Dissindere Temporalis
So here we are again. I am so, so, so sorry this one took me so long. It was super hard to get the words out, even knowing what I wanted, it still wouldn't flow. Thankfully we finally finished this chunk and the next part is flowing much easier.
Thank you to everyone who has stuck through the madness.
Many apologies again.
Enjoy!
Annus In Vita I
September - Hermione
Her original Fifth Year had been a year that had opened her eyes to a great many things in the world.
The Ministry blatantly refusing to accept the reality that Voldemort was returned, and then unleashing Umbridge upon the school just to continue blindly sticking their heads in the sand. It had made her realise the authorities weren't infallible, that the people in power didn't always have their best interests at heart.
Glancing at Harry she saw that he looked lighter than he had in years, even if the idea of the Tournament weighed heavily upon him.
Their friends, the people who really mattered, knew the truth of their past and accepted it.
Tom was not currently on the path to Voldemort.
They had formed a Coven of their fellows, their magic was stronger and brighter than ever before.
But danger still loomed.
Grindelwald and his quest for magical supremacy on the mainland lingered in the back of her mind. Dumbledore had been pushed to face his old friend and Dimitera. But there was no guarantee that this would be the same in the new timeline. Perhaps they had changed too much.
Then there was the mystery of why they were seeing snippets of the past, of the Founders, of King Arthur and Merlin.
And also… the looming danger that the past might become the future. That Tom's original Dimitera, Tierra, might die and send Tom off the path he was on, towards darkness once more.
Even the Tournament was a danger. No matter what logic dictated, she had seen what Harry faced in the original time, a time that had been far more cautious about the dangers their Champions were exposed to.
She might have to accept that her life was never going to be peaceful.
Just as well, she would probably be bored by a pedestrian life.
Still it was comforting to be back at Hogwarts, to feel the tense distance of the Coven bonds loosen into the familiar feeling of each other.
But after the holiday had given her time to think as well.
They had essentially completed part of the original goal, to go back in time and save the wizarding world by stopping it being torn apart by Voldemort and his fanatics.
At least that is what one might think if they were only looking at the surface.
Broadly this was true, but Voldemort had been an aggressive symptom of a society in a deep case of rot. He had whipped the dissatisfied into action, but that mentality, the hatred, the feeling of disenfranchisement was already present.
He simply had taken what already existed, and amplified it for his own goals.
Magical creatures like House Elves, Centaurs and Werewolves were still treated as second class, Muggle borns were still dismissed as being worth less and ages old, ingrained beliefs still lingered, poisoning the world.
All of it was the product of centuries of stagnation, the wizarding world slowly withering away, choked from within.
They might not be able to solve that, she was pragmatic enough to know this, but she also knew they'd give it their best try.
She hadn't lost all of her idealism, it seemed.
So she did what she did best.
She made a list.
It was a day or two after their return to Hogwarts that Hermione forcefully urged herself to show that list to someone.
It had been one thing to write it, apparently, and another to share it, open it up for dismissal or mocking. This was also, unfortunately, something she had not lost.
She thought long and hard about who to show it to, because ordinarily she'd show it to Ron and Harry, but this time she wanted the opinion of someone born into the world of the aristocracy, someone who would have the complete alternative perspective to her.
That left her with three options; Brax, Druella and Bash.
Abraxas would be ideal, but the truths about his world had left him questioning everything. Thankfully he had Draco, who he felt guilty for, but also respected deeply, and he had Tom, who was like a steadfast anchor in treacherous seas.
Brax wasn't yet ready to dispassionately view his world and pick it apart. He might never be so, despite accepting the truth.
So Druella or Bash were her options. And rather than choose, she asked both of them.
"You know, out of all our friends, you were the last one I expected to plot a coup," Bash's lips were curved upwards in that infuriating little smirk it so often had, "Okay maybe not the last, but definitely not at the top."
"It's not a coup, Bash." Hermione huffed at him in exasperation as Druella covered her mouth with her hand, obviously hiding a smile, "This is a strategic restructuring of the magical world."
"It's a coup, darling," Bash grinned, "You want to take over the world. Who can blame you?"
"Bash!"
Druella coughed, "He has a point Hermione." she murmured, "You have us filtering into aspects of the world and taking it over from within, quietly… that's still a coup."
Hermione struggled for words for a moment or two and then huffed at the pair of them.
"It's called progress."
The twins gave her an identically sceptical look, which she ignored.
"That being said," Druella's voice was dry, but she flicked through the sheafs of parchment easily, "This is very comprehensive, but I don't think it will fix the bigger problems Hermione."
That caught her attention.
"Why not?"
"They're good initiatives, but they're putting a bandaid solution over bigger problems."
"It's like what you said back in first year," Bash smiled at her slowly, "The issue is that we are on top of each other, always forced to hide, forced to fear."
Hermione frowned, remembering the discussion, it had been with Bash, Tom and Tierra if she remembered correctly. Remembered Bash's casual disregard of Muggleborns and Muggles. He'd come a long way.
"There's no solution to that."
"Not any easy ones. If the magical world is known, then it will be feared." Druella murmured, large eyes concerned, "There are more of them than us, even if we are more powerful."
"It would be a massacre, and the end of one or the other." Hermione was blunt, "Humanity isn't known for being tolerant of differences. And while some of the Muggles would be accepting, there would be others. There would be those who would want to examine magic users, to study them like specimens. And there would be others who would wish to use them as a weapon. Not to mention those who will simply see it as evil, and try to wipe it out."
Druella looked stricken, but Bash's gaze was shrewd.
"That's not even looking at the damage that witches and wizards could wreak on the Muggle world." Hermione continued, "Those who hate them, like the Blacks or Lestranges? They would escalate hostilities until all the Muggles would see would be the evil we could do."
"Very true," Bash murmured, voice unusually serious. "And so we remain. Resentment building."
"This could help," she flourished her list at them, and then frowned as the twins shared a look, "It could!"
"In an ideal world? With rational and sensible people? Yes." Druella shook her head, "In our world? No, Hermione. This would help for a few years… and then it would be the same problems."
Hermione looked down at her list, feeling strangely lost.
There had to be a solution.
The next day in potions Hermione received an invitation to a Slug Club dinner party, and was amused to see, at lunch, that a great many of her friends had received them as well. Harry and Tom she had expected, Abraxas, Bash and Druella too. Aurora and Draco definitely. Kara had also been invited, which was a pleasant surprise, and Ron.
"Probably because of Druella," he muttered when she expressed her pleasure that he'd be there.
She opened her mouth to respond but closed it when she noticed the look he sent the Slytherin girl's way. A little resentful, wistful, but also… distant. Still fond, but not like he'd once looked at her, as brief as it had been.
"You know," she said, keeping her voice light, "You don't have to stay with someone, because you're afraid to hurt them."
His blue eyes snapped back to hers, shocked, "What? No I-"
She propped her hands on her hips, "Ronald Weasley don't treat me like a fool, I know you far better than that."
He subsided, sheepishly, "It's not that I don't like her," he sighed, and she was pretty sure she detected relief in his voice, like he'd been dying for someone to talk to. Stupid boys. "I do, I really enjoy spending time with her, and talking to her. She's interesting and she's funny… people just see that she's beautiful but she's so much more… but…"
"You just don't like her like… that?"
Ron shrugged slightly, looking down, "Not really. I like her… I'd throttle anyone who hurt her. But… I don't feel the butterflies, or that tight, eager feeling when you see someone you've been longing to see…"
Hermione thought of the little pangs she felt when she caught glimpses of Bash, his hair dishevelled, his warm laugh making something in her tingle.
She coughed to try and hide her sudden flush at the turn her thoughts had taken, and almost missed the slightly pink flush to Ron's own cheeks.
"But you've felt it with someone."
Instantly he scowled at her, "Hermione, no. Leave it alone."
"But…"
"No."
It was the unusual and frankly almost uncharacteristically firm and serious way he said the word that actually made her subside. He really was deeply serious about this, and despite wanting to dig deeper and solve the mystery, she knew that as his friend, it was time to back off.
"Alright…" she rested her hand on his shoulder, "But you know you could talk to me… when you want?"
"Yeah Hermione," he gave her a weak smile, "I know."
She nodded, even though she knew that both of them knew, he never would.
As the end of September loomed, it was Bash who pulled her into the Undercroft, where Tom waited for them.
"Bash told me about your list, and your conversation the other day," The dark haired boy began without any preamble, and Hermione shot the smirking Rosier a glare, "It's a concern I have had for a while as well, so I am glad I'm not the only one thinking about it."
She sighed and turned to face Tom, taking in her friend,
The summer had been kind to Tom Riddle.
Every year had been kind to him, really.
From the solemn faced and quiet boy they'd met that first year, he was now an impossibly handsome teenage boy.
Somehow he'd managed to avoid a gangling stage and had simply grown up in proportion. And with his pale skin, dark eyes and silky hair, she could see why the girls in their year had begun fluttering their eyelashes at him.
That wasn't even accounting for his presence, which filled a room.
No memory, no second hand knowledge could have prepared her for that.
And yet despite his handsome face, and undeniable charisma, no flicker of attraction stirred in Hermione's chest. She didn't know if it was because of Voldemort, or because, despite valuing intelligence, she always seemed to be drawn to men with a ready smile and sense of humour. Even Viktor had had a surprisingly dry sense of humour that had made her laugh.
Tom, she could debate with, and yell, and admire his brain. But he was too intense.
And it was a relief, to know that he didn't evoke that response in her.
"There's no solution, Tom."
"There's always a solution, Hermione," he murmured back, dark eyes glittering in the low light, "It just depends on how creative you wish to get."
Hermione glanced at Bash, and saw the wry smile, and the glint of a challenge in his eyes, and felt her own intellectual curiosity stir.
"Alright," she murmured, ignoring both of their matching grins, "What did you have in mind?
October - Aurora
With the onset of October, a new challenge presented itself to the castle.
The trials for the Triwizard Tournament were set to begin, and the announcement sent ripples through the whole of Fifth and Sixth years. Bets started being placed by the younger year groups, and House pride was at an all time high. Quidditch took a back seat to each House's quest to name the best male and female candidate in each of the year groups.
To the outsiders, it might seem like a thrilling contest. But to Aurora, the results seemed rather clear. At least in regards to their own year group.
Tom would almost certainly represent their year for the boys, with Abraxas showing no interest and Sebastian preferring to make snarky commentary on the whole ordeal. His only competition would be Harry.
But Harry seemed unwilling.
She knew of his past, they all did at this point. But still.
Harry was a Hero, someone born to excel in competitions like this one. Someone who, with help, could be the greatest among them. Tom had the greater knowledge but Harry was calm under pressure, Harry was a natural with people. He had Slytherin drive, but sometimes it just needed a nudge to get it going.
She and Draco would almost certainly represent Ravenclaw. Most of the bookworms preferred theory to actual practical application, and neither Victoria or Kel showed interest in contesting. Victoria had been absent minded of late, absorbed in her own project, and Kel was more focused on the future, her visions haunting her in a way none of them could understand… except perhaps the four who had travelled back in time.
Kara was the likely Gryffindor female candidate, and Ron was definitely a strong contender for the boys. Ross might be, if he had the confidence to try, but he was comfortable teasing from a distance. Ron's true competition would be Moody, who seemed obsessively interested in it all.
She was unsure if Tierra would push herself forward as the Hufflepuff girl for their year, or if she would rebel against Tom's pushing and step back.
As for the boy. If it was Diggory… she rather thought Tom might murder him… and then Potter would probably lose it entirely.
It would be ironic symmetry, she thought dryly, but knew that while the idea amused her, it would likely cause a lot of distress among those she cared for.
"You're a hard woman to get alone, Selwyn."
Rexton's voice was an unpleasant intrusion into her Library sanctuary, and Aurora found herself frowning slightly before she smoothed her face clean as she looked up from her book at the boy.
"Lestrange."
His expression flickered, annoyance perhaps? Then he presumptively sat down across from her, shifting her books and homework parchments to the side of her Library table.
She stared at him, impassive.
He flashed her something, he probably thought, was a cocky and confident smile.
"Our families are in agreement." he informed her, "We'll marry before our seventh year." he smiled slowly, dark eyes running slowly over her, "I thought we should start getting to know each other, now that the betrothal is official."
"It isn't official." Aurora reminded him sweetly, ignoring the tiny jump of fear that her heart gave.
He could not touch her now, her betrothal had been broken by the Coven's vow superseding it. Not that Rexton, or her family, knew this.
The smile slowly dropped from Rexton's face, "Do you truly think that you'll be the first unwilling bride dragged to the altar?" he informed her, a little sneer curling his lips, "You will be underage, and your parents' promise will hold you to compliance, even if you try to refuse."
Aurora stared back at him, impassive, "Interesting. Unfortunately, it's still not official Lestrange. You see my mother and I have an arrangement. An agreement." Slowly she let a smile curve up her lips, "So I know that she wouldn't have… confirmed our betrothal without speaking to me."
Rexton's mouth twisted nastily.
"You think you're clever, don't you?"
"Yes," she replied with venomous sweetness, taunting him, "I'm a Ravenclaw."
His hand snapped out, faster than she'd expected, to grab her wrist.
"You're wrong." he breathed, jerking on her limb so hard that she was half wrenched over the table, face uncomfortably close to his, "You're mine Selwyn. You've been given to me since we were babies, and when you are completely mine, you will spend the rest of your days looking after my home, and my children, and your magic will be leashed."
Aurora yanked away, and shoved her belongings back into her bag, before swiftly whipping out her wand. She swished it once, " Somnium Conversio." she breathed, so softly he wouldn't hear the exact words.
Rexton lurched to his feet, "What did you do?! You can't curse me, we're betrothed!" he pointed his finger in her face, "Your magic won't let you hurt me."
The dark haired girl swept to her feet and flicked her fingers dismissively, "Then I can't have cursed you, can I? You don't feel anything do you? It didn't work."
The Slytherin boy relaxed, and then sneered at her. "Not so smart after all."
"We'll see." she flashed him another sharp smile, before leaving the Library, knowing that her spell would haunt his sweetest dreams and twist them into nightmares. If he dreamed of her, it would only be the reverse of what he wished.
She did not belong to him.
She did not belong to anyone.
Not even her Coven could control her.
"Have you seen Victoria?" she asked Kel, a week or so later, as she looked around the Ravenclaw common room, "You two are normally two peas, in a pod."
Kel gave her a small crooked smile, amused, and Aurora was about to look away again before suddenly she realised that Kel looked frailer than she remembered. Quickly her gaze snapped back to the other Ravenclaw and, grimly, she noted the pallour of her pale skin, and the way her jawline was more prominent than she remembered.
"I'm not her keeper, Rora."
Aurora sniffed, "She's usually yours, always watching out for you. Not doing a particularly good job at the moment, though, is she?"
Kel blinked, "Excuse me?"
"You know what I'm saying," was the tart response, "Don't feed me some drivel, Kelanna, I am not stupid, nor am I blind. Your gift is killing you."
Kel's gaze shuttered, "That's none-"
"It is my business." Aurora hissed, emphasising the word and feeling a twinge of perverse pleasure when Kelanna looked down shamefacedly. The Coven bond meant that it was very much her business and it served the girl right to try and fob her off, "You know, I have read about the strain that visions take on Seers. How it essentially takes years off their lives, and they cannot help but continue to give, more and more until they kill themselves trying to See,"
"Rora…"
"You read about it," Aurora was relentless, "But a part of you doesn't really think that a rational, intelligent woman will do that. But you can't fight it, can you? It's so ingrained in you that you cannot choose yourself over helping others with your gift."
"I can help more…"
"I'm going to stop you right there," Aurora held up a hand, "This is part of why Coven's were formed. Ravenclaw was a Seer, yes? It's why a whole court formed around her to protect her."
"It's a theory." Kel hedged, "But I don't want anyone having to-YEOWCH!"
Aurora flicked her ear sharply.
"That's enough of that," she said sternly, "If you continue to neglect yourself I will tell the Hufflepuff."
Kel paled.
She knew, as well as Aurora did, that a Hufflepuff was a determined and loyal friend, and their caregiving instincts were unmatched. If Tierra thought Kel needed mothering, she would be mothered into absolute compliance.
Kel was intelligent to know that she was lucky that the Hufflepuff was distracted right now.
"Let's not be too hasty…"
"Good." Aurora nodded, "Now where is Victoria?"
Stalking up the stairs to the Owlery she was boiling over with the telling off she was preparing to give her fellow Ravenclaw.
Victoria had always been Kel's protector, her staunch support. But this year Victoria was missing, gone more often than not, and unfortunately it had come at a time when Kel had stepped up the use of her Gift.
It wasn't really Victoria's fault, but Aurora was going to yell at her like it was.
Because Aurora should have noticed before now too. Should have been more observant of one of her friends. Should have seen that one of her Coven was struggling, instead of being so self absorbed.
But it was easier to shout at Victoria instead of really facing that failure.
That was until she walked up the last flight of stairs and found Victoria perched on a sill, leaning out over the stomach-lurchingly high drop, wand swishing.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing!" she cried, and Victoria startled, almost falling if it wasn't for her quick grasping of a parapet edge and Aurora lunging to fist a hand in her robe.
"Rora!" Victoria smacked her arm, winded, "You scared the wits out of me!"
"Me?!" Aurora heard her voice reach a screechy pitch her mother would have called indecorous, "What in blazes were you doing?"
"Looking for something." Victoria's chin went mullish, meaning that she was unwilling to give wasn't any further explanation than that, "Why are you here?"
Aurora was having exactly none of that.
"What in Merlin's name were you looking for?" she scolded, "You could have fallen."
"I would have been fine if I hadn't been startled."
"Toria." Aurora huffed at her, "You don't take risks for nothing… you're not the type…please. Tell me…"
Victoria looked torn, "I…-alright." she sighed, "You remember the hints we got for Ravenclaw's Repository?"
That had not been what Aurora was expecting, "Yes?"
"I was given clues, that I think lead here." Victoria sighed, folding her arms, "So I'm trying to solve it."
Aurora blinked, "Alone? I thought we, Ravenclaws, were going to do this together."
Victoria looked away and Aurora sucked in a breath, "You wanted to… on your own."
"Look," Victoria's shoulder's hunched, "I'm not as talented as you, or Draco. I don't have a gift like Kel. I don't even really give much of a flying fart about the state of the Wizarding World. I care that it will hurt the people I love, but that's the extent."
She huffed, and folded her arms, "Is it so wrong to want something… to solve something… just for myself. To… prove myself."
"Prove yourself." Aurora stared at her, "Prove yourself to whom? Us?"
Victoria didn't meet her gaze and Aurora felt like the air was sucked out of her lungs.
She hadn't noticed Kelanna draining herself. And now she had failed to see that Victoria had an insecurity about her usefulness to the Coven.
"You have nothing to prove."
"Of course you say that," Victoria hissed, brushing her away with all the prickles of an angry cat, "Never mind that it feels like I do."
Aurora hesitated again, unsure.
Emotions like these were not her strong suit.
She rarely experienced self doubt, something that was as much of a weakness as it was a strength. But she had found little use in questioning herself. Enough people would do that in her life, without her doing the same.
She had little notion on how to assuage such a raw, real, admission.
So she deferred to what she usually did when given an emotional quandry. She tried to imagine what Harry might do, or Ron, or hell even the Hufflepuff if there were tears involved.
"You know," she slowly murmured, "Even when someone is the principal quest solver, they still ask for expertise along the way. I won't take over, but you can ask."
Greengrass eyed her, shrewd, sharp before slowly she nodded.
"Promise?"
"I solemnly swear," Aurora placed her hand over her heart and Victoria sniffed.
"No need to mock me."
Aurora grinned at her, relieved, as the other girl moved over to show her a piece of parchment, containing the riddle she'd been given.
"To find your path you must ascend
To the home of a feathered friend.
There you'll find the guardians four
Choose wisely, or else choose no more.
So dear bird take care which one you take
For each one can cause a heart to break.
One is cruel, one isn't fair.
One is a sacrifice, one is a snare.
Choose wisdom, choose and then it may
Open and set you on your way."
"To the home of a feathered friend, the owlery, makes sense." Aurora mused quietly.
"Guardians four." Victoria tapped the parchment, "I can't figure out what that means…"
Aurora frowned slightly and looked around the room. Lots of windows, lots of owls, droppings all over the floors. A lot of mess.
"Where have you looked?"
"Everywhere!" Victoria huffed, fluttering her hands in annoyance, "There aren't many walls, and nothing on the roof. I was leaning out to see if there was something outside when you came in."
Aurora sniffed, wrinkling her nose as her clean shoe scuffed against bird dropping covered straw and nudged some tiny bones of some unfortunate animal away. "Did you clean the walls? It's filthy in here."
Victoria paused.
"I checked them closely but… it is filthy. You're right."
The dark haired girl peered at her friend and saw that her gaze was locked on the floor, the perpetually filthy floor, covered in straw, bones and bird excrement.
Hidden.
"Oh very clever," she chuckled, "On the floor."
Victoria nodded, but she simply tapped her wand against her lips.
"Aren't you going to clean it?"
Greengrass shook her head slowly, "If I clean it it will be too obvious to anyone who comes up here…"
That made sense, and looking at the other girl, Aurora decided that this should be the moment she made a discrete exit. Despite her gnawing curiosity…
So she left, closing the door behind her quietly. And it was only when she reached the bottom that she realised, with some annoyance, that she hadn't asked the question she had originally been seeking the girl to ask.
Scowling, she stalked off, making a mental list of other people in her arithmancy class, to ask.
All Hallows Eve arrived before she knew it, and once more they all found themselves at the Hawthorne's cozy little corner of the world.
After last years revelations, it hadn't even been a question as to whether they would return and perform the traditional rituals again.
But honestly, Aurora had still not expected much, when she rested her hand on the pyre.
Instead, she was engulfed in purest, deepest darkness. It was cold, but she could not see any of her limbs. It was like she was merely a thought in the void.
And just when she thought she might go mad from the sheer nothingness, a voice spoke, soft and calm.
"What is darkness?" it sounded vaguely feminine, but it also sounded like a wet cloak dragging on river stones, like a knife against a whetstone, like wind whistling across bare hills.
"Who are you!?" she cried out, but her voice sounded muffled and deadened.
"What is darkness?" the voice asked again, and Aurora shivered.
"The absence of light."
"What is the colour of nothing?"
Aurora struggled, but there was nothing holding her, she just couldn't feel her limbs.
"Nothing doesn't have a colour!"
The darkness lifted into the most dull grey she had ever seen. It was like there was no shadows, and no light at all.
It was so barren a colour that she felt lost.
"This is nothing." she breathed.
"Darkness needs light," the voice murmured, a caress now, "Light craves darkness. Balance does not mean equal, it merely means…poised."
Darkness wound around her, and this time it was comforting, cool but calming.
"Remember, what you could have been," the voice whispered.
The darkness parted to reveal a window, and she saw herself, older, regal and cold, with two young men at her sides. A man writhed at her feet, but it was not her, but one of the young men who held the wand, controlling his suffering.
Her face showed no remorse. Merely…satisfaction. Even pleasure.
And then suddenly her eyes cleared and she was back, surrounded by her friends, who all looked disheveled.
Remember, what you could have been.
Aurora shivered, remembering the words. Remembering the two men, faces impassive, even bored, and her own fierce, burning pleasure at the pain being inflicted.
Remembering that it was Rexton… Rexton who had been writhing at the end of the wand.