Dissindere Temporalis
Okay so this chapter turned into a bit of a Monster. I couldn't stop writing it!
Finally I had to cut myself off before it became too bloated with sentiment.
I hope you all enjoy it!
Special shout out to Shiara who is vocally supportive on my Discord and makes me excited whenever I open my documents for this story.
Remember your reviews help fuel my writing!
Enjoy!
Simul Aut Omnino Non
I know there is somewhere a boy
whom I greatly envy.
I envy the way he fights;
I myself was never so guileless and bold.
- Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Three Years Later...
It was strange for Hermione to admit that she was happier in this time than in her original timeline.
Oh there wasn't really a yearly mystery to solve, or madman hunting Harry down, but that didn't mean this time didn't have its adventures. This was, after all, her life, not just a crusade or a cause.
She felt… really at home here.
Hector was a kind guardian, one who never pushed her to allow him into her life, at least not more than she was willing. She knew exactly how proud he was of her, he was very open in his admiration, and she was touched by his genuine contrition and attempts to reach out to his son.
Over the three years they'd been here in this time, the relationship between father and son had improved, slowly warming as Henry realised that his father's attitudes had genuinely changed.
Hermione meanwhile had been shocked to meet him, as for a moment when the door opened, she thought, for a second, it was her father standing there. Her heart leapt, and ached, and then settled once more as the differences slowly started to seep in. But she wasn't surprised, when she was introduced to Henry's infant son, named Howard.
Howard Granger had been her grandfather.
"It's a tradition," Hector informed her wistfully, "The H name for the eldest child. And one that I was…gratified to see extended down the line to you. Even after all my mistakes…"
She had spent the summer after her Second Year at his charming little potioneers cottage. They'd settled into each others space almost effortlessly, reading and enjoying each others company.
It was the first time that Potions really made sense to her.
Hector's style of brewing was more like cooking than the regimented thing she'd once thought it was. The instructions were an excellent guide but occasionally he'd give something an extra stir, or add a little more of an ingredient, based on feel.
He had an intimate understanding of the ingredients, how they all worked together and affected each other, and it was fascinating to watch him serenely moving around his lab.
There was also a fair amount of experimentation, most of which ended in ooze or mess that needed to be cleaned up.
None of this phased Hector, and Hermione found herself slowly starting to emulate him.
By the end of the summer, she was starting to regard Potions as one of her favourite subjects.
"What should we do about the Wolfsbane potion?" She'd asked Harry, three weeks before they were due to go back to school for their Fourth Year.
By this point she had developed a healthy appreciation for the skill, and enjoyed chatting with Draco about it. He was the more natural potioneer out of the pair, but he was also appreciative of how far her skills had come.
Harry paused, considering, "You mean, how it's not going to be invented for another 20 something years?"
Hermione nodded, "Last time around, it was developed and then it became cost prohibitive. Werewolves were already on the outside of society, limited opportunities and choices… and then the potion that could help them, ended up being so expensive and difficult to brew, it might as well have been impossible."
Her friend nodded, Harry had spent a number of years after the second Wizarding War, battling against the fear and prejudice against werewolves. Even his endorsement, the hero of the Wizarding World, had only got it so far. Progress yes, but so small as to have been infuriating for the idealistic Harry.
"So what are you suggesting?" he asked, "That we invent it ourselves? We didn't discover it, Hermione. Belby did."
"I know," and she did know, it was something she'd grappled with for years, the idea that there were magical advancements she could hasten, "But the Wolfsbane potion is exact, Harry. Most academics theorise he discovered it, purely by accident. What if…?"
"What if we've changed something that ripples through history and time, to stop him discovering it?"
Draco's voice broke into their discussion, and the pair looked up to take in their haughty friend, who promptly sat down, "It's a fair concern, Potter."
Harry pulled a face at him, he'd been trying to get Draco to call him Harry for a year now. Draco was refusing, but Hermione rather suspected it was out of playful fun, rather than any kind of resentment.
"It's still not our achievement, we'd basically be Lockhart. Taking credit for someone else's discovery."
Hemione huffed, "He hasn't discovered it yet,"
"No," Harry retorted, "Because he's a year ahead of us at Hogwarts and hasn't had the chance yet."
Draco considered them both, "I think you're both looking at this the wrong way."
"Oh?" Hermione asked, arching her eyebrow at Draco, "How so?"
"The Wolfsbane potion is… well frankly it's an embarrassment." Draco haughtily informed them, "It's overly complicated, ridiculously expensive and it isn't as effective as it should be."
Hermione and Harry blinked at him, "And?" Harry prompted him to continue.
"We should find something better."
"None of us are potion masters," Hermione swiftly pointed out, "None of us have that kind of experience, why would we succeed when no one else has for hundreds of years?"
Draco sighed at her, rather like a teacher disappointed in a star pupil.
"Because, Hermione," he drawled, "We have more information than anyone else has, has ever had. The problem was that the Ministry didn't really want Werewolves cured, or rather they were content with the solution of the Wolfsbane. It was close enough in their eyes. No major research was done on Werewolves after that point, up until Potter here championed their rights."
Harry nodded slowly, "That's true… unfortunately. The Ministry classified them as Beasts, and were happy to just leave them in that category. Only people close to those afflicted, really called for change. And after they sided with Voldemort, both times…"
Hermione could see their point.
"I see," she mused, "And now?"
"Well we have War Hero Potter's commissioned research," Draco pointed out smugly, ignoring Harry's gagging in the background, "We know that Werewolves are infected by saliva and blood. We know that the transformation fundamentally alters the person, so that if they uh… mate." his pale cheeks pinked, "while in wolf form, their offspring are actually wolves."
"Lupines," Hermione nodded, "Magical wolves, they're beautiful creatures."
"But," Harry mused, "While human, their offspring aren't wolves… Like Teddy."
Draco smirked, "Exactly. This tells us that the contamination doesn't extend to their… DNA, as such.." Draco had developed a curiosity about Human genetics studies during their months activating the Temporal Orb, but it was still something foreign to him, "It's not transferable. So the 'corruption' so to speak isn't in their bodily make up. At least… not all month…"
"You're saying the transformation, alters their DNA, and then back again after the full moon?" Hermione blinked, intrigued despite herself, "But Lycanthropy itself isn't in their DNA."
"I remember thinking the research sounded like every zombie film I'd ever seen," Harry mused wistfully, "Get bitten and then slowly the virus takes over your body, killing you and then reanimating you."
Hermione pursed her lips, "I remember in primary school we learned that a virus' biological need was to spread, living off their host but not killing it so as to perpetuate its survival."
Draco considered this, "So… say Lycanthropy is a virus." he murmured, "For most of the month it is mostly dormant, with mild symptoms that increase in the days before the full moon, but fully activates on the night of."
"The study wasn't entirely clear," Harry pointed out, "Transformations seemed to widely vary. All of them would be forced to transform, of course, but… but when. That varied. If they were outdoors, in the moonlight, it seemed that that affected them more strongly, more swiftly. But even in the deepest dungeon their bodies could sense it and transform."
"The magical world has rhythms and cadences," Charlus' voice surprised them all, and they looked up at Harry's guardian with various degrees of surprise and sheepishness. He meanwhile looked more interested, and amused, than cross. After all, he was one to encourage them to delve deeper into magic, and ask questions, "There are rituals that are stronger based on celestial movements, or seasonal shifts. I would hazard that… listening to your theories, that the moon is a catalyst… not a cause."
The three children looked at each other, feeling energised and full of enthusiasm.
"It is a fascinating topic," Draco murmured, "All my life I was raised to be fearful of werewolves, to consider them beasts, and dangerous at that." his mouth turned down slightly, "Greyback certainly was."
"Greyback took advantage." Hermione shook her head, "He was monstrous, with or without lycanthropy."
Draco nodded slowly, a small frown on his face, "Lupin was a good teacher…" both Hermione and Harry could hear the regret in his voice, knowing that this was another thing he felt guilty for, in his past, "Imagine if we could cure this, make this a choice…"
"It will be hard," Harry reminded him quietly, "Near impossible…"
Draco was silent for a long moment.
"I'll take those odds." he said quietly, and Hermione reached over to squeeze his hand, making him smile.
"I'll help you," she vowed.
So yes, Hermione was far happier in her new time.
She had friends, not just Harry and Ron but a wide array of boys and girls across all the houses.
She was still closest to Druella, enjoying the young woman's cunning mind, and deft way of manoeuvring around people.
Hermione had once been a child to just bulldoze in and ask for things bluntly, Druella taught her the art of suggestion, dropping hints, and letting people follow the trail for themselves, none the wiser for who planted the idea in their heads.
Her friend was pure Slytherin, and Hermione found a small joy in cultivating the side of herself that had always been there… the Slytherin side. She'd so forcefully only embraced her Gryffindor side before… but now…
She appreciated the subtlety.
Before Druella she'd never really had a close female friend, and she found it freeing to embrace that connection. Part of her regretted her harsh judgements of the Gryffindor girls, seeing them as frivolous and resenting them because they'd disliked her showing off.
How much of her determinedly looking down her nose at them, had been a defence mechanism? She had diminished them in her mind, purely because they'd preferred each other's company to hers.
Druella had no such insecurities. Rather she actively encouraged Hermione to show off her intelligence and knowledge, and often challenged her when she rattled off a lesson by rote.
"What does it actually mean, Hermione?" she goaded playfully, draped across a couch with that effortless grace she always seemed to possess, "If I wanted it recited I'd buy a parrot."
Bash challenged her in similar ways, and it made her feel warm whenever the twins would give her their approval.
Of course their new timeline had its challenges
The feud with Parkinson hadn't gone away.
So much so that at the beginning of their third year, they'd had to find a new place to study and group together.
The room at the base of the Astronomy tower was perfect.
It turned out that none of them, even the four from the future, had known of the place, and once they were shown it, had been amazed and more determined than ever to uncover more of Hogwarts vast array of secrets.
It was also one that was unknown even to the Marauders Map, which still worked, despite its trip into a parallel universe. It was a piece of lost history, undiscovered by Marauders and Twins alike.
Inside they'd found some old notes and workings, talking about Slytherin's Scriptorium and naming the place, the Undercroft.
But, although there was not a speck of dust to be seen, they all knew that the place hadn't been touched in a long time.
Tom had found a way to password protect the door, determined that their new sanctuary would be secure, and now it was their secret and official hangout.
Outside those doors however, Parkinson had declared war.
And with every foiled trap and attempt to get them expelled or publicly shamed, he only got more vicious.
Unfortunately for him, Tom's power, and magical prowess grew at a rate far more exponentially than his. As, frankly, did their whole group.
Last year, Third Year, they were able to match the now Seventh Years. They were arrogant and lazy, assuming their age made them more proficient. Something they had continued to assume, no matter how many times the younger students fought back.
Unfortunately for them, none of Tom and Harry's group were lazy or complacent. And under their tutelage, all of them raced ahead in skills.
Tom was a surprisingly good teacher, clear and concise and with a keen way of explaining. He actually seemed to enjoy sharing his knowledge, making them the best they could be. And while Hermione quietly thought it was because he thought of them as 'his', it didn't diminish his skills, or the care he put into making sure they'd be okay.
Harry, of course, she'd known about. He had patience and his skills had grown remarkably since Dumbledore's Army. But the natural knack for teaching? That had remained. Where Tom demanded excellence, Harry encouraged it.
Both were effective, but of course some responded more to one, than the other.
So they had two talented teachers, and this was coupled with the fact that Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco had adult knowledge, training and experience. With their magical pools growing with study and practice, their skills were shooting ahead.
It felt a little like cheating.
But Hermione consoled herself with the reassurance that one shouldn't feel guilty for experience, especially hard won experience. Life wasn't a carnival race with an even start line.
After all, she'd started behind last time, as had Harry, simply by virtue of not growing up in this world.
So their group fought back, and held their own.
Parkinson had graduated, frustrated and angry at his inability to embarrass Tom and his friends. But none of them were naive to think the crusade was over. Others had agreed with him and joined him, including his sister, Artemisia, who's pert little upturned nose reminded Hermione unpleasantly of Pansy.
Interestingly, no one from any of the 'Ancient' families had really stepped into the feud. With one exception…
"Because they're waiting to see who will emerge victorious," Bash informed her, sitting with his back against a tree as they all studied outside. He'd smirked before chomping on a crisp apple, making an obnoxious noise he aimed at Aurora, who wrinkled her nose at him in disgust, fingers flexing towards her wand threateningly, "It wasn't like they thrashed us and then continued on, that's dull. We fought back, we held our own. So now they're watching and waiting. If they continue to fail to 'teach us a lesson' as they have been, well… that's going to reflect badly on them.
The exception, of course, was Walburga Black.
Sirius' mother had been a vindictive, nasty piece of work as a portrait in Grimmauld place.
Somehow she was worse now, living and breathing.
Walburga and Artemsia were thick as thieves, and just as thick in the vendetta against Tom and his friends. Walburga's cousin, Lucretia, was very firmly staying out of it all, not at all interested in scrapping to defend Blood Purity.
Where Ulvric and Morgan had been determined but stupid, Walburga was not. She was intelligent, in a cunning way, and ruthless. She also had a large catalogue of dark and deeply unpleasant spells to draw on.
Thankfully she was only a year older than them, with less, supposed, experience than Morgan and Ulvric, but she made up for it in viciousness.
Hermione was reminded, unpleasantly, of Bellatrix Lestrange, Walburga's niece and Voldemort's right hand woman. Bellatrix had been the greater threat, but there was something very familiar in Walburga's vitriolic and bigoted nature.
Artemisia was Walburga's faithful shadow, clearly deciding that hitching her wagon to Walburga was the way to go.
"She's angling to marry into the Black Family." Aurora sniffed, wrinkling her delicate little nose haughtily, "She thinks if she's a good little lapdog they'll throw her a bone."
So far most of the other houses seemed either unaware, or uncaring if there was conflict. Some probably saw it as a Slytherin thing and dismissed it.
There were exceptions however.
Tierra had found herself being taken aside by older Hufflepuffs like Catalina Rivera, and the Diggory brothers, who were very serious in teaching her defensive spells.
There was a deep sense of pride among the Hufflepuff students who had twigged to what was happening, seeing that Tierra was standing by her friends, on the side of justice. As such they gave her ample support.
And that support extended to her friends.
Somehow food always seemed to be waiting for them in the Undercroft, fresh and ready.
Ron had been caught out of bed, slinking back to the tower with Ross after a successful attack, and the Hufflepuff prefect had simply walked past them, whistling innocently.
With a wink of course.
Ravenclaw simply didn't care.
Gryffindor seemed blissfully unaware, too absorbed in their own issues.
Alastor Moody still had a grudge, and never failed to call Ron a traitor. Ron however had decided that not caring was the best strategy, and since it regularly sent Moody into frustrated snits, his Slytherin friends thoroughly approved.
September 1941
On September the 1st they all met up again on the Hogwarts Express, ready for their Fourth Year.
Hermione bundled into the compartment they'd all said they'd aim for, and smiled at the sight of Harry and Ron. She'd spent most of the Summer Holiday at the cottage, and it was a relief to see her two oldest friends.
Harry was growing, filling out more than he had the previous go around, his development not stunted by not needing to be near the wretched Dursleys.
Ron however had had his first growth spurt, the same one he'd had at this age the first time around, but there was more confidence to him this time around. Same with Harry. They didn't look gawky and unsure, Harry wasn't hunted, Ron wasn't the unwanted child. They were.. Confident.
It looked good on them.
"Hermione!" Ron beamed and stood to hug her, he'd always been a bit more demonstrative and with their group of affectionate friends and no tension between them this time around, it was a comfort to receive his hugs.
"Hey Ron, Harry!" she greeted them both, letting Harry pop her truck up on the top of the compartment luggage, as they sat down. "Where's Draco?"
"He's in the next door compartment," Ron shook his head fondly, "We need two after all, with bloody fourteen of us."
Hermione nodded, this was true enough, the compartment could only really hold seven or eight in a pinch, "Thoughtful of him."
The next twenty minutes were filled with people arriving, and either popping their heads in to say hi before heading into Draco's compartment, or bundling into theirs.
Aurora, Kel and Victoria of course had headed over to join their fellow Ravenclaw, as had Abraxas.
The two Malfoys had become close, with Abraxas having a deep respect for his 'cousin', akin to idolising him. In turn Draco seemed to have forgiven Abraxas for his choices in their previous life, and the two of them understood each other.
Kara and Ross stuck their heads in to grin at Ron, give him a hard time, as Gryffindors were known to do, and then they went to join the others.
Everyone knew that Tom would sit with them, and the Rosiers too, and so left those seats open.
Still, Hermione was shocked when Tom slid the door open with a tiny smile.
The summer had been kind of Tom Riddle.
He'd lost some of the youthful roundness to his features, leaving behind a face that was now almost impossibly handsome. If anyone had ever been in any doubt, there could be none now that Tom would grow up to be one of the most handsome men in Wizarding Britain.
Even Hermione, knowing his history, or was it his once-future, felt something warm curl in her belly at the sight of him.
Tom's gaze immediately went to Harry with a warm smile, and then those intense dark, indigo eyes met hers.
Oh he was going to be a heartbreaker, she thought weakly, even as she smiled warmly back.
Glancing over at Harry and Ron, she saw her friends were also a bit stunned by Tom's change over the Summer. It made her grin a little, seeing Ron's shock and Harry's wide eyes.
But as Tom took a seat, Hermione saw that he was pleased by the looks, and also pleased when the boys quickly adjusted and fell back into their normal rhythm. He liked the attention, but he hadn't wanted their friendship to change.
It wasn't long before a rattle came from outside.
The door slid open again to reveal the Rosier twins, Druella's hair a brighter and glossier blonde after her holiday in France, and Bash tanned and hair golden brown.
For the second time in ten minutes Hermione felt something curl inside her and blinked.
Bash had also filled out a little, undergoing a growth spurt of his own, less striking than Tom of course (Tom's looks were almost preternaturally handsome) but undoubtedly a good looking boy. His smile, directed at Hermione alone, was both wicked and fond, and made her feel a bit flushed.
Quickly she looked away from him.
And was in time to see her friend notice Tom for the first time since the summer began. Druella's eyes went wide, shocked, and her lips made a little 'o' shape before she sat down next to Hermione.
"Bash," Tom clapped his hand on the others shoulders, nudging him, "How was France?"
"Stunning. I miss the sun already," Bash nudged his friend back, sitting beside him, "And you? How was summer?"
Tom smiled.
Professor Merrythought had been good to her word.
After their first year, Professor Dumbledore had tried to insist that Tom return to his 'home', to continue spending time 'in a familiar and grounding place'.
Merrythought had told him to go shove his head in a well, and when he'd tried to enforce the rules, since the school was technically Tom's guardian, for the duration of his schooling, the Professor had lost her temper. With Mrs Rosier's, Mr and Mrs Malfoy's and Charlie and Dorea's help she had marched down to the Ministry and bulldozed her way into being declared his guardian.
Charlie had privately told them that Tia had used all the connections she had, to yell at the person responsible until they'd signed the paperwork out of desperation to shut her up.
Essentially he was adopted, and if he wished he could call himself Tom Merrythought.
Tom had politely declined.
"I'm sorry Professor," he'd informed her solemnly, "But it makes me sound like a dotty Hufflepuff."
And he'd laughed when Tierra had punched his shoulder.
"I like Tom Riddle," Harry had assured his friend later, when they'd all bundled into a big sleepover at Merrythought cottage, murmuring so as not to awake the snoring Malfoy's or the prickly Aurora Selwyn, who would probably hex them if awoken before she was ready, "Sounds like a name built for greatness."
Tom had flushed with pride.
"I thought my name was common."
"And Harry Potter isn't?" Hermione had drawled, giggling quietly when Harry pegged a pillow at her head, "You both have strong names. Memorable names. Certainly much more memorable than Druella Rosier."
"I heard that," Druella had hissed, and Tom's grin could be seen even in the dark.
Now Tom smiled warmly, "It was interesting, Tia took me to Romania. They're building a Dragon reserve there in the mountains. It was fascinating."
Meanwhile Druella's elbow was swiftly and repeatedly jamming into Hermione's ribs. "Merlin's mud sacks," she breathed, "Look at him…"
Hermione tried not to laugh, and saw across the carriage that Tom was preening a little, somehow knowing that he was being admired, the bloody peacock.
The whistle blew outside, and predictably a few moments later the door slid open one last time.
"Hey everyone," Tierra beamed at them all, taking the last spot, wedged next to Druella, "Whew, almost missed it."
Hermione shot a look at Harry who was silently laughing.
Tierra had… difficulties with time management.
She'd missed the Hogwarts Express the previous year, and often wandered into classes just before they began.
Hermione had no idea how.
The very idea was horrifying to her, she had no idea how Tierra handled the stress of always being on the cusp of being awfully late..
But somehow Tierra seemed unbothered.
She also was completely unphased by Tom's new, well, everything. Seemingly blissfully unaware that her friend had turned into a heartthrob over the summer months.
Hermione bit her lip as she caught sight of Tom's little frown, trying not to laugh.
He looked so put out.
And Tierra, bless her, was completely unaware.
They all chatted easily together for the whole train trip, but occasionally Hermione saw Tom glance at Tierra out of the corner of his eyes, a little frown still in place.
Everything stayed peaceful until after the standard introduction to the first years by the Slytherin prefects, and until Walburga's sharp voice cut through the low chatter of the Common Room.
"Did you hear about the Muggles?" she jeered, black eyes alight with vindictive pleasure as she locked them onto Tom, standing on the other side of the room. Chatter faded as everyone turned to look, "The filthy beasts have been blasting each other to smithereens."
Hermione felt her fists clench.
Walburga was talking about World War II, and in particular, the Blitz.
It had ended close to the end of the last school year, and Hermione had been shocked and horrified on returning to London, seeing the destruction all around them.
She knew her history. She knew what was happening now, the exterminations, the bombings, the massive and monstrous loss of life.
If the Wizarding World lost that many… there wouldn't be much of a world left.
Somehow, even knowing, it had still shocked her to see the reality of it. History books could only convey so much. It was different seeing rubble where terraces had once see weary men and women clearing away. The smell…
It had shocked her to her core.
Tom however remained impassive and slowly turned towards Walburga,
"If you have something to say Black, say it, don't screech it across the room."
A chuckle rumbled through the spectators and Walburga flushed furiously.
"I was merely remarking," she sneered, tossing her long, thick, shining black hair over her shoulder, "On the worthless Muggle beasts massacring each other."
Sniggers, and just like that Hermione had had enough.
"One could say the same about Grindelwald," she retorted swiftly, "Killing those that oppose him."
Walburga's lips curled in a snarl, "He has the right idea about Muggles at least. They belong underfoot or nonexistent. Then our world wouldn't be corrupted by their Mudblood filth."
Her eyes turned back to Tom on those last two words.
A quiet hiss of intaken breath went around the Common Room.
Hermione had been interested to discover that the Slytherins had opinions that were as varied as could be. Many disliked Muggeborns, but most of their gripes seemed to be about them entering their world and immediately judging or changing things. Many of them were concerned about preserving their culture, their history.
It was only the bigots who out and out condemned them as 'Mudbloods'.
Others simply had no issue with Muggleborns at all, as long as they wanted to join their world, and rather had a problem with Muggles. Their advancements, their technology, frightened them.
Hermione knew, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that when the bombs inevitably fell on Hiroshima and Nagasaki that those fears would become even more pronounced.
But for now, she looked around the room, seeing that everyone was watching the showdown between Tom and Walburga avidly, and listening to every argument carefully.
Tom merely smiled, "My lineage is simply unknown, and it will not change whether I look for it or not. Power is what matters, right Slytherins?" he received a chorus of agreement, "But if you doubt it, I'm more than happy to prove my worth, Black."
His hand strayed towards his wand.
Walburga paused.
She was a year older, and she was no slouch academically. She also knew a great many dark curses and jinxes. Most of which she wouldn't be able to use in a public setting like this.
If she were to actually draw her wand, she'd have to fight Tom here and now.
And Tom seemed to radiate power, and control.
But if she backed down… she would lose face. Especially since she was the one who had escalated this moment.
Her face worked, twisted by rage and uncertainty.
Tom simply stood there, hand resting on his wand, waiting.
"Fighting won't prove your worth," Walburga blustered, trying to manoeuvre her way out of the situation, "Any useless Gryffindor can fight."
"Scared, Black?" Tom murmured, and next to her, Hermione felt Harry suck in a breath. She glanced at him, and saw his lips curved up, and firmly shut.
"Scared, Potter?"
"You wish."
The memory flashed into her head, and now it was her turn to bite her lip. Good thing Draco wasn't here, she thought with amusement, he'd probably hurt himself rolling his eyes.
Walburga drew herself up indignantly, "Scared of some Mudblood trash? I am from the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black! You aren't worth the mud under my boots!"
Hermione saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look.
Artemisia had drawn her wand, silently and was swishing it, mouthing a spell.
She wasn't fast enough to cast the counter spell or a shield.
But Harry was.
"Protego." her friend breathed, casting it at Tom as Artemsia's Expelliarmus shot towards him.
A hiss rose through the room, displeasure obvious as Walburga turned to glare at Artemsia.
"Coward." Tom sneered at them both, head tilted proudly, "At least if you're going to try and be clever, be successful at it.
"I had nothing to do with it," Walburga swiftly distanced herself from her lackey who looked shocked, "And besides, your little pal cast a spell too."
"What-?" Artemisia looked confused, and clearly wasn't as bright as the Black heiress, "But you said to-"
Walburga glared.
Artemisia, wisely, shut up, but the damage was done.
Tom laughed softly, and the room echoed him.
"Point to me, Black." he mocked, "Lets see if your luck improves this year."
And the standoff ended, everyone getting to their feet, and milling around as Walburga blustered.
Unable to get the final word.
Two nights later Hermione woke up, and knew something was wrong.
She didn't know how she knew, she just knew.
Something was humming in the air, something bitter and awful and dark.
She sat up and slipped out of bed, finding Druella doing the same, eyes wide.
"Can you feel that?" her friend whispered, and bit her lip when Hermione nodded. "It's like when Bash broke his arm when we were kids, I knew something was wrong… but it's not as strong…"
The feeling slowly intensified, and Hermione began to feel ill, "Come on, lets go get the boys."
She hurried out the door, and ran down the stairs, Druella beside her.
As they reached the Common room they began to hear noise.
Harry's voice, raised and angry. Bash's too.
They burst into the Common room to find Harry there in his pyjamas, dishevelled and flushed, Bash beside him.
Tom was floating alongside them, eyes closed.
Professor Slughorn stood before them, worrying his hands.
"Boys there is no need…"
"Something is wrong!" Harry's voice was strident, and unyielding, "Tom is in pain."
Hermione blinked, and filed the information away for later, "Harry!"
He turned, relieved as he saw the two of them, "You feel it too?"
Druella nodded as Hermione moved forward, looking at Tom.
"Did you spell him asleep?"
Harry shook his head, "No, but nothing I tried would wake him…"
The feeling amped up again and now it felt like a million ants crawling over Hermione's skin. Harry winced, clearly feeling it even more intensely than she. "We have to go to the Hospital Wing."
"Mr Potter, I must protest… there is an alert, we've been told to keep everyone inside…"
Hermione paused.
Tom had been cursed.
They were all being kept in their Houses.
This was a deliberate attack.
"Professor," Druella's smooth voice broke in, as she slipped forward, "You are the only one we can trust. Please, Tom is very sick, we must get him help. Please?"
Her doe-like eyes worked wonders, and Slughorn hesitated, before agreeing.
"Alright… I suppose if I go with you… We must be quick mind."
"Of course," Harry agreed, hurrying towards the portrait, taking Tom with him, floating silent and still, "Bash, stay with the girls.'' He met Bash's gaze, and Hermione knew that he was thinking the same as her. This was an attack. Who was to say that they would only attack Tom, and not them too.
Bash nodded slowly, gripping Harry's arm, "Stay safe."
Swiftly they bundled them out of the portrait hole, and it closed behind them, leaving the three standing uncertainly, before a voice came from the stairs. "We should go to the place."
They turned, taking in Abraxas, who looked pale, but holding his robe and Bash's too.
The Undercroft.
"The others may feel this too," Hermione murmured, nodding, "And clearly the Slytherin dungeon isn't safe right now."
Bash nodded, "Let's go."
He hurried them out of the portrait hole, hand warm as it settled for a moment on Hermione's lower back.
Silently they slipped through the castle, avoiding the professors and ghosts as best they could until they slipped into the Undercroft.
There they found everyone waiting for them, except for Tierra. All of them were bleary and dishevelled.
"What's going on?" Victoria's voice was sharp, as she took in the sight of them, "Something's wrong…"
Draco's face was paler than usual as he locked gazes with Hermione, "Where's Potter? Riddle?"
"Someone attacked Tom," Bash informed them, and all of them sucked in a breath, "While he was sleeping. We couldn't wake him."
Ross swore quietly as Kara seethed, "It has to be Black," she growled, "She was embarrassed and now she's taking revenge."
"She is the most likely suspect." Victoria agreed, frowning.
"All because of his Blood!" Kara's voice rose, angry and upset, "This is ridiculous! He's the most powerful in our Year, only Hermione really tests him as far as grades go."
Abraxas looked miserable, "It does seem stupid. They don't even know if he's-"
"What does that matter!" Kara stalked forward and poked his chest, and Hermione winced at the raw note to her voice, and the tears that glimmered at the corner of his eyes, "Am I less because I'm a…. A Mudblood?"
Abraxas jerked, gripping her arms, "Don't call yourself that!"
"Why not?" she glared up at him, "It's what you think of me! You might as well call me it yourself, every time you defend those that believe it!"
Draco swiftly moved forward, gently pulling Kara away, as Hermione took in Abraxas' stricken expression.
"You're a witch," Draco shook Kara's shoulders firmly, "And a damn good one… Focus. We have to think about Tom."
Aurora's laugh was dark, "Tom's in the hospital wing. We need to think about payback. In kind."
"We're not stooping to their level!" Hermione quickly interjected, "I know we're all heated right now…"
"They tried to kill him," Kel's voice was quiet, but made all of them turn, and look at her, shocked. She looked back at them all, steady and with a sad look in her eyes, "That's the truth of it, they saw him as a threat to their ideology, and so they tried to remove him."
"We don't know that." Bash insisted, as Aurora's face darkened even more with temper, "We don't!"
"Either way…" Ron's voice broke in. He'd been quiet up until now, but there was an angry flush to his cheeks, "They hurt him. Their intentions, who the bloody hell knows, but we do know that he's hurt, because every single one of us can feel it."
All of them looked at each other miserably.
"Where's Tierra?" Druella asked quietly, "Has anyone seen her?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"She might not have been able to get out of the Hufflepuff Common Room," Hermione pointed out, "There's an alert."
"Yeah, some threat from Grindelwald supporters." Ross informed them, "The prefects were gossiping when we left."
"This and Tom being attacked? It's no coincidence." Victoria frowned, "They didn't want him getting help…"
Silence fell as they all considered the ramifications of that.
"What do we do now?" Abraxas asked quietly.
Hermione glanced at Ron, and Draco, both of whom looked as stumped as her.
"We can't do anything tonight," Aurora broke the looming silence with a sharp nod, "But I don't want us going back to our Common Rooms, not until we know what happened. Anyone know how to conjure something soft?"
Draco nodded, looking relieved to have something to do, and he waved his wand, conjuring a giant, comfy looking mattress with a huge duvet over it.
No one argued about wanting their own space. No one wanted to be alone.
One by one they clambered into the bed nest, and Hermione found herself snuggled up between the Rosier twins, who held her tight. Ron was tucked with Kara and Ross, and Draco with his Ravenclaws.
The lights went out but the darkness felt welcoming, rather than oppressive.
"He's going to be okay… right?" Kara's quiet voice whispered in the darkness.
Hermione blinked, surprised to feel tears stinging her eyes.
"Yeah," Kel's voice sounded certain, comfortingly certain, "Harry will come find us in the morning."
"We're going to make them pay," Aurora's voice was shaky, but no-one called her out on it.
"No," Draco's voice was quiet, but Hermione could feel all of them turn towards him, "Vengeance will only get us so far."
"But they-"
"We have to change it." Draco insisted, and Hermione heard someone suck in a breath, "There has to be a better way."
"Draco's right." Ron's voice was soft, and Hermione noted his use of Draco's name, "We could thrash them, but the world would remain the same. We have to change it."
Silence fell, but the darkness around them seemed to give them all the strength to speak, where they normally wouldn't be brave enough to.
"The Ministry is corrupt and ineffective," Victoria spoke quietly, "The Statute of Secrecy protects and destroys us at the same time."
"It's not up to us to change it," Abraxas' voice was weak, "We're only children… Fourth Years."
"We won't be kids forever." Sebastian murmured next to Hermione.
"Yeah," Draco agreed, "But it's all well and good to say, it's not our problem yet, we'll fix it when we're adults. But… Do we say, I'm an adult, now I'm going to support the vulnerable and oppose the unfair things of our world? Or do we do as we learned when we were children?"
"It's not our responsibility, "Ross whispered back, "We're just a bunch of kids. What do we know? Surely it's arrogant to think we know as much as the people running our world…?"
They all considered this.
"I think it's up to us," Hermione said softly, "The world won't change because everyone will always go with the flow. It's easier, safer and change will always be opposed. Change… requires bravery. And cunning. And knowledge and dogged determination. We have all those."
"We're all emotional right now," Kel's voice was soft, soothing, "Let's get some rest, get our answers in the morning… and then take over the world."
A chuckle filled the air, and everyone snuggled down.
"I love you guys," Ross mumbled into his pillow and Hermione grinned as the sentiment was met by everyone scoffing and sneering, even as she felt the arms around her tighten fondly, "I take it back."
"You can't take it back now Robins," Victoria giggled, "You've said it now."
"Nah moment of insanity,"
More giggles, before Kel's sleepy voice quietened them down, "We all love each other, we can mock each other tomorrow."
Hermione smiled, feeling safe and sound with Druella's shoulder under her cheek, and Bash's arm slung over her waist.
Tomorrow was going to be hard.
But together… they could face it.
To Be Continued...
Reviews
Shiara - There is indeed a Seer, though she's kept that little secret to herself for now. We know...but the other characters clearly do not. At least right now that is. She is going to make it very, very interesting.
chamacast - Thank you, I'm glad you find it promising, and I hope to keep delivering on that promise.
Amk - I'm going to try and keep up the regular posting feel now. Hopefully it will remain sustained!
Same as Smithback - Wrong tense my dear. "Who will be?" rather it was... "Who Was the girl?". The Future that she saw was the future of the world before Harry and co crashed into the timeline, shattering it. So the scene in the Forest...happened in Canon. Or rather my interpretation of Canon. Dumbledore believed that the murder for the locket was simply a random one. But that doesn't fit with his attempts to make each Murder and Horcrux item one that is heavy with meaning for him. Thus...this is my interpretation of this murder...and its meaning to Tom.