*AUTHORS NOTE TO THE READER*
The following chapter contains many characters that are not central in J.K. Rowling's novels. However, all of them have been mentioned by her, in some way or other, throughout the course of the seven books, in her notes, and in interviews. Where first names were not provided, I have taken liberties. If anyone wants more information about a particular character, drop me a line, and I'll try to help. Alright, on with the story again!
CHAPTER 3 - REALITY UPENDED
Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting...Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History."
It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.
(Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - pg. 87)
Antonin Dolohov tried to drop all emotion from his face as he felt the eyes of Professor Dumbledore sweep over him. He suppressed the desire to gulp, which would be a dead giveaway. Tom didn't gulp.
He glanced up at the broad ceiling of Hogwart's great hall. It was charmed to look like the sky outside, on the vast grounds. Tonight, it was overcast, although a few stars still determinedly twinkled through the thick white of the cloudy haze. It managed to calm Antonin, as it always did. Hogwarts was special that way.
He sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking another swig out of the bottle Tom had provided, and then grimacing as he wiped his mouth.
That stuff is vile.
Antonin was so intent on not looking at Dumbledore that he almost didn't notice the boy approaching the Slytherin table to stand by his side, a broad, charismatic fellow who sported an auburn ponytail. When he spoke, it was with a light French accent.
"Hello, Riddle. Do you mind if I sit here?"
It took Antonin a moment to realize that Rousset was addressing him. He nodded wordlessly, as he had seen Tom do on several occasions, and hoped that it looked natural.
Rousset didn't seem to notice anything was off, and Antonin breathed a silent sigh of relief before listening in on the conversation Rousset had started with some of the other Slytherins.
"- makes two empty spots on the team, right Malfoy? Reckon Rosier'll actually go to tryouts this time? I heard him saying something about it on the train." A boy with a cruel face and a square jaw, sitting next to Rousset, was speaking eagerly and looking at the student just across from them, who was contemplating the question thoughtfully. The boy being addressed was pale, with a slightly pointed chin and quite strange hair (it was gold on one side of his part and silver on the other), and he rested his chin in his hands before replying.
"Possibly. If I were you though, Avery, I think I'd be more worried about Dolohov in terms of competition. He would probably be your most challenging rival for Chaser, and there's only one Chaser spot open, assuming Orion and Cygnus make it in. Everyone knows Slughorn wanted to have the ban lifted last year to let them play, even though they were only firsties. I'd say they're pretty much guaranteed those Chaser spots. Don't you agree, Red?"
Rousset grinned at his nickname before replying, "Yeah, from what I've seen, Dolohov's pretty decent around a Quaffle. He's got a nice strong throw."
Avery, the boy with the thick neck, scowled, and then looked around the table. The trickle of students entering the Great Hall was diminishing, and Professor Dumbledore, decked out in bright magenta robes for the Sorting Ceremony, was just placing the Sorting Hat on a little stool before the teacher's Head Table. Avery craned his neck as if searching for something, and Dolohov suddenly felt nervous as he realized what was about to be asked.
"Where is Dolohov, though? Come to think of it, I never saw him on the train. Any idea what he's up to? Maybe he finally switched to Durmstrang, his mum's been bothering him about that for ages."
Rousset twisted around to scan the other tables, and Malfoy actually stood up, shading his eyes with one hand. Internally, Dolohov groaned. He was going to have to say something. Blast it all, Riddle has hoped his absence would go unnoticed, at least right away.
Avery, I wish you would just let it go for once. C'mon mate, just get distracted by something, anything, anything at all and I'll kiss you and pledge my loyalty forever, just c'mon Avery!
Unfortunately, Antonin's silent plea went unheard (as silent pleas are wont to do), and Rousset turned to him.
"Riddle? Have you seen Dolohov at all?" Antonin paled, and hoped it wasn't noticeable. He couldn't hide behind his normal curly bangs, because stupid Riddle had to convince him to do this stupid Polyjuice parade and now he was in stupid Riddle's stupid body.
Alright, so he's not actually stupid. Still, damn Riddle and his knack for getting me into these awful situations.
Antonin sighed, trying to look as carefree and indifferent to the situation as possible.
"I think his family has been vacationing in Greece. I believe he may have mentioned the possibility that he would miss the start of classes in his last letter."
When Antonin spoke, it was strange to hear Tom Riddle's silky voice come out instead of his own rough baritone.
Emorois Avery opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off when Abraxas suddenly spotted something that got everyone's attention.
"Look over there!"
Antonin, glad of the distraction (and the fact that the spotlight was no longer on his apparent absence) glanced over to where Abraxas was pointing, at the first-years streaming through the door. He noticed immediately what his friend was referring to, or more accurately, who: a tall brown-haired girl towards the back of the group who was obviously not a first-year.
"Who's that?" Avery asked, cocking his head to the side.
"I dunno, there were too many people blocking me when I tried to get a better view." A deep, rumbling voice suddenly contributed to the conversation. Avery jumped in surprise when a broad-shouldered, greasy haired boy joined them at the table, but Antonin merely gave the newcomer a slight Riddle-ish nod.
Abraxas delicately raised a brow in question.
"Had to use the loo." The newcomer said by way of explanation, tossing his dirty hair over one shoulder.
Abraxas shook his head in what could only be described as fond exasperation.
"Rookwood, you are a riot. You'd go to the loo in the middle of the World Cup, I swear."
Rookwood gave a deep chuckle, and let the comment slide.
"If she's a transfer, I wonder what year they'll put her in." Emorois had abruptly gone back to the subject of the girl among trailing behind the nervous-looking first-years.
"I'll be more interested to see what house they put her in. She's not a bad looker, eh?" Abraxas had also turned back to look towards the girl, who was slowly approaching the Head Table with the first-years.
Her face was quite white, but Antonin couldn't tell if this was because she was scared of if she was just naturally pale. Her curly brown hair was sort of bushy, but it somehow suited her. The first-years made her look taller than she actually was. She was wearing the traditional Hogwarts robes, and her posture was excellent, although Antonin didn't miss the clenched fist that belied the rest of her poised exterior.
The rest of the Slytherin boys were also studying her critically.
Rousset apparently liked what he saw, because he threw her a lecherous grin when the girl made the mistake of glancing their way. She blushed prettily, but tilted her head higher, and stared straight ahead for the rest of the short journey to the Sorting Hat. Her profile flickered in the light of the floating candles, and Antonin felt a brief surge of approval at the way she refused to cower despite her obvious embarrassment and the stares of more than half the Hall. Tranfers were rare, but it not unheard of.
"Awww, Red, don't scare her off!" Rookwood reached over and clapped a large hand on Rousset's shoulder. Rousset shoved it off with a grin.
"She'll come around. You're just jealous, because you know all the ladies love a Frenchman. Especially a particular Monsieur Lestrange." To demonstrate his point, Rousset winked outrageously at a fourth-year Slytherin. She winked back, and blew him a kiss.
Antonin chuckled, and was again startled by the sound of his voice that-wasn't-his-voice. This immediately made him nervous, and he surreptitiously tried to spot Riddle. He wasn't sure what the plan was, and it was highly likely that Tom wasn't even in the Great Hall.
If Riddle wanted to do something that couldn't be traced back to him, he'd picked the perfect opportunity. No one would be patrolling the castle during the Welcoming Feast on the first night of the school year, not even old Pringle, the sadistic caretaker.
Antonin's train of thought was interrupted as Professor Dumbledore began the Sorting Ceremony with an exaggerated flourish.
Antonin was briefly caught by the professor's eyes for the second time, and a shiver went down his spine.
Does he suspect me? The potion isn't wearing off, right?
Antonin took another drink from the bottle and looked up at the ceiling again, but this time not even the brave twinkling of a few solitary stars brought him the comfort he sought.
Hermione was standing in line with the first year students of Hogwarts, 1942. She felt very strange. The entire situation was incredibly surreal, to be seeing the same school she'd attended for the past five years. It was all so familiar, and yet foreign, just like the faces that blurred together as she tried to wrap her mind around it all. Her life had always made sense, a lot of sense. It was undeniable that it also held a great deal of danger, and was increasingly unpredictable, but Hermione had somehow always managed to make sense of things regardless.
The moments that had led up to her current situation had, to put it lightly, turned her world completely upside-down.
Her eyes turned to the Sorting Hat as it began a clever ditty, and Hermione let her eyes close as she remembered all that had happened since getting hit by that foul Death Eater's curse in the Department of Mysteries, starting with the moment she had been taken from her crazily sensible world, and placed into this maelstrom of elusive reality…
Hermione felt cool metal against her cheek. She drowsily began to open her eyes, and immediately groaned as light flooded her vision. She closed her eyes tightly and pulled the covers over her head. A light chuckle reverberated through the room and memories came flooding back.
Black doors, blue-flamed torches, clocks (so many clocks!), a room of shelves, and a bright purple light that caused pain to blossom like a bloody flower in her chest…
Hermione suddenly sat upright, and her hands flew to her chest, patting her shirt frantically, expecting her hands to grow sticky with blood. Her eyes were blinded by the intense light of her surroundings, and she blinked furiously, as she tried to figure out why her hands could find no wound.
Slowly, ever so slowly, a room began to come into focus around her, a room so unlike anything that she had ever seen before that she momentarily forgot about purple lights and disappearing chest wounds.
The room seemed to be made of light. The floors, the walls, and the ceiling all glowed. It was like being inside a gigantic square light bulb. Hermione looked down and realized for the first time that she was sitting on an ornate silver bed. It seemed to be the only furniture in the room, and the silver frame was cool to the touch as her fingers traced the delicate floral filigree that adorned the bed.
Hermione was distracted again by the contrast her fingers made against the cool silver. Her fingers seemed to be…
Glowing? But how is that possible? Am I… I mean, could this be… could I be –
Her thoughts were interrupted by a tinkling laugh.
"No, little one, you are not dead. You are suspended." Hermione whipped her head around, trying to locate the source of the voice, but she couldn't see anyone.
"Who are you?" she asked suspiciously, shifting nervously on the bed.
"We are sisters." And Hermione had to once again close her eyes as the room seemed to grow even brighter than before, and a wave of warmth coursed through her body.
She felt a gentle hand against her forehead, and a quiet voice murmured, "Little one? You can open your eyes now."
Hermione felt somewhat reassured by the gentle touch, which reminded her of her mother checking, when she was young, to see if Hermione had a fever. Bravely, she cracked her eyes open and (encouraged when the light did not immediately blind) hesitatingly allowed them to open all the way.
Before her were three women. Each wore a dress that seemed to be made of golden sunlight. The tallest had cascades of blonde curls, and a silver necklace that matched the beautiful filigree on the bed. The other two wore radiant smiles, and the one on the right (who was rather short) winked at her cheerily.
"Who are you?" Hermione asked in wonderment, humbled by the beautiful women and the brilliant, white light they seemed to exude.
The figure in the middle spoke.
"For now, we shall simply be known as your friends. We are three sisters, Hermione Granger, but we are not of this earth. We have brought you here, suspended in time, to accept a gift and a burden." The winking sister on the right had stopped smiling, and the sister on the left (whose dress was longer than the others) was nodding seriously.
Hermione blurted out the first thought that came to her mind.
"Me? Why me? You have to let me go back! Harry needs me!"
"Indeed he does, though perhaps not quite in the way you are imagining."
"No, you don't understand, there were so many of them, and we lost Ginny and Luna and Ron, and Sirius wasn't there!" Hermione began to cry, and the three sisters immediately encircled her, embracing her and seeking to offer comfort. The tallest soothingly spoke into her hair.
"Little one, don't cry. Please, hear what we have to say." Hermione, who had felt instantly better in the gentle warmth of their arms, sniffled and nodded her head. However, she sent a silent prayer for Harry's safety to whoever might be listening.
The shortest of the sisters took her hand and gracefully pulled Hermione to her feet. She led the confused girl over to a set of four chairs that suddenly seemed to pop into existence, which made Hermione frown. It would take a lot of power to transfigure dust motes into delicately engraved silver chairs, and Hermione wasn't quite sure such a thing was even possible.
Hermione took a seat, and the sisters followed her lead, drifting closer to form a little semicircle around her.
Their presence was a bit overwhelming, like being covered from head to foot in a favorite perfume or eating an entire decadent chocolate cake.
Although Ron would probably finish it in half the time it would take me to eat a slice, and then he would request another cake.
Thinking about Ron comforted Hermione, and she knew her friends would expect her to be brave in the unusual situation she now found herself experiencing. She locked eyes with the tallest of the sisters, and something in them must have encouraged the woman to begin talking. Hermione leaned forward, and soon even thoughts of Harry and danger fled from her mind at the lure of the fascinating words spilling from the lips of the sister.
"Hermione Granger, you must first understand that we do not experience time the same way that you do. The past, present, and future are all but a single moment in our perception. This is something that can't really be explained to someone who has not experienced it. This room is as close of a portrayal of our existence as we can create in your world. You would consider this a frozen state, as for you, time does not move around us. You are, in a manner of speaking, suspended in time." Hermione nodded to show that she understood (although she really didn't). The tallest sister chuckled again, and then continued.
"There is, as you are aware, much cause for wickedness in your world, especially with the rise of the one who calls himself the Dark Lord. However, there are darker forms of evil, specifically those that caused his birth. He was born without the capacity to love, Hermione. His father came to his mother unwillingly, a slave to that most deadly of potions." Hermione instantly realized that she was referring to Amortentia.
"This is something that cannot be allowed.
"Many years ago in your time, yet in this same moment for us, a young girl came to give us a most special gift. She gave us her heart, and it is her selfless sacrifice that allows us to ask what we must now ask of you.
"The darker forms of evil, of which we have spoken, are often thwarted by the simplest means. In pride and arrogance, they overlook and underestimate. And so, we have chosen you, a simple woman-child, as ambassador of the light. When these darker forms of evil, known collectively as Despair, disrupted the creation of your Lord Voldemort they broke a universal law. Normally, we would not be able to interfere with time, but powers greater than our own have decided that the side of light shall also be allowed to break the laws of the universe, just this once.
Hermione felt a swell of happiness, which was instantly tempered by a deepening certainty of her own inadequacy. She suddenly felt very small.
"We are giving you the heart that has been entrusted to us, and we are giving you two tasks. Your first task is to right the wrong of Despair. The heart we will give you shall merge with your own, and cause it to swell with potential, giving you alone the ability to complete this task. You may fail. All the universe allows us is the chance. The outcome, from your perspective, is not guaranteed. We cannot tell you what will occur. You must discover how to complete this task on your own. We are taking away your knowledge of the connection between the boy known as Tom Marvolo Riddle and the man Lord Voldemort. This is a necessary action. After this conversation, you will not know anything about Tom Riddle, although we are placing you in his year at Hogwarts.
The tallest woman held up a hand to silence the protest that died on Hermione's lips as she sensed the woman's quiet authority. When Hermione had closed her mouth, the woman smiled and continued as though no interruption had occurred.
"Again, there is a greater purpose behind this that is not for you to know at this time.
"You must discover how to right the wrong on your own, but know that it cannot be done without love, specifically the love that you will possess. The heart you will be given is powerful, and combined with your own, will allow you to overcome the barriers that have been in place since his birth. He was born without the basic right of humanity, the right to love, and you must somehow restore this right to him. Remember, love can surmount the impossible." Hermione quirked a brow in skepticism but the woman merely smiled in a way that was quickly becoming familiarly irritating, as it promised no explanation.
"The young girl who came to us also asked that you complete an additional task. You must assist Albus Dumbledore in his defeat of Gellert Grindelwald. He will defeat him, no matter what you do, but only with your help can he do so without succumbing to Despair. We shall leave your memories of Albus Dumbledore's history intact."
"I don't actually know much about his history. He's a rather elusive man, for all his fame." Hermione interrupted, biting her lip as she tried to recall everything she had heard about the headmaster's past. It wasn't a whole lot.
"Well now you are to become a part of his history." At this bold statement, Hermione felt an uncontrollable shiver race down her spine.
"Time is, from your perspective, quite tricky. We have decided to guard your mind while you journey to what you would call "the past." You will not be able to speak of us to anyone. You will not be able to reveal anything about the future against your will, from those that would seek to know your secrets. We will present you at Hogwarts, and your alibi will be both strong and interesting.
"As for the imprint you will leave on "the past," the universe is allowing us to make you untraceable. This means that the people you meet will remember you as Hermione Granger, but they will not be able to make the connection between you and your future self. It will be as though you are two separate people in their minds, no matter how similar, and they will not question this.
"When you have completed your two tasks to the best of your abilities, we shall come to collect you and we will bring you back to your 'present.' You are in a rather nasty state due to a curse, and you should prepare yourself for this.
"There are many who have placed their hopes upon you. Should you accept this heart and these two tasks, you will carry a great responsibility.
And so we come to the inevitable moment of decision. We must ask this formally. Do you, Hermione Granger, accept this heart and the challenges that accompany it?" Hermione's eyes widened as the shortest sister pulled out a golden box that slowly opened to reveal what seemed to be a ball of liquid light.
That doesn't exactly look like a heart.
"Most hearts don't look like this, Hermione. Bear in mind that this is not a physical heart, but the heart of a soul. This one…is particularly beautiful. But we digress from the matter at hand. Will you, Hermione Granger, do your best to help Albus Dumbledore, and to counter the dark workings of Despair? A simple nod will suffice."
Hermione, eyes wide and mind racing with an incredible horde of new information, gulped nervously. She thought carefully, and her mind filled with unasked questions. Somehow, she didn't think she'd be getting any answers, especially if that slightly infuriating smile was anything to go by again. These sisters, whatever they were, seemed to have given her all the information they were willing to give. Coming to a decision, Hermione nodded her head.
"I don't see how I will be able to do this, but I'm willing to try." Her voice was shaky, and the three sisters smiled blindingly before embracing her in another hug.
Hermione's heart raced in fear and anticipation as the tallest sister stepped away, and held out cupped hands to Hermione. The moment felt surreal, like the wisps of a dream.
"Here is the heart. Place it gently, over your chest. It becomes a part of you now." Hermione held out her hands to accept the golden light that flowed from the figure's hands. When she had all of it, she placed the ball of light over her chest, and felt an exhilarating fire surge through her soul as the two hearts merged. She was barely aware of the tingling of glass shards in her cheeks, and the whisper of gentle voices beckoning her forward.
"Come, little one. It is time for you to begin your tasks."
"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione's eyes snapped open at the sound of her name and a few titters went through the crowd. Evidently it wasn't the first time her name had been called.
As her cheeks burned with embarrassment, Hermione went to sit on the spindly little wooden stool. Unfortunately she was stopped short from her goal by the firm clamp of a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Professor Dumbledore smiling gently down at her.
"Just a moment, Miss Granger. You need to be introduced," he whispered, not unkindly.
He placed his arm around her shoulder and turned her to face the crowd, before speaking in a booming voice.
"Before Miss Granger takes her place with the Sorting Hat, I have been asked by Headmaster Dippet to make an announcement. As a school, we find ourselves placed in a peculiar situation. As many of you have probably guessed, Miss Granger is not a first year."
A scattering of laughter echoed throughout the hall, and Dumbledore chuckled as well.
"Miss Granger is also not a transfer student, nor has she been privately tutored." The Hall went silent, and everyone stared at her. Hermione had to suppress the sudden urge to slug Dumbledore, instead merely looking up at him, desperately imploring with her eyes that he continue. He finally begin to speak again, and Hermione felt a knot of fear twist sickening patterns in her stomach, because she had no idea what her three golden "friends" had told the professor before they had unceremoniously dropped her into his care. She was willing to bet, however, that whatever had been given by way of explanation would earn her more stares.
Oh the joys of time traveling.
Still, she was quite curious to know what "excuse" had been given.
Well, I guess I'm about to find out.
Indeed she was. And so was the rest of the school, including the only boy missing from the Slytherin table, tucked away out of sight. He was hidden in an alcove just outside the doors to the Great Hall, waiting patiently for the moment to make his move. The girl was a bump in the plan, but it didn't look like she'd be creating too much of a delay, so he leaned forward in interest, wanting to know the reasons behind her unexpected arrival.
After all, knowledge was power, and Tom Riddle wanted to get as much of that as possible.