For the past week, Hermione has been within the confines of the Library and the Room of Requirement, studying for her final exam and brewing the Felix Felicis potion, most commonly known as Liquid Luck.
It had been an atrocious surprise for her, when she read it would take her six months to brew it. She couldn't possibly have that time, Dumbledore could be dead by then. But she didn't have any other option for now. Rumours were going around the castle that Dumbledore's sister was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts' teacher, causing a few students to peek through the windows or doors of the classroom, to take a good look at her. It didn't surprise Hermione at all when Penelope told her some Ravenclaw and Gryffindor seventh year' students took a fancy for Ariana Dumbledore; the woman was strikingly beautiful, despite her actual age.
She hasn't gotten the opportunity to talk to Dumbledore again; both were always very busy. However, the brunette would occasionally sight him on the corridors, but upon calling for him, Dumbledore would avoid her, disappearing down the hallways without a trace.
"Hermione –Are you listening?"
Hermione snapped out of her thoughts, giving Penelope a slightly confused look. The blonde sighed, realizing she had been talking to herself the whole time.
"I was telling you that Charlus Pott—oh!" She squealed slightly, adjusting her robes as she stole a quick glance behind Hermione. "He's coming this way."
But before Hermione could say anything, a boy wearing Gryffindor robes sat down, smiling widely at Penelope, who was blushing madly. "Lockhart," He smiled, "Long time no see. I never properly thanked you for saving me last year...so thank you, I guess."
Hermione shrugged. "Oh I wouldn't want anything to happen to Harry—I mean y-you..."
Charlus was sitting beside Hermione with his mouth half-open, staring absently at the teacher's high table, as though in thought. Penelope was munching on her cereal, staring back and forth between them with a furrowed brow. "So have you two met before?" She asked, motioning between them with her spoon.
"We have," Said Charlus, setting his glare on Hermione. "On the train last year. Speaking of, I've been meaning to ask you who that Harry boy is. You said I reminded you of him? And now you said that too..."
Hermione looked deeply troubled now, taking a long sip of her nearly finished pumpkin juice as she eyed Penelope as though screaming for help. The blonde gave her a confused look in return, lowering her glare to her breakfast instead.
"Er...Well, he was my friend you see." Said Hermione. "And you look like him. The jet black hair, the eyes, though yours are darker-" She reached out a hand to touch his rounded glasses, smiling slightly. "- Even the glasses."
"What was he like? His personality, I mean?"
"A true Gryffindor," her smile widened as she recalled all memories of her best friend, even though she frowned slightly at the blur of the most recent ones. "He would belong in Gryffindor, I don't doubt it. He is cunning too, brave and sometimes mischievous, a part he got from his father."
Charlus laughed lowly. "Sounds more like Fleamont, my brother."
"You have a brother?" both Ravenclaw girls asked.
"Err—yes?" Charlus said, casting them a weird look. He glanced at the Gryffindor table, scanning it with his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips when settling on a particular Gryffindor. He lifted his hand, pointing at the boy who was sat in between two girls. "There. That's him."
Fleamont Potter was going through the pages of his Potion's book, studying each word attentively before taking a bite on his croissant. A red haired girl was sitting on his left, drooling over his stunningly perfect features timidly, averting her eyes whenever he would glance at her.
"Who is that? That girl?" Asked Hermione curiously.
"Euphemia Mason." Chuckled Charlus. "She's had a fancy on my brother since first year. Asking me to give him letters and presents...Kind of annoying really."
Charlus had been right. Fleamont was the spitting image of Harry, and Hermione got to the conclusion that maybe he was Harry's grandfather, not Charlus.
"Wants to invent a potion, my brother. Quite the dreamer he is."
♡
Later that day, Hermione was making her usual route toward the seventh floor, where the Room of Requirement would be located, waiting for her. She has been feeling slightly lightheaded lately and it has been proven difficult for her to recall some memories from her time. It was something she wanted to discuss with Dumbledore as well, when given the opportunity. But she had blamed it on the stress and the year she had been in a coma.
Hermione ascended the stairs slowly, turning left on the dimly lit corridor. She had the sickening feeling someone had been following her in the pit of her stomach, driving her slightly paranoid as she took several glances over her shoulder. She stopped in front of the familiar brick wall, closing her eyes as she paced back and forth, focusing hard on how much she needed to continue brewing her potion. There was a sudden rustling sound, followed by the low sigh of relief coming from her mouth. But her smile quickly changed to a frown upon hearing footsteps behind her, and a familiar voice drawling near her ear.
"Now, now Miss LockHart. What do you think you're doing?"
She faced his dark eyes, gulping at his sudden arrival. Tom was smirking almost mischievously at her, his eyebrow raised in a mocking way. Her fear and feeling of being followed was confirmed as she took in his elegant figure.
"I- I was-" He tilted his head slightly to the side, his Head Boy badge shining perfectly on his chest. "I needed a calm place to study, the Library was filled."
"I was just in the Library," He started, watching Hermione crumble slightly before him, her brown eyes widening ever so slightly, in fear he had caught her lie. "And you're quite right LockHart, those lousy Gryffindors wouldn't shut up about the upcoming Quidditch match."
She swallowed her inner Gryffindor pride, nodding her head in agreement as she sighed in relief under her breath. Tom glanced at the enormous door behind her curiously, taking a long stride toward it and gripping the handle. He glanced back at her, not saying anything and opened the door, leading the way toward a blue and silver couch by the fireplace. Hermione stared at the caldron by the far left apprehensively, praying he wouldn't see it.
"I'm sure you can agree it has been a while since we have properly spoken," began Tom, his eyes glued to the blue flames. He grabbed his wand, changing them to a bright green with a small flick of his wrist, his lips twitching upwards. "I've been meaning to discuss some matters with you."
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she faced him. His pale skin contrasted beautifully against the green flames, making him even more ravishingly handsome.
"This matters ..." repeated Riddle. His dark eyes darting around the room as he studied it. "Have something to do with that particular Divination class, just last year."
"Divination class? I can't recall it."
Hermione waited, but Tom settled his penetrating gaze on her, so she went on, "Riddle, I ask of you to forget that. Professor Trelawney is a bit – how should I put it? Er-"
"Mad?" Tom was smirking. She nodded her head slightly, cowering under his intense glare. He adjusted his position on the sofa, fidgeting absentmindedly with his fingers. Hermione noticed that where once laid Marvolo's Ring, now was just bare skin.
"What happened to the ring?" She blurted, regretting the words that left her mouth. She expected him to cast her a cold, spine-chilling glare, snapping his wand at her neck for being an insufferable nosy girl. But much to her relief and astonishment, Tom simply smirked.
"I was under the impression that I was the one asking the questions here?" He tilted his head slightly, a small hint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he watched her shift uncomfortably in her position. "But if you must know, it's secure."
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed and she too glanced at thegreen flames in thought, mesmerized by the way they interlaced together, following a rhythm of their own, resembling a very romantic dance between a loving couple.
It had turned to October just a couple of days ago, Hogwarts was becoming colder rapidly; old brown and orange leaves were beginning to fall, pilling on the grounds for there was no caretaker yet to take care of it. Pringle's disappearance had been quite the rumour while Hermione was in her dream-like state. The Headmaster had closed off the case by officially stating he had been attacked and probably eaten by werewolves, which Hermione knew wasn't true, but accepted not to dwell on it. She just wanted to forget.
"I've seen your memories, LockHart" said Riddle, snapping her out of her thoughts. "You cannot lie to me. So tell me, why did you travel here?"
It was true, he had seen them. But not all of them, not the important ones, which means he doesn't know who the Dark Wizard he saw was, he didn't and couldn't possibly know the real reason why she was sent back in time.
"My friends, they caught a hold of the last Time Turner. They sent me here." She lied.
That sentence seemed to pulse through Tom's mind as he stared intensely at her. She avoided his eyes, afraid he'd travel through her thoughts and memories again against her will. "They sent me here to protect me, from that Wizard you saw. That's why I'm here. That's the real reason."
He watched her guardedly as she stood from her seat, wandering around the room and stopping by a book shelf, tracing her fingers on the leathered books as she walked. There was a slight sound of a door closing and when Hermione snapped her head back to inspect, Tom was gone.
After spending the rest of the day around her books and the caldron, Hermione walked out the Room of Requirement, watching blankly as the doors disappeared before her eyes. She didn't know how she felt about lying to Tom, but she certainly couldn't tell him the truth. She walked through the dark corridors, occasionally passing by a few students, who would give her confused looks. As she chose the corridor that would lead her to the Ravenclaw Tower, Hermione saw a figure down the hall, his back was turned to her as he talked to the Headmaster. The auburn hair gave his identity away and Hermione quickly dashed toward him, smiling slightly as she saw Dumbledore biding goodbye to Dippet and part ways with him.
"Professor Dumbledore," She called, her pace had quickened. The man continued walking, turning left at the end of the hall. "Professor Dumbledore, please."
She started running, frustrated tears welling up in her eyes. Her Ravenclaw robes were flying behind her as she turned the same direction he took, a sigh of relief escaping her as she saw him standing not too far from her, eyeing her assertively, as though waiting for her approach.
"Miss LockHart, if you will." He said, opening the door to his office and urging her inside. Hermione obeyed, entering the room and sitting down on a chair at his desk. Dumbledore sat facing her, crossing his hands in front of him. He eyed her through his half-moon spectacles, a small frown adorning his lips. "I believe that what you wish to talk to me has something to do with your time traveling?"
"Yes, " She nodded. "I've been feeling light headed lately and I can't recall some memories. It's like they're disappearing. I'm concerned."
Dumbledore nodded his head, his expression showing her he knew she'd say that. "Time is the magic that allows to sequence events from the past through the present into the future. Meddling with it has severe consequences. You must understand Miss Lockhart that you cannot possibly exist in two different times."
"No," she said sadly, "What are you trying to say professor? That I will disappear in the future?"
She looked nervous even saying it.
"I believe so Miss Lockhart, what you are experiencing is simply Time catching up to you. If you are here, you cannot exist in your Era." said Dumbledore heavily, slumping back in his chair. "There will come a time you won't remember anything about your future self and those people won't remember you. Unless you choose to leave now."
Hermione's head snapped up at him, her eyes wide. Tears cascaded down her face as she absorbed his words, shaking her head in denyal.
"A time will come Hermione, when you'll have to make a choice. Go or stay. And that time is now."