Greyline

September 2nd, 1944. 12:01 am. 

Hermione woke to darkness and muffled talking. She groaned quietly, clutching at her head to stop the spinning she was feeling. She didn't think she was still falling though, her body felt motionless and cushioned.

Her eyes cracked open, eyelashes brushing against soft grass as she blinked away her headache. She cataloged the lack of weight on her left arm, and how everything had just gone quiet. She wondered who had her wand and tried a silent accio for it. 

It didn’t come flying to her. She lifted her head slightly to look around and as she did a warm hand wrapped around her shoulder and flipped her over to face the night sky. Malfoy’s face loomed over hers. 

Hermione took note of the pink tint of his cheeks and how his teeth were slightly bared. Tiny pieces of blond hair fell into his eyes as he glared down at her. She stared at him, still feeling dazed and vaguely thought he looked ghostly covered in silver moonlight and she questioned exactly how hard she had landed. 

Malfoy broke her stream of thoughts with a rough jerk on her shoulder. “Don’t even try for it. What the fuck did you do, Granger!” It wasn’t a question. He grabbed her other arm and shook her two times in quick succession.

“What.” Another shake. “Did.” His fingers pressed deep into her skin. “You.” He brought his face closer to hers, anger overtaking his irises and blowing them black. “Do.” 

Malfoy’s anger riled her own up. Hermione glared back at him, scowling. “Let me go, Malfoy!” She stretched her neck up, about to headbut him. 

His lips closed in a thin line and he stared down at her in silence. Something seemed to be warring within him as he gripped her even tighter and then relaxed his hold altogether. She looked at him pointedly. He shook his head and rolled his eyes away from her in annoyance, releasing her arms quickly. Her skin burned where he had touched her. 

Hermione sat up and rubbed at her arms, shooting off another glare up at Malfoy. He was still in close proximity, standing at her feet and looking at her with barely concealed contempt. She glanced away from him to look around. Her eyes fell on Nott’s curled up form a few feet away. 

Nott looked peacefully asleep, his features relaxed for once. She briefly thought this was how he should always look, serene and at peace. But something felt hollow in her stomach at the thought of never seeing that wicked smile of his again, or hearing a smart remark fall from his lips. It didn’t seem right that someone so full of life was laying on the ground next to her unmoving and as still as a corpse. 

She looked up at Malfoy, the question clear on her face but she was still weary of voicing her concerns or jumping up to check on the slytherin.  

“He won’t wake up. I did a diagnostic spell, which came back normal and tried a rennervate on him.” His jaw clenched as he looked at his friend. “It didn't work, but he’s alive.”  

Hermione wondered what Malfoy would look like in the same situation and if she would feel the same stabbing remorse thinking of his life as she did Nott’s. The memory from sixth year played again and she remembered the odd feeling in her stomach, twisting and pulling when she thought of what his life might be like. She realized she didn’t know much about either boy anymore; besides the obvious temperamental problems and emotional magic of Malfoy. 

Malfoy’s gaze dragged back to hers, looking her over in what she thought was a perusing way. His anger seemed to subside as he stared at her, but only minutely. She could tell he was being very careful to control his breathing. She glanced back at Nott, uneasy with Malfoy’s attention. 

“Do you even know where we are?” Malfoy laughed sarcastically. “You brought us to Hogwarts. I’d assume the Dark Lord has already been told of our crashing through the wards.” 

Hermione went cold and still at his words. She looked around carefully and squinted her eyes at the dark shapes surrounding them in the sky. Indeed, they were in the middle of Hogwarts quidditch pitch. Her heart started thrumming faster, with fear or adrenaline she couldn’t tell. The gears in her mind started spinning. The galleon in her pocket felt suddenly cold and she knew in her heart she would not feel its warmth again. 

What you have to do. 

Had the time chamber known what she was thinking as she reached out to that silver thread? That going back to change their infiltration of the ministry would be pointless and she had thought of going back to… before? Her heart seemed to skip a beat with the possibility. 

Taking a deep breath she steadied herself before rising to her feet. “I don't…” Her voice was quiet as she addressed Malfoy. He stared at her, eyes narrowed. Hermione took another breath, gaining her courage and spoke again. 

“I don’t know if we’re at our Hogwarts. In the Time Chamber my mind…” She trailed off glancing away, not ready to admit she had failed in her occlumency. 

“My thoughts felt hazy and I kept having memories of going back in time, so, then I thought about going a lot farther back… back before certain events occurred.” She braced herself, looking again at Malfoy for his reaction. 

Malfoy stood frozen, his face pale and cold again, no longer any hint of his brash anger from earlier in his eyes. Hermione would wager he was shocked, for once. Or occluding from the shock of her words. 

She realized how close she was to him and took a few steps back, in case he lost that frigid air around him. He turned away from her to walk where Nott lay, still unconscious, and drew his wand. 

“Rennervate.” Nott didn’t stir.

“Rennervate.” There was a bite to Malfoy’s voice that made her heart seize up. 

“Rennervate!” Malfoy said the spell with such ferocity, whipping around to point his wand at her when it did nothing to wake Nott. 

She stood still, meeting his resentful gaze and taking it with stride. She lifted her chin in indignation. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You two were the ones who grabbed onto me! I - ” She stopped her retort, snapping her mouth shut when a light showed up in the distance behind Malfoy. 

“I think we have company.” Hermione said instead, forcing her own anger down and letting a wave of nervousness wash down her body. 

Malfoy turned around, following her line of sight to where a small group of lights were coming their way. She counted at least five wands all producing a bright lumos. She shot a look at Malfoy, gauging his reaction. His eyes were narrowed again, analyzing the situation.

He stepped back closer to Nott and kept his wand at his side, not quite holding it up but not letting it fall totally. 

“Will you give me my wand back?” She asked. 

The group was steadily gaining ground, and she was feeling very on edge. Malfoy shot her a glance that she couldn’t read, his face stoic and smooth as marble. 

She realized she was meeting Death Eater in front of Voldemort Malfoy and that he didn’t quite believe they could have possibly traveled back in time. He was shutting down and slipping on his proverbial mask. She wondered why he hadn’t cast a incarcerous on her or some sort of immobilizing spell. He didn’t respond to her request, just looked between her and the group getting closer. 

He tossed her wand at her so quickly she almost didn’t see it, but she caught the vinewood piece and felt her magic rush through it the moment her fingers wrapped around the familiar carvings. 

“Don’t make me regret that, Granger.” He didn’t look at her. 

She didn’t say anything back and turned to squint at the faces of the group now less than thirty feet away. Her muscles tensed as she gripped her wand tighter and she felt her throat go dry. 

She recognized the feeling of anticipation, like hanging from a precipice, knowing that these next few minutes would mean everything. She couldn’t begin to make sense of Malfoy’s emotions but she understood either the trust it took for him to give her wand back or the faith he had in his own capabilities against her. 

“Who goes there! Stand down and drop your wands!” A semi-elderly voice called out to them. 

Hermione did not recognize it. She looked over at Malfoy for confirmation of the same thought. He was already staring at her, the answer in the way he wasn’t immediately on edge. 

Hermione closed her eyes and felt the magic permeating the air for any familiarity. She was used to Malfoy’s by now, after years of school together, recognizing what felt like tendrils of light and dark sliding against each other and waiting to get out. She tuned him out, focusing on any other magic she could feel. 

There was something, she thought. Something subtle and reaching. Magic that seemed to float along the bottom of the ground, sweeping and moving back and forth before coming to rise up behind her. Hermione couldn’t feel it's intention and she didn’t feel as if she were in danger but her eyes flew open and she twisted to check, to make sure that presence wasn't really there. 

Her movement set off a series of events. 

A large gust of wind knocked both her and Malfoy to their knees, their wands flying out of their hands as they landed. It was a powerful summoning spell, giving no chance to try and keep their magical counterparts. Light filled the small area surrounding them as floating lanterns appeared here and there in the air. Hermione turned her head to speak and as soon as she did she was hit with an immobilizing and silencing spell. 

A younger and alive Albus Dumbledore stepped into their little circle of light, his auburn beard shining bright red from the tiny fires reflecting in the lanterns glass. His face was much less wrinkled than the last time she had seen him… and to see Dumbledore alive. Hermione wagered her mouth would have dropped open if she could move. Instead, salty tears leaked down her face. 

She still had the book he had given to her in his will. The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It lay carefully enclosed in a preservation charm in her beaded bag. 

Here he stood not even three months after his death and seeing him in his prime had Hermione choking back a sob of grief. Would coming back here change his death or had he always been destined to live and die the way he had. The thoughts pervaded in her mind. 

She wondered what Malfoy was looking like this instant too, and if he had been immobilized and silenced as well. She was sure he was shocked to see the man he was tasked to kill, alive and well. Hermione stilled her gaze from roaming Dumbledore’s familiar, yet not, face to meeting his eyes. They still held that twinkle, she noted, as he glanced up towards the stars and back at her and Malfoy. 

“How curious, Armando.” His voice was still that weathered tone, just two octaves higher. 

The man he addressed, Armando, stepped forth into the light as well, flanked by a studious looking elder witch with a tight updo of silver hair. Hermione peered into where the lanterns faded into darkness again, seeing two more outlines of another witch and wizard. 

She ran through her knowledge of Hogwarts history and recognized Armando as the Headmaster before Dumbledore and the woman beside him as Professor Merrythought, the current teacher of defense against the dark arts. 

“Get on with it, Albus. I’m in no mood for your riddles tonight.” Headmaster Dippet grumbled as he surveyed the young people before him. 

“The way the stars are positioned…” Dumbledore mused, stroking at his beard. “It is curious we have three visitors on a night that the hunter’s belt is so clear.” 

“Visitors? How can you be sure they are visitors?” Professor Merrythought questioned, her wand aimed at Hermione and Malfoy. 

Dippet, at the same time, threw his hands in the air and motioned towards her and Malfoy. “Visitors? These are still obviously children!” 

“Why don’t we ask them who they are?” Dumbledore countered. He waved his hand and the spells lifted, but he did not return their wands. He gestured to Nott. “Madam Blainey, would you be ever so kind enough to check over the young man on the ground please.” 

She was grateful for how this was turning out and Dumbledore’s odd trusting in the ways of Hogwarts magic. Obviously he sensed something that made him trust they were not here to harm anyone and she deliberated on if he could possibly have wards of his own attached to the school, alerting him of true intentions. The Headmaster did not seem nearly concerned enough. 

Hermione turned to look at Malfoy the moment she was free, who was already on his feet and staring down Dumbledore with a detached look. She noticed him stiffening slightly when Nott was mentioned but he made no move when the other witch from the shadows stepped forward and headed towards Nott.

Hermione stood as well, watching the medi-witch curiously as she approached Malfoy and stepped cautiously around him. Malfoy didn’t spare her a glance, still eyeing their old professor with a steadiness she wished she felt. 

Dumbledore smiled brightly at them, motioning towards the castle. “I’ll go first. I am Albus Dumdledore and this is Headmaster Armando Dippet and Professor Merrythought. What brings you to Hogwarts in the late hours of the night?” 

His eyes pierced hers suddenly, bringing forth the image of the Time Chamber as he looked at her. Just because he was acting cordial did not mean he was not curious about their arrival here. 

Hermione winced and shut her mental gates sharply, putting a hand to her head. She saw Malfoy twitch beside her. One of them needed to speak, and her mind was running through all the possibilities of what to say. They couldn’t reveal much of anything, risking changing the timeline too much. Dumbledore was already drawing memories from her mind and she fought hard to smother the ones of his death from surfacing. 

She thought about this for a moment, nibbling on her lip. Was that not her motive though? To change the timeline? She needed to know what year they had landed in exactly and go from there. 

Too much could go awry if she didn’t know what events had already taken place. She had not prepared for this but her memory and knowledge of wizarding history was astute, after spending countless long evenings draped over old books and consuming as much magical culture as she could to try and fit in. 

Her heart panged at the thought of her younger self but she shoved the feeling down, deep and far away from where she currently was. She focused back on Dumbledore's question and how to answer. 

Malfoy spoke before she did, addressing Dumbledore. His words were tight and measured, leaving no room for misinterpretation. 

“We will speak with you, and only you, in a private setting. You can keep our wands as a sign of good faith until you deem us safe.” He walked closer to the group, standing nearly eye to eye with their old Headmaster. He glanced back at Nott. 

“Your medi-witch will continue to tend to him.” Malfoy met Dumbledore’s pondering stare. “And you will have our cooperation and word that we will cause no harm.” 

Hermione stayed silent, letting Malfoy’s words settle over the group. 

Dippet and Merrythought were looking at each other as if in conversation, eyes bouncing between the professor and Malfoy and back to each other. Dippet looked tired, as if dealing with this situation was not on the top of his to-do list but rather a requirement of his duty. She supposed it was and briefly wondered if he had not solidified the wards enough and that’s why they were able to crash through. And why he was not terribly hostile towards them, trusting Dumbledore to lead the conversation. 

She looked back at Dumbledore who was contemplating Malfoy’s offer. She silently urged him to take it. Talking with him in private was the best chance they would get to think of something on the way and ensure minimal damage to who knew what. And Malfoy seemed like he would tolerate working with her to figure something out.

“If I may, Professor.” 

Hermione had nearly forgotten about the other wizard in the shadows.

Her eyes snapped up to where a young man, not far if at all from her and Malfoy’s age, stepped into the light. The faint glow of the lanterns cast dark shadows on his pale face, dancing with the sharp contours of his jawline and cheekbones. His gaze seemed to absorb the light from the stars, leaving two black pools of infinity sliding between her and Malfoy. 

She immediately bristled and opened her mouth to tell him off, not caring for his confident demeanor. 

Her eyes observed the head boy badge pinned to his robes and she found herself even angrier that a student was trying to interject on Malfoy’s offer. Dumbledore didn’t seem that enthused with the boy either, giving him a barely there frown. 

Hermione had always been a little bit officious and seeing the plan that was starting to form spiral into pieces made her want to curse the boy. She couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying right now than replicating one of Ginny Weasley’s infamous bat-bogey hexes.

“Why yes, Tom! Do go on.” Dippet disregarded the stern look Dumbledore gave him, either oblivious to it or not caring. 

It was obvious to Hermione that there was some sort of power play between the two wizards. She mentally flipped through her history books trying to place when Dumbledore would take over as Headmaster. She frowned slightly, matching her former professor's expression. They had traveled quite a ways back if she had remembered her dates correctly. 

Tom

Hermione back tracked from her thoughts to what Dippet had just said. It was such a simple name. 

Tom 

Her eyes flitted over the student again. Tom.Head Boy. She squinted to make out anything else on him, as shadows draped across his body. He raised his hand to gesture towards the medi-witch and Nott. Hermione felt her blood turn to ice as an unnatural chill swept down her body. His ring. She almost let out a hysterical laugh, thinking that it was such a tiny thing to notice. But it was the same gold metal and black stone Harry had described in his vision. His horcrux. 

Looking at it and then back at his face she could almost feel the same magic she did earlier, sweeping and sliding back and forth. Like it was waiting to strike. 

She took a step back from the group and glanced at Malfoy, trying to convey her panic. He wasn’t paying attention to her, his eyes locked with Tom’s. Malfoy was clearly annoyed with his interruption, his wand hand twitching. 

Hermione did the math quickly, flashing back to a small section of her updated copy of Hogwarts: A History. 

“Headmaster Armando Dippet had seen many bright pupils pass through Hogwarts halls, the Head Boy during the school year of 1944-45 standing out. Tom Riddle, a studious and over-achieving young man with more O.W.L classes than any other student dared to take on.” 

She recounted her twelve year old self reading over the last line again and again, and the words she had imagined that would be written about her when she would become the first Head student to achieve as many O.W.L’s or more as Tom Riddle had. 

The devastation she had felt in second year when Harry grabbed her quill from her hand and had written out the letters that were shown to him in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Marvolo Riddle. 

I am Lord Voldemort. 

She had likened herself to him once. Studious and bright. Over-achieving and a stand-out. 

Hermione was peaky, perceiving so many thoughts at once and so quickly. She felt her vision distort and blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the developing black spots. 

She looked up at the starry night sky for clarity, the peaceful image interrupted by a soft and deep timbre.

He was speaking again.

Hermione had never heard such a polite tone of voice before. It reminded her of Umbridge’s prim and proper effect, the honey catching the fly. The woman’s cheshire grin and pink frills blazed to the forefront of her mind. 

“Our visitors seem a bit unwell, Professor. Perhaps it would be hospitable of us to escort them to the hospital wing for further evaluation.” Tom spoke his words carefully, as if he were hesitant to bring up the idea. 

She met his gaze as she tilted her head from the sky. She knew it was him. A burst of crazy fearlessness washed over her and she looked away as if he were nothing but an irritant. She turned to Dumbledore instead, shooting a withering look at Malfoy as she did. Stay quiet and let me finish this she thought. 

“No.”

Her voice didn’t waver as she spoke her first word to Dumbledore since seeing him. He was the only one that mattered right now and she couldn’t be bothered with trying to address the other adults. 

“We will talk with you right now while the medi-witch tends to our friend. Please lead the way.” Hermione felt breathless taking charge, staring into Dumbledore’s humorous blue eyes. 

He nodded at her, sweeping his wise gaze back at Malfoy and across to Dippet and Merrythought. “Let us continue this conversation in my office. Armando, if you will agree?” 

Dippet sighed a long, low sound that made it clear to Hermione she was right in her previous appraisal. Dumbledore held more sway over the Headmaster than anyone else. He gestured to the castle and addressed the person she was trying to ignore for the moment. 

“Mr. Riddle, you can head back to your rooms for tonight. I apologize for bringing you out here at this time of night unnecessarily. Thank you for coming so quickly. I trust you can keep this event to yourself until it and our visitors are sorted out.” Dippet casually confirmed her suspicions in a tired voice that didn’t match the severity of what he just said. 

She thanked whatever force that made up Time. For bringing her to where she asked to be, in a way, and for Dumbledore's uncanny sense of strange yet important happenings. She would smother the man in a hug when she had the chance. 

Hermione glanced at Riddle. He was quietly staring at Dippet, seeming to measure his words before he dipped his head in a nod of respect. 

“Of course, Headmaster.” His agreement was just a murmur and he inclined his head towards Dumbledore and Merrythought as well. “Goodnight, Professors.” 

His dark gaze swept past Hermione to Malfoy and back. “I look forward to meeting you both again under better circumstances.” His lips curled up slightly. He glanced at Nott. “Your friend will be in good hands as well.” 

He gave a formal smile and brandished his wand, lighting the end of it with a silent lumos. “Madam Blainey, please let me escort you and your ward to the infirmary since it is on my way to the head dorms.” Riddle turned towards the woman. 

Dippet looked pleased with his student while Dumbledore studied him closely. Hermione did not like the look. 

His words were met with no rejection, though, and the matron of healing agreed, casting a stasis and levitating charm on Nott. Hermione turned to Malfoy who looked thrown off by the other boy's suggestion. The stars were dimming in the sky, making his appearance seem more pale and unsteady. He did not try to stop the pair as they started on the path towards the castle, Nott floating behind them. 

He turned to her, blanketing his pewter gaze over the remaining lot before looking at her again. 

“I don’t like him and I don't trust him.” He muttered.

“I don’t trust him either.” She replied back, too low for the teachers to hear. 

She didn’t voice that she felt Riddle had ulterior motives for escorting the witch and Nott to the infirmary. Their conversation with Dumbledore needed to be quick and efficient and she wanted to be near Nott when he woke. If he awoke. 

Dumbledore vanished the lanterns, plunging them into brief darkness as the moon and stars had waned. His wand appeared, lit and held up near his face. Hermione had the sudden memory of him laying on the courtyard ground, surrounded by hundreds of students with their wands raised high in the sky. All lit in his honor. 

The vividness of her memories had not stopped since the Time Chamber and she wondered how much longer they would last, or if they would all turn out to be premonitions of what was to come. 

Dippet motioned for them to follow him, his own wand held up. Merrythought and Dumbledore took up the back of their group, murmuring in soft tones. 

As they walked up the path towards the castle Hermione reflected on three things. 

One, it all came crashing down and felt surreal that she was back at Hogwarts and trapped in the past without Harry and Ron. Her heart clenched at the thought. 

Two, Malfoy and her had seemed to come to a silent understanding of working together for the better. She could only speculate how long his alliance would last to her. 

And three, that perhaps the most satisfying spell she could have cursed Riddle with, would have been an unforgivable.