The Hideouts
31 January 2001
Hermione applied the last drops of dittany she had against the scar that screamed down her neck, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. She winced as green smoke hissed across her skin, its color reminding her of the Dark Mark, a staple that she had grown accustomed to seeing over the past year. Muggle residences were targeted ad infinitum, including Downing Street in Westminster. She looked at herself in the mirror, sizing up the stranger that stared back: her disheveled hair was tied together in a messy bun, purple clouds of exhaustion bruised her eyes, and small cuts and scrapes littered her face like confetti. She didn't take on the usual appearance of a twenty-two year old but instead looked ready to set off for a nice little holiday in Azkaban Prison.
"You decent in there?" Harry asked, knocking on the door.
"As decent as I'll ever be," she answered, pulling it open and letting him in.
Worry was like a rugged terrain across Harry's face, his eyebrows pulled together as if to emphasize the fact. Hermione saw that his hands were curled into fists, kind of like he had a stress ball in each one. Such went along nicely with his tense jaw and even tenser shoulders. His white T-shirt and dark jeans were dirtied with blood, most of it coming from the Death Eaters he killed. However, he didn't seem to mind, wearing the blood like a badge of honour, proud that he was able to best some of Voldemort's high command.
"Dumbledore's getting a bit impatient," he told her, kicking down the lid of the toilet and sitting atop it. "He wants an answer from us. If you ask me, I don't think there's any other way to go about it. We have to do it, and I'm pretty sure Dumbledore expects as much."
Harry's eyes were on the floor, and Hermione knew that when he did this he was thinking. Dumbledore had given them an ultimatum, choosing one of two options. The first would surely get them killed, while the second gave them an opportunity to change the hell that had bestowed itself upon them. It was a kind of hell that would've surpassed even Dante Alighieri's wildest imagination. To placate the storm that she sensed was brewing, she took to Harry, running her hands through his hair. Shorter now due to the trim she recently gave him, it was still as untidy as ever, the cowlick at the back like a personal antenna of his.
"Sure we can do it?" Hermione asked.
"It's not impossible but-,"
"Highly unlikely," she thought to interject.
"I don't think so," he replied, putting his hands on her waist. "I mean, of course it'll be challenging. We're talking about Tom Riddle."
"So how're we supposed to pull one over on him?"
"By being a couple of steps ahead," Harry suggested. When he looked up at her, she was reminded of the time that he gave her cunnilingus. Harry had been on his knees when he did so, praising Hermione's clitoris with his tongue zealously. His green eyes haloed her nipples when her orgasm hit, it being so intense that she screamed his name. It was a short while later that they made love. Harry's grunts of pleasure as he came inside of her were like music to her ears. "No matter what we have to do, we owe it to everyone who isn't here with us to try. Think about it. They'll have another chance."
"Only because we'd be sacrificing ourselves," Hermione said.
"Only because we survived," Harry corrected. "If anyone else was in our position, I'm positive they wouldn't give it a second thought."
Hermione was reminded of the Weasleys, having already been driven into extinction. It was last Christmas Eve when Percy, duped in supporting Voldemort's puppet administration when he was promised a quick ascension through the Ministry of Magic hierarchy, murdered his family at the kitchen table. Their Christmas pudding was left untouched. Afterwards, his throat was pillaged by Greyback as a trophy for a job well done. Neither Harry nor Hermione were present for this. Harry refused to go to the Burrow and endanger those who were already living in a world full of unspeakable horrors, opting to accept Dumbledore's invitation at Crouch End. Hermione decided to join.
"If you're sure, let's go and tell him," Hermione said, making to take out of the loo. Harry stood to his feet but grabbed her hand before she could leave. He pulled Hermione against him, kissing her on the lips. It was slow and sensual, spurring Hermione to relive the many times they had snogged against the guise of the apocalypse Voldemort and the Death Eaters had inflicted over England. She remembered trying to sneak around Dumbledore, not wanting to let him know that they were romantically involved. That was until she found a Contraception Potion on her pillow one night. Hermione wondered when he had time to brew it but appreciated the message nonetheless. Because he was right. Harry and Hermione were only in their early twenties, far too young an age to bring children into this cruel and wicked world.
He led a breathless Hermione down the hallway, pictures of the Muggles whose home they had taken temporary refuge in Teddington stalking them. Hermione briefly wondered where the Muggles were because upon their arrival, their residence was empty. She hoped that they were alright wherever they were, though she couldn't be sure of this. Death Eaters were hunting Muggles for sport. Sirius' relative, Araminta Meliflua Black, who tried to force a bill to make Muggle hunting legal, would've been over the moon at this.
In the sitting room, they took to a couch that was patterned in a kaleidoscope of flowers. Hermione decided to stare at the numerous scars that bloomed like warped fireworks up and down her arms. Most were red, though puddles of purple and yellow were beginning to get deeper. She guessed they'd soon drown out the red completely. All things considered, the scars formed an intricate design, almost like a maze, and her eyes, having already found the entrance, were now looking for the exit. Her gaze circled around the sphere of disfigurement before moving on to its neighbor.
Seeing how crowded her arms were with ugly blemishes, she nearly smiled at what her father would say about them. As if you don't have enough already! He said something similar about how congested London was, the daily traffic jams on the Hanger Lane Gyratory an endless nightmare for those unlucky souls who had to use it to get to work. And now its reach was expanding to the outer metropolitan areas, including the Green Belt. Thus, she hoped her parents were happy in Australia, as even though millions of people crowded Brisbane, its size was much bigger than the Smoke. We need more elbow room, was another phrase her father used far too often. She used to think that he'd drive her mad with how many times he said it, yet she'd kill to hear him say it now, given the fact that her parents were now living as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. Although they didn't know they had a daughter between them, at least they were still alive.
She grew sad that Harry never had the opportunity to meet them, especially since Hermione tended to drone on about him nonstop. Her mother grew extremely suspicious. You fancy this boy? she asked one too many times. Of course she did, though she didn't tell her mother as much. Even then, Hermione had hopes and dreams about a life with Harry post Voldemort, one where he was a seeker for Puddlemere United and she fighting for the rights of house-elves in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Maybe they owned a comfortable cottage covered in English ivy, their children a perfect mix of their parents. Unfortunately, all of this seemed futile in the vortex of extremism.
When the Daily Prophet confirmed Voldemort's return a couple of years prior, the community fell into a state of total chaos and pandemonium. The Ministry of Magic became an obsolete tyranny of doom, Hogwarts was reduced to Scotland's own version of Stonehenge, and Azkaban Prison became nothing but a mortuary in the middle of the North Sea. Outposts of opposition crumbled like a line of Muggle dominoes, with the Order of the Phoenix taking a particularly hard hit. It was nearly decimated, outnumbered by the Death Eaters. And when they were captured, they were used as target practice for Pure-Blood children. Dementors, having bred exponentially given the state of affairs, freely roamed the narrow passageways of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, often frequenting the corridors of St Mungo's too. The border had been locked down so that no witch or wizard could come and go as they pleased. Entire families riddled in the ancient lines of magical supremacy were obliterated if they turned out to be a bunch of blood traitors. Muggle-Borns suffered the most, ostracized and shunned by those in the community who treated them like lepers.
"Do you understand the implications of what I'm asking you to do?" Dumbledore had his back to them, peering out of a skinny window while the black night pressed against it. It was raining outside and shadows crept under the streetlight.
"We understand," Harry said, glancing at Hermione beside him. He smiled at her, and despite the situation at hand, she felt butterflies in her stomach.
Dumbledore turned to them with a frown, almost as if he disapproved of their relationship, even though such was never officially established between them. Hermione supposed that if Dumbledore really disapproved of their relationship, he would've said something by now. He hadn't, however, and that was completely fine with her.
"And have you reached a decision?" he asked, his eyebrows hilled slightly in anticipation.
"We're going to try it," Harry said, squeezing Hermione's hand as he did.
"I expected as much," Dumbledore replied and tried to smile. Instead, it was more of a grimace than anything, seeming as if he was in pain. Hermione knew that he was old, and the amount of fighting and running the three of them had endured for the past several months had taken its toll on him. In spite of his immense and unrivaled power, his actions slowed considerably. She hated to say it but sometimes, Dumbledore was an unnecessary burden they risked their lives for in trying to make sure he survived no matter the cost. Nevertheless, he taught and trained them as best he could, and Hermione learned how to properly wield her magic in ways she never thought was possible. If she was to be honest, it was a bit unnerving how much raw potential she could now tap into if need be. She became a fighter, one who had seen the atrocities of what a brutal dictatorship entailed and yet was somehow able to thrive in its landscape.
"There really isn't any other option," Hermione heard herself say. She was staring down at a nasty wound she received from Lucius Malfoy some time ago, figuring it was her own Victoria Cross of sorts. Hermione promised that if she ever got the chance, she'd hex Lucius Malfoy so that he'd be unable to breed any future chauvinistic tossers. As it was, the last she heard was that Narcissa Malfoy was pregnant again. It would be their tenth child. If not already, Voldemort would bestow Narcissa with his own version of the Ehrenkreuz der Deutschen Mutter, or the Cross of Honour of the German Mother. This was given to mothers of exceptional merit under the German Reich. Draco and Astoria were well on their way to receive a cross of their own with three children and another due any day now. Hermione wondered if Astoria knew about the other concubines Draco had impregnated in the lap of luxury. He was like a dog with two dicks. Only Pure-Bloods were allowed to procreate, and with their already dwindling numbers, incest was often overlooked and sometimes encouraged. If anyone refused to participate in such acts, they were immediately killed, no questions asked.
"Forgive me, Miss Granger, but even you know that is not correct," he said. "It is true that our alternatives have narrowed considerably, but they remain open for, once again I ask you to forgive me, the time being." After a heavy paused, he added, "Never would I think less of you if you chose otherwise, but I am glad to see that the Gryffindor spirit remains alive."
Alive, Hermione thought bitterly, but not well.
Dumbledore turned back around, facing the window again. The rain was significantly heavier than before, pebbling against the window and birthing a large population of water droplets across it. Hermione found this hypnotizing, suddenly becoming very sleepy. If she wasn't worried about Voldemort and the Death Eaters raiding their hiding place during the night, she would've suggested they sleep on this decision a little more to see if the morning brought anything new to consider. Time, however, was their problem, and it was quickly running out.
"I think we have the best chance at succeeding if we go back," Harry said. "It isn't our only option, but I don't know how long any of us we'll be able to keep moving from place to place. We've been like this for months now and have seen little results, if any. Besides, who knows how long it'll be before they find us."
"It's been difficult," Dumbledore acknowledged, "and I believe it's been the same for others as well."
"If there are others," Harry mumbled darkly. His grip on Hermione's hand tightened painfully.
"Tom is too strong," Dumbledore said. Hermione recognized the use of Voldemort's real name as the Taboo was still firmly in effect. It was what led to so many deaths early on and nearly finished them off as well.
"I have a question," Hermione said, "and it has something to do with the plan." It was hard to keep the accusation out of her voice, not to mention the uneasiness with Dumbledore's plan, as her trust in him had waned with each passing day. Though he was still a great wizard, his old age had crippled them on far too many occasions. Hermione died a thousand deaths when she thought that Harry had been hit with the Killing Curse, only to have nearly fainted when she realized that she was mistaken. Yet, it was Dumbledore's folly that had them knocking on Death's door more than she cared to admit. "Won't Tom," she nearly spit out, "be just as strong at Hogwarts as he is now?"
Turning back around, Dumbledore didn't appear to be offended by Hermione's disposition but regarded her curiously. He was reading her, as he had done many times before. What he expected, or even hoped to find, she didn't know. He did the same thing to Harry. He was unquestionably looking for something. His blue eyes told her so. "You must remember, Miss Granger, that Tom is still a Hogwarts student. Though brilliant, he became much more powerful during the years of his disappearance. He is undoubtedly very dangerous whilst at school, opening the Chamber of Secrets one year prior to when you are set to return, but he would be unwilling to intentionally harm another student."
"If I'm to believe you, the Chamber of Secrets incident was a mere accident?" Hermione asked, skeptical.
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, "and a grave one too. A number of students were petrified." Hermione inwardly shuddered at this. "There were false accusations that led to the wrong student being expelled, and above all, it resulted in the death of Miss Myrtle Warren. However, a simple lapse of judgment Tom did not foresee was the threat of Hogwarts closing. You must remember that Tom resented the fact that he had to return to Wool's Orphanage every summer. In fact, there were several times he asked for permission to stay at Hogwarts. As it is, he never opened the Chamber of Secrets again in the fear that Hogwarts would close, and that he would be forced to remain at Wool's Orphanage until he came of age."
"You told us before that he was secretive with what he did and those that followed him were involved in incidents that remain unsolved," Harry said. "How is it possible to prevent the same thing happening to us? I mean, we're new students and potential targets, right?"
Dumbledore frowned again, the lines around his mouth like small serpents swimming in the sands of a desert. "It is likely that other students will be interested in you. My belief is that I, too, will be the same. But don't forget how arrogant Tom was and still is. He would not put as much faith in his followers to carry out episodes due to the possibility that such acts would be traceable to its source. Clever as he was to always cover his tracks, he would think his followers to be too careless to do the same. The reality of it was that these friends of his were not friends at all. Instead, they'd be similar to insignificant servants whom he never really cared for. I do not recall violent attacks apart from the Chamber of Secrets, but it was already resolved that he didn't open it again."
"But the past can be changed," Hermione said. "When Harry and I go back, the potential to change is greater than it staying the same."
"Correct," Dumbledore replied, "but what we have planned does not involve attracting the attention of Tom Riddle. Of course, it would be foolish to disregard any curiosity he might have of new Slytherins. Overtime, though, his interest will diminish, and he'll consider the both of you to be inconsequential in what he does for the rest of his time at Hogwarts, which is what we want of him. That will you clear to-,"
"-stop him from creating Horcruxes," Hermione finished.
"Certainly," Dumbledore said.
The rain hit against the window harder.
Hermione's eyes returned to the mess of scars on her arms, finding a whole new maze to route through. This one, however, was more complex than the last, in that she kept running into dead ends. It was quite frustrating, estimating the probability of moving to a different maze in the chance of succeeding there. Failure, for her, wasn't an option she'd ever settle for. She knew that Harry was the same. They'd do whatever was necessary to get the job done. So many lives were at stake, a burden if there was any, but that was an advantage they'd use to keep focus on the matter at hand.
"We won't be going back to Hogwarts right away, will we?" Hermione asked, her gaze still fixed on the complicated maze that she was lost in, the tip of her finger tracing what she hoped was the correct pathway out of it. "We first have to stop Tom Riddle from getting Marvolo Gaunt's ring."
"That would be a good place to start," Dumbledore said. "As such, I'll be sending you to Little Hangleton, or more specifically, the Gaunt Shack. That is where-,"
"-Tom Riddle confronted his uncle, Morfin, and stunned him. He then murdered his father and grandparents with Morfin's wand, using a False-Memory Charm that led Morfin to believe that he was guilty concerning the Riddles. Tom took Marvolo Gaunt's ring, later turning it into one of his Horcruxes." Hermione glanced up from the maze on her arm, having found the exit, and saw Dumbledore smiling at her, looking impressed. "I have it in my notes," she explained, a little embarrassed.
"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted, sitting a little straighter. "What if we go back after Riddle's already done all this? He stuns Morfin, kills his family, and takes Gaunt's ring, leaving before we get there?"
Hermione thought that this was a relevant question to ask, as she too wondered how the timetable was going to interfere with their plans.
"A good question but one that has a simple enough answer," Dumbledore said. "Going back in time by use of a Time-Turner is impossible as currently, though such a Time-Turner exists in sending the traveler back decades, only five minutes is granted for that traveler to stay in the past. I suspect that both of you knew of this beforehand. Instead, I am going to use a spell, one, when cast, will reset the day of which you'll arrive."
"So you mean that when we go back in time, it'll be in the morning?" Hermione asked, needing to clarify such things so that their attempt to thwart Tom Riddle will be successful.
"Midnight to be more precise," Dumbledore corrected. "Tom arrived in Little Hangleton just before sunrise. You should, therefore, have ample time to do what needs to be done and leave. And to be clear, any potential altercation with Tom should be avoided at all costs. I do not believe his interest will diminish in the slightest if he saw you at the house of his ancestors and later at Hogwarts. The consequences, of such, would be dire indeed."
Hermione knew that he was correct, and with the plan that she was reciting in her head, departing Little Hangleton before Tom Riddle arrived was one of two priorities. Retrieving Marvolo Gaunt's Ring was the other.
"And where are we supposed to do until it's time to go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked. He then addressed Hermione, "How long is it between when we go back and the start of term?"
She didn't hesitate when she answered, "Almost two weeks. It was in the middle of August when Morfin Gaunt was arrested by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement because of the Riddles."
"I would consider lying low," Dumbledore said. "There are places in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade that would suit your needs for a place to stay until it is time for you to go to Hogwarts."
"But we can't just sit around and do nothing!" Harry exclaimed, still clutching Hermione's hand. "We'd be bored to tears."
Dumbledore wasn't deterred as he suggested, "It is actually the most opportune time to review what you have at your disposal. Do not forget that you are going back to prevent Tom from creating Horcruxes. The diary is already in his possession, and if you are successful, Marvolo Gaunt's ring will be in your possession. That leaves Helga Hufflepuff's cup, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, and Salazar Slytherin's locket. As you know, two of these objects are with Hepzibah Smith, while other resides in an Albanian forest."
"So you're recommending that we go after the cup, diadem, and locket before Riddle does?" Harry asked.
Before Dumbledore could answer, Hermione cut across him and said, "We can't because we don't know where Hepzibah Smith lives and we don't know which forest in Albania Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem is hidden in. We have to research and ask the right people the right questions to find out what we need to know."
"As such," Dumbledore added, "perhaps Diagon Alley would be the better of the two options, given the close proximity you'll be to Borgin and Burkes. Remember, Hepzibah Smith bought Salazar Slytherin's locket from Caractacus Burke. When Tom went to work for him after Hogwarts, Tom was tasked in persuading Hepzibah Smith in selling a piece of Goblin-made armour. Thus, it would seem that Caractacus Burke would be your best source in learning the whereabouts of Hepzibah Smith."
Hermione nodded, concluding that Dumbledore's reasoning did make sense. Though she was in favor of staying in Diagon Alley over Hogsmeade anyway, Hermione had completely forgotten how much of Tom Riddle's history after Hogwarts gravitated around Borgin and Burkes. She promised herself that she would obtain both Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Salazar Slytherin's locket before Tom Riddle could set his scarlet eyes on them.
Harry shifted closer to Hermione and asked, "If we do manage to get the cup, diadem, locket, and ring before Riddle, how do we know that he won't pick other objects and turn them into Horcruxes?"
At this question, Dumbledore turned grim, his mouth dehydrating into a thin line. "There is no way of being absolutely sure Tom would not choose another collection of treasures to use for his own personal gain, but it's important to understand that Tom felt a special type of affinity towards Hogwarts and deemed an object of one of its founders to be invaluable. This means that he would not stop until he found what he was looking for."
"He was obsessive," Hermione gathered.
"Very much so," Dumbledore confirmed. "And it is part of what makes him so dangerous."
Hermione didn't know what to expect when they went back in time and had to contend with Tom Riddle. After all, their plan was to disguise themselves as sixth-year Slytherins in the vain chance that they might come across some window of opportunity to retrieve his diary, of which he turned into a Horcrux sometime later. But if he was as dangerous as Dumbledore portrayed him to be, then they need not be transparent enough so that he learned of their true intentions.
"I trust you have all of your notes, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.
In response, she held up her beaded handbag, "Everything's in here."
"And you are both well aware that there is no returning? After you pass through, you'll cease to exist in this time."
"We know," Harry said.
"Very well," he nodded. "You should get going then."
"Headmaster," Hermione said, making him pause. "What'll happen to you? Are you sure there's no way you can come with us?"
Dumbledore chuckled, "Even if I did want to go back in time, I am much too old to do so." He then took out his wand and waved it in the air. A cloud of fire appeared over his head, making Hermione gasp in surprise. The flames of the fire dispersed until Fawkes the Phoenix materialized from it. He perched himself atop of Dumbledore's right shoulder and shook like a dog would when wet. A cape of black smoke slipped off his feathers. "I am content to say that my time has officially set. The sun will surely rise and set tomorrow, and the next day after that. I have seen many sunrises and sunsets to last me another lifetime."
Hermione felt uneasy at his words, and though he was rather cryptic in telling them what he was going to do after they left, she inferred that he meant death. How he was going to go about doing so, she had no idea. And quite frankly, she didn't even want to know.
"Let's get to it then." Reaching into his robes, Dumbledore pulled out four envelopes, two of which were encrusted with the Ministère des Affairs Magiques de la France signet and the other two with the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic seal. He said softly, "Madam Maxime was kind enough to go through so much trouble to get these for us."
Hermione took the envelopes and a pouch full of money from Dumbledore and carefully put them in her beaded handbag. After he saw that she did this, Dumbledore took to the wardrobe that huddled the corner of the sitting area. Using his wand, he began inscribing runs onto its door.
Harry and Hermione watched in silence as he did this, neither wanting to disturb him. As they waited, a sense of nervousness began its acquisition of Hermione, purchasing more and more of the sensibility she had that made her believe this plan of theirs would work. Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen, Dumbledore said to Harry after he escaped from the Chamber of Secrets in second year. Harry told Hermione this, even though she had already guessed as much. Voldemort was a monster, plain and simple. Yet, he was a dangerous monster, one whose power and skill were unmatched, even by Dumbledore. Ever since his return, Voldemort had grown stronger. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had stagnated.
Hermione became distracted with the rain outside. It lashed against the windows as if it wanted to burglarize the Muggle residence they were in because it somehow knew that Harry and Hermione were preparing to leave. And it was trying its best to keep them from doing so. It was unnerving, similar to that of the maze on her arm she couldn't find her way out of before. Dead ends after dead ends, an endless loop that they were unable to escape from.
"That should do it," Dumbledore said softly. "And now," he brandished his wand like one would a horn and blew into one of its ends. A translucent gold cloud emerged, fogging the wardrobe. It evaporated moments later, leaving behind gold flecks that were scratched into the face of wardrobe like treasure buried in a sea of black soot. The door opened when Dumbledore pointed his wand at it, creaking and whining. "This is it."
Harry shared a look with Hermione before they directed their eyes inside the open wardrobe. It looked anything but inviting, blackness amassing the insides, waiting for its next victim. Though foreboding, this was Harry and Hermione's mode of transportation to the past. Together, they stepped inside, crouching down so that they could both fit. The space was small, Harry and Hermione's bodies pressing against each other's. In any other circumstance, this would've been intimate. Now, however, it seemed like the walls were closing in on them, making Hermione claustrophobic. She reckoned that the wardrobe looked much bigger on the outside than it was on the inside.
"How long is this going to take?" Hermione asked. Her heart was beating erratically, feeling Harry's do the same. Gooseflesh mushroomed over her arms, bombing each maze that lay there. She was suddenly very cold and cast a quick Warming Charm.
"I suppose no longer than a minute," Dumbledore replied. "Just remember to collect Marvolo Gaunt's ring and depart from Little Hangleton before you give Tom a chance to foil your plans. Do not underestimate him. Even at sixteen, he was powerful."
"We won't," Harry assured him.
Dumbledore nodded, "If that is all, I suppose I shall see you on September first. Good luck, to the both of you."
As he closed the door, Hermione, once again, felt as if he was reading them, only in completely different ways. It was like he expected Harry to act one way and Hermione to act another. He looked at Harry wearily but with Hermione it was more calculating. However, she didn't have long to ponder the meaning of this because the lock of the wardrobe clicked shut. Suddenly, Hermione was falling.
A/N: I wrote this as the first chapter to a story I'd been planning about Harry and Hermione going back in time to try and prevent Tom Riddle/Voldemort from creating Horcruxes. This would've created an alternate reality in which Dumbledore turned into Voldemort and Tom Riddle did not. However, I don't have any plans to continue this story but decided to post the first chapter because I liked it so much. I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.