Warnings: Contains violence, death, and torture
Author's note: Iwrote this for my summer reading homework and decided to post it. I always felt that JK Rowling didn't give enough explanation as to why her characters acted in the way they did, especially her 'evil' characters. I've also always been intrigued by Voldemort's surprisingy naivety when he was a teenager. Thus, I wrote my own solution. Enjoy! )
"You didn't see him in the diary or through the pensieve. I have. Trust me, Voldemort has always been twisted. Nothing you do could ever change that."
"Nobody is born bad, Harry. Something had to have caused it. Someone's got to try and fix him, to help him."
"It's not worth it. After all that he's done, he's not worth it. I won't let you go."
"I'm going. You can't stop me. I know the truth is out there. If I'm the only one with enough faith to find out, so be it."
o-o-o
Hermione had left her friends and family behind twenty-one days ago, however, they were now apart by fifty years. Not as far as she needed to go, but as far as the silver hourglass around her neck, her newly 'issued' time turner, was able to go.
She would have to wait one more day before the turner was recharged and she could travel to Tom Riddle's birth to stop whatever had mutated his innocent soul. That also meant she only had one more day to find out exactly what it was she needed to stop. Indeed, Hermione Granger, top student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was failing the most important project of her life.
And it was killing her.
Being in Tom's year, Hermione certainly saw the Head Boy enough. It was having any sort of association with him that was the problem. She had disguised herself as an exchange student from Jabberwit, the closest school of magic, and had unintentionally been sorted into Gryffindor, which certainly did not exactly put her into good measures with the Slytherin crowd. In fact, the only conversation Hermione had, thus far, shared with Tom was the half-ignored "Sorry!" she squeaked after accidentally bumping into him in the hall.
But that was soon to change. Hermione had finally formed a plan, one that would make all the over-achievers of the world proud: she would hold a peer counseling session. The simplicity, the sheer likelihood that some girl would want to start a peace-bringing organization, it was genius! Sexist, surely, but if the barricades in other minds will help her keep her mission cloak-and-dagger, who was she to condemn it?
Of course, Riddle would never come on his own accord, so Hermione simply requested that Headmaster Dippit send the Head Boy to 'help her manage.' The-man-who-considered-Riddle-to-be-the-unsurpassable-shining-star-of-Hogwarts happily agreed that Tom would be most helpful and encouraged her to begin advertising the meeting immediately. Hermione nodded and promised she would, marveling at what a strange sensation it was to lie directly to someone's face.
o-o-o
Though Hermione had once felt her plan flawless, she now seemed to find sitting across the room from Riddle in one of many cozy bean-bag chairs in the Room of Requirement awaiting a peer counseling meeting, which none of her peers had ever heard about, proved to be a tad awkward. The two had spent roughly ten minutes together, barely talking, and the only information about Tom that Hermione managed to get a hold of was that he also thinks that the weather lately has been perfectly lovely for Quidditch.
"I think it's safe to say that nobody's coming," Tom muttered, glancing at a shoddy wristwatch he was wearing.
"Maybe they've gotten lost. Let's just wait a bit longer."
"Why so worried? This won't blemish your perfect record."
"I know that." Hermione blushed, embarrassed that her painfully ambitious nature hadn't gone unnoticed. She really had tried to stay low-key, but is it iher/i fault that the tests are so easy? "I just, erm, really wanted to counsel someone."
Riddle didn't respond. Hermione felt it was her last opportunity and decided to press on.
"What about you?" she asked.
"Me?"
"Yes… can I counsel you?"
"I don't think so. I'm too busy supervising this rowdy crowd," he said, motioning to non-existent peers around the room.
"Ha-ha-ha. Come on, I really want to do this. Just let me in on a few of your innermost secrets, no big deal," she insisted, briefly wondering if Riddle could see through her nonchalant jest.
"Why so curious?" he asked. Hermione frowned.
"I told you, I just really want to do this. I, um, want to be a psychologist when I'm older" She mentally bashed herself for being such a horrid liar.
"No." Riddle shook his head. "I detect ulterior motives." Hermione froze.
"L-like what?"
"Hmm…" Tom brought his wand out and began to roll it between his thumb and forefinger. Hermione could scarecly breath as she watched his hands move with such deadly grace.
He smiled suddenly. "Perhaps you fancy me."
Hermione shrieked. It was a strange combination of a gasp, laugh, and exclamation of shock. Although quite relieved that Tom hadn't figured her out and decided to hex her, she couldn't help but be taken aback by his suggestion.
"You're blushing." Tom smirked. Hermione indeed felt the heat of a deep blush on her face.
"Oh yes, you've caught me. I think you've got the most gorgeous eyes and a brilliant smile. Just looking at you makes me feel all excellent inside," she said, rolling her eyes.
"You forgot my godly body," Tom added with a wink causing Hermione to giggle. It was strange how excited, terrified, and completely at ease this teenaged dark lord could make her feel. It was no wonder how he managed to gather so many followers. She'd have to be careful.
"Mr. Riddle, are you trying to charm me off of my subject line?"
Tom's lips curved into seductive a half-smile. "Well, Ms. Granger, you're trying to charm me into it."
"That's not a fair match," Hermione said bitterly, not wanting to get caught in the steel claws of Tom's flirtation.
"No?" Tom asked with a tilt of his head.
"No." Hermione bit her lip. She needed to make progress. The witty banter was fun, sure, but she was running out of time.
Hermione looked down at the ground. She could think of nothing else more fitting to say. She whispered darkly, only loud enough to be sure that he could hear, "Voldemort."
That was it. Sudden. She'd laid it down. Riddle now realized that he was not simply talking to a curious admirer. His eyes glared, but he caught himself before Hermione could see.
Instead, he laughed.
"Valdywart? Really, if you must give me a nickname, at least make up something not so crude as that," Tom quipped, causing Hermione to let out an annoyed scoff that would make her bossy first-year self proud.
"Problem?" Tom asked, the word dripping with artificial sweetener.
Hermione decided that she needed to be more direct. It wouldn't matter if she revealed anything, since once she goes back further into time to change Riddle's past, this meeting will never happen.
"Oh, get off it, Tom. Yes, I know about Voldemort. I know about the basilisk, your Death Eaters, your muggle-hatred, and even about your bloody horocrux plan," Hermione snapped.
Tom's face twitched and his voice grew slow and serious. "And where did you hear about all that, Hermione?"
Hermione glanced over at Tom's wand, which he now held in a tight grip. She suddenly remembered that, although she could erase this conversation from time, she obviously could not change time to prevent him from having killed her. But that was part of the risk she took, wasn't it? Too bad it's considerably more difficult to be brave when you're about to die. She would have to calm him down.
"That's not important." The casual brush off... surely the dark lord of all things magical and mental wouldn't notice her unimpressive tactics. "Look, I'm not here to fight you, Tom. You don't need to worry about me going and running off to tell all the grown-up witches and wizards what you've been up to. I just need some… information."
Tom eyed her carefully, "If you already know about all that, what exactly are you expecting me to tell you?"
"About your past, what happened to you before you found out you were going to Hogwarts."
"Why?" he demanded coldly, directing his want towards Hemione. She glanced at it quickly, but tried to show no fear.
"Because, Tom, you're screwed up, and I want to know what made you that way." He scowled, looking positively offended.
"I'm screwed up? I've got the highest marks this school has ever seen, I'm on my way to becoming one of the most powerful wizards of all time, and—"
"And you're screwed up." Tom glared at Hermione.
"What's the point of this? Planning on writing a book on me?"
"No, don't be silly." Hermione sighed. "You're making this difficult."
"Oh, I'm sorry, should I just suddenly open up and tell you every little thing your heart desires?"
"That would be perfect, thank you."
"I don't think so." The tip of his wand glowed ominously. "We're playing by my rules now, so I suggest you start by telling me who you are, Ms. Granger."
"Fine. It doesn't matter. Just so you know, my name actually is Hermione Granger. I'm a time traveler from fifty years ahead, and I'm planning on finding out what happened to you, Tom, so that I can stop it."
"You know of me in the future, then?" His face seemed to brighten, and he looked uncannily similar to a child receiving a present on Christmas.
"Everyone knows of you in the future. You become the most evil, despicable, vile, and powerful wizard to ever live."
"And why wouldn't I want that?"
"Why? Because you'll be responsible for the death of millions of people!"
"They probably deserved to die."
"No, Tom, innocent, good people, including the parents of Harry Potter."
"And what, pray tell, is so important about this 'Harry Potter'?"
"Well, Tom, he's the one who's killed you."
Silence. Tom's wand lowered just a fraction from its threatening position, but he snapped it back up.
"I'm dead?"
"In my time, yes."
A pause.
"Are you doing this to save those people or to save me?"
"Both, hopefully."
"But you could end up destroying the world, perhaps even causing me to succeed in my immortality."
"Yes, that's why they made doing anything like this highly illegal."
"You're breaking the law."
"I am."
Riddle looked thoughtful for a moment, mentally making a decision.
"So, then… what's your question?" Hermione smiled inwardly.
"I need you to tell me about something really bad that you did or that happened to you. Probably the oldest memory you can think of… if I'm right, it'll be something extreme, something that you could never forget."
"Ten points to Gryffindor."
"There is something, then? Something you remember?"
"Don't we all have something like that, Hermione?"
She didn't respond. She did have a memory of that sort. In the beginning of the summer, there had been a series of muggle attacks. The last few weren't that bad, several injuries, but they had managed to pull through. It was the first, though, that they weren't prepared for. She couldn't help but think that if she had only been there earlier, she could have saved them. She arrived with only with enough time to see a flash of green and to hear the thump of two bodies falling dead to the floor.
"But you were asking about me, weren't you? Yes..." Hermione quickly wiped her eyes, which had begun watering in her recollection. She couldn't help but wonder if Tom had even noticed. "Well, that would have to be when I found my snake."
"Nagini?" Hermione asked, curiously.
"She's with me in the future, I take it?"
"Yes."
"She is a magical creature, then. I always knew." He was about to say something, but stopped, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Please, Tom," Hermione cooed, "Let me help you." He stared deeply into her eyes and Hermione wondered if he was, already, at this age, skilled at Legilimency.
Hermione figured that he must have found honesty in her, because he continued, slowly. "I found her living in the basement of my orphanage when I was five. That's when I discovered that I was a parselmouth. She was best friend. I would visit her every day, sharing half my meals from her, which really wasn't much, at all. One night, I went up to see her and to bring her dinner and there was somebody already in the basement. He had just moved into the orphanage. He was much bigger and older than I was, and he—"
Riddle stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Hermione was surprised to find him showing emotion. She knew he was still human inside, but, in comparison to his usual cool, artificial demeanor, he seemed completely helpless. Kindly, she urged him to continue.
"He was... cutting off her scales with a plastic kitchen knife. It was the only kind the orphanage had, but it," He gulped down a sob, his face contorting in anguish," it wasn't sharp enough. He had to keep digging and digging at her, taking off layer by layer. She didn't fight back because I'd taught her not to, that humans were to be trusted and never hurt. I couldn't have imagined anything like it. He was laughing… and she was… god, she was screaming. Have you ever heard a snake scream, Hermione?"
Hermione jumped as Riddle addressed her by name. She couldn't seem to choke out an answer, so she just shook her head.
"If every human screamed in painful horror at the same time, if nails were pulled across every chalkboard, and if every banshee wailed into your ears, you still would not even have come close to feeling the terror and the pain of a snake's scream."
Hermione shivered.
Tom continued once more, now considerably paler. "I started crying, begging him to stop. He didn't care. I was five years old, pleading for mercy on the life of my only friend in the world, and he didn't care. I felt like… like I would do anything for him to stop. And I realized that was what gave him power over me. Not caring. If I was to— to stop him, to defeat him… I would have to think the same way. I couldn't be concerned with hurting him, just as he wasn't concerned with hurting me or Nagini." Tom's voice grew cold and distant. "So, I stopped crying, and I told Nagini to attack him, to bite his throat and rip it out. She instantly obliged, lunging at the boy's neck. He started yelling, begging for help. I didn't care. She tugged at his neck until the flesh ripped away and he fell to the floor. I subconsciously managed to clean up the body and the blood with magic, except for the neck meat which Nagini ate. It was the first time my power showed itself. The orphanage simply counted the boy as a runaway. I consider it my first kill, even if it was Nagini who attacked him."
Hermione's eyes stared, unable to blink. "That's… god… that's horrible. You were five years old. You killed him."
"If someone were in front of you, laughing, butchering your best friend, the only friend you have in the world, would you do any differently?"
"I— I…" Hermione looked down at the floor. "No," she said, hollowly.
"I kept what I learned that night. I no longer care. I will kill anyone I have to. I don't want anyone to be stronger than me, to be able to hurt me for their own sick pleasure. I don't ever want to feel such pain again."
The room fell silent again, the clock ticked loudly. Forty minutes had passed since Hermione first entered the room.
Tom's breath was shallow, his pupils dilated.
"So, Hermione, have I brought any new insight to evil?" His tone was jumpy, and he jabbed with his wand as he spoke, but Hermione could tell that he was just disheveled from his memory and didn't think she would be attacked.
"No, not even close." Hermione shook her head. "I heard about a sad little boy who wanted to save his friend. A boy who didn't want to hurt, anymore. You haven't brought me into the mind of evil."
Hermione stared at Riddle for a moment, bringing her face close to his, her eyes full of understanding. "No, you haven't. You've brought me into the mind of Tom Marvolo Riddle. I see no similarity."
With that, Hermione left the room to return to her time turner and nobly save the innocent soul of the most deathly, cruel, and unspeakable man to ever live.
She could only pray not to end up a dead martyr.
---
Fin.
Thoughts? Comments?