moments later, Hermione stood outside what appeared to be a Georgian-style house. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"If I die here, Harry would never forgive me," she murmured. She glanced at the captive she was half carrying. He had fainted.
"Rennervate."
Higgs blinked awake and gasped weakly. "Are we there?"
"Yes. You're taking me straight to it. No detours," she ordered.
After dismantling a seriously ridiculous amount of complex warding with no help from Higgs, who was falling asleep, she uncovered what appeared to be an obsidian prism in a wooden box. Upon closer inspection, it looked like obsidian, but not quite.
She chuckled to herself as she realized it reminded her of the resurrection stone, but the shape, shade, and texture were completely different. It was smaller than her fist and must be made of some type of alchemical substance formed into a hexagonal prism with a bevel on one edge. She rotated the stone carefully in the air with her wand.
Now she understood why Higgs thought it was a pair. The bevel appeared as though it would help lock in place with another.
There were strange etchings on all the sides touching the bevel. They looked like runes, but they were of no runic language she was familiar with, and she knew all the main varieties. Bewildered, she realized these were symbols she did not recognize from any of her readings.
More alarmingly, it appeared to be reacting to her magic, as a faint hum and pulse started to emit from the artifact.
Out of the eerie silence, a voice suddenly exclaimed, "You got it to react! I can't believe it! What did you do? I've tried everything possible!" Higgs snatched it from the air with his hand.
"No! Don't touch it!" Hermione cursed. She had assumed Higgs was out cold on the floor not seconds ago.
Suddenly, shadow and black smoke were dragged out from Higgs' mouth, and his body slumped onto the ground. Hermione watched in stunned horror as the dark substance floated in the air for a moment before it was absorbed by the mysterious artifact.
Then her world exploded.
Hermione blinked slowly, attempting to clear the bursts of light and color from her vision. A prickling sensation traveled up and down her spine.
After realizing she was laying on the floor, she tried to sit up, but only slumped over again in dizziness. She reached out to clutch her pounding head, but found something icy cold in her hand. She opened her fist and gasped before immediately dropping the cursed artifact.
Carefully, she examined her hand. Nothing. No burns, markings, or even pain. Only a residual chill ghosting over the flesh of her palm remained. How did it even end up there?
Anxiety burned through her body. Where was Higgs? Was that his soul leaving his body and into the artifact? She had witnessed a Dementor's Kiss enough times during the war and over her career as an Auror to know it was incredibly similar.
Where was she? Was the artifact some type of portkey or transportation device? She didn't recognize this place at all. A sharply delineated blast radius surrounded her. There were scorch marks. From her estimation, the nearest tree was probably a hundred meters away.
She delicately scooped up the artifact with the sleeves of her robes and dropped it into her pocket. Time to find some answers. She wanted to Apparate back to the alchemist's residence, but decided against it. Who knew what just occurred there? She felt unprepared to investigate right now without backup.
She Apparated to her flat in London. Except it wasn't her flat. Not at all. None of the existing furnishings were recognizable. She must have made a mistake. Perhaps her magic was adversely affected, and she was lucky she didn't splinch herself.
She walked out of the flat and looked at the address. Yes, it was indeed her flat! What was going on? She left the building with slow, hesitant steps.
Something was very wrong. She stepped around the building and after glancing around to make sure no muggles could bear witness, she Apparated to her usual spot in Diagon Alley.
She immediately stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and walked up to the bar and greeted the smiling, bald barman and innkeeper. "Hey, Tom! How are you? You're looking...healthy these days." She was bewildered, and belatedly realized how tactless she was. The old barman she knew as being toothless looked so much younger than what she remembered.
This wizard had all his teeth.
The barman's eyes roamed over her curiously and then focused on her face. He didn't seem to recognize her at all. "Ah, that's kind of you, Miss, and good evening. How can I help you today?"
Hermione stared at him in shock. He was always friendly towards her for being a war heroine and frequent patron, but this time, he was coolly polite. "A butterbeer please, thank you." She was at once subdued and extremely confused.
She grabbed the Daily Prophet on the bar next to where she was sitting. She glanced at the date. Then she stared in shock.
November 25, 1966.
Why would the paper from decades ago be lying around here?
With dawning horror, she looked around. She realized she didn't recognize anyone. The British wizarding world was really not that large, and there were always bound to be people she recognized from the ministry or school.
The scattered patrons were also wearing outdated wizarding fashion. She glanced down at her magically armored, form-fitting robes with enchanted clasps. They were custom-made and perfect for dueling. More importantly, they were usually subtle enough for the discretion necessary in her cases. She only wore her old-fashioned, formal Auror robes for special events, and now she stuck out like a Christmas decoration in July.
She must have time traveled. Four decades. That was impossible.
No, this was a dream, or a nightmare. This must be an elaborate and complex prank pulled off by George and Ron. But she knew that wasn't it either. She cannot panic. Not yet.
Heart pounding, she felt a cold sweat break out over her body. She gulped down her drink, paid, and left in a numb daze.
She walked around Diagon Alley aimlessly, looking around at all the shops, noting the subtle differences. Suddenly, she grabbed at her pockets and sighed in relief. At least she had her trusty beaded bag. Half her life's possessions were in it.
Then she immediately cursed when she realized she didn't carry much money on her. She calculated she can survive about one week on the galleons she had on her in this era if she rented a room every day at the Leaky Cauldron.
Survival first. She needed to remain pragmatic. If she gave in to her emotions like she wanted to, she would be a sobbing mess in the middle of Diagon Alley right now. If she didn't get back to her time soon, she'll run out of money.
She couldn't even sell many of the things in her beaded bag because they either had future dates on them or were incredibly modern.
She didn't have any proper documentation or connections here. No one would want to hire her. She was an absolute nobody.
It didn't matter to anyone that she helped win a wizarding war, had nine perfect NEWTs scores, and brought down countless remaining Death Eaters who stirred up trouble in the wake of the power vacuum left by Voldemort's demise. She had even won awards for her work as an Auror in the past six years since the Battle of Hogwarts.
It didn't matter to anyone at all here that she was a highly skilled and trained, knowledgeable witch.
She couldn't explain her presence here. She needed to lie low and do what she did best. Research. If she went to the ministry they'll lock her up, take away the artifact and the only means she had to get back to her time.
They'll just make her disappear to protect the fragile unknowns that could result from her presence here. She was more sure of that than anything else in her life.
She loved working as an Auror for the Ministry, but she was also aware of the corruption in the government, and it was rampant after the war.
She couldn't exactly recall the inner workings of the political climate at the ministry during this time period. Any of the adults who could assist her from her time period were only children in 1966.
Dumbledore! She needed to find him and tell him her predicament. He will definitely help her. She was suddenly flushed with burgeoning hope, but then she remembered the kind of person Dumbledore was, and her enthusiasm soured.
Oh Merlin, no, she cannot do that. He will definitely not help her. Not unless it helped himself. He may even be worse than the ministry, because he will pretend to help her.
She covered her eyes with her hands and sagged with defeat. Dumbledore was one of the most manipulative wizards she had ever met. He had every Slytherin she ever knew completely beat in that regard, even Severus Snape. Thinking back on all the things he put her, Harry, and Ron through made her tear up in frustrated anger. That any of them survived at all was a bloody miracle.
But to him, the end justified the means, and in the end, it indeed all worked out. He even gave up his own life for it. His philosophy ended up saving her life many times, but it didn't mean she couldn't be bitter about it.
He used everyone who believed in him and remained secretive until the very day he died. The extent of his schemes wasn't even revealed until after his death. No, she cannot trust Dumbledore. She won't go to him, at least not yet. She needed a plan first.
For the time being, she was on her own. She'll attempt to try to survive tonight, and then she'll return to the alchemist's house to find out how she arrived here, in 1966.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Feedback is greatly appreciated!