In the dwindling twilight, time is unwinding as lines are blurred.
Under the guise of a child, into your nightmare I've been lured.
.
Wand poised at the brass knob, a single subtle wave, no more than a pulse, dispelled whatever locking mechanism along with the wards laced with it. There was a soft click before the knob turned itself and the door opened gently with a creaking of its hinges that reminded her of horror movies she had watched once long ago. Her charmed boots produced nary a sound as she made her way across the wooden floors.
The house itself was barely kept, as magical as it was for a wizard that's supposed to live there, the state of its décor and furniture was absolutely abysmal. Then again, critiquing other people's homes wasn't part of her job description anyway. Not to mention, it would be considered a miracle if her intended target even had a well-kept abode.
She continued walking through a stranger's home. The dark pulse, beating like a heartbeat, something she's become closely familiar with, being her confident guide. And there, at the end of a corridor after rounding a corner, was a door where the pulse came from and started beating harder and harder.
This time, she didn't need her wand and just turned the knob slowly and carefully as to not startle the person whom she knew had sequestered himself inside it. Just because these tasks have become easier and easier on her over the years, didn't mean she had to be complacent and not anticipate a possible battle. For as long as she's done this, she learned that there have only ever been two types of people she could meet: those who willingly surrender, and those who stubbornly fight.
Not that she could judge the latter for at least trying though.
Now standing inside the room that could undoubtedly be a study (littered with books, scrolls, and parchment scribbled with diagrams, advanced equations, and the like), her umber eyes fixed on the man's back standing behind a desk.
Hunched over the dark wooden furniture that has seen better days, was a man of salt and pepper hair. Clad in an unimpressive robe, with a manic look in his eyes, she could hear him mutter incessantly between the broad grin that reached ear to ear.
"I did it… it's here… it's here… I did it… I did it…"
She followed his gaze to where he stared covetously on the seemingly normal black orb before him.
"WHO ARE YOU?!"
Her head snapped back up on the man's disheveled face- made even more frenzied by the touch of wrath from his red eyes.
"Mr. Lucero, I-"
"I know! You're here for my relic, aren't you?! You want to steal it from me!" he bombarded as he gathered the dark orb in his arms, safeguarding it to his chest like a child refusing to give their favorite toy.
She frowned, "No, I'm-"
"Well, I WON'T LET YOU!" he roared, and in the next second, whipped out his wand.
The nonverbal curse collided with her shield but her target didn't stop to wait as he made a beeline to the other side of the room where another door hid behind a tower of books.
Hermione stared mournfully at the tomes that kicked up clouds of dust as they fell on the floor.
She sighed, "I always hate it when they run."
.
At one point, Hermione had either gotten used to the twisting pull that came with an apparition, or the way she had managed it has become a lot smoother than she had first done it. Then again, there's also the fact that she had to be extra careful, considering she has a ten-year old boy now. Thankfully, apart from turning pale for a while, Alduin's constitution was strong enough for his young body to not even feel sick on his first side-apparition.
Hermione appeared at the apparition point in front of the entrance to Diagon Alley. The sun had already set by the time she finished and the lamps have been lit as wizards and witches milled about doing their own business. She walked a bit away from the alley, her sights fixed on the fountain with a tree at its center. The metal sculpture swayed with nonexistent wind as water danced up and around it in a never-ending loop.
Once she had gotten close enough, she stopped to observe the little boy sitting at the edge of the fountain. With his arms resting over the bag on his lap, he watched with slight fascination over the water flowing and taking the shape of flowers every now and then. From his complexion to the artful way his dark hair curled over his forehead; his cherub-like face could mistake him to be another sculpture that's a part of the fountain.
Really, unless they say it, no one would ever think she was his mother. Then again, the thought of having children of her own had never been part of her plans before. It was hard to, when there was the constant threat of death hanging over her like a shadow. Not that she didn't like children.
'And yet here I am,' she said to herself, chuckling at the irony.
As if he felt her eyes on him, the little boy turned his gaze from the fountain and immediately found hers. To which a huge smile broke on his face, making him look even more angelic, as he hopped off the fountain and ran towards her. All Hermione could do was open her arms and brace herself from the incoming impact.
"Mother!" he greeted, looking up from where he hugged her around her stomach.
"Hello Al," she smiled back, laughing a bit. His smile has always been so infectious, "How was your day, sweetie? Did you learn anything new at Mr. Ollivander's today?"
Alduin nodded as he let go. His onyx eyes shined under the light of the lamps, "He taught all about yew wands and their properties today. He even let me watch him finish making one. I also brought him some pumpkin pasties."
"Oh?" she arched a brow, "and I suppose you didn't take more than what you're supposed to, did you?"
"Well…" Alduin drawled, cocking his head as if he was thinking, before his smile turned into a smug smirk, "Certainly no more than I deserved, mother."
At that, Hermione shook her head both in amusement and defeat. She made a mental note to have another word with the sweet shop's owner. At this rate, she feared the woman would go out of business and not even notice it. It's one thing to allow him to indulge in his sweet tooth using his allowance, it's another to let him accept more than what he paid for.
'Really, where did he get it from? Was she this cheeky when she was at that age?'
She felt a tug at her hand and she looked down on her boy, "What about you, mother? You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"
Hermione stared at his bottomless dark eyes. His innocence always made her forget how observant he can be.
"I'm fine, Al," she smiled reassuringly before bending down to kiss his forehead, "Don't you worry. Now, I think it's about time we have some dinner, don't you think?"
The intensity of his eyes immediately faded at the prospect of food, and shone once more with child-like innocence as he began reciting restaurants.
Tom sat on the couch of his guest room at Malfoy Manor. His eyes on the open book on his lap, but he could hardly register the words written there as his mind wandered off to the boy.
There was no mistaking it. He had seen it with his own eyes.
It was no mere accident that the shop's sign fell on the man's head, and it was no coincidence that the peddler's cart careened right towards him not a second later. He knew bouts of accidental magic when he saw one. He had even witnessed Abraxas's own son's first accidental magic when he turned his entire room green.
The only difference with Alduin's however, was that it was no accident at all.
The boy was fully conscious with his magic, and used it to his bidding.
Tom would know. He himself always had better control over his magic even before he entered Hogwarts. Even though he didn't understand his extraordinary abilities at first, he always had a firm grasp over it. This in turn was reflected at how he could perform spells so effortlessly.
How long has the boy been able to control his magic? Did he even understand what he's done? To what extent can he do?
Surely, the boy knew it to be magic. Seeing as he and his mother lived in the wizarding side of the world. Unless the irresponsible witch knew nothing about his prowess.
This is quite the discovery.
How rare was it, for a child to consciously perform magic even before they were of age to have their wand?
Tom was certainly that exception, and if the boy really was his…
.
He narrowed his eyes at the boy who had a polite smile playing at his lips.
It really was uncanny… how the boy looked so much like him.
The only differences being that while he was scrawny from the poor conditions of the orphanage, Alduin had more meat on his bones, his cheeks had a healthy tinge to his fair skin, his clothes were fitted and new, and even his hair had a shine to it even in the setting sun.
Tom can't help but wonder… if this was what he could've looked like if his childhood had been a little different.
His hands balled from his sides. Just seeing the boy looking so… healthy, made him feel really unpleasant.
"A little boy like you shouldn't be out on his own," he began after a long pause. One in which they had done nothing but stare at each other- assessing, "Something bad might happen to you, like earlier."
"Bad, sir?" Alduin tilted his head to the side, the polite smile never once faltered as his eyes shone with faux innocence, "Forgive me if I don't feel endangered at all. In fact, the only casualty so far had been my cauldron cake. Which reminds me…"
He broke contact to rummage through his bag. Tom noticed how his arm went further down than what should have been the length of the bag. After a bit of fiddling, he pulled out another piece of cake and held it out to him.
"Would you like some, Mr. Riddle? I was going to share the lot with my mother but I wouldn't mind sharing with you."
"That's very kind of you, Alduin," he said with a polite smile of his own that didn't meet the cold indifference in his eyes, "but no thank you."
Unperturbed by his rejection of his generosity, the boy gave another shrug. Tom's eyes further narrowed however, when he saw the split-second smirk and knowing look on his features before he bit off the cake, uncaring at how nonchalant he was acting in front of a stranger.
Almost as if he was amused at how he rejected his offer.
Cheeky brat.
"Nevertheless, it's almost night and you should be running off to your parents," Tom continued, watching as he kept eating without a care, "You wouldn't want to worry your mother, would you?"
Something passed over the boy's features at the mention of his mother, making Tom arch his brow curiously at the reaction. Alduin's polite smile curled ever-so-slightly into a smirk- a smirk Tom's very familiar with as well, because it's the type he would plaster on his own face to serve as a warning to others that they were on thin ice.
"How about I accompany you back to your home?" Tom offered.
"You are too kind, Mr. Riddle," Alduin answered magnanimously, "but I simply couldn't impose you on my account. You do not have any responsibility over me."
The older raven-haired placed his hand over his heart in a modest gesture, "Oh but I insist. My conscience would never let me sleep peacefully if I were to leave a child alone and defenseless. Why, if I were your parent, I would feel at ease to know that my child is properly looked after in my absence."
His small hands shot up towards his mouth, covering them (cauldron cakes needed more than three bites, since when has he finished it?) as his shoulders shook and his eyes curled into half-moons. The blackness of his eyes reflected uncensored mirth.
Tom's jaw clenched behind his practiced mask while a vein throbbed on his temple in irritation.
This brat dares to laugh at him?!
"You…" Alduin sputtered, removing his hand enough to reveal his wide grin, "You're funny, Mr. Riddle."
His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. His hand twitched in barely concealed control to grab for his wand tucked inside the pocket of his robe.
He should just get it over with. Clearly the boy's uncouth and a waste of space. He's since declared that the boy's a liability due to being an unknown factor, and he's not above getting rid of anything that might throw a wrench in his plans. Who knows what his mother planned and what she might demand from him in the future? Child- bastard son, or no, he should not waste precious time over this.
This alley's secluded and away from prying eyes. One quick spell is all it takes. No one would be able to hear him scream if he dies before he could open his mouth.
"I say there's no need, but if you really insist…," Alduin continued, hands now clasped behind his back. His grin returned into a polite smile but this time he didn't bother hiding the amusement dancing in his equally dark eyes, "would you be so kind as to tell me the time?"
Tom blinked, "How is that relevant to getting you home?"
"Well, you see, sir, depending on the time, my mother could be in one place, or somewhere else," he smiled knowingly.
Does he mean he refers to his mother as his home?
Tom swore he tasted bile at the back of his mouth. This was worse than he thought. The boy's sentimental and clearly attached to his mother.
He's no son of mine.
He raised his hand, and reached into the pocket of his robe.
.
Tom closed the book on his lap, finally relenting that he was too distracted to understand a single word. After taking out his pocket watch and telling Alduin it was quarter to seven, the boy bowed to him in thanks and then turned on his heel to run.
Aside from the boy's agile speed that allowed him to disappear into the crowded street of Diagon Alley, the only reason he didn't gave chase was because he knew where he could find the boy again. His followers have observed that the mother and son would always part and meet at the fountain, so that's where he hid and waited.
An hour or so later, Alduin made his way to the fountain where he sat and waited at the edge to watch the waters performing to pass the time. Tom was set on confronting the boy then and there, and the thought of punishing him for his insolence had even crossed his mind. However, that ever-curious side of him hollered loud and true, and each step he took only made it louder and louder until he eventually stopped. And as his mind mulled over how unnerved their resemblance made him feel, Alduin's mother finally appeared.
The witch, whom he's yet to know the name, much less remember, greeted the boy with a hug and a smile as the street lamps gave her brown curls a golden glow like a halo. What's more, the boy smiled back, without a hint of anything belying his smile. So unlike the one he showed him earlier in that alley.
Son or no, seeing an exact image of himself in his childhood, smiling so unabashed and carefree… it made the uneasiness churn in his stomach evermore.
He didn't like it at all.
Hermione smiled down at the moving picture of herself and Alduin wearing the traditional, brightly colored Gákti worn by the Sami tribe. She had her hands on his shoulders and was smiling encouragingly down at him while he was petting a large white reindeer. He stroked the animal's neat coat twice before she tapped his shoulder and pointed at the camera to which they both turned to wave with broad smiles on their faces. Although it had been very expensive, she was thankful that colored images were a thing in this time. Their clothes, colored predominantly with blues, reds, and hint of yellows, were a beautiful contrast to the open snowy landscape of the northern part of the Scandinavian Peninsula.
Although, it's not like money will ever be a problem for her anymore. The fact that she could afford to rent a flat such as this was proof of that. It's no luxury suite but the place had a nice view of the plaza outside, it's near the Diagon Alley, it was well-ventilated and insulated, the furniture and décor were simple, a working kitchen and bathroom, and it had a room for each of them. And best of all, she's free to ward the place as much as she liked.
She was thinking about taking another picture with her son, this time in front of the Fountain of Eternal Spring, as she sipped from her morning tea when the door to her son's bedroom opened.
"Morning, mother…" Alduin greeted with a big yawn as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, still wearing his pyjamas.
Hermione smiled as she set her cup down, trying to withhold her giggle at the boy's messy bed hair.
"Good morning, sweetie. You're up early today. Did you sleep well?"
"Mmhmm… couldn't sleep anymore," he nodded cutely, "What's for breakfast?"
"I'll whip something up," she closed the photo album before tying her hair up into a messy bun, "Is there something you like?"
He hummed in thought, "Meat?"
Hermione sighed, unsurprised, before nodding and smiling indulgently, "You go wash up and I'll prepare us something, alright?"
"Okay," he yawned one last time before turning back to his room.
He had one hand on the doorknob when Hermione decided to call him, "Alduin."
He turned, "Yes?"
"You don't feel anything… weird now, do you?" she asked carefully, watching him for any unusual movement.
At that, Alduin's sleepy expression faded as he smiled widely at her reassuringly, "Not at all, mother."
"That's good," she nodded, relieved, "You'll tell me if you feel something's off, won't you?"
"Of course, I will," he smiled wider, "I swear I'm alright, mother. I promise."
Without waiting for her response, he went back inside his room, closing the door behind him. Hermione sat there on her chair and stared at his door only for a few moments before she took a deep breath and drank the rest of her tea.
She might as well make breakfast- the muggle way.
Cooking has never been a strong skill of hers. Years ago, she knew only enough how to whip up something edible and not burn down the kitchen. But after having Alduin, she decided to learn and improve, not out of expectations because of the current era, but because she remembered the time how her own mother used to cook for her and how she used to help out. For her, it was more about how they bonded over the seemingly mundane activity and how she felt closer with her mum.
She wanted that sort of bond with Alduin. She wanted him to feel cared for and loved all the time. He's not a baby anymore and can take care of himself. Because of that, she has to make up for lost time and do her job. With nothing but trust and the bond that connected them as mother and son being the only tether to ease her worries about leaving him alone.
But she'd be damned if she didn't spend the rest of her free time with him.
Hermione had just about finished frying the bacon when Alduin came back. And as per routine, he moved over to the cupboards to take out the plates and cutlery from the drawers to set the table.
It would be a lie to say she wasn't relieved with how her son had grown up to be so far. She had no one to teach her about motherhood, and- loathe as she was to admit it- books can only do so much in telling her how to be a good mother. Not only that, but being a single mother in the current era had raised a lot of eyebrows no matter where she went.
Well, except for that old woman whom she still wasn't sure whether she was being helpful or judgmental on her apparent lack of skills on caring for a babe.
Her Alduin came into her life on the 5th of March and ten years later, he had grown up into a sweet, polite, oftentimes formal, and lovely boy. Not to mention he's absolutely adorable. Even though he doesn't resemble anything like her, as his mother, she's biased that way.
Alduin is inherently curious with an insatiable appetite for knowledge. Though she supposed she shouldn't be surprised by that. Her boy was just as worse as her in that he would stick his nose into whatever book he could get his hands on. He's also a quick study too. Because they had to move from place to place, he was able to pick up a language here and there.
All in all, her son was no problem child. He pouted and complained but did not throw tantrums, he's very sweet and charming with others, he's obedient and listens to her, and he even knows etiquette and proper manners- something other mothers have praised her with- when in reality, she had no idea where or whom he learned them from.
Then again, she shouldn't be surprised.
The only complaint and worry she had however, was Alduin's voracious appetite and growing preference with meat, but that was minor compared to his condition. He was only five when he had last fallen ill, and ever since then she had learned what to watch out for to prepare herself if it ever recurs again.
Lastly, she was worried if Alduin would ever ask her about his father. He knew by now that every child had a mother and father, but he's never thought to ask her about his. It makes her worry, because she has no idea what to answer.
"Mum."
Hermione nearly choked on her toast, "W-What was that, Al?"
"Mum. I noticed that most kids call their mothers that way," he swallowed the last of his bacon before looking up at her with wide, curious eyes, "You're English, aren't you, mother?"
She blinked, unsure where this was going, "Yes, I am. Why?"
"Would you prefer it if I call you 'mum' instead of mother?" he asked, but didn't wait for her answer as he continued, "But I think it's a bit informal. Does 'mum' convey the same level of respect as 'mother'?"
The brunette exhaled in relief. Her lips tugged up a smile as she leaned towards her son across the table, "You can call me whichever you like, Al. I wouldn't mind."
He tilted his head, "Are you sure?"
"Positive," she nodded. "Now, what would you like for us to do today? I was thinking about taking a picture of us at the fountain, something to add to our album, and then we could go do some shopping. You've outgrown most of your clothes and the weather's been getting colder."
"Cold weather always makes me sleepy," Alduin commented with a giggle, "But don't you have to work today, mother?"
"I don't have to later tonight, so we could spend the rest of the day together."
He beamed and it was enough for her to break into a huge grin of her own.
"That's excellent!" Alduin cheered.
"Yes, it is," Hermione chuckled, "There's also someplace I want to take you to, Al, a very special place."
"A special place? What? Where?" he nearly bounced on his chair excitedly.
Hermione held a finger to her lips in a secretive gesture, "You'll find out later."
.
Using a thick cloth made of hidebehind fur, Hermione held the dark orb gently with both hands. The dark pulse, beating with its heavy bass rhythm, was almost deafening to her ears. Slowly, she placed it inside a wooden chest that was small enough to fit the entirety of it, carved with foreign runes only a handful of people alive would be able to recognize on the inside, while looking completely ordinary on the outside.
Since she was going to leave it alone and unguarded for most of the day, she wanted to make extra precautions in keeping it hidden, even if the flat she lived in has security that could rival Gringotts.
For the briefest moment, a swirling vortex of fire and darkness flickered within the orb as the runes within the box glowed a bright golden hue before they diminished and the chest closed itself to the point no seams could be felt or seen.
Hermione breathed out in relief. Although, if she were being honest with herself, she wasn't sure whether the fact that she had gotten used to handling such dark items was something to feel relieved about or not.
Still, is it hypocritical of her to say that? When casting dark spells have become as easy as breathing for her over the years?
"Come on, mother!" she heard Alduin's voice outside her bedroom door, "We're losing daylight!"
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," she answered back, chuckling at her son's excitement. She stood from where she sat on the bed and tucked the chest inside a warded cabinet before grabbing her ever-faithful beaded bag.
It was a perfect day to get a picture and Hermione and Alduin posed and waved in front of the camera she had bought during the last time they went to America. All the while ignoring the curious onlookers as to why there was a floating camera taking pictures of them.
After that, they went to a clothing shop to grab a couple of coats and parka, and scarves. Where, as per usual, her Alduin practically wooed the shop owner and seamstresses working inside the shop with his manners and overall adorable appeal.
Honestly, where did he get it from? Alduin has always been very polite but she's noticed that he's gotten better at charming other people as well. She can't tell if she should be proud or worried.
It also makes her wonder if it's alright for her to feel relived that her son soaks up most of the attention than her. The last decade had not been kind to a nameless, single mother like her.
They then passed by Ollivander's to inform the wandmaker that he didn't need to watch over Alduin for today. She almost felt bad at the disappointment that crossed his face at the news. Although she's happy that the wandmaker had grown fond enough of her son. It also made her feel glad to see Mr. Ollivander so young and carefree. Even though she never knew him more than the person who gave her first wand, and the last time she saw him, he was killed by the very same bone-white yew wand he created…
"What is it, mother?"
Hermione barely heard her son's query when she suddenly stopped and turned her head sharply back. Her eyes scanned around the ever-busy crowd of Diagon Alley to find the source of that familiar dark pulse that tickled the back of her neck earlier.
"Mother? Are you alright?"
Her eyes narrowed at a general direction two shops behind them. When she no longer felt any traces of that dark pulse, Hermione set her eyes back down at her son and gave him a reassuring smile.
"I'm alright, Alduin. I thought I just saw something."
They continued walking down the path, unaware of the pair of eyes darker than black watching them.
.
"Where are we? Are we still in England?"
Hermione had to suck in a heavy breath as she took in her surroundings. It seemed wishful thinking, but the sky, the trees, the river, even the grass… it all looked the same, as if it never changed. Where in fact, everything has changed… or has yet to change.
"Yes, Al," she finally answered as she smiled down and took his hand in hers. "Here we are. The Forest of Dean."
Alduin looked around the forest inquisitively, "This is your special place?"
"Yes," she said breathily, "to me, this is a very, very special place."
"Oh."
Hermione chuckled, "You don't sound impressed."
"Well it's…" he worried his lip as he thought of a suitable answer, a dab of blush coloring his cheeks, "I just don't see anything out of the ordinary. It looks like a normal forest of me. What makes it special for you, mother?"
She heaved another deep breath as emotions laid dormant had began to bubble up inside her once more. She led Alduin to a nearby fallen log where they sat. As Hermione tried to rein in the feelings of nostalgia and heartache inside her, Alduin kept silent as he waited for her to answer.
"This is special to me because…" she started, "because this is where I came with my mum and dad… years ago."
His eyebrows shot up, "Really?"
"Yes," she let out a sad smile, "I was about your age when we came here to camp. It's all the more special for me now because… because…"
Because this is the only place I could remember them that isn't tainted with darkness.
"Your mum and dad," Alduin said carefully when she trailed off, "So, my grandparents?"
"Yes, Al, your grandparents," her smile widened only for it to fall a second later, "I'm sorry that you'll never get the chance to meet them…"
"Oh… that's unfortunate…" he looked downcast, "Do you think… do you think they would've liked me?"
Hermione's eyes widened at that. She turned on her seat to face her son fully. Her hands cupped his cheeks to turn his head up so she could meet his eyes.
His dark eyes that hid a burst of stars like her own in their deepest depths.
"Oh Alduin," she smiled lovingly, "They would've loved you."
Unaware of the confusion that crossed his face when she mentioned the word 'love', she pulled him to her in a warm embrace. Both for his comfort as well as her own. She needed this, needed whatever closure she could get. No matter how long it was, no matter how cold the scar those memories left in her heart, she would never forget. Even if those memories make her sad, it also reminded her to keep moving forward. No matter what lies ahead in the future.
Especially now that she's not alone anymore.
Despite the circumstances that brought them together, neither her nor her son would ever be alone.
She'd make sure of it.
She'll never let anything tear them apart.
Or anyone.
"I also came here with my best friend and brother once," she said, feeling her heart swell at her son's hand gently rubbing her back in comfort.
Alduin looked up from their embrace, "Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, right?"
"That's right," she brushed a stray lock of his hair away from his face, "The Bravest of Them All, and The Boy Who Lived."
Alright now, who would like to share their ideas/theories of what's going on with Hermione and or Alduin?
I would really love to know!
Stay Awesome!
Ciao~!