Chapter Text
"Please, Miss Granger, the wizarding world needs this," Dumbledore's gaze on Hermione was strict. He peered down his half-moon glasses, imploring her to consider his request, yet he did not give her a second option.
"Why," Hermione swallowed thickly, fighting the tears threatening to spill, "why should I sacrifice everything for the wizarding world? A world which, til date, does not fully accept me? I am a muggleborn; and a girl," she choked out, refusing to meet Dumbledore's eyes any longer.
"Because no one is perfect. Within this imperfect wizarding world; there are many things and people you too wish to protect, is there not?" Dumbledore reasoned.
Hermione bit down, hard, on her lower lip, "he won't even care for me."
"He is just a child. All he needs is a little bit of compassion-"
"Why should it be me? What were you adults doing, then?" Hermione snapped, pushing off her seat. She could hardly care to think over how rude she was being to the Headmaster- this was completely inappropriate!
"I know I erred," Dumbledore mourned, a stray tear sliding down his cheek, "but the world has suffered enough and I fear next time, the light may not be on the winning side..."
Hermione chewed on her lip anxiously, falling back into the seat, she pulled at her hair desperately in thought of an argument. She sobbed, relentlessly. Dumbledore rummaged within a drawer beside him, placing a small pouch infront of Hermione.
"This contains a time-turner and enough money to allow you a good life should you decide to quit the mission," Dumbledore smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes, "there is also a small parchment I had someone sign, I believe it might aid your late enrollment."
Hermione snatched the small red beaded pouch off the table, inhaling sharply to hopefully aid her trembling heart. "How many spins?" She asked, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. She pulled at the drawstring, opening the pouch to feel around for the time-turner. The metal felt hotter than usual against her skin.
"52," he whispered, rising from his seat for the first time, he hurried to Hermione. He loomed over her, being quite tall and Hermione being only 13. He wrapped his arms around Hermione in a fatherly hug, but offered her no words of consolation nor any advice on how to safely succeed in her mission.
She unclasped her own time-turner, placing it on her soon to be ex-Headmasters palm, before she fastened the new turner round her neck. She finally met his eyes as she uttered her last words in 1993.
"If I fail, if nothing changes and you remember this, tell Harry and Ron I loved them; and I will always love them."
She tore her eyes away from Dumbledore, focusing on counting the number of times she spun the turner. Dumbledore did not tear his gaze from her until Hermione was shoved through those tight plastic tubes which delivered her to the past, unsurprisingly right to the Headmaster's office.
• • •
"Tom Riddle was not always evil," Dumbledore began, "there was a time where he, as would any child, just craved for validation. He simply wanted guidance- and I failed to give him that."
Hermione pursed her lips, wondering where the Headmaster was taking the conversation. He had initially brought her upstairs after the mass murderer Sirius Black cruelly slashed the painting of the Fat Lady.
"So please, Miss Granger, travel back to him. Not to Voldemort, but to a helpless child, and give him wisdom. Give him friendship. The things he craved for, but could never have."
Hermione sputtered, utterly ridiculed at the notion, "I am a child too!"
"But you were loved. Tom Riddle was not loved, not once in his life."
"You want me to go back in time and love Voldemort?" Hermione laughed in disbelief.
"I merely implore you to extend your friendship to him."