Saving Serpents

by verdant quest

Timetravel to correct history is said to be highly dangerous and uncertain at best, but the Order of the Phoenix has no choice but to hedge their bets and try a slightly more Slytherin approach to warfare. AU oneshot

Title: Saving Serpents
Author: verdant quest
Genre: gen, AU
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP
Summary: Timetravel to correct history is said to be highly dangerous and uncertain at best, but the Order of the Phoenix has no choice but to hedge their bets and try a slightly more Slytherin approach to warfare.

Prologue

Moira Slytherin Harcoate was the last child born from a long line of pureblood witches and wizards. She was a lovely witch, very talented, and the inheritress of many family gifts. At the impressionable age of 19 she met a young, handsome, wealthy muggle and despite the subsequent ostracism by her deceased parents' friends and by her old classmates, Moira fell in love and allowed the relationship to progress to marriage. Thomas Riddle Junior was unaware of his new bride's abilities and believed her to be what she seemed: a pretty muggle woman. After two years their marriage remained happy and stable.

Chapter One

Somewhere on the British Isles
Had anyone been watching they would have seen a young woman with brown curls that were swept up in an old-fashioned, if flattering, chignon, and whose clothes were also a bit behind current styles for 1927, but well made and fitted, stride down a muggle side street as though late for an important appointment. Halfway down the road the woman approached an open lot, which was filled with weeds, and disappeared suddenly.

The new property was exactly what she was looking for, the young woman was pleased to note as she stepped back into the foyer of number 18 Portmaine Row, Greater Hangleton, Yorkshire. Everything was as she had arranged. It had taken her four years to set up the appropriate cover story and develop a persona in 1928 Britain. She had been preparing for today since she was sixteen years of age, and had been approached by Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix about going undercover in the past. If all went well, this house might be the one she grew old in. She had brought an entire library's worth of books on people and things that related to this period and what happened to them in the future. The idea was to prepare her for all scenarios. The house had more secrets than Hogwart's Castle, or even Malfoy Manor, if Dumbledore was to be believed. 18 Portmaine Row was actually called by another name originally: Serpent's Nest. It was the private family home of Salazar Slytherin's forefathers and had been lost to the centuries. Dumbledore had only found its whereabouts after discovering how to read some of Salazar's personal papers two years earlier. Dumbledore moved the house into the lot at number 18 and cast the necessary protection and obscuring spells to hide and transform the outer appearance of the house for the muggles. All they would see was an older family home, that had seen better days; the interior was similarly genteel muggle in decoration and only a wizard or witch would be able to see where the true Slytherin manor house began. She sighed in relief, everything was in order. She was fabulously wealthy, had all the proper muggle and wizarding documentation, had made the right social and business connections and was by all accounts "a nice young woman who had just moved into her family's home".

Moira Riddle glanced apprehensively at the muggle-wizard crossbreed residence and wondered mentally if following her husband and in-laws into a Wizarding residence to greet new neighbors was a sound plan. If the young witch who lived here was anything like the other pureblood witches she had known, she was likely to give the game away, naturally assuming that the Riddles knew the true history of the unknown wife and daughter-in-law that they had taken into their nest. Still it would be nice to speak with one of her own kind again. None of her old friends would so much as acknowledge her owls.
The house was run-down, but not any worse than Riddle Manor, clearly people of respect had lived here in the past and their descendant was unlikely to be any different. The reports from neighbors said she was a circumspect young woman, very lady-like and not at all wild like many city girls were apt to be. Moira hoped this meant that she wasn't a stick-in-the-mud, but honestly had trouble imagining her to be anything else with that charming description. An old knocker was the only way of communicating with the inhabitants of number 18. Mr. Riddle Sr. did the honors, and it was a good two minutes before the sounds of approaching footsteps could be heard within. When the door finally opened the figure that stood their was not their anticipated hostess, but a well-dressed gentleman of perhaps 45 who appeared to be on his way out rather than to be answering the door. He nearly dropped his briefcase and managed to upset his hat in his jerk of astonishment to find four muggles (or 3 muggles and one muggle-garbed witch) on the front steps where he had been about to step down onto. "Oh, dear" He exclaimed judiciously. "Forgive me, but I had not heard the bell. It appears that Miss Ramsay-Fairchild has guests. Oh, Imogen! You have guests! Do come and meet them." The man apologized again for their inconvenience and ushered them into what was obviously the front parlour of the muggle section of the house. "I'm afraid that your hostess has only just arrived this morning in Greater Hangleton and hasn't yet hired even a skeleton staff." He continued earnestly. The man had shockingly neglected his manners and from the pinched looks on Mr. and Mrs. Riddle's faces Moira gathered that they were less than impressed with this individual at present. Just in time to avoid a haughty silence on one side and an awkwardly apologetic silence on the other a young woman who was dressed becomingly, if out of style, appeared before them.

Moira Slytherin Riddle was everything that Imogen Ramsay-Fairchild had anticipated. She was also looking quite nervous. Imogen smiled politely at her guests"I see that Mr. Parker has been occupying you all, how good of him. Mr. Parker is my solicitor and I have only just finished all the last minute details of claiming the estate this past quarter of an hour. He drove up from London especially, which was very considerate of him." Imogen turned to the elderly muggle and smiled warmly"Thank you so much for all your trouble, Mr. Parker. I would never have managed on my own." The gentleman swelled visibly and shook his head vehemently"No! no, Miss. Ramsay-Fairchild, it was my honor to work with such a kind and genteel lady. Anything that I can do for you is a reward in and of itself." Imogen smiled kindly and gently led the older man to the front door. When she returned she wore an apologetic smile. "I am sorry that I wasn't able to meet you at the door, and I haven't even formally introduced myself, you must think me manner less."

The grace and sweetness that she exuded had clearly convinced the Riddles otherwise. They fell all over themselves to assure her that nothing she had done, or neglected to do could possibly make them think her anything less than delightful and correct in etiquette. Moira waited until the others had monopolized her for several minutes before gently introducing herself to the young witch. For witch this young lady certainly was. She exuded power like she did all her other blessings. Moira was unfamiliar with any Wizarding families called Ramsay or Fairchild, but even if the woman's bloodlines were less than pure, Moira had no doubt that she could out duel any number of aurors at the British Ministry of Magic.

To say that Imogen and Moira became fast friends would be a blatant lie. Imogen was charming and friendly and was more than willing to invite the Riddles to any number of private and more public social events that she hosted, she was also quick to call on the Riddle family any day that the Riddles were "at home" to visitors. Still, the relationship was much more subtle than obvious and the development of a friendship took time and energy on both sides. Eventually however it was true that the young women were inseparable; and it was because of this that Moira turned to her new friend for aid when the bottom fell out.

Moira Riddle's sobs echoed throughout the private home of Miss Imogen Ramsay-Fairchild. Imogen had been a saint throughout, when Moira arrived via floo at four o'clock in the morning with the news that her beloved "Tom" had thrown her out of the house on the advise of his parents. When she had learned from the physician that morning that she was enceinte with their first child, Moira had known that the jig was up. She could no longer lie about her family background as pregnancies with magical children could be explosive for witches' powers. If she randomly leaked magic in Riddle Manor, because of hormonal changes, she would have to explain the results to her husband and his family. It seemed better to explain all of this before the birth of the latest wizard or witch of half-blood descent. She had expected some shock and disbelief, what she hadn't expected was anger and spite. She had believed that any muggle would be a little unnerved by such display of power, but not that they would hate magic. Now she was alone on the streets of Little Hangleton and had nowhere else to go and no wizarding money to get there. The Harcoates had not been solvent after grandfather's debts had been paid; and her mother's family had disappeared off the face of the planet leaving no estate that the Ministry could locate.

Imogen patted her back sympathetically and pressed more tea on the distraught witch. "Moira, you are welcome to stay with me for as long as you want. I have more than enough space here and I could use some company. Nevermind about Tom now. You have enough to worry about with a baby coming; you just need some rest and we'll figure everything else out later." Although Moira hesitated to infringe on Imogen's goodwill, she saw this for what it was: salvation.

Imogen hired the best mediwitches and midwives in the country to care for Moira as her pregnancy progressed, and never allowed Moira to dwell on any unpleasantness in the past. She kept the older girl going and organized their lives to make way for the new life growing inside her friend. As the last weeks of the pregnancy slowly ticked by, the mediwitch staff became concerned with her ability to safely carry the baby to term and deliver without endangering her own life. She was weak and no amount of pampering was going to alleviate the symptoms and eliminate the dangers. Finally the mediwitch in charge approached Moira with the bad news that one or the other of them could not survive the labor. Devastated, Moira retreated into herself for several days, surfacing only when she had searched her soul and come up with the answer to what she wanted to do. "Imogen, I'm not going to be alive to take care of my baby. I need you to promise me that you'll watch out for him. I'm naming you godmother. You have to promise me that you'll take care of Thomas Marvolo, named for my Tom and my late father. I want him to grow up in a happy home, not on the streets or with strangers. Please, swear to me that you'll protect him with you life and love him as much as I do already" Her heartfelt pleas did not fall on deaf ears and Imogen swore that she would take care of Moira's son, love him, protect him, and prepare him for the future. Silently she added that she would protect the boy from himself, his devils, and from the future she knew. This child would not be a dark wizard, would not hold hate and revenge in his heart and would never take the life of another save in the defense of life or of love.

In the year of our Lord, 1928, Thomas Marvolo Riddle came squalling into the world, blessed with the love of his birth mother Moira, and the love and dedication of his adopted mother Imogen Ramsay-Fairchild. Although his mother died during the long and arduous labor, no one could say that Marvolo was not well love and well-raised. When he was old enough to understand he requested that he be allowed to take his birth mother's maiden names as his surname and his godmother was happy to change fill out the paperwork. While she was in there she formally submitted the substitution of Salazar for Thomas for his first name and by his eleventh year Salazar Slytherin Harcoate was the name that was written across his Hogwarts letter. The subsequent years were lonely for Imogen, but she ultimately met a professional potions maker and apothecary named Septimus Argot Snape and, after throughly checking the records to be properly certain that he had not married someone else in the future that she knew, accepted his offer of marriage. Salazar was thrilled with his new step-father, who was every bit the Slytherin that Salazar was, and supported his godmother's decision fully. No hint of darkness, beyond the usual Slytherin dark humor, coloured the child's demeanor. Even into his final year at Hogwarts, no sign of the Chamber of Secrets or any other strange behavior was observed. The Riddles were snobbish about their unacknowledged grandson and were barely civil to the "delightful" Mrs. Snape nee Ramsay-Fairchild and her odd new husband, but they never were much of an interest for Salazar. He had everything that he could want right here, why cry over the past and people who meant nothing to him now? The Snape clan had welcomed Septimus' pre-packaged family with open arms, well, for Snapes anyway, and Salazar now had lots of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents to smother him with familial affection. The Dark Lord Grindewald was defeated by Albus Dumbledore in 1945, the year that Salazar graduated from Hogwarts, and the whole terror of the wizard's reign had barely touched the boy or his family. The world had changed, the future was altered, and Hermione...oops, I mean Imogen could finally rest knowing that she had completed her mission and that her loved ones were safe.

The End.