CHAPTER 8: Black Out, Overture to Death

"How did you learn that?" Hermione whispered after Selina finished telling how Hermione had come to be with the Grangers. Severus, Hermione, and Selina stood in an exact replica of Severus's main quarters. Salazar was in a replica of Hermione's bedroom.

"And how did you learn about the ritual?" Severus asked. He was very curious as to how his future daughter came to know things that happened before she was born. For a brief moment it seemed that she would not answer. But then her shoulders sagged and she turned away.

"Didn't you wonder why this was exactly like dad's quarters used to be?" Selina asked, her voice sounding close to tears.

"No," Hermione answered softly.

"We just figured you had seen them," Severus said truthfully, but similar to the night when he had told Hermione to go to be in the Astronomy Tower, his tone was gentle, but this time in a fatherly way. Selina laughed bitterly.

"They were never there for me to see," she said flatly. "Once Voldemort preformed the ritual he took over Hogwarts. Until I went back to the present I had never really seen Hogwarts, just the Dark Palace as it's now called."

"Then how do you know all this?" Severus asked, feeling confused, which he did not like one bit. Selina sighed.

"Out parents," she said quietly. "Everyone here's, had very important memories. In their memories were Voldemort's weaknesses, the Order's and magic's strengths. They were too valuable to loose and they were well aware of this. So the last thing grandfather ever did was cast the charm Passiona Remembra, which duplicated our parents' memories and passed them onto us, their children. We were three at the time and slowly we've all been unlocking them. That's how I knew all this stuff. I have my mother's memories, my father's too."

"That doesn't explain how you knew about the dark lord and Melissa, neither of us knew that," Severus said, trying to sort through things himself and finding a missing piece. Selina turned around, her face stained with fresh tears.

"I always tell myself I won't cry anymore," she whispered painfully. "But I do, I always do." Taking a breath she wiped her face.

"The spell grandpa cast had several side effects," Selina paused, shuddering at the memory of discovering this. "The first you know about, showing certain events to other people. The second is the ability to take memories from other people, memories we might need. The memories which you just witnessed I got from Voldemort a year ago during that raid in the Dark Palace." A pair of red, angry, sorrowful eyes filled Selina's mind. She saw herself looking into Voldemort's revealing eyes and receiving those memories, gaining a sense of familiarity. Not with Melissa, but with the dark lord. She could connect with him in a way she hadn't with anyone since her father's death. Thought she would never say, Selina felt that deep down was not true evil driving Voldemort but bitter love. And she thought that maybe, maybe he could be saved in the present if he did not perform the ritual. That was why she now had the book Dark Theories and studied it, looking for a flaw in the plan, which Voldemort had created eighteen years ago.

"Selina, who is your grandfather?" Severus asked, breaking her train of thought. "My father is dead and I hardly think that you consider the dark lord your grandfather. Not that he would have cast the spell you spoke of." Selina managed a small smile.

"Your father is dead?" she repeated. "Then let us assume he has not told you yet. Your adoptive father is dead, yes, but not your real one."

"Shared blood doesn't make two people a father and son," Hermione said, her eyes flashing. "Let me assure you."

"Not in your case," Selina conceded. "But in Severus's case, blood is just a bonus. After all, he considered grandfather his father long before he knew the truth."

"Why?" Hermione demanded.

"I suggest you sit down," Selina said in reply. "This will take longer than Tom and Melissa's story." Severus conjured up a stool for himself and Hermione went to the couch.

"Now, what you must know before I start is Albus Dumbledore is really father's father," and they fell into memory before anymore comments could be exchanged.

* * * * Tom Riddle's Final Year At Hogwarts: 1955 (A/N: I know all the dates are off by like a decade, but they're right if you figure Harry's fifth year took place in 2003) * * * *

Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts residing transfiguration teacher, was celebrating his twenty-ninth birthday. Yes, his 29th birthday, but he was all alone, the charms he normally placed on himself to appear old off for a moment. He looked into the mirror above his dresser.

"Now, dearie, you look so nice," the mirror chided gently. "Why can't you stay this way all the time?" Dumbledore was forced to agree with the mirror, he did look nice. His hair was a dark auburn shade, pulled back in a ponytail, which reached about halfway down his back. Wrinkles did not line his face, but rather was his skin smooth and young looking. Always his most notable features were his bright blue eyes, which alone remained unchanged. He was tall and he stood straight and proud, holding himself almost royally. Of course, Albus was descended from old English kinds, but that was besides the point.

"I can't," Dumbledore told the mirror, smiling faintly at it. "I would lose my job and all the respect I've gained over the years."

"Would you now?" the mirror said doubtfully. "What about your friend Flammel, he knows your secret, actually he knows a great deal of your secrets. Like the one about you going back in time to help with your disguise about your age."

"Shh!" he whispered fiercely. "Someone could hear you!" The mirror stared at him, then rolled its eyes.

"Fine, be that way," it said huffily.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. It looked at him through the corner of its eye, sighing.

"Oh well, dearie. I can never stay mad at you long," it said, and he smiled largely before turning to go, now thinking about how he came about to where he was now.

What the mirror had said was true, when he was eleven, actually, he had decided that to get the respect he wanted and deserved being a powerful as he was, the only way to get it was to be one of those old people that were respected. So he stole he mother's time turner and went back about fifty years or so and started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, assuming the name Albus Dumbledore, his real name being Everond Snape. After all, the things that could ruin his plans the most were his parents. What if, when he came back and everyone knew his name they realized what he had done? So he changed his name, and while he had forfeited his family, Dumbledore had gained the respect he had always craved and upon coming back to his own time he cast upon himself the charms that made him appear old. It was only then that he realized his parents had had another child after his disappearance. At first Albus had been a bit put off, how could they do such a thing? Then, realizing what it must have been like for them to realize their only child was gone he slowly felt relief come over him. At least they had a child to look after and take their mind off him.

Once back the first thing to do was to get a job. Dumbledore missed Hogwarts terribly after only a few months and so when he heard that there was an opening for a new transfiguration teacher he applied. Sure enough, the job was his. A few years later he came across the brightest group of students since Dumbledore's class. In Slytherin was the brilliant Tom Marlvalo Riddle, a half-blood who fashioned himself as Voldemort, a pureblooded wizard among his friends. In Gryffindor was Minerva McGonagall, a very powerful witch who came from a long a noble house of wizards. She was his apprentice at the moment, but soon that would all end. This brilliant group of teenagers, who had also Fillius Flitwick and Poppy Pomfrey, were graduating this year. It tore away at his heart to see them about to leave.

Especially, that is, Minerva. Though Albus refused to admit it aloud, sometimes, when he was sure he was alone, he was allow himself to dream of a long and happy marriage with Min, as she preferred to be called. But alas, she would never return his feelings because she thought him just of as her old transfiguration professor. Sometimes Dumbledore regretted his decision, it had cost him as much as he had gained.

Albus sighed and placed the hated charms upon himself and immediatly became the old man everyone was so familiar with.

"Have a good day, dear, and happy birthday," the mirror said, smiling kindly at him.

"Thank you," Dumbledore answered, taking the books he needed for his first lesson. 7th year class, actually, all the ones wanting to get a transfiguration N.E.W.T, anyway. Albus had to say, this was his favorite time of day (wow, I didn't realize 'til now that that was a cheesy rhyme...it wasn't meant to rhyme at all), but something told him that today would not be a quiet one.

* * * * * * * * *

"Fool," Tom Riddle breathed as Albus Dumbledore entered the class. "Muggle-loving fool."

"Good morning," Dumbledore said in his calm manor.

"Good morning, "the politer students chanted back.

"Hey," Minerva McGonagall said slyly. "I konw what day it is today, Professor."

"An let's have a big round of applause, McGonagall's finally learned how to use a calender," Tom whispered violently. The other two Slytherin croonies who had managed to get into the N.E.W.T. class sniggered. Minerva frowned, but didn't snap back.

"Oh sod off Riddle," Poppy said digustedly. "And, Minerva, don't go with the sublte approach, happy birthday Professor Dumbledore!" Suddenly the room was transformed. ballons covered the ceiling and confetti fluttered down. Crepe paper hung fomr the ceiling and walls, all he desks had vanished and in their place stood a large table, cluttered by enough chairs for the entire class. In the middle was a gignatic birthday cake, coated in choclate frosting and sprinkles. Written on the top in blue icing were the words, "Happy Birthday, Whicher Number It Is!"

"How did you know?" Dumbledore asked, happy teasr in his eyes.

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"Oh no," Selina said, her eyes wide. She swayed dangerously. Severus jumped up and steadied her.

"What's wrong?" he aksed worriedly. There was no reply, instead she blacked out in his arms.

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Yes, it is a short chapter, but after my last one which was the longest chapter I've ever written and I only got like 3 reviews, I didn't see why I should do another long one. I want to thank the people who took the time to review last chapter and glare with hurt filling my eyes at the people who did. My confidence is shattered, so please review, or there might not be another chapter! ~ Remo (how's that for dramatic? I'm a bit pathetic, oh well)

Note: I've written another story, Darkness Reversed, and I was wondering if any of you would check it out. It's a bit diffrent, and I know it says it's the third part in a series, but you dont' t need to have read the other 2 parts to understand it. They are not connected at all yet, and even when they are, not enough to make it difficult to undertand if you're only reading one part. So please, Read'n Review it for me, would ya?