A/N- Okay, so this is the first Fanfiction I've ever written, seeing as most of what I write is original fiction, but I thought I'd try this, seeing as I read it so often. I suppose, if you like it, please review, and I guess, if you don't, you can still review. I'm not sensitive and I don't particularly care if you have terrible things to say, but I will appreciate constructive criticism. In addition, this story is AU after the fifth book, although I might decide to use some things from the sixth and seventh book.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I definitely don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be worrying about college debts.

"This is the way the world ends/ Not with a bang but a whimper."

-T.S. Eliot "The Hollow Men"

June 1997

It was not a fitting day at all. The sun was shining brightly and the clouds were the pure, fluffy white that had always made her believe in angels. The blue of the sky rivaled even the blue of Albus Dumbledore's eyes. It really was quite a pity that he was dead. As were the Weasleys, the Patil twins, Neville Longbottom and his gran, the entire Order, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry Potter. Yes, the saviour of the wizarding world had fallen, and she had seen it happen.

Hermione took one last look at the bodies strewn across the lawn of Hogwarts, the sun shining down upon them most sacrilegiously. Then she spun quickly and apparated as far away as she could. She reappeared in the Forest of Dean and got to work immediately. She had thought it was possible that they might not win and had taken certain measures to ensure a backup plan. Everything she was about to do was illegal, as Hermione was painfully aware, but with Voldemort ruling the world, she didn't much care for legal or illegal. She pulled a large tome out of her beaded bag that was much larger on the inside than the outside. Opening it to a previously marked page, she prepared herself to say the incantation. Making sure she held tightly onto her beaded bag and the book, she waved her wand and yelled, "TEMPORAL TRANSFERUM PASSE," just as the Death Eaters apparated around her.

January 1928

Hermione appeared in a small village next to a rather large building. It was snowing and the moon was full and clear in the lovely night sky. Inside the building, she could hear a woman's screams as she underwent a particularly painful birth. Hermione transfigured her robes to fit the time period, stuffed the large tome back into the beaded purse, and walked calmly up the steps of the orphanage where Tom Riddle was currently being born. No, she was not going to kill him. She was much better than that. She was going to make sure that he got the proper home and life a child deserves, even if said child grows up to be the most powerful and evil wizard of all time.

Hermione walked into the main hall of the orphanage, knowing what would happen. Merope Gaunt, Tom Riddle's mother, would die giving birth, but not before bestowing his father's name upon him. After the screams stopped and she could hear the wailing of a child, she opened the door to the room on her right and surveyed the scene before her. An old woman was holding a child while a rather ugly woman with dark hair and uneven eyes lay dead on the floor.

"Excuse me," Hermione said softly, getting the older woman's attention. "My name is Hermione Riddle. The child you are holding is my nephew."

"Is he really?" the woman asked, seeming doubtful.

"Yes, you see, my brother had relations with this woman, not realizing they would result in pregnancy. I suppose I should say he was hoping. However, considering the present circumstances, I believe it is only right of me to take the child so that it can be raised in our home. If you wish to see any paperwork, I have documents that signify who I am and my brother's name," Hermione told her, reaching into the beaded bag at her side. As she was hoping would happen, the woman stopped her before she actually had to produce any evidence.

"No, it's fine. I believe you. It's just that it's rare that if a child is born in this orphanage, the child doesn't grow up here also. Would you like some tea while I bathe him and find him some clothes?"

"No, thank you. I would like to be going as soon as possible, though, so if you would hurry…" Hermione trailed off.

"Of course, dear. It is getting late. I understand perfectly. I'll be but a few minutes," the woman said before leaving the room with Tom. Hermione took a seat in one of the armchairs against the wall and thought for a moment. She wasn't sure what she would do if Tom Riddle Sr. refused to take care of Tom. She supposed she would have to raise him herself. She had brought quite a few galleons, enough so that she could get a flat and live comfortably until she was able to secure a job. But, raising a child? That was another matter entirely. She wondered briefly where Dumbledore was at this moment, but realized that he was still fairly young. For all she knew, he could be with Gellert Grindlewald, although she suspected he was just starting at Hogwarts. She didn't suspect he would be a whole lot of help at this time.

"Well, Miss. Here he is: Tom Marvolo Riddle," the older woman announced as she walked back into the room, startling Hermione from her thoughts. Hermione took the baby into her arms and looked down into his sleeping face. He was a baby, an innocent baby, not Lord Voldemort, and she would do whatever it took to make sure he never became Lord Voldemort.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Hermione said as she walked toward the door.

"Wait, what should I do with the mother's body?"

Hermione turned back and looked at the mother of Lord Voldemort, pity evident in her eyes. "Bury her," she replied after a moment, "And put a small headstone with the name Merope Gaunt Riddle and the inscription, 'Beloved Mother.'" The old woman nodded and Hermione left.

"Well, Tom Riddle," she said to the baby's sleeping form as she stepped onto the snow covered street, "This is the beginning of the rest of your life." Then she apparated away, arriving in the town of Little Whinging. She looked around at the houses who's windows were lit with lights and signs of celebration of the New Year could be heard on the street. Snow swirled around the gas lights along the street leading up a hill to a rather large house. Hermione held little Tom closer to her body, both for her warmth and his, and began walking towards the house on the hill. She vaguely knew what she was going to say, but she had no idea how the Riddle's were going to take it. She neared the front door and she could hear inside the sounds of a party. With a trembling hand, she knocked on the front door.

"May I help you?" a tall man dressed in a suit asked after opening the door. He had dark hair and blue eyes and was quite attractive.

"Yes, I'm looking for a Mr. Tom Riddle," she answered a little shyly. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms.

"Why don't you come in, and I'll go get my father. It's not good for the child to be in the cold for too long," he told her and turned around to leave, but she stopped him.

"Wait, aren't you also Tom Riddle?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied as he turned back to her.

"I believe you are the Tom Riddle I am looking for," Hermione told him, her heart beating wildly with fear at what she was going to have to tell him.

"Really. Now, what business do you have with me?" he questioned, stepping closer to her and looking down into her eyes.

"I- well- may we go somewhere where we may sit and talk in private?" she asked, blushing.

"Very well. Follow me," he ordered, leading her down the hall into a small sitting room. She took a seat in the chair on the far side of the room and he sat opposite her.

"Sir," she began, jiggling her leg a bit from nerves. "Do you know Merope Gaunt?" His face darkened and he scowled.

"Yes, the damn woman was obsessed with me and kept telling me she was pregnant with my child. She even told me she had used some sort of witchcraft to make me love her," he practically growled. She practically shrunk under his glare.

"Well, it was all true. This baby I hold in my arms is your son, Tom Marvolo Riddle," she told him, waiting for his anger. Instead she heard laughter.

"Wonderful prank, Miss, but that cannot possibly be true."

"Sir, it is true. Just look at him. He looks like you and I am here to beg of you, please take him in and give him a home and a father and love," she pleaded.

"No, it can't be true. That would mean that that foul woman was telling the truth about the love potion," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Well, she was. And it's very possible that this child might grow up to also be magical. But magic isn't bad. It's like a gun, the gun itself is not bad, it's the person who wields it. Please. Take him in, be a good father and raise him with love and good values so that he will grow up to be a good person. A good person does not use magic for evil," she reasoned with him, desperation evident in her voice. Riddle Sr. looked dazed as he sat there staring at the baby in Hermione's arms.

"My son," he murmured, "My own flesh and blood. What about the mother?"

"She's dead. Sir, there is no one else and he'll know who his father is, even if you don't take him in. He'll find out," Hermione warned, but it wasn't necessary, Riddle Sr. was already moving towards her and the baby.

"I want to hold him," he said, reaching out. Hermione handed him the child.

"So you'll take him?" He nodded and she continued, "Good. Love him and teach him good values. Teach him that all people are equal and everyone deserves a chance. Don't spoil him and baby him, but don't neglect him. Nurture him and help him grow into a mature young adult. When he turns eleven, a letter will come for him from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Make sure that by then he is strong and that he has the determination to do great and wonderful things. He has such potential. Help him excel in his classes until then and remember most of all, love him."

She started towards the door, intent upon showing herself out while Tom Riddle Sr. stared in awe at Tom Riddle Jr., but she was interrupted.

"Wait, what's your name?" he asked.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger," she told him, before walking out the door and making her way back to the cold January street. Once there, she pulled out her wand and whispered an incantation, "Temporal transferum avante," and she was wrapped up in a whirlwind of snow before she disappeared. From the window a tall handsome young man watched her with confusion on his face.