Tom and Hermione's Excellent Vacation
AKA: The story of how AU Future Hermione and Tom Riddle kidnap… I mean adopt Canon Harry.
Part V
31 August, 1992
Notecards
A note was delivered to Gryffindor table at breakfast on the very first day of classes:
Mr. Potter,
Please come see me at your earliest convenience. You will be excused from your classes.
Albus PBW Dumbledore
PS, I like sugar quills.
Harry hastily scribbled a note of his own on the back and handed it to the owl. A very bemused Professor Snape found the following note waiting for him as he left his quarters for the first potions-lesson of the term:
Prof. Snape,
Tom and Maia said to ask you to come with me if Bumbles invited me up to his office.
What do I say? (see other side)
Harry Riddle
…
A very small parchment airplane found its way to Harry during his first lesson and unfolded itself to reveal the Potions Master's cramped hand:
A response is not required. I will accompany you. It will be convenient to wait until after dinner.
Prof. Snape
…
"Ah, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said brightly as Harry entered the office at the top of the tower. "I was beginning to think you weren't – Severus? Is there something I can help you with?"
"Oh, no, Albus, I think you'll find I'm just here to ensure that you don't use legilimency on the boy or try to prevent his leaving or the like. I certainly wasn't given any specific instructions."
"I… see." The degree of twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes dropped precipitously. "As I was saying, then, Mr. Potter…"
"Um, sorry, Headmaster, but, uh… It's Riddle, now," Harry corrected him.
"Pardon?"
"It's Riddle. Mr. Riddle. Or, I guess, Mr. Potter Riddle. But you have to include the Riddle. It's very important."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and Severus had to violently crush the urge to laugh at the boy's earnestness. "Well, that is just what I wanted to speak to you about, Harry, my boy."
"What is, sir?"
"Your adoption. Surely you don't want to give up your last connection to your parents, your father's name…?"
"Oh, wait, hold on, I've got notes for this," Harry said, pulling a rather large stack of note-cards from his pocket and rifling through it. "Okay, name as the last connection to parents… It's not – I'm keeping Potter, and James, even, as my middle name, for one. Secondly, everyone says I look just like James, with Lily's eyes, so it's not like I'm ever going to forget them. Thirdly, Tom and I are already related by blood, so I'm not replacing anyone, just moving in with my last magical blood relatives." He shoved that card back in his pocket.
Severus was torn between shock at the blood connection, which neither Tom nor Hermione had mentioned the previous term, and hilarity at the look on Dumbledore's face. He would have bet all the galleons he owned that the note-cards had been Hermione's idea.
"Please, Harry, I would like to hear what you have to say, not what others have coached you to say."
"I'm um, not great, at speaking under pressure, sir. But, um… Tom and Maia, they told me what kind of things you would say, so I could figure out what to say back beforehand." He held up his stack of what cards with the same earnest expression. "I did write the ones that are supposed to come from me."
"The ones… from you?"
Harry nodded eagerly. "I asked Sirius about what James would say, and Maia said she and Professor Snape talked a lot about Lily, so I have what she would say, too, and a few notes from Maia and Tom and Sirius as themselves."
"Sirius? Sirius Black?"
"He was framed."
"You've spoken to him?"
"He came to my birthday party."
"At the Dursleys?"
Harry laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. "The only person who thinks I'd be better off with the Dursleys is you. Maia saved me from them first week of the hols."
"Harry, my dear boy, it is vitally important for your own safety that you return to your Aunt's house over the holidays – the wards there –"
"Oh, wait! Hang on! I know there was one about wards in here somewhere. It was one of Tom's. Got it!
"'If he mentions the blood wards at Petunia Dursley's house, tell him for me that not only are they illegal, shame on him, Leader of the Light my arse, but they are also only minimally effective due to the third-degree relationship between yourself and Petunia. He also should know better by his age than to just copy ward-schemes out of a book – just because you're doing it yourself doesn't mean you're doing it right,'" Harry read off. "And then there's a bunch of maths that Maia said is Arithmancy, and '24 minutes, tops.' Here." He passed that card across the desk to Dumbledore, who set it aside without even looking at it.
"Harry, my boy, I'm concerned that the Riddles may have been lying to you."
"They wouldn't," Harry denied swiftly. "Tom only does to be funny, and Maia always tells me the truth!"
"Harry," Dumbledore said mournfully, "Sirius Black betrayed your parents. He was the keeper of –"
"The Fidelius Charm, yes, I know." Yet another note-card was shuffled to the top of the stack. "'I was framed, you meddling old bastard. James, Lily and I broke the damn charm and re-cast it on Pettigrew so I could continue to fight. The rat lied, before he blew up the street and ran down to the sewer with the other rats.' Um, he didn't put it in, but he, Pettigrew, and my dad were all animagi. Pettigrew is really a rat."
"Harry, I know this will be difficult for you to believe, but Sirius Black killed Peter Pettigrew, along with a dozen muggle witnesses, just after your parents died."
"No, he didn't. Peter Pettigrew is in Azkaban, in Sirius' old cell."
"What do you mean, Harry?"
"He was hiding, as a rat. My friend Ron's pet rat, actually. Maia caught him and let Sirius choose if he wanted to try for a legal battle or not, and he said to just get him out of that hellhole, so she did, and left the Rat there instead."
"Harry, these are very serious crimes you are admitting to!"
A brief shuffle, and then, "'I'm not admitting to anything. I'm twelve. I can't even talk in court, let alone be held accountable for things other people did, no matter how hard the Wizengamot tries.'"
"Well, that is true, but…"
"'But nothing, old man. You aren't above the law, even if you want everyone in your little kingdom to think you are.' And then there's a little heart that's colored in black and Tom's initials."
"Harry."
"Could you stop saying my name so much, sir? It's creepy."
"H – my boy, I think we're getting off topic." That Harry was surprised there was a set 'topic' to get off of was written clearly across his face, as was his opinion that 'my boy' was hardly less creepy than the constant use of his given name. "Tom Riddle is a very dangerous wizard, you should not be associating with him under any circumstances!"
"He said you were enemies with his father, which is why he had to go to Durmstrang. My mum only got to go here because no one knew who her father really was."
"Lily Potter was muggleborn!" Dumbledore objected, before Severus could, which was probably just as well.
"Nope." Shuffle. "Tom says: 'Lily was the daughter of Tom Marvolo Riddle and Matilde Harrison, a muggleborn auror. They weren't married, but if my father had realized he had a daughter, she most definitely would not have been sent to grow up in ignorance with her mother's muggle relatives when the woman was hospitalized.'"
"Harry, my boy, you can't tell me you've fallen for this… this fiction they've been feeding you all summer. You poor boy!"
"It's not a story! It's the truth!"
"Harry, I'm sure you're just confused."
"Then how do you explain I'm a Parselmouth?"
"When Voldemort tried to kill you, my boy, he transferred some of his powers to you…"
"No, he got stuck in some kind of protection ward and ripped himself in two! I was helping him stay alive, and nobody told me until Tom hit me with a Killing Curse over the summer!"
Dumbledore blanched. Severus froze. He hadn't realized that they had told the boy everything, let alone taken care of the accidental anchor point already.
"He hit you with the Killing Curse?"
"Well, yeah. What would you have done? They had to get rid of it somehow."
"I… I thought…"
Shuffle. "'You thought he would have to die to rid the world of Voldemort, that's why you left him at the Dursleys, you wretched excuse for a wizard. You've been molding him into your perfect sacrifice all along. I can't believe I ever thought you were a good man.' That one's from Maia," the boy glared.
"Harry, I know it may be difficult for you, but you must renounce the hold the Riddles have over you – it is the only way to fulfil your destiny and finally defeat Voldemort once and for all!"
Harry scoffed. "You know what, this is a waste of time. You're not even listening to me. They should have just sent a letter. Here," he dropped the rest of the cards on the Headmaster's desk. "And Tom said I should tell you they're pulling me from Hogwarts at the winter hols. He said he knew you'd never be able to deal with having his father's grandson in your school. I thought he was wrong, but I guess not."
"Mr. Potter, you can't leave Hogwarts!" the Headmaster objected as Harry turned to go. "Magical Britain needs you!"
Harry gave the old wizard, now on his feet, a rather strange smile. "No, they really don't. And it's Riddle."
The boy left the room before the Headmaster could recover from his shock. Severus lingered only long enough to raise an eyebrow at the old man, then turned on his heel and followed, wondering how he could have so clearly missed Potter's calling as a Slytherin all the previous year.
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22 September, 1992
Revelations of Mabon
Mr. Riddle,
If you care to attend, there will be a celebration of ritual magic honoring the Dark Power Experience today at noon in the Largest Courtyard.
Prof. Snape
…
"Where did you go at lunch, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Saved you a sandwich, mate," Ron said, handing over the sandwich in question.
"I was, um, invited to this thing, for the holiday?"
"Holiday?" Hermione was clearly worried to be missing out on something.
"Mabon."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. Only the really stuck up old fashioned wizards celebrate it anymore."
"There had to be over a hundred people there, Ron! Most of the Slytherins, and like, half of Ravenclaw."
"How'd you find out about it?" Ron asked. "You're not hanging around with the snakes now, are you?"
"I got a note from Professor Snape, and followed a Slytherin. Did you know there's a courtyard on top of the roof of the Great Hall?"
…
"So you're telling me it is the real stone?"
"That's what Alethea said."
"And that it's absolutely worthless, since it doesn't do anything you don't have an alternative solution for?"
"And the Elixir of Life is apparently incredibly addictive."
"Well, bother."
"We can still design a few experiments and see if it has any other uses. I don't think Flamel ever used it for much beyond gold and the Elixir."
"On the Twelve Uses of the Philosopher's Stone?"
"That might be too ambitious. Seven, maybe."
"Too ambitious?" Hermione aped astonishment. "Who are you and what have you done with Tom?"
"Tom has plans this afternoon which have nothing whatsoever to do with alchemical experiments."
"Oh, is that so?" the witch asked as her husband moved closer to her.
He hummed his confirmation as he captured her mouth with his, then added, when they came up for air, "And after that I thought I'd take Jory back to school."
"You're free now?"
"Entirely at loose ends."
"Good," Hermione grinned, thoroughly snogging him back. "Because I have a few plans of my own to implement."
…
"What do you mean, there's nothing you can do? Amelia! They broke a convicted murderer out of Azkaban!"
"I'm sorry, Albus, but the dementors report that the cell in question is occupied, and there have been no suspicious activities at the prison for months. Your 'evidence' consists of the informal testimony of an underage boy who you freely admitted you believe has been lied to extensively over the past two months. I'm inclined to say that the escape of Sirius Black is one of the less-than-credulous pieces of all you've told me."
"Well, what about Riddle? Have you heard back from Karkaroff yet?"
"He insists that Riddle graduated and earned high honors while doing so back in '69. He also asks why the Headmaster of Hogwarts is so interested in the Alumni of Durmstrang, and why you would go through the Magical British Ministry to make your inquiries."
"I simply wished to establish a formal record of inquiries, Amelia."
"Yes, well, if that's all, I do have a ministry department to run…"
"Quite."
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9 October, 1992
Breaking Bad News
"What do you mean you're not coming back after the holiday?" Hermione looked entirely lost.
"We're moving. Remember how I told you they're from another universe? They're going home at Yule, and I'm going with them."
"But, Harry, why?"
"Because, Hermione, I hate being here and being Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived. Dumbledore keeps pushing me to stay and be like, some destined savior to kill Voldemort again, even though Maia and Tom said they'll take care of him before we go, and everyone's been horrible to me since they found out I'm a Parselmouth –"
"And whose fault is that?" the girl interrupted.
"That's not the point! It shouldn't matter if I can talk to snakes or not, and it really bugs me that they all act like I've been lying to them or something my whole life, even though I never even heard of magic until a year and a half ago!"
"But…"
"But what, Hermione? I'm not staying."
"It's just… I'll miss you," she said hesitantly. "You were my first friend, and I… I don't want to lose you to them."
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31 October, 1992
(Almost) Always Dramatic
"By my blood, my magic, and my very life, I declare myself none of his! Let the connection between us be torn asunder, no longer anchored by the other, but each of us free, and by his own fate bound!"
"Are you always so dramatic?" an otherworldly voice asked curiously.
Tom smirked and turned to see a goddess wearing the face of Lily Evans, perhaps sixteen years old. "Almost always. My Lady Adrestia, long time no see."
"Well, whose fault is that? Go on, then, make your sacrifice."
"For you, milady," he bowed elaborately, "anything," and traced a rune of breaking over his heart, the ivory blade of his ceremonial knife cutting deep. The connection between himself and Voldemort-in-the-lamp grew clear, a tainted thread like old blood between them.
The goddess giggled. "The Lady was right, you are a charmer. Too bad you never were one for commitment. You would have made a great crusader."
"Never say never, milady," Tom offered.
"Well, and having said so, I shall be most disappointed if you decide to declare for anyone else in the end," she informed him, stalking close and poking him in the chest. "Most disappointed. Got it?"
"Revolution is in my soul, milady. I wouldn't dare."
"Good." And with that she took his athame and made a vicious swipe through the horcrux bond. It vanished in a flash of non-being, darkness beyond mortal ken. She handed the knife back, hilt-first, releasing it with a lingering touch, a finger traced along the blade. "Until next time, Tom Riddle."
The goddess vanished without a trace, as suddenly as she had appeared.
Hermione was curled in an armchair with a book, which she had entirely abandoned to watch Tom's ritual. "Does it ever get old, flirting with gods and magic itself?" she asked, raising a curious eyebrow at him.
He didn't even pretend to think about it. "No, it really doesn't."
"Even when they look like your daughter?"
"It's not like I ever knew her as my daughter."
"Oh, shut up and kiss me. I'm suddenly feeling the need to remind the universe that you have, on occasion, made a commitment or two."
…
In Azkaban Prison, Bellatrix Black felt the magic tethering her to her Lord shatter as, miles away, a mudblood witch with an axe to grind cast a final killing curse on the last object tying Lord Voldemort's life-spark to the mortal plane. She collapsed inward upon herself, and the dementors swarmed in, delighted (if such beings can be said to delight) to finally have some sort of reaction from the strangely inhuman witch.
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1 November, 1992
One Master Down, One to Go
Harry,
Maia says: Come down to the Chamber.
V is done.
There is cake.
Tom
…
"Severus," Albus greeted his Potions Master coldly. He still had not forgiven Snape for supporting Harry Potter in his bid to betray the light by joining the Riddles and abandoning his destiny.
"Headmaster," the man in question said, passing him a letter.
Albus' would admit, his curiosity was somewhat piqued. The younger wizard was seldom so polite in private. "What is it?"
"My resignation. Effective at the end of term."
Albus plastered his most patronizing smile across his face. "My dear boy, you can't resign." Severus Snape was bound to serve him until his former Lord was entirely destroyed. He had been placed at Hogwarts as a spy, and remained at Albus' pleasure, partly to keep an eye on the despicable man, and partly so that, when Voldemort returned to power, which he was certain the foul creature would, he could take up his old place as a double agent without undue questioning. He was, quite simply, not allowed to resign, despite his repeated attempts to escape.
"I think you will find that the terms of my oath have been fulfilled," the Slytherin said, with a cruel twist of his lips.
"You mean?"
After several suspenseful minutes of unbuttoning, Snape's left forearm was exposed. "It's gone. He's gone. You have no grounds to hold me any longer."
"Ah, but Tom Riddle is still working his evil in this world," Albus scrambled, shaking his head in mock-sorrow. He could not lose his Potions Master halfway through the year! It was bad enough constantly having to replace Defense instructors. "His people, his movement, still work to further his agenda in our government. His son, now, has taken to corrupting our best hope –"
"Our best hope for what? Defeating a man who has just been killed, once and for all? Or for creating your little Light utopia out of Magical Britain?"
Albus glared at his impertinence. Snape had never been one to roll over before him, but neither would Albus cave to his demand for his indenture to be released. Even if Snape's vow no longer bound him, there was always the unspoken threat that Albus had saved him from Azkaban, and could easily return him there, should Snape fail to obey his orders. The failed dark wizard would be made to serve the Light, regardless of his own desires. "I can, and I will, continue to enforce your bond. You swore yourself into my service unconditionally, and you will continue to serve until I deem the threat of Voldemort to have passed entirely."
Snape's eyes, always dark, suddenly seemed incredibly foreboding, as he said in far too calm a tone, "I expected nothing less from you."
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4 November, 1992
Lemon Drops
For the first time in ten years, Severus Snape did not provide a house elf with the weekly doctored supply of lemon drops to switch with the muggle candies Dumbledore bought for himself. These contained the antidote to the poison which had been lurking in the Headmaster's liver since Severus realized that in his grief, he had not found a way away from one master, but simply enslaved himself to a second.
The last of the antidote should pass through the old man's system within a month. He would be dead by Christmas, for his betrayal of their agreement, and Severus would be free. Finally.
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7 November, 1992
"It is what I want."
"Oi, cheer up, mate! We won!" Ron grinned, celebrating Harry's triumph over Malfoy in their first Quidditch match of the year.
Harry, however, was not nearly so excited. He couldn't help but focus on the fact that this had been his last Quidditch match, at least in this timeline. And it was more than a little irritating how quickly he had managed to get back into everyone's good graces, just by winning a single, stupid match. They weren't willing to listen to him when he swore up and down that Parsel wasn't some dark and evil talent, but they were happy to cheer for him if he won at Quidditch.
"Hey, Ron. I – come up to the dorm, eh? I need to tell you something."
…
"You're leaving?" Ron's expression on hearing the news was scarily similar to Hermione's. "But, you can't!"
"Why not, Ron? Why can't I leave? I don't want to live here anymore. I'd rather go with my new family somewhere no one's ever heard of the Boy Who Lived and have a normal life as a normal wizard, who maybe just happens to be good at Quidditch, and no one's expecting to save the goddamn world at twelve years old!" He finished his little rant by punching his pillow in frustration.
"But – blimey, Harry. I didn't realize you hated us all so much."
"What?" Harry looked up to see a hurt expression on Ron's face. "I don't hate you – I hate being famous. I hate that Lockhart trails around insisting that I need to manage my fame, and your sister and her friends mooning after me and the fact that there's a whole book series of made up things I've supposedly done and how everyone hates me when I don't live up to what they think the Boy Who Lived should be! And the Riddles are giving me a chance to get away from all that! I'm leaving at Christmas, and that's it."
Ron wilted. "I – I guess, if that's what you want…"
"It is," Harry said firmly. "It is what I want."
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17 November, 1992
The Other End of the Stick
"He's been weird since the summer, and you know it!"
"Yeah, but, Hermione, he's our friend."
"Yes, he is our friend, and I'm worried about him. I'm going to follow him."
Ron watched as Hermione crept out of the Common Room behind Harry, shaking his head. Somehow, he was sure this wasn't going to end well.
…
Harry approached the alcove now hiding the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets furtively, cursing himself for leaving his father's cloak in his trunk yet again. He could feel people staring at him as he slipped through the halls, his recent reprieve from the school's scorn over: Malfoy had reminded the Gryffindors after his Quidditch loss that Harry was a Parselmouth, and Ron, who never could keep a bloody secret, had let it slip to everyone that Harry was planning on leaving Hogwarts at Christmas.
Harry had consequently been spending as much time in the Chamber and away from their hateful glares and disappointed head-shaking and sycophantic mooning as he could – so much so that Tom had moved the non-Slytherin entrance for him (though the fact that the man thought it was silly to have the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in a girls' loo, anyway, might also have been a contributing factor). Tom wasn't always there, of course – only maybe three days in five – but Jory was much better company than most of the school at the moment.
With one last, hasty look around – he noticed on one paying him any particular attention – he leaned as casually as he could against the back wall of the little nook and firmly ordered the passage to :Open!: The wall melted away, and he meandered happily down the tunnel revealed toward the Chamber proper.
Hermione, concealed by a short-lived, but apparently decent Notice-Me-Not Charm, was left in the alcove, attempting to replicate the particular hiss that had opened the passage.
…
The young dragon, now called Bertha, emerged briefly from the enchanted flames which were her 'bed' to snuffle at Harry's robes and identify him as a non-threat before butting him, perhaps fondly, in the chest with her head, and curling back up in the fire. Exactly what Tom had done to her, Harry wasn't sure, but he knew he had to have done something, because the dragon was much more docile now than she had been even as a hatchling, not to mention she was now at least five times as big as she was when she was 'kidnapped' and never seemed to eat. When he asked, the older wizard just grinned and said it was old magic, and he would teach Harry when Harry was older, partly because Maia had forbidden him to teach Harry anything illegal until Harry was at least fifteen, and magic to control dragons was definitely illegal, but more because he said Harry had to work his way up to that kind of thing.
:Elder,: he called, the acoustics of the chamber allowing Parsel to carry far better than it did anywhere else, :Are you here?:
:In the library!: floated back to him, accompanied by a very excited young basilisk. Harry was pretty sure Jory got bored with only Tom and Bertha for company.
After exchanging greetings with the snake and allowing him to coil around his shoulders instead of slithering on the cold floor (which Harry would have done even if Jory hadn't begged pathetically to be picked up), Harry made his way to the Chamber Library. Retrieving and repairing the books that belonged to the library had been something of a hobby for both Riddles over the summer. Harry thought that Tom was just as incapable of doing nothing as he mocked Maia over.
:What are you working on?: he asked as he entered the cozy, mage-lit room.
:The hibernation magics for World-Serpent.:
:Hibernation magic?:
Jory jumped in proudly to explain. :When you and Speaker and Speaker's Mate go back to the Speaker's nest, I will stay here and protect the Chamber and the teaching-place!:
:What? Why can't you come with us? Elder? Why can't World-Serpent come to the nest with us?:
Tom hesitated, giving Jory time to speak up again. :It's a very important job! Someone has to take care of the treasures of the Speakers, and I will do it!:
:It is what World-Serpent was born for,: Tom confirmed.
:But won't you be lonely without us?: Harry asked the sapient snake.
Jory made the not-sound which expressed genuine amusement. :I will be hibernating. I will sleep and grow strong, and wake in the future, when the next Speaker arrives.:
:But there are no other Speakers,: Harry practically wailed. :If we leave, no one will come!:
:There are no other speaker-people on this island,: Tom corrected him calmly, :But there are others in the world, and they will come in time.:
:I will sleep for many years,: Jory said, obviously pleased with the prospect, :And when I am wakened, I will learn how the world has changed!:
The basilisk could not be convinced that his mission was anything but an honor and an adventure in the waiting, and Tom could not be convinced that it was anything less than necessary. Jory could not come back to the other universe with them. Harry was disconsolate. He had known he would have to leave Ron and Hermione behind, but somehow he hadn't realized that he would be losing his new serpent friend as well.
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6 December, 1992
The Beginning of the End of Albus Dumbledore
"Ah, Poppy!"
The Mediwitch startled badly, not having heard the Headmaster's approach. "Albus? What can I do for you?"
"I've been feeling a bit under the weather this morning. You wouldn't happen to have a spare pepper-up, would you?"
Poppy smiled. Even the best and the brightest of wizards, it seemed, were not immune to the common cold. "Of course," she said, bustling around her desk. "We'll have you squared away in a jiff!"
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10 December, 1992
"Can I go with you?"
For the dozenth time since she had seen Harry disappear into the secret Parseltongue passage, Hermione found herself lurking in that same alcove, unable to let the mystery of what had happened to her best friend lie. She felt vaguely silly, but here she was, recalling the sounds she had heard and making various hissing noises at the wall as she leaned on it, in the hopes that she could mimic Harry's voice closely enough to enter and discover whatever was hidden behind it. It was better than just sitting around in the Common Room and pretending she didn't care that he was planning to leave her forever in less than two short weeks.
She wasn't really expecting it to work, so it took her rather by surprise when she fell through the suddenly-permeable stone.
…
Tom was roused from finalizing the plans for his dimension-hopping ritual by a very high-pitched shriek and Bertha roaring at an intruder, before Jory came to fetch him hissing something hysterical about 'the Speaker's Mate grown backwards.' He went to investigate, and couldn't help but snigger when he realized what the young basilisk had meant.
"Hello, Hermione. What brings you to the Chamber of Secrets?"
...
After a rather long and tedious explanation, during which Tom became exceedingly grateful he hadn't met his Hermione until she was already a grown woman, it became clear that her curiosity had simply gotten the better of her. Or at least that's what Tom thought until she (quite suddenly) said, with a certain desperation, "Can – can I go with you? Harry's my only real friend!"
"Ah… wait here," Tom instructed. This was, he silently vowed, not going to become his problem. Hermione was clearly better-suited to deal with her counterpart's emotional outbursts.
…
"NO! Absolutely not!" Young Hermione cowered before her elder counterpart's ire. "You have parents who love you very much, and I will not take you away from them! You are perfectly capable of making new friends and learning magic and working to change the prejudice you so clearly hate about your new society! You have every reason to stay and make a life for yourself here! You will not abandon all that to go chasing a boy you've known for a year and a half into an entirely different universe and time, just to satisfy your obsession and curiosity. I can't believe you would even suggest something so unutterably stupid! No. You are going to go back to your room and write your parents telling them what you just tried to do – maybe it will make you think about the consequences your thoughtless request might have had!"
"But I just wanted…" the girl attempted to defend herself tearfully.
"Oh, for the love of – Hermione! You are thirteen! There will be other boys! There will be other friends! You cannot just throw yourself blindly after anyone who gives you the bloody time of day."
"He s-saved my life! I won't abandon him!"
"Okay, now you're just being melodramatic. I know it hurts, but you have to let him do what's best for him, and you have to stay here and do what's best for you as well!"
…
After seeing her younger counterpart back to the Castle proper, Hermione collapsed into a chair across from Tom. "I swear, I was never that thoughtlessly impetuous."
"Blame Gryffindor," her husband said with a straight face.
"Oh, I do. Bloody terrible influence. If ever I had any doubts I was better off in Ravenclaw…"
Tom laughed.
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13 December, 1992
Rumors of an Impending Demise
"Have you heard about the Headmaster?"
"That he was taken to St. Mungo's?"
"Wait – what? He's not sick, is he?"
"He is! My father's a healer. He says they have no idea what's wrong with him!"
"Is he going to be okay?"
"Well, not if they can't figure out why he's sick, is he?"
"Clarence! That's a horrible thing to say!"
"Well, it's true, innit?"
Snape hid a smile as he eavesdropped on the students in the Great Hall, all now eyeing the Headmaster's empty chair with trepidation. He had developed the poison himself – he was confident it would not be detected before or after the old goat's death, and when the Healers failed to find a cause, they would excuse the death as natural. Great wizard or not, Dumbledore was only human.
}{-}{-}{-}{-}{
19 December, 1992
To Freedom and the Downfall of the Enemy
:Farewell, World-Serpent! I will never forget you!: Harry was trying not to cry, and failing miserably.
:Farewell, Hatchling. I will tell the speakers of the future about you!: the young basilisk said happily, completely failing to understand why his young human friend was not happy, too. He flicked his tongue at the boy, one last time, memorizing his scent before coiling in the nest the Speaker had prepared for him.
:Sleep and grow strong,: Tom hissed, :That you may learn many things in your adventures to come.:
:Yes, Speaker!:
The hibernation magic settled over Jormungandr like the warmth of the sun, and he fell into a peaceful slumber. Tom led Harry out of the nest to find an overtly cheerful Snape waiting with Hermione in the sitting room area of the original Chamber.
He passed Tom a glass of champagne, and Hermione handed Harry a butterbeer. "The Old Goat is dead," Snape explained with what Harry might go so far as to call genuine delight on his features.
Tom gave him his most pleased smirk. "To your freedom, then."
"And the downfall of your enemies," Snape returned.
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "Boys," but she chinked her glass against theirs and drank the toast as well.
}{-}{-}{-}{-}{
21 December, 1992
Back to the Future
"How did you get here in the first place?" Hermione asked, observing Tom's preparations for their return ritual curiously. It really was just as well he had come to fetch her. She was passable at ritual magic, but certainly no expert.
"I opened the Doorway and invoked Coyote to guide me to the other half of my soul," he grinned. "And you thought doing the Marriage of Souls was a waste of time and effort."
His wife rolled her eyes. "No, I thought, and still do, actually, that it was bloody stupid to tie our lives together at such a fundamental level."
"Well, as you can see, time has proved me right," Tom said smugly. It was only the fact that they were so closely bonded that had allowed him to find his Hermione, in the infinite universes she might have disappeared to.
"Prat."
…
Sirius arrived at Riddle House promptly at noon, only too excited to leave this world behind him. "Hey, 'Mione, Tom, Harry," he said, grinning, before he noticed the fourth person, bound and gagged at the older wizard's feet. "Umm… Is that Fenrir Greyback?"
"You know him?" Harry asked, having just been introduced to the atrocities the werewolf had committed by Tom, who had been justifying the use of the man as a sacrifice to facilitate their crossing between universes.
"Everybody knows him, pup," Sirius said, pulling his godson back by the arm. "Get away from him, he's a killer and a pedophile!"
"Oh, good! So you won't mind that I'm planning to kill him?" Tom asked brightly.
"Umm…"
"Great, well, that's settled then!"
Hermione hid a smirk behind her hand. She didn't normally approve of using murder to power rituals if she could think of any other possible solution, but she would make an exception for truly horrible people. At least the worthless wolf would be useful in death.
…
"No, see, that's the clever bit – since I'm using the same sacrifice in both universes, the doors should line up perfectly. We'll step through the same time I jumped off from."
Hermione pulled Tom down by the hair into a rather desperate-looking kiss. "I love you when you're brilliant," she murmured when she finally pulled away. Harry and Sirius tried desperately to ignore their carrying-on, but failed miserably, the former very pink with embarrassment at the sight of his new parents snogging, while the latter watched with slightly more than friendly interest.
Tom caught him and winked, leading the animagus to flush just as badly as the second-year.
…
Hermione began to chant in Greek, a plea to the Powers of the Dark to open the Way Forward, to grant them a doorway. Tom's voice, lower and rougher, picked up the counterpoint, offering sacrifice to the Infernal Power, to Chaos and to Order, in exchange for their safe return to the universe in which they truly belonged.
The two-fold chant – plea and bargain, as old as the Gods of Olympus – reached a crescendo, and Tom, with a rather sadistic grin, applied a silver knife to the werewolf's neck.
Blood sprayed over the runes burnt into the dead lawn at the center of Riddle House's back garden, cleared of snow for the event. Where it fell, the runes lit briefly silver before flowing together to the center of the circle, and rising to form a misty portal.
The four joined hands to step through it, first Tom, then Harry, Sirius, and Hermione, the two who belonged in the universe they sought serving as book-ends for those who would be out of their proper place and time, ensuring the portal would not close prematurely and leave them behind. Greyback was abandoned to his fate as they walked forward as one, stepping through the misty veil of the Doorway without hesitation.
…
Frank Bryce was not pleased to find, when he returned from his holiday trip, that the young Riddle couple had vanished entirely, leaving a dead man in the garden in the middle of some bloody cultist hocus-pocus. The only good thing was, this time he had an alibi for the murder, too right! Been out of the bloody country, he had. The police, as they had in the forties, cleared him of all charges, though he was beginning to think there was something… dark about the Riddle House. Cursed, maybe, even. Perhaps it would be best to move up to town, after all.
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21 December, 2010
"So you had a good vacation, then?"
Mary Potter Universe
Mary looked dubiously at the misty silver Doorway hanging in the middle of the Black Family Ritual Room, through which Tom had vanished several long moments prior. It was all well and good, she thought, to have agreed to participate in this ritual (rather against her better judgement, she might add), but she was beginning to realize she hadn't been told exactly how it was supposed to end.
"Just wait there," he had said.
"I'll be back with Hermione," he had said.
"It'll be fine," he had said.
Well, he wasn't the one staring at an ominous curtain of mist with the cooling body of a recently-dead werewolf at his feet. He was the one who got to go on an adventure, following a Chaos-God into the Great Unknown between universes.
She sighed and took a seat on a small basalt altar-stone, wondering how long she could reasonably be expected to wait.
…
Several hours later, she woke to find the room rather more occupied than she had expected – Tom and Hermione had safely returned, along with a man who looked like a younger version of her godfather (no older than herself) and a child of eleven or twelve, with messy, dark hair and altogether too-familiar green eyes.
The boy seemed to be a bit in shock, most likely at the sight of Greyback's body lying very clearly dead before him, or perhaps at the blood spattered over the room to open the Doorway (which had, she noticed, disappeared, presumably when they returned). The Suspiciously Young Sirius-Lookalike confirmed her guess at his identity by grumbling something about blood sacrifice and this thrice-cursed place and how it was like he had never left home at all. Tom was looking at her with a well-practiced expression of reproach (perfected over years of teaching), most likely for being so déclassé as to use the altar she was still sitting on for anything so mundane as a nap. It was Hermione, though, who raced over to pull her to her feet and into a rib-crushing hug.
"I didn't get a welcome like that," Tom grumbled.
"Oh, shut up, Tom. You woke me up by falling on me out of nowhere."
Mary laughed, finding it rather reassuring that some things never changed. "Who've you brought back with you?"
Hermione flushed slightly. "Well, um… don't be mad, but we might have adopted your counterpart." Mary was fairly sure her mouth literally fell open. "Harry?" The boy came forward, only slightly hesitantly. "This is Harry James Potter Riddle."
"Without the dash," he added. "Um. Hi?"
"Hello," Mary managed, glaring over his head at Tom, who was looking altogether too innocent to be blameless.
"And we couldn't very well leave Sirius there while we took away the only person he had left to live for," Hermione continued with a winning smile. The man in question waved. Mary reluctantly waved back, before pinching the bridge of her nose in the classic Snape gesture.
"Welcome to the family?" she offered, wondering halfheartedly what this would mean for the Black family succession, or, hell, for the Potter family succession. And those would likely be the least of their problems. "Hey, Tom?"
"Yes, Mary?"
"You get to introduce Sirius to Snape. And Bellatrix. And… Other Sirius." The look on the older wizard's (newly younger?) face suggested he might not actually have given the plan of bringing extra people back much thought.
…
Hours later, after the new members of the twisted and knotted Potter/Riddle (Black) Family Tree had been introduced to the others in residence at Ancient House and given lunch and proper quarters, and left alone to sleep or have an existential crisis or whatever they liked, really, Tom and Hermione joined Mary in the library for a very strong drink.
She hardly dared to ask, but… "Is there… anything else I ought to know about your little adventure?"
"Wellll…" Tom grinned evilly. "We killed Voldemort and Dumbledore, and helped Snape escape Hogwarts, and killed the old Basilisk and replaced her with a new one."
"He also kidnapped a dragon for the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione added, when Tom paused for breath. "Remember 'Norbert?'"
Mary nodded mutely.
"Quite. And retrieved all the books that could be salvaged, so there's actually something there worth guarding. I got Hermione to go on a date with Dumbledore."
"I got Tom to quote Labyrinth."
"Hermione took the DADA post for a term. We adopted Harry, but you already know that."
"I gave your horrible aunt a scat fetish."
"You didn't tell me that!"
"It seemed appropriate, given her absurd obsession with cleanliness, and the way she treated Harry."
"I love it when you're vengeful."
"Oh! I found out that Tom's greatest desire is to destroy the world and then fight me to the death over what's left, that was fun."
"I said I'd kill you last! What more do you want from me, witch?"
Mary decided that was a good place to interrupt, as they seemed to be well and truly off topic. "So you had a good vacation, then?"
The couple met each other's eyes and shrugged.
"Pretty good, yeah," Tom agreed.
"I've had worse," Hermione smirked. "Though whether I come up with some horrible fate for Bellatrix rather depends on how much damage my absence has done to the political landscape over the past… five, six months?"
"Five. And I think Draco and I have held it together fairly well. So it's really just Harry and Padfoot Junior I need to know about?" she asked to verify, still concerned about what damage control she might have to implement as the Head of House for both families in question. "No other problems for me to deal with?"
"I stole the Philosopher's Stone, too," Tom grinned, a flash of red glinting between his fingers as he held it up to the firelight. "But I don't know that that's a problem, per se…"
Mary sighed, foreseeing many horrifying experiments in their future. "Just… try to keep each other in check? That's literally all I ask of you. Just… scrape together enough common sense between the two of you to…"
She trailed off as they fixed her with twin smirks, the unholy light of Ravenclaw in their eyes.
"Not get caught?" Tom asked.
Mary nodded reluctantly.
"That's really all you can reasonably expect," Hermione said consolingly.
"Oh, stuff it. You're just as bad as he is."
Sometimes, she found, mad-scientist cackling really did count as the last word.
[I kind of really like this ridiculously unlikely Possible Future. I may have to return to it someday, even if it does end up being an enormously out of character deviation from the end of the series. If anyone's wondering, I am still working on Mary Potter Book 3, and yes, I have been making progress! I tentatively expect to finish it over the summer, aiming to begin posting in September.]