Ttoommyy boy
Hermione woke up with the sound of teachers talking in hushed voices all around her. It made no sense whatsoever. Why would she be surrounded by teachers just because she fainted? The only people that would be there would be Madame Pomfrey and some students wanting to skip classes, then being reprimanded for it.
“We don’t know who this girl is.” One of the voices said. Her mind was clear enough to finally understand more than just gibberish from them. Hermione recognized it as Dumbledore’s.
“What do you say happened, Tom?” Another voice asked.
She heard steps closer and closer until she finally felt another presence. If she had to guess, Tom was the same boy she had bumped into and the same one who panicked because of her fainting.
“I was making my way to my common room.” He started and Hermione couldn’t fail but notice how his voice sounded more *professional*, if that made any sense. When she was about to pass out, he sounded like any other thirteen year old, but now he sounded like the Minister of Magic. “She suddenly bumped into me. I would have let her go, but she looked sick, so I offered to take her to the infirmary. Then she passed out and I carried her all the way here. Then I went to get you, professor Dippet”
“Very good, Tom.” Probably-professor-Dippet answered.
As far as she is aware, the only Dippet that has ever been in Hogwarts had been there until nineteen sixty-four. Nineteen sixty-four… she fell asleep clenching her Time-Turner… she didn’t see Myrtle greeting her back when waking up… she didn’t recognize this Tom person. For Merlin’s sake, she knows what happened now! God only knows how many times her unconscious self turned the damn Time-Turner. It doesn’t even make sense for her to be here! Her Time-Turner is supposed to only have five hours to the past as minimum…
Thirty-six-year-old-Hermione gave her another time turner a month ago. She told her it had less limitations and it would help her way more than her normal one.
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” She had asked her older self, admiring the beautiful appearance of the one she had at hand. Unlike the others she had seen, the shape of this one resembled that of an owl, an old fashioned clock right in the middle of it. To make it go to the past, she needed to use the small button every clock has to change the time.
“Not really.” Older-Hermione shrugged at her younger self’s skepticism. “I mean, I’m still existing and I’ve used it for some time.” She pointed at a part of the clock, her nail making a clicking sound when touching it. “You can also return to the future whenever you want to. Nott made it not long ago, as far as I’m aware. I confiscated it because he could have used it for the wrong things.”
“And you decided to give it to me.”
“Exactly.”
Hermione decided it was time to open her eyes and move from the bed. The situation was becoming as bizarre as it could be and she didn’t want to see if it could be more. The moment she grunted to get in a sitting position on the bed everybody grew quiet, their attention now positioned on her.
“How are you feeling?” Dumbledore asked her. She took a moment to look at him. Dumbledore looked as old as he always has, yet he seemed younger in some sort of way. His beard was shorter and fixed with some golden decorations (a colour Hermione would never think the headmaster ever chose to wear before). His glasses appeared to be more elaborated, having way more patterns and symbols on them. For his eyes, they looked full of skepticism and distrust, a view completely new to her.
“Good.” She said after a few seconds of staring at him. When the time became too much she turned her attention to the infirmary and the other people next to her. Another man, of much more age than her, of course, was staring at her, even smiling with the warmth she got used to receiving whenever she was at Hogwarts. His appearance resembled Dumbledore’s for only a small amount of aspects. His own beard could not rival that of the headmaster’s, yet his hair could. It reached to the floor from what Hermione could make from where she rested, but she felt certain it travelled further. Dippet, Hermione thought. There is no doubt that this man is Armando Dippet.
Her attention turned to the Tom-boy. Before she passed out, she could only make out the most basic aspects of his appearance. A very neat student, one who cared for his appearance and his own persona more than anything else. Right now, however, his looks were more disheveled. Fixed hair looked messier, all the effort she could guess he had taken on grooming it gone. Another thing she noticed was how his arms trembled ever so little. A small habit she got when she saw Harry after he stayed at the Dursleys.she glanced at his tie, hanging messily through his neck. A Slytherin, she already saw before. But this one looked prettier, more worthy of being the show of a house, if that made sense. A snake she wasn’t familiar with moved from one place to another through the fabric making a small spectacle for her. Then her eyes met his. She saw worry and fear in them before he hid it away with a blink.
Dippet snapped her out of her personal thoughts with his voice. The way it rolled out of his mouth felt like a caress from her mother or like a hug from her father.
“I’m pretty sure this is the first time we see you.” He said, looking at her. Hermione nodded. “Very well, miss…”
“Locket. Rain Locket.” Couldn't she have thought of a worse alias? Probably, but that one had to do for now.
“Miss Locket, ” Dippet nodded, taking her name into account with a smile. Hermione wondered if Dumbledore had learned his own personality from this man, “would you be so kind to tell us what happened for you to end up in one of our corridors?”
No, Hermione thought to herself, I cannot do that. For everything she did and for every conversation she had had with herself, there was always this constant. Every single Hermione told her not to talk about her Time-Turner.
“But why?” She asked all of them. “You are here and it doesn’t affect the future.”
“You’re not like the others.” She always got that as an answer. “Our mind is rather different. Other people would not react that kindly to future knowledge, much less as careless as mine.”
“What do you mean with ‘careless’?”
“I’m not even supposed to be talking to you or any other version of ourselves. The Ministry would take away my Time-Turner if they were to know about it.”
All the same conversations passed through her head in a flash. All those hours and days turned into mere seconds of thinking. Hermione could not tell them that she is actually not born yet, of course not. What could she tell them instead…? She mentally cursed for not being able to make an excuse for her presence there. Why is it so hard to think when she needs it the most?
“My parents died.” The words rolled out of her mouth before she could register them. Once she registered, she winced. Well, she now had to keep going with Harry’s past. She’s sure he would’ve let her do so. “They were murdered with the Avada Kedavra.” With each word she felt more and more guilty. Yeah, Harry would understand, she knew that. But it didn’t take away the awful feeling forming in her stomach. “I was told I could find shelter here, so I… apparated?”
Hermione closed her eyes, cringing at her words and the way she said them. She was sure she’d be met with skepticism and the worst of words directed at her blatant lies. But no. Instead of that, she was met with a hug and someone patting her back. Not knowing what to do about it, she returned the hug awkwardly, only one hand surrounding the person’s back. In instinct she looked at Tom, whose eyes opened in surprise after her small telltale. The only one who reacted the way she expected was the one she expected the least to react that way. Dumbledore eyed her with caution, his whole body portraying a stance of “I don’t believe you”.
“Oh, you poor child.” Dippet said, hugging her the same way her parents would do so whenever she felt upset. “You poor, poor child. I’m sure that was a terrible thing to see.” After some more seconds of hugging her, he let go, deciding to concentrate on her last words. “And apparated? That I can’t believe!” Hermione feared for his words, her heart beating faster. At least until she saw his face covered in awe. “A young witch apparating in the place where you cannot apparate, how much of a genius must you be? Oh, Horace would love to meet you, I’m certain!”
She blushed at the words. They were directed to her apparent “genius”. Not even Dumbledore could hide some surprise after Dippet’s recognizement of her abilities, although it quickly turned back to distrust. As weird as it was, Hermione was getting used to this Dumbledore fairly easily. It felt as if this is the person he really is, not the kind, old man she met.
“Why has someone of her genius, as you say, Armando, not gotten her own letter for Hogwarts, then?”
“Because mistakes can be made, Albus.” Dippet replied to him, the smile never wavering but his eyes doing so. “Have I to remind you of last year’s situation with young Taylor? There is a reason as to why our welcoming fest and the Sorting Ceremony are celebrated within a week of difference, and it is for any situation like this.”
Aren’t both of them on the same day?, Hermione thought to herself. Apparently no, there once was a time when mistakes were made and ceremonies happened within an understandable amount of time.
“How old are you, dear?”
“Thirteen.”
“Thirteen, for Merlin’s sake!” Dumbledore exclaimed, standing up to walk besides Dippet. “When has there been a student in Hogwarts that hasn’t been here since he or she was eleven?”
“There is always a first for something, Albus. I’m guessing this is our first for this situation.” The more they both spoke the more Hermione noticed how different Dumbledore acted. It made her feel awkward, knowing that the man who gifted her and her friends points to Gryffindor once was this kind of asshole. Dippet directed his attention to Tom. “Tom, would you be so kind as to get Miss Locket to the Room of the Unchosen?”
Tom nodded, using a mere hum to accompany the positive answer. He waited until Hermione got off the infirmary bed to start walking away. She mentally cursed at him for only walking away until she reached the door, noticing how he waited for her there before walking at a slower pace, one she could follow with more ease.
*****
They both walked in silence, the only sound being a ghost that came once in a while or an owl going from one common room to the other. As much as she hated to admit, Hermione seemed to hate silence. The feeling of just walking besides someone while doing absolutely nothing else made her feel awkward. Before she did something about it, Tom talked first.
“You really apparated?” His voice sounded laced with skepticism, although it also had a higher amount of amazement.
“Uhh, yeah. I sure hope I did.” She answered, her hand traveling to fidget with the Time-Turner as she got used to doing. Panic arose when her fingers touched only her bare neck.
“Sorry.” Tom stopped walking. He started searching in the pockets of his uniform. After a few seconds of mutual embarrassment he finally pulled out what Hermione looked for: her Time-Turner. “I thought it might have been dangerous if you had it on while unconscious.” He handed it to her, surprised at the speed she took it back and put it on. “Uhh, is it a family heirloom?”
“More or less.”
They both fell prey to the same silence once more. Hermione decided to be against it, so she now started the conversation.
“How old are you?”
Once the question came out of her mouth she realized how she was indirectly guiding the conversation to be more mundane than talking about the weather. Nothing beats silence unless it is small talk.
Apparently Tom thought the same thing. When she saw him, he stayed silent for some time before answering in a quiet voice.
“Thirteen.”
Silence would fall again if neither spoke, but there was no way to make this dull conversation work, no matter how hard they tried. It was only a matter of accepting the inevitable with enough pride to be able to move on without having to remember the awkward encounter.
Tom started walking again, this time at a faster pace. It catched Hermione off, but she quickly got used to it. Once again, their small odyssey fell into an incurable silence. By now, Hermione could easily hear the way her shoes clacked against the stone, the way the windows opened and closed with the wind and the way Tom walked faster to get done with the task Dippet gave him. With one last try, she talked once more.
“Nice tie. What snake is that?” She pointed out, expecting to be met with an awkward answer. Instead, she was suddenly tackled with the most details of a snake she’s ever heard of.
“It’s a green tree python, although it is scientifically known as the chondropython viridis.” Hermione nodded for him to continue talking, finally finding a topic to fill the silence with, even if she spoke none. “They live in Australia, New Guinea and the Dutch East Indies. When they reach adulthood, they turn green, although they are born yellow or maroon. There are males that keep some hints of those colours, though. When I was ten I talked to one. It got lost, somehow. I guess it was from a zoo and escaped. It’s a pretty nice snake.”
Hermione nodded, listening to every word he said. It was pretty interesting, although she wouldn’t have thought of the boy to be a snake-lover. Then again, he’s a Slytherin.
“You talked to one?” She questioned, focusing on the last thing he mentioned rather than remembering the rest. “Are you a parselmouth?”
Tom looked at her, directly in her eye. The pleasant ambience they managed to make vanished in an instant, being replaced by tension.
“Yeah, I’m a parselmouth. And?”
This could go downhill if she didn’t do something about it. She had to think fast.
“No! It’s just, I find it interesting, you know?” Hermione muttered, the same nerves she felt when lying about her family returning. “Being able to talk to snakes… and communicating with them… Did you ever gossip with snakes?” Way to go, Hermione. You just asked a boy you just met if he ever gossiped with snakes even when you know being a parselmouth has always been an issue in the magic world.
“I mean…” She turned at him, watching his expression. Instead of the whatever negative reaction she expected, Tom only looked… confused. “... sometimes? They don’t say very interesting things around here.”
“Okay, that’s neat. Wait, really? I thought snakes would have more to gossip about in a castle full of teenagers.”
“I would have thought the same.” Tom chuckled, seeming more at ease now that he knew Hermione would not be rude about his ‘ability’. “Apparently, snakes believe that I find more interesting the latest breakup within centaurs rather than my own kind.”
Hermione’s dreams came true in those seconds. From a rather closed-off and awkward teenager around her age she managed to make a casual conversation blossom with information that was not of her interest yet made a good conversation topic. When she realized, they both were in front of what she thought would be the Room of the Unchosen.
“Hey,” with a playful nudge she called his attention. Apparently this small conversation managed to get them into friendly terms, “what’s your name?”
“Tom?”
“Tooooom what? I’m pretty sure you have a last name.”
Tom rolled his eyes, a playful grin appearing in his face.
“Tom Riddle.”