Of Roses and Thorns

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

May 2, 1998 – One Hour Earlier

One hour. Hermione had exactly one hour to save Harry, to save the Weasleys, to save the world. Her heart pounded in her chest and there was a distinct ringing in her ears as she backed away from the sight of the family of redheads mourning their fallen member. There was no escaping the sight. The air was heavy with the stench of death. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that it was all a bad dream, that perhaps she was still safely ensconced in her bed at Shell Cottage. She opened her eyes. No such luck.

"Hermione," she heard through the rushing in her ears. Her gaze met that of Ron's, and the distress she saw in his blue eyes nearly broke her heart. "Hermione?" He called to her again, uncertain. She couldn't do this. She couldn't stand around and cry until the hour was up and wait for Voldemort to come destroy everything she loved. Swallowing thickly, she turned on her heel and ran out of the Great Hall, determined to save the world.

Ron made to chase after her, the beautiful girl with the unruly brown curls, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked into the face of his brother Percy, a man whose presence had been absent for years. Ron wasn't sure if he was ready to welcome Percy the Prat back into his life just yet with a part of him blaming the man for the lifeless body of their brother Fred lying on the floor and the other part of him despising him for causing their mother such misery. "No, Ron. Let her go." Percy said, the lines on his face deepening. One look at Fred's body, his mum sobbing over her fallen son, and the empty look on George's face was all it took for Ron to decide that he'd stay. His family needed him. Besides, Hermione was the smartest and strongest witch he knew; she didn't need anyone, least of all him.

Hermione stumbled up the stairs of her beloved school, trying not to care that at one point in her life, she had to worry about them taking her to the wrong floor. Now the stairs were motionless. 'Library, library, library…' The lone word echoed throughout her mind, her thoughts focused on one thing and one thing only: prevention. Not being able to prevent Voldemort's rise to power was the gravest mistake they had made from the start and now any efforts they made to stop him were far too little, too late.

She had to go back to the beginning and warn Dumbledore. Perhaps keep him from admitting Tom Riddle into Hogwarts. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tore through the school, headed for the marvelous library that she held dearer to her heart than any place else in the world. Her heart gave a little twist upon seeing the library doors ripped from their hinges. Thankfully, despite all other damage, many of the shelves still stood. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she headed for the Restricted Section, not pausing to browse or wander, but headed for the only book she hadn't gotten to finish in her last year at Hogwarts.

She found it immediately—the book without a title, full of the most fascinating and dangerous of runes. Flipping the pages, it took her mere seconds to identify the proper runes and, despite minor protests from her stolen wand, cast them, intent on going to a time in the 1940s—anytime at all—to warn Dumbledore of Tom Riddle. Her hands shaking, her mind racing, and her tears threatening to overwhelm her, Hermione climbed through the portal she created and, without a backward glance, disappeared.

January 1, 1932

"Who are you?" A small voice called from across the darkened room. Hermione looked up from where she was on the dusty floor and her heart dropped. A boy, no older than five or six, was watching her with wide eyes. Hermione fought the urge to swear; she hadn't meant to be seen, least of all by a child.

She licked her chapped lips nervously. "I…I'm no one. Pretend as if I was never here, alright?"

The boy threw off his thin blanket and sat facing her. "How did you do that?" He pointed at her. "How did you come from air? Tell me."

Hermione blinked at the commanding tone of the boy's voice. "I don't know what you're talking about. I came through the door like any normal person. Now go back to sleep." She pushed her hair out of her face and made to stand.

"You can't move until you tell me how you did that." He whispered, sending chills down her spine. True enough, Hermione found that she was indeed frozen to the spot. With the exception of her head, she could not move. "Now tell me."

Hermione cursed. She knew there was something wrong with the child. There were many instances of accidental magic in wizarding children and wish magic was by no means uncommon, but for it to be so specific and with this amount of control was certainly out of the ordinary. She wondered briefly who this boy's parents were. "I'll tell you if you answer some questions for me, alright?"

The boy eyed her suspiciously for a moment, the moonlight shining in through the window casting an eerie glow on his face. "Okay." He finally breathed.

"What's the date?"

"Mrs. Cole said that yesterday I turned seven."

"That's not answering my question." Hermione was growing impatient with this child. She needed to get to Dumbledore, she needed to warn him of Voldemort's horcruxes, and she needed to save everyone. She bit back her tears.

The boy regarded her silently. "I don't know it. All I know is that yesterday I turned seven."

"Alright, okay. How about—where are we? In what town do you live?"

"London." He answered quietly. "Now can you tell me how you did it?"

Hermione nodded and immediately she felt the air around her relax. Sure enough, she regained control of her body again and beckoned him closer. There was no harm, she figured, in allowing a magical child to watch her draw her runes and vanish. After all, as soon as she passed through the portal, there would be no trace of her ever being there. She pulled out her wand and began to draw the symbols, mumbling the incantation as she did so. Before drawing the final rune, however, she looked up at his fascinated face and smiled. "Would you like to see?" He nodded and clambered out of bed to kneel outside of the circle she drew.

Suddenly, there came the sound of footsteps from down the hall. "Tom Riddle, I told you to go to bed hours ago!" Called an irate voice.

Hermione's eyes widened at the familiar name and she nearly fell over as she put two and two together. The boy in front of her was a young Voldemort. With a shaking hand, she quickly drew the last rune and, with fear seizing her heart, climbed through the portal just in time to avoid being seen by a furious Mrs. Cole.