Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter- the books, the movies, or the characters.
Summary: A look into her future sparks a desperation in Hermione to change it. With the uneasy assistance of Dumbledore, she is sent back to 1944 for a chance to do just that. But dealing with Tom Riddle will prove to be more of a challenge than she would prefer.
Also, just a side note- this takes place in their seventh year. I didn't want to knock off Dumbledore, so Severus never killed him. In fact, while not exactly in the story, Snape is still the same sneaky guy- he never made the deal with Narcissa to keep Draco safe and Draco's still a pansy-ass. But a handsome one.
ENJOY.
Chapter 2: The Only Choice
Hermione stood in front of the headmaster's office. The last two days had been awful ones, with lots of unwanted tears and most definitely a lot of unwanted attention. After a solid five minutes of continuously, and thinking back on it, embarrassingly, sobbing on the floor of the Divination classroom in front of the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs, Hermione finally let Ron and Harry practically carry her to their common room, sit her on the couch, and pry the information out of her. She was resistant at first, naturally. But with gentle strokes of her head and hands and with kind eyes and soothing voices, they managed to make her speak.
"Do I have to tell you now?" She asked helplessly.
Harry moved from his place on the carpet in front of her to the seat next to her, still holding tightly to her hand. He looked her in the eyes and nodded. "You can't keep this in. Not if it concerns your future. Not if you're this afraid of it. It's our business to make sure this particular future never sees light."
Hermione shook her head. "I understand, but... can't I just forget it for now? Can't I tell you in the morning when my head stops pounding?" But truthfully, there was no way Hermione would be able to forget the vision. Not even for a minute. Her mind revolved around it. Every so often, the harrowing face of the Dark Lord flashed before her eyes, whether they were closed or not.
"'Mione, you have to tell us. You'll worry yourself sick if you don't. It'll do you some good to talk about it, you know?" Ron's voice was soft and filled to the brim with concern.
She clenched her eyes shut and squeezed Harry's hand. Another tear slipped through the outer corner of her eye and she quickly raised her arm to wipe it off. With a deep, shaky breath, she picked a spot on the carpet and barely whispered, "It was... him."
Harry's brows furrowed. He looked at Ron, confused for a brief moment, before his eyes snapped back to Hermione in understanding. "Voldemort?"
She hadn't cringed at the mentioning of his name in years, but all of a sudden, she felt her stomach twist and her shoulders tense. "...yes."
"What... what about him, 'Mione?"
After a slight pause, she managed to avery her eyes off the stain in the carpet to Ron's wide eyes. "He was here, Ron. At Hogwarts. And... and you were all..." She looked from Ron to Harry and back again. She couldn't bring herself to say 'fighting', for really, it was only Harry of the two of them that...
She shook her head. "You were all there. The two of you, Luna, Ginny, T-Tonks. Lupin-" His name ended in a cracked sob. Hermione withdrew her hand from Harry's and covered her eyes.
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.
"Volde..." An unsteady exhale. "Voldemort was in the Great Hall. He was fighting you, Harry." She searched his eyes. "And everyone was around you, fighting the death eaters. Tonks... Tonks was... And Neville! Bellatrix kept... And Luna just cried." Harry's face was a blur as her tears built up and her words came tumbling out of her mouth, not really arranged in any full sentences.
"Hermione," Harry's voice was comforting as he pleaded with her. On the inside, he was panicking. But he needed her to calm down. "Listen to me." He took her face in his hands. "It was just something you saw. It didn't mean anything. Divination is a bunch of hogwash anyway, isn't it?"
"Harry. It wasn't my horoscope or some bloody tea leaves!" She realized she was raising her voice and for a moment she was very thankful they had the common room to themselves. "It was my future I saw, just like anyone else. Susan Bones saw her uncle Edgar reading at his favorite bookstore. Fay Dunbar saw herself shadowing with an auror. Everyone had tiny little glimpses into their futures. Tiny realistic glimpses. If their futures are to come true, what makes you think mine won't? Just because it isn't-" She had to pause to catch her breath and swallow the lump forming in her throat. Her nostrils flared and her lower lip quivered dangerously. "Just because it isn't trivial, doesn't mean it isn't real."
Harry could feel the blood rush from his face.
"Harry, I don't know what to do. It was my future." She looked at Ron, grabbing his hand with both of hers. "Our future."
Hermione stared at the portrait covering Dumbledore's office. Her heart felt heavy, yet strangely empty at the same time. The night she told Ron and Harry about her vision, she laid sleeplessly in bed thinking about everything.
When would this happen? How did it come to this? Where was Dumbledore while the fighting went down? Where was she? Or was she simply not in the vision because she was watching it?
The most important question-the one that she kept coming back to again and again-was, is there any stopping it?
She tossed and turned most of the night as she tried to think of a way out. She could take her friends and convince them to flee the country. Or at least, flee Hogwarts. But no, it would still happen and he would still find them one day. They could tell the ministry? But who would believe a seventeen-year-old girl that saw a scary face in a crystal ball at school?
There was no way out of it. That future was bound to unravel.
Well, she had thought that. At least until this particular morning when she was rummaging through her trunk, searching for a clean cloak. In a moment of dumb luck, her elbow slipped off of the side of the trunk and she had to bury her hand deep in the corner to steady herself. Her ring finger touched a cool chain and looped around it, lifting it out from the bottom of the trunk. She had found the time turner Professor McGonagall gave her four years prior.
With a soft smile, really the first smile in days, she reminisced on a time where some of her largest concerns were her course-load and saving Buckbeak from a terrible beheading. She fingered the gold rings and brought the hourglass to her face. This small knickknack saved that ungrateful hybrid's life t
Slowly, her smile faded. Her fingers stopped rubbing the cool gold lining on the rims of the time turner as she cupped it in her palms. Her heart began to thump loudly in her chest. An idea was forming. It was very possibly that this idea was a stupid one and would never work, but... if there was any chance that it could... would she follow through?
Hermione stood quickly, holding onto the footboard as vertigo hit her. She tossed the time turner on the bed and closed her eyes until her vision cleared, then tore parchment from her desk drawer. In very sloppy handwriting, not bothering to make it anything more than legible, she scrawled a pleading message, signed it, and gave it to her owl. Just as it flew away, her face twisted as more tears fell. She grabbed hold of the windowsill and slid down the wall, taking deep, jagged breaths to calm herself. This time, however, it wasn't the feeling of doom and defeat that made her cry. It might have been the little spark of hope that was flittering in her chest.
And here she was now, standing at the headmaster's office. She felt her nerves flare up as she prepared to discuss this with Dumbledore. In fact, she was almost positive he wouldn't even think of considering her request, but... she needed to try. If what she saw in that wretched crystal ball- she shuddered- was indeed the future, there was no way around it. Whether it came easy or not, Hermione would persuade Dumbledore to send her back; to try to fix everything. The present wasn't worth living in if she didn't have a future to look forward to.
"Pepper imp." She surprised herself how meek her voice sounded. The portrait hole swung open and she stepped inside.
Seated in his bright red robes, Dumbledore folded his parchment in two and set it aside. "Miss Granger."
She nodded politely, suddenly unsure how to speak English.
"I received your letter. It sounded... quite urgent. Please," He motioned to the tall chair beside his desk. "sit."
She did as she was told, but still couldn't find the right words. She needed him to listen; to understand; to agree with her and help her find a way to make her plan work. But for that, she needed to say the right thing. At this point, Hermione could barely make eye contact.
Dumbledore watched her ball her fists and look away. "I hear you had an unsettling experience in Professor Trelawney's classroom. Are you here to discuss what you saw?"
Hermione's eyes darted to his. He was subtly leaning forward in his desk. While his aura and body language said he was listening intently and willing to help and console, his eyes spoke otherwise. Dumbledore had heard of her "experience", but she was sure he had heard the rumors as well, for his eyes were dark with fear and anticipation. He did want to help, but she was not so sure he wanted to hear it.
She was silent for a while. It was annoying, really, not knowing how to phrase a simple request. Alright, maybe it wasn't simple, but it was still Dumbledore she was speaking to. He would never scoff at anything a student would say. He was as understanding and as wise as they came. Hermione closed her eyes.
"I want you to take me back to 1938."
She heard his sharp intake of breath, and then she heard him release it slowly. Clearly this was not what he was expecting. To be honest, she wasn't expecting it to be the first thing she said either, but it had happened. When she opened her eyes, she mustered the courage to look up at him. Seeing the confusion in his eyes, laced with still-evident worry, she sat straighter and lifted her chin. One never gets their way unless they are confident in their actions.
"Miss Granger. I do not understand your request. Why would you want to revisit the past?"
"Professor, it was the vision. I saw a... dark future." She gripped the arms of the chair tightly to remind herself to stay calm and keep her eyes on his.
Do not look away, Hermione.
"Voldemort was in the castle with his Death Eaters. Everyone-" She exhaled. "It was not a future you would have been proud of." This was the most simple-minded explanation she had ever given. She would scold herself later.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, one hand gripping his long beard in thought. Voldemort in Hogwarts. "That is disturbing indeed. But, if I may ask, why turn back time? Why 1938?"
Hermione was determined not to be so vague this time. "You can't change something if it hasn't happened yet. And I certainly can't prevent meeting Voldemort face-to-face. I believe it will happen someday." Her eyes glistened. "But this confrontation hasn't even happened yet, professor." She fumbled over finding the right words. "I can't very well politely speak to him and ask him to leave us alone, he will never stop until he destroys everything and everyone Harry holds dear. Not to mention the rest of the Wizarding World."
Dumbledore lowered his head, peering at her past his glasses.
"So there's no point in staying in the present and just anticipating it or jumping into the future and dealing with it. My only choice is-" She shook her head quickly. "Our only choice is to go back to where it began... Professor."
"You wish to go to Riddle's time?"
Hermione took a deep, determined breath. "Yes. I wish to travel back to 1938 and stop Tom Riddle. He'll-he'll be a first year and not at all as prepared to fight like I am. I can stop him." It came out as a fervent whisper.
"You wish to kill Tom Riddle?" His voice was uncertain. She didn't know if he was mocking her or really curious. Suddenly she was questioning her own ethics. Would she kill him? An eleven-year-old? An eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, though...
No. She couldn't kill a child. "Perhaps... perhaps I would only... I don't know..." Hermione groaned inwardly. She didn't think this through. Despite the fact that he was Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard, the one determined to kill Harry and Ron and all of their friends and family, the one who does one day kill her friends... she couldn't look into his child-like eyes and take his life.
But then, she looked up, eyes resolute. "But I can stop a seventh-year Tom Riddle." There was no remorse there. He would have killed his father, framed his uncle, formed the Death Eaters, and would be her age. He would not be a child, but an adult, fully capable of making his own decision and accepting the consequences.
"Professor, please. I'm begging you. Help me. Take me back to 1944."
He hadn't spoken a word for what seemed like hours. What was he thinking? Did he think it was a stupid idea? Was he going to tell her her plan would never work? Was there even a way to travel back multiple decades in time? Could she come back if she did? Hermione really should have done more reading on the topic of time-travel, for she felt completely unprepared.
Finally, she heard him speak. "Miss Granger. I understand the gravity of the situation. I also understand your desire to change the future, but-"
"There are no 'buts', Professor. The future is inevitable and we have to stop it!" He would listen. If there was a way, he would guide her to it.
"The future cannot be changed without a sacrifice."
"I'll do anything!" Why was he taking this so lightly? Why wasn't he worried? Why wasn't he nodding in panic and offering to go with her?
He gave her a soft, sort of sad smile. "I know you would, Miss Granger. You are one of the truest Gryffindors to walk the halls."
She was taken aback by this compliment. It made her want to cry even more, but she held it in. "Then you know that I need to do this. I need at least the chance to. If I die, the at least I died trying to prevent something I wouldn't have wanted to live through anyway. You didn't see what I saw, Professor. You didn't see them die."
He eyed her sadly. "I cannot send a student to her death, Miss Granger. And I will not. Please," He grabbed the parchment he had been scribbling on before she came in, placing it shakily in front of him and not making eye contact with her. "have a good day."
Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed. This was it? This was all he could do for her? Apologize and essentially tell her to wait it out? To face her fears and face her future? Dumbledore was supposed to be wise and powerful. He was supposed to push students to do their best in any area of life. He had sent Harry on more missions than any sane person would, and he can't see her reasoning and send her on a very probable mission herself?
"No."
He looked up.
"You don't believe me."
"Miss Grang-"
"You say you understand, but you won't help me. You probably don't even believe me when I tell you he was here. He stood in the far Slytherin corner of the Great Hall. A Death Eater used the killing curse on Tonks while Remus watched. Luna held Ron as he died and Neville was tortured with the Cruciatus. Harry was half-dead and fighting a strong-standing Voldemort- How do you not believe me?" She choked a little on her words. "How do you not understand the dire circumstances we'll have to face? It could all end then, and Harry did not look like he was going to survive the fight. What about the prophecy? Don't you care?" Her tone was bitter and insulting. She didn't give a rat's ass about being respectful. He needed to see it her way.
"You say you won't send me to my death, but by letting me walk out of this room, that is exactly what you are doing. And not only me, but Remus, Neville, Harry, Ron... We will all die one way or another, but you have a choice as to which way. You can send me to my dorm and refuse to help, and we will die by Voldemort's hand when my vision come true. Or you can choose to send me back where, even if I don't succeed, you won't have this guilt hanging over your head. You won't have to think of what might have been, or what could have happened. But I could survive, Professor. I could kill Tom Riddle before he becomes Lord Voldemort and I could save us. We can all live and die a natural death."
Dumbledore stood, walked around his desk, and stopped in front of Hermione. She stood and faced him too. "You are a strong young witch with the purest of intentions. I do believe you."
She saw the emotion in his eyes, the sadness of his face behind that long beard and those glasses. She saw the worry and the angst.
"But I will not send you back."
She faltered. After everything she said? "Will not or cannot?"
He remained silent.
She knew it. There was a way, but he wouldn't do it. "If we mean anything at all to you, Professor, at least explain to me why."
Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione Granger, if I send you back, you will never return."
And there it was. Glass shattered in her mind. This was the sacrifice. Leave this time and enter a new one with the intention of either dying or starting over completely. All advances in time would have to be forgotten, all people, all memories. Everything she knew, she would have to forget and begin again. It would be like being reborn. She would never get to see anyone from this time. At least, not until she was a very old woman, and even then it would not be the same.
But... if she didn't do it, they would all die anyway and she the guilt would fall on her because she had had a way out. It was a lose-lose situation. Regardless of the path she took, her current life was over. Tears brimmed her eyes as she thought of her choices.
What choices, though? I mean really, when you think about it, was there even a choice? Live to die or "die" to let them live? It was not a choice at all. It was hardly even something she should have let herself hesitate over.
"I understand that, and I would do it anyway." It was the only thing she could do.
Dumbledore's grip on her tightened and his mouth opened and closed. He didn't know what to say. "If you do this, Miss Granger, you will never see or speak to them again. You will have to live out your life in the past, watching as the present unfolds. Would you really call that a life?"
Now it was Hermione's turn to give him a sad smile. She reached up and grabbed the hand that rested on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Then, while it was most likely rather inappropriate, she pried his hand from her shoulder and just held it out in front of her, tightly and desperately. She looked down at their hands. "Professor, I love them all very much. I love this school, the professors, the creatures, the magic, and you. I love almost everything about this world. I love the present." Hermione found that it was becoming difficult to speak without her throat closing up on her. A quarter of her words were coming out as squeaks. "But if that vision were to happen tomorrow, everything I love would be gone. That is not a life to live. Wouldn't you much rather live knowing that everything important to you survived because of you?"
The tear in Dumbledore's eye might have been well hidden, but she still noticed. And it surprised her beyond words.
"You, Miss Granger, of all my years at Hogwarts... are my most favorite pupil." He whispered, his own hand squeezing hers. "I am so..." He paused as he placed his other hand on top of theirs. "I am so proud of you."
Hermione couldn't take it anymore. That lump was not a full-sized tumor in her throat. She broke into tears, let go of his hands, and threw her arms around her headmaster in a final goodbye. She knew he was going to allow her to follow through with this plan. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. And she knew she would do it immediately. She had planned to do it the second he said yes anyway. Hermione had told Harry and Ron goodbye in a very subtle manner and she had written them letters too. Long letters that sat neatly in her bag beside the chair.
She pulled back and looked up at the pale-faced professor. He looked as though he'd be sick. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then bent down and grabbed her back, swinging it over her shoulder. She pulled out three letters- one for Harry, one for Ron, and one for her parents. That would be the most difficult letter to hand over. "Will you p-please deliver these for me?"
Dumbledore gingerly accepted the letters, not making eye contact with her. He took a deep breath and pulled out his wand. "I suppose this means you won't be saying your farewell to anyone?"
She laughed lightly. "If I said anything remotely like a goodbye to Ron or Harry, do you think they'd ever let me leave the common room again?"
Apparently, Hermione was the only one of the two of them to find humor in this. But it was a sad sort of humor. "Just tell them I love them. All of them. And that... I'm sorry."
Dumbledore nodded. "You must know, your past will not be unwritten. You will not be forgotten. You will just cease to exist. Your present will be halted and a new present will be rewritten in the past. What you do will not affect your own past. It will be almost as though you are being reborn; a new person." Hesitation again. "But do not use your surname, Miss Granger. Think up your new past well and do not allow for holes in your story. Do not mention any part of your future- Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, the Patil twins- no one. You must be very careful. And you must be very safe. I beg of you." His gaze was unsettling to say the least.
She was growing more and more worried with every word. "Will there be any... side effects?"
"There are no side-effects, but be very careful not to alter events. Many of your peers have grandparents that met while in Hogwarts. If you allow them to stray from their destined path, lives may be lost."
She swallowed heavily, nodding. She would definitely have to be very cautious. "I'm ready, Professor. Please." Clutching her bag tightly, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and walked to the center of the room, staring firmly at Dumbledore while he raised his wand.
"I am very proud of you... Miss Granger."
Hermione watched him move his wand, watched as the pattern grew faster and more repetitive in the air. Then a blue and gold glimmer began to trail after his wand as he maneuvered it. Finally, when the colors grew bright and thick, almost burning her eyes, she heard him shout the incantation.
"Aetas decipio!"
There we have it, folks! Chapter two is already out! I'm having a very good time writing this and I have to say, I've got a lot of ideas. I just hope it works out. Also, I hope you all like it! I have no idea if you'll hate my writing style or my somewhat extensive use of description, but I'd like some input if no one would mind? Reviews are really, really nice.
Next chapter, we might see Tom... :)