Chapter Text
Harry sat on his bed, his patronus casting a faint glow around him. He watched as it curiously nosed through the room before laying down to rest by his feet. Ever since he'd arrived at grimmauld place he'd been casting it in the (vain) hope that it might give him some of that happiness back – well, ever since Sirius had told him he could do magic without detection here.
Mrs. Weasley had been in a right strop when he'd said it.
Right at the dinner table.
He loved Sirius dearly, but the mark Askaban had left on him was clear. He was reckless and thoughtless, always forgetting where and when he was. A selfish part of him wished Sirius had never chased after the rat, so he could have raised him – without having been to Askaban. He also wished that for Sirius' sake, but his guilty conscience always dragged his selfish thoughts to the forefront of his mind, as if to punish him for ever thinking of himself.
The summer so far hasn't helped at all.
He was dropped off without a care this summer. Back into the 'loving' arms of his relatives. Which, isn't new per say. But, you'd think he'd have learned after last year when they left him alone there after seeing Voldemort kill someone. Nothing goes right when it comes to his life, and that includes Summers from Hell™ as a staple of it. This year just happened to include dementors, again, and a trial. He'd laugh if he wasn't so concerned for his mental health. Or maybe because of it.
But those dementors had gone after him, and by extension, Dudley. That's why he has a trial coming up. That's why he had come to grimmauld. Not because he was wanted, but because he needed to be here. It had taken Dudley and him almost getting their soul sucked to finally bring him where he wanted to be, and his guilty conscience was having a field day with that.
But why would here be safer? If Privet Drive and it's blood wards were always where he went, because 'its the safest place', why take him here? Why not always have him here?
If Voldemort –or whoever– sent dementors to his relatives house, was it really safe anymore? He was able to attack him at Hogwarts and at Privet Drive. Killing Cedric and almost killing him and Dudley.
What's next, his only other parental figure dying? Voldemort taking over the school? Seems to be the only natural progression. Luckily, he didn't see that happening anytime soon. Not with Dumbledore as headmaster.
Thank God.
Though Voldemort may be an improvement to Umbitch. If he hears her little 'he-hem' one more time he may die. Or kill her. It was truly the highlight of his trial; to learn that the toad was to teach. Only second to meeting her in the first place.
Huh, the patronus didn't seem to be working.
Oh well, he'd try again later.
He was stopped from dismissing the spell because... Well, he'd get back to you on that. As it was, the spell stayed. He went to try again, but the same thing happened. It was just there – he didn't even feel it attached to his core anymore.
"Harry Potter."
He about jumped out of his skin – his patronus had spoken.
It sounded young and old, soft and loud, there and not – more of a distant memory of someone, of many people, speaking than anything else.
"We have need of you." Harry was made uneasy by the voice, ethereal as it was.
Coming out of his patronus, as it was.
Who wouldn't be, though? This was insanity. Though, they say insanity is doing something over and over expecting a different result.
Maybe he brought this on himself.
He didn't fully believe this was real, but he still mustered up a response. Never too safe, right? It was sentient magic he no longer powered or controlled... He assumes.
"Y-yes?" He cleared his throat. "What do you need?" He continues, his voice steadier.
The silence that met him was eerie.
The faint light from the patronus cast a glow onto every surface it met, looking almost like waves projected – surrounding him, giving the room an under water feel. The faint sound the patronus was making made the scene all the more otherworldly. Unnatural sounds flitted through the air as if little will-o-wisps beckoning to be followed – whispers and giggles and soft sighs.
It seemed as if to be waiting. What for, he had no clue.
Just then he heard footsteps.
"Harry! You need to come out, you can't isolate yourself!" Hermione's words barged in before she did, her voice carrying through the closed door and only growing louder after she threw it open.
He could only gape at her for a few moments before sending a worried look at his patronus, as if to check if it was still there. It was.
"Well? Don't just stand there, come on! We're all worried about you, you know being alone doesn't do anything besides make it worse. Let's do something – take your mind of the trial?"
The longer the patronus kept quiet, the more he was beginning to think it was all in his head. Maybe Hermione was right, he was spending too much time alone.
"Hermione Granger. We have need of you."
Her whole body froze at those words, her head slowly inching towards the source.
"Ah, so not my imagination. Good to know." He couldn't help but snark. Call it a coping mechanism (it is), but he thought himself hilarious.
Apparently not in the mood for his personality in general, she sent him a glare. "Harry?" She said as soon as she thought better than to take her eyes off the... Magic? Which – fair, Harry should have also thought of that. "How are you doing that..?"
"Present forces spell trouble. Power corrupts and leaders rot. Where light once shown, now only lay waste."
As she said that – for it was a she for sure now, at least by the end of it – she transformed into a beautiful looking woman with long, wavy hair that seemed to float slightly and a Greek goddess inspired robe. Still formed from a patronus, it gave her a ghostly visage.
"You are needed to fix the wrongs of the light who believes themself a god."
The look of immediate understanding entered Hermione's eyes. And then sadness. And then determination.
"How should we do that?" She shot Harry a quick glance. "And why now? Dumbledore has been messing with Harry's life for over a decade by now."
His thoughts seemed to have vanished all at once at her words. Time stopped.
Dumbledore?
Dumbledore, a leader that's rotten?
Dumbledore, believe himself a god?
Dumbledore, corrupt?
Why did she think that this was about him? Yes, they said light – but, they were talking about someone else, surely? They also said the light who thought themself a god – which points to a person who used the power they had for their own need. Dumbledore didn't do that... Did he? True, he has manipulated a few events during the school year – but that was for his benefit. He had said so himself. He looked out of the corner of his eyes to Hermione, hoping she would see how wrong she was. She knew what Dumbledore meant to him.
But her answer was too quick to be from thin air. He owed her to at last think it through long enough to get past his own views on the man.
'present trouble', 'power corrupts and leaders rot', 'where light once shown, now only lay waste', and 'wrongs of the light who believe themself a god'.
The trouble is here, obviously. Someone powerful in the present – a leader, not rotten to start. The light which lay waste could mean a future gone bad or... Actions.
It could mean a light person ('a' god) who did good then rotted to something that only harms in the name of their own whims. Someone who was on the light side, with a lot of power, whose actions have gone from good natured to someone who pulls all the strings for their own benefit.
Fuck.
Fuck.
It made a, tangential, twisted sort of sense. He could see it. But that didn't mean it was true, did it? Dumbledore's actions were questionable, but they always made sense in the end...
He took in Hermione's expression, hoping he had saw wrong. Only a heartbroken expression meet his.
He never hated the phrase 'the greater good' more in his life.
He wasn't blind, he know Dumbledore had plots and plans – almost all concerning him. He knew he'd been given trials. But that was just his way of training him. Right..? Dumbledore always did (or didn't do) something for a reason.
It had barely been a couple of seconds since Hermione had asked the question and for him to get the same answer, no matter how much he hated it. Hated how his brain kept throwing memories of all Dumbledore did and didn't do into a new light – of hidden motives and manipulation and – Sirius.
Hated how he now has another person to blame for Sirius' entombment, here, at grimmauld – another because it still was his faul. It was, no matter that he cherished the time with him. He was the one to say not to kill the rat. How if he was free, less couped up and leashed, he might be less reckless – less of a shell. How with a clear head and help and less years in hell –something the chief warlock had power to do – then they might have lived together. No matter his mental state. He was old enough to take care of his own needs; anything was better than the Dursley's, after all.
"As for how and why now – both have the same answer. Time. You were not ready, now you are. And now, you shall be sent back to fix what has been forgotten."
He looked at the phantom like woman in front of him with incredulity. No. More than that, what was more than that? His emotions were everywhere and information nowhere. This was always his downfall – his short temper. Lack of information and autonomy making him feel out of control, leading to a short fuse.
"Back where? Ready? Why now?! What gives you the right to mess with time? With our lives? Why should we do this?" It was just another situation in which he's dragged in: to play the hero, to save the day, to fix others mistakes.
He's sick of it.
They both stared down at him long enough to get him blushingly remembering himself and the situation “Sorry... Valid questions though." He muttered. Hermione's glare only got more heated. Right...
"I am magic" She'd replied in a deadpan – to be fair she spoke everything in a deadpan voice.
Because of course she is.
Nothing in his life is normal.
And yeah, he should have guessed that. To be fair it has been a rough day. Week. Life? Yeah, that one.
"And you should because you could save everyone."
Ah.
She did have him figured out at least.
"I've read about this –Lady magic giving quests– but how?" Hermione looked very curious and sorta troubled. "I thought time wasn't to be messed with? How could we do it safely?"
"How about you give us the run down in a way we can understand? The riddles and prophecy language makes it hard to decipher." He suggested, eager to get this done with sooner.
Because, really. How hard was it to talk normally?
"As you wish." She said with a regal nod. "And apologizes, my speech will adjust the longer I am here. It has already begun to." She beckoned Hermione to sit by him on the bed. "Best get comfortable."
She sat down hesitantly, keeping her eye on them as she maneuvered through the room.
"I wish to place you two in the year 1942." Lady magic begins to speak as soon as Hermione seems comfortable. "The travel is sanctioned by time to avoid a certain event coming to fruition – which I will get back to later." She continues as Hermione opens her mouth, eyes panicked. To be fair, he wasn't expecting an over 50 year jump either. It is alarming.
"What about Ron?" They couldn't leave him here, they had all their adventures together.
"I'm afraid the manipulation doesn't end with you. He's lain a masterful web around you, and the only one not apart of that is you, Hermione." She floats closer to him and ghosts a hand over his hair – as if to brush it aside. "You both became friends against all the odds against you." She almost whispers, her voice almost fond, before pulling her hand away – still keeping close.
"He has manipulated those close to you to help his plans, or manipulated you to get close to others in a hope to hinder you. Sirius is quite broken inside – his life never easy to begin with. He's been there since the beginning, pulling the strings. Remus, I'm sure you can see what happened plainly. Ronald... He was never right for you. Placed there to be someone you clung to desperately anyway." She closed her eyes as if in pain. For him...
"I'm so sorry"
"No. Ron may be a bit of a berk, but he's always been a friend – he's always come back." He stubbornly persists.
"I am truly sorry, but I speak only the truth. He was put there as a limiter to your full potential. He was perfect, always dragging you down: for your will to learn, for any personality traits that weren't perfectly self-sacrificing, for your Slytherin qualities." She ghosts her hand under his chin, as if to make him look into her eyes. As he does, he can only see a hard sincerity in them. "He has hindered your true potential. He doesn't act as a true friend, merely a hanger on – for fame or adventure, I do not know. What I do know is that he does not care for you as you do for him. You need not hang onto someone because you fear being alone."
He struggles to see it – his value against anyone else's. A world where he can drop a friend for not acting like one. Ron and Remus and Sirius all being manipulated to manipulate him. It's so convoluted. So... All consuming and frightening. Making him feel powerless and alone.
But what else could he do when the embodiment of magic itself tells him it's so, but trust them? If not her, than who? It wasn't something he would get over just like that, that's for sure.
Good thing he had Hermione – that she was coming. He didn't know what to do without her. It wasn't that he didn't think he was smart or strong or whatever. She just made him feel safe and ready to face anything. She gave him confidence. All that was besides the fact that he would feel completely lost – his whole life just revealed to be one big chess game.
Lady magic moves back to address them both again.
"My mission –the reason for the large jump in time– is for you to protect Tom Riddle."
He knew that name – where did he know that name?
"What?!" He said with a jolt as soon as he remembers, the knowledge slapping him in the face. "You want us to protect the Dark Lord??"
"Yes?" Lady magic looked so genuinely confused.
"B-but... Dark magic... It's evil, isn't it?" Hermione half whispers, half argues. One look at Lady Magic, though, told him this was the wrong thing to say.
"Ah. Dark magic is evil, is it?" If looks could kill, she'd be Medusa – Hermione looked petrified.
"I-I- what I mean to say is..." Hermione looks to him – for the first time – for help.
He could give none.
"That your indoctrination is showing? Quite." She seemed to stare into her soul for a few moments before coming back on topic. "But that's alright, we can teach you. As long as you keep an open mind. You aren't always right, Hermione..." Lady magic finished softly, an almost knowing look in her eye.
"I want you to protect my Dark Lord." She continued with a determined, almost possessive, voice. "The one who was supposed to bring prosperity and equality to all. He was supposed to bring the balance! He was poisoned by Albus Dumbledore, my Light Lord. He pushed and pushed until he made those Horcrux's. He pushed and pushed until he was all alone in the world – only knowing scorn and hate and power." She gave him a look that only ment fury – keeping both of them meek and quiet.
"Albus knew of Tom since their meeting – knowledge only he could have, as another Lord of magic. He knew as the Light Lord that this would be his balance." She scoffed then. "Tom, only 11, reminded him of his past – of his own demons. But, in his hubris and fear, he scorned me – scorned my decision. This led to ruin. To so much death. He thought he knew better than magic itself." She only seemed able to shake her head at that, unable to understand.
"Tom was supposed to heal those wounds – those demons. Help him atone. In turn, he was supposed to show Tom love, the power caring gives you, and to rely on others." She gave a grave sigh, as if to expell all the shit that was currently breaking his mind.
Maybe he should try it.
"And, in doing all this, he has not only doomed Tom – but me as well" she looked at them beseechingly. "When I said you could save everyone earlier, I did not just mean this war – or even the last one. No, this plan of Albus' has brought the end of magic. He would see war continues until most of the magic has died – a wasteland. As it is now, I don't have much time left. I need your help. The path we are on now leads only to that continuous war. Targeting each of magics creatures and practices will slowly drain magic from the world. This is another thing I wish for your help in."
She continued to look between them as they gathered the strength to speak. Something stuck out to him though. "Wait. If only the lords get to know who the other is, why tell us?"
"Because you are one, the Grey Lord to be precise. I found it in the best interest of balance if someone focused on being the cohesive force between the two."
"But.. aren't I light..?" He voices feebly.
"With the amount of necromancers in your line? Hardly. You're only even grey because the arts been lost to fires and time."
"Necromancers?"
"Why, yes. Peverell. The three brothers? Ah, well, I'll teach you later." She replied, as he continues to slowly shake his head. She looked to Hermione then, who had just gasped with the force of a thought hitting her.
"Then– if he knows because he's a Lord, why do I?"
"Because I have decided to see how you would do as the light Lord. Make no mistake, one toe out of line and it will see you out of the title, maybe even back here. You must learn and embrace the dark as something natural –even if it is not meant for you– I will not have another Albus Dumbledore. The point is balance, not outlawing everything that doesn't blind you with the light."
Harry couldn't help but snort at that.
She looked over at him, muttered 'yes, you'll do nicely' before turning back to Hermione.
Ominous.
"This was what I mentioned earlier. As my Lords I wish for you to reintroduce the Old Ways, and, by doing that, you bring new magic into the world. I will explain more at a later date – I fear too much information at once may lead to things being forgotten. This is too important a task for that to happen."
He gave in, heaving a great sigh in the hopes it would help. It didn't.
"So you want us to travel to 1942 to befriend Tom Riddle, keeping him from the... Genocidal tendencies, and then what..? The Lord titles seem a bit bigger than that." He asks.
"Then help wizarding Britain find balance. Lead it into a golden age of magic." They say, like it's easy.
"Just wizarding Britain? Speaking of, why the put all the lords into one country?"
Lady magic laughs softly at Hermione's question. "Simply because you aren't the only ones. It would be a bit silly to give all that power to one place, right? Yes, you will be in charge of Britain – though, you may meet others in the future. If you do well."
"How will we help if we don't have any power in the government? There isn't really any elected seats or anything of that nature in the wizengamont."
"I'm glad you asked. As it so happens you do, or will. You will be taking the peverell name and seat – as you qualify for that even now. Potter as well, but... I'm sure you see the issue with that.
Hermione, you will be taking the Dogwarth-Granger seat. You are a distant, and only surviving, member of that line. It shouldn't pose a problem, as, even 50 years in the past, Dogwarth-Granger was held by a squib line – until you." Lady magic said all this like this wasn't world shattering. Him? Already qualify for a lordship? Potter?
"What do you mean I have two lordships...?"
She looked almost heartbroken at the question.
"Oh, fates chosen are always doomed for a difficult path." She let out a soulful sigh, making her look almost haunting. "Much has been kept from you." Dumbledore? Again...?
How was he to accept any of this? This insanity? Good Dark Lords? Grey Lord? Time travel? Befriending Voldemort?
"He won't be Voldemort there." She said as if reading his mind. "He will be innocent. No Horcrux's, no death. He was never meant to."
"Wait!" Hermione half shouts, breaking the solemn mood. "Why are we traveling to his 5th year; why not his 1st? Why wait this long? I assume Dumbledore will know he's no longer the light Lord. If we go back and just appear as soon as he loses it, he'll suspect us. At least if it's before Dumbledore meets Tom, he won't have a good guess as to why."
"That is a valid concern, but it's even more dangerous to go back further – this isn't without peril. This was the earliest we could safely do. Any more would risk your bodies being lost in the time vortex or stuck outside time. Think of it like this, time is still linear in a way. To go backwards there still needed to be some parallel between now and then.
With you and him both being 5th years, you still have time to change his path. If we had done it in his and your first year... Do you believe you would have been ready for even half of this responsibility?" She looked grave as she spoke – understandably. Yikes.
"O-oh..." Hermione muttered, looking suitably off put. "How will we get there?"
"When you are ready I will take you. We will go to gringotts to settle the names and heirships. You'll both be emancipated, as is within my power to do. But remember, it's only in the magical world." She looked into both of their eyes for a few seconds before continuing.
"Then – shopping." She gave him an unholy look at that word. He gulped. Looking over to Hermione, who seemed to have caught on, he saw the same look on her.
Great. Shopping.
At least Ron won't be there to get sulky when he thinks of– ah, yes. Never doubt Lady magic. Still stings, though
It's not that he didn't see everything Ron did – especially the end of last year. But... He thought it was fine. Friends being friends – even when one was being a berk. Hermione could get some type of way at times as well, but, he thought that was because she was more like him. Unused to friends. Did all of Ron's actions really mean they weren't really friends?
He sighed.
He looked to Hermione only to see the same resolute look shine in her eyes. Taking her hand, he met them.
"We're in this together."
She got a bit glassy eyed before nodding determinedly. "Should we leave right away? I fear what will happen if we linger."
Who was he to argue? The only one who would get any meaningful goodbye was her – Sirius might call him James again and Remus would know something was up and tell Dumbledore. He just nodded back to her in the same determined way.
They were in this together.
"To recap – Gringotts will get you your names, titles, and money. Then shopping. Then preparing. School will be in a few days from when we arrive. I can't stay all the time, but if you need me I will either be checking in via patronus – like now – or you can send one to me.
When you get there, after you're settled, I want you learning as much magic of the time as you can. This being the case, I won't be able to teach you about the Old Ways for a while. I'll give you a week into the first term to establish a routine that allows you to have lessons in them.
Ok, that's should do it. Grab each of my hands now. That's it."
She pulled them into a hug – lightening quick. He could have sworn it felt like a hug from his mom before the world went black. Then white. Then in dizzying colors ranging from every shade you could name. It felt like, and nothing like, apperation.
Before long they were in a special room inside the bank.
He says special because it was bare, except for the plentiful tapestries laid about on the walls. They depicted unknown people in times from, what looked like, very early on in civilization all the way to recently. The only person he recognized was Lady Magic herself. Maybe the others were different so called gods or figures. It was so fascinating he could barely look away.
"Ah, yes." Lady Magic said, floating over to one in particular. "This one is of me and Death. We had to find a way to cure the villagers of a particularly devastating magical disease. We were quite fortunate that a peverell was there, and that they were apt at the art of positions." She looked on it fondly as Harry approached. "If it had been left to run rampant, all of the magical populous would have died – it was that dire."
"A Peverell? What was their name?"
"Lolanthe Peverell. She learned the art of potions and healing, along with her husband, Hardwin Potter, from her father-in-law. One Linfred of Stinchcombe, later Potter – for he was known for pottering about in his garden. He would give healing and potions to help the non-magical villagers." She looked at him knowingly. "She was the oldest granddaughter of Ignotus Peverell, so she got a certain cloak passed down to her. When she married Hardwin Potter, he carried on the tradition. From centuries to more recently with Henry, Fleamont, James, and to you. Deaths cloak sure has made the journey, hasn't it? He wants to speak to you, you know?"
"Who?"
"Death."
"What?!"
"You really should read up on the Peverell history, along with the story – children's book or no, some things were right. That the three Hallows exist the most prominent example. You are destined to unite those Hallows and end Death's curse. Think of it as a side quest. Until you do the Peverell line is doomed, which I might remind you includes yourself – and Tom Riddle."
"What curse? Why is there a curse?"
"The tales of the three brothers, the wand, stone, and cloak. It's based on more than fiction, as you now know. The first brothers line has died out, as he was killed for his wand before he sired children, thus the curse is attached to the wand now. The wand is currently in Grindelwald's hands – though, you might recognize it better in Dumbledore's. Their curse was to always be too prideful and fool hearty – leading to their death. The second brothers line is held exclusively by young Tom. The stones curse is to never be able to keep true love in your life. He had asked for the stone in hopes to keep his wife alive in some sense, ending in his suicide. The soul the stone summoned could not help but lead him there with the curse. And the last brother, your ancestor. The cloak to hide from Death. I'm afraid the story puts a happy spin on his end, but the truth is a bit more gruesome. While he did live until he was Grey, he was only 78, which isn't old at all by wizard standards, and was constantly chased by death. He was met time and time again by life threatening situations."
She appeared sad now, but Harry was just fuming. It explains so much. Could this be why his parents died in the war? Why he was the chosen one? Why he got in so many dangerous situations? Is it part of the reason? But it's not just that.
"How was any of this to work if Dumbledore had the wand and Riddle couldn't keep someone who cared in his life?!" He asked, beyond incredulous. Beyond, beyond incredulous – cumulative incredulity? If he can't find the words, he'd make them up. Because there were no words for how doomed this was.
She gave him a scolding look (what was she? My mother?) before deigning to answer. "While those curses would have affected their life greatly, it did not make it impossible. Albus would have been over confident and reckless, but not incompetent. Tom's curse only affects romantic love. While lonely, it wouldn't affect his life in the greater scheme of things. And remember, you have a chance to change it. By reuniting these relics, you would end the curse. You are the only one. You are the perfect balance between power and mercy, between kindness and harshness. You wouldn't abuse the power they would give you, you do not seek them nor want them."
He couldn't with this woman, fuck her being magic itself.
He gave a harsh sigh. "Ok, could you tell me where they are? Besides Grindelwald?!" Because it had just hit him. He'd have to defeat another Dark Lord to get it. A sane one, which was arguably more dangerous.
"The stone is at the gaunt shack in little Hangleton and the cloak is in the Potter vaults. We can see about getting it while we are here – you are still a Potter after all." She said with a comforting smile. At least he could still have his cloak. "Now I think time has gotten away from us, Hermione seems to already be greeting our guide."
He turned around, and sure enough, a goblin seems to have appeared and was talking to Hermione. They make their way over to them, the air still a bit heavy with the previous topic.
"Greetings, my Lady. I am Ragnok. It is an honor to host you. What may the nation do for you?" The goblin said with a deep bow.
"Why don't we find a comfortable room so those with a more caporal form may settle in for what I'm sure will be a long meeting."
"This way." He said in the goblins usual demeanor – shortly.
They were lead, at a surprisingly fast speed, to a spacious office. Ragnok waved for them to take a seat and waited until they were all settled before he spoke again.
"And who might you two be?" Why were goblins always this curt?
"I am Hermione Granger, and this is Harry Potter." Hermione spoke up, ever polite and to the point.
"Potter, hmm..." He gave him a once over with a half snarl on his face. "I don't remember there being any Harry's. There was a Henry – long ago – but no Harry." Judgment written all over his face.
"That is because I brought them here. I'm afraid this is a journey worthy of the tapestry room." Lady magic said solemnly. He thinks this is the first, and last, time he's ever seen a goblin startled.
"You're certain?"
She only nodded, causing the goblins demeanor to shift. "Right." He said, all business now. "What do you need."
"They need to take up family names, as well as get their accounts in order. Peverell and Dogwarth-Granger to be precise." She waved to him and Hermione respectively. "As well as retrieve an item from the Potter vault, for Death, you see. A certain cloak? If it's no trouble." She gave him a beatific smile. All it seemed to do was put Ragnok more on edge.
"I see." He narrowed his eyes at him. "He can not go into the vault."
"Oh, so you'll retrieve it for him? Splendid! Thank you kindly Ragnok." Lady Magic bowed her head respectfully to the goblin. If he didn't know better than to think otherwise, he'd have assumed it was sarcastic. As it was, Ragnok still shot her a reproachful look.
"Yes. Only because it is you asking." His eyes seemed to finish with ’your liberties are limited'.
"I'm am grateful." Shooting one last smile at him, she push forward to other topics. "Besides that, we need to get the inheritance test and a copy for their records. I could change the results while you authenticate it? That way we save time."
"Very well." He took out two pieces of parchment. "Three drops of blood." With that he added them each a dagger. Was a dagger really necessary?
They both did as asked, studying the parchment when it finished. It only listed a few pieces of information. Firstly, his name – now listed as Harry Peverell. Next was his own birthday. Then came his available titles. He assumed this could act as identification or a birth certificate in the magical world.
It seemed like he only qualifies for the Peverell name and title. His vaults were disgustingly full – he didn't know that much money could even exist in one place. His birthday was still listed as the 31st of July, but the year was off, or correct for this time period he guessed. Must have been Lady Magic's doing, she did say she would be changing them.
A quick look at Hermione's showed roughly the same situation, only, her vault looked more normal – for an old money family, that is. But when has his life been normal? From hand me down rags to wealth you could live luxuriously on for 5 generations. Look at him now.
After they were finished looking they handed the tests back to the goblin. He looked it over thoroughly before, with a snap of his finger, they had a double appear. Sliding their copies towards them, he started the meeting in earnest.
They breeze through the hours; just pouring over finances and getting a money pouch connected to their vaults. In-between all that, another goblin brought his cloak to him. Holding it now, he could almost swear it was sentient – that it missed him. Everything was wrapped up eventually, but, as soon as he thought he'd get to esca- leave, Lady magic speaks up.
"Now, I hate to bring this up now, but, there appears to be a horcrux in Harry's scar. Could we get a cleansing ritual set up for that?"
All hell seemed to break loose at that.
Ragnok begins cursing up a storm, pressing a rune on his desk. Multiple goblins come rushing in shortly after – wearing, what appeared to be, their medical uniforms. Hermione is looking around in a panic, asking what is wrong. He can only stare agape at his surroundings as he tries to piece together what a horcrux even is.
He is quickly rushed into what looks like a stereotypical ritual room – fit with a stone alter and everything. He protest loudly, of course, until Ragnok finally fills him in on what's going on.
"A horcrux is a piece of someones soul, a vile magic created in the vain attempt at immortality. We are currently trying to get it out of you. So if you'd, kindly, sit. still."
He goes a long much easier after that – not before a muttered 'could've just said that', though.
All and all, it was painful, but quick. Just a few haunting chants and a bit of writhing and he's good to go – apparently. Lady magic brushes her hand over his scar and any lingering pain is chased away.
"There, not even a scar left." They share a soft smile – even if his is a bit on the weary side.
Hermione was told to wait in the hall in the scuffle, meeting him there when he leaves.
"Harry! Oh, Harry, are you alright?" She says as she gives him a look over, hands worrying over his body as if afraid she'd hurt him if she touched him.
"I'm fine 'mione." He tries to reassure her. "I actually feel better than I ever have."
"That's because the horcrux is gone. You'll have more magic as well, as it was acting as a leach. Speaking of – when you can, stop by the apothecary and pick up some nutrient potions. Your magic is crying out from the strain of sustaining everything with so very little fuel." She gives him a stern look that softens when she continues. "I know it's not completely your fault, but you didn't exactly help yourself once you were safe. You need to eat, Harry."
He looks down with red ears and nods.
"I'll make sure he does, ma'am" Hermione cuts in with her authority voice. Oh, he's in trouble. Lady Magic gives him a once over that he felt bone deep before replying.
"Twice a day until Hogwarts, and a wiggenweld potion for good measure. I'll check again before school starts. Now, I'm sure you guys want to go through the alley now. Check into the leaky cauldron and call me once you're done. I still have much to talk about.
They both nodded and said their goodbyes before leaving – grateful not to have to stay there any longer. Walking out of the bank, pockets full of coin, felt like breaking into prison – just to break into a different one.
Hermione had the same unholy gleam in her eyes now as when it was mentioned – shopping. While necessary, he'd rather not, on a whole. But, as they were in the early 40's, and the whole 'nothing to his name' thing he had going on right now – there was no choice.
"Why couldn't we bring some things from home?" He asks Hermione, seeing as they couldn't have Lady Magic just walking down the alley.
"Because... Because." She said shiftily, finishing strong like she actually knew. The lying liar.
"Riiiight." He just shook his head. No use now anyway. "Where to first, oh wise one." He finished with an eye roll.
"Trunks." She responded definitively. "We won't have to carry miscellaneous things around that way."
He just nodded as she leads the way towards the trunk shop. He didn't think this day would be over fast enough. He couldn't wait until they got to the peverell Manor he, apparently, had in his holdings. By his estimate, he could house the whole quidditch team without getting in each others way. Not to mention the green house and library.
Oh no. He's catching the swot.
It's probably for the best. Looking back, it was always Ron that held him back – caring about how he appeared to his first ever friend. Always chess, flying, pranks. Anything but cracking open a book.
How could he forget the refuge that was the library?
How, before Hogwarts, he'd stayed as long as he could. Just get lost in all the worlds available to him. Maybe the magical world was to blame a little too, with their expectations of who he would be, but peer pressure was no joke. Of all kinds, on second thought.
It was truly too bad it wouldn't be habitable until after the 1st. To his understanding, it was on par with grimmauld place – pest wise. It had preservation charms on it, but they were fading. This allowed the infestations to start. They also had to update and check the security wards.
His thoughts ended when they came upon the entrance to the store front – Hermione sending him a worried look. He waved her off before entering before her. They looked separately for the first bit. He saw so many different kinds of bags and trunks that he was a little in awe. When he'd come to the alley with Hagrid they'd only gotten the specialty items at their specific store – everything else was from a second hand store. The Weasley family shopping trips also tended to leave out the more expensive shops. Looking back, his only opportunity to really explore the alley was in third year – and he'd squandered it, to happy to just be alone after that summer.
He ran a hand over a dragon hide school bag that was a deep green color, almost to the point of being black. Checking the description tag, he found it to be feather light and expanded. His eyes light up at the possibility of just keeping all his school things all day – no need to switch throughout the day! Or even the week if it was big enough.
"Ah! I see we have a man of great taste!" A clerk came from nowhere.
"More like opportunity." He chuckled. "How big is the expansion? Is it organized? It is a school bag, no?"
"Yes, yes. Big enough to keep 5 times your school supplies, camping gear, and still have room to climb in yourself – though I don't recommend it for a flimsy bag like this with the expansion just a standard void. Now if you were interested in expansion spaces that you could explore – look no further than the trunks in the corner! We're having a deal at the moment. Buy an expanded space get blood wards on the trunk or compartment free! Specially licensed, of course."
He just blinked a minute to process the barrage of information. Then immediately walked (ran) to the corner he pointed out – bag still in hand.
"Ha! Knew you were a smart lad. Whatcha lookin' for in a trunk, young man?"
"First I'd like a room of sorts, are potion rooms available? Library's? Studies?" He was the one with the unholy gleam now it seemed. The shop clerk just chuckled heartily at his reaction to the trunks.
"All the above, which one would you like?"
"All of them? Can I get the blood wards on all of the expanded compartments? What other wards can you do?"
Oh, he made them speechless. Oops.
"Oh! And the bag, any protection for that? I may end up in Slytherin – better safe than sorry." And he had decided he would let the hat put him there. Not only to be closer to Tom Riddle, but also because he'd resolved to not hide parts of himself anymore.
"W-well... That's quite the purchase, lad. Just the standard trunk with 3 expanded and warded compartments and the bag comes to almost 1,000 galleons..." Oh, that was so much cheaper than he was expecting. Wait– no, 50 years in the past here. His vault is looking more egregiously fuller by the second.
"That's perfectly fine, so about the other wards you have for the outside of the trunk and the bag? Also, you never said. Does it organize itself? How would I find anything?"
We're those stars in his eyes now? A second ago he was so shifty.
"Oh, of course sir! We have magical signature, password, and, if you have an identifying item, wards to block specific people out. Due to the specificity of the word it's considered just about unbreakable. The bag is charmed to read your intentions and 'give' you the item you desire. Quill and ink pouches on the side and a pocket expansion for fragile items."
"Hmmm... Can you add two people to blood wards? And would you be able to add the exclusion ward later?" Rapid nods met his question, so he called Hermione over.
"Do you have any set up already? As long as they're a decent size and ventilated so I can chose the potion room myself later. A green one if you have it." He finished as Hermione settled beside him. "Would you be up to giving some blood for the ward on my trunk?" He asked her. She accepted relatively easily, giving him a heartfelt smile.
"We have 3 available at the moment." He said as he took his wand out and levitated them in front of him. "Feel free to hop in and take a look!"
Without further ado, he did just that. Walking up to the first in line, he saw the shade was almost neon. Not liking it on principle, but not one to be that picky, he opened it and hopped in.
Inside the trunk was pretty small and bare. Only a small hallway met him with three doors practically touching each other. Looking behind him he saw a ladder to get out on. Pretty standard, he assumed.
Opening the first door to the left, he saw a 5 by 10 room. It looked barely good enough for storage – let alone a library or potions room. Closing it he glanced into the second and third room. They were all identical.
Heaving a sigh, he climbed out. Hermione seemed to have wondered off – probably in search of her own trunk. He climbed into the second one next. This one closer to the shade he liked, but not quite, with silver clasps. The hallway that met him was marginally bigger – as were the rooms, at 6 by 8. But still not what he had in mind.
Making his way out again, he was losing hope.
The last one was his last hope. Otherwise he'd have to see about a custom made one, which might not be ready by the weeks end.
It was exactly as he wanted on the outside – a lighter forest green, just how the lake looks through the Slytherin common rooms
Hopeful, he hops inside.
He's met with a small foyer. It had a fireplace on the wall to the right with space for couches or a chair for lounging within the room – a real receiving room. Looking around the rooms he sees the difference between the trunks immediately. He was being played – he just knew it. He liked it so it was fine, though.
The first room was huge, definitely library material. He could fit so many bookshelves inside and make a proper one. Maybe even a lounging area to read in. He left, still slightly in awe at the size of the room – magic was awesome.
He approached the second door with a light heart and the wonder of exploring. The second room was perfect for a study. There was room for a personal bookshelf, a decent sized desk, and it even had what looked like a charmed window.
He took a closer look at it, noticing indents on the wall next to it. They had little motifs on them: a sun, a sunset, and a moon. Pressing the sunset motif, the room immediately changed.
Gone was the sunny sky, shining brightly into the room – now golden rays laid claim. It was gorgeous. The room was caked in shadows and liquid gold, all in a perfect mix to relax and give a warm feeling. And, upon closer inspection, the sun in the window appeared to be moving steadily downwards.
Brilliant.
Practically skipping to the next room, he opens the door with flourish. Inside was room enough for two prep tables and another brewing table. There seemed to be a closet with shelves in the room. If it wouldn't also make a good bedroom he would be beyond suspicious about how perfect the trunk was.
It could've also been Lady magic. He feels he should blame her for any suspicious goings on.
He decides to leave the trunk, already set on it, only to look back at actual stairs. That could be convenient. Climbing out, he sees Hermione is back to talking with the clerk – her own row of trunks set out.
"Find what you want?" The clerk asks as he noticed him.
He gives him a raised eyebrow but agrees none the less. "I saw a fireplace in there, would that be connected to the floo?"
"Yes, in fact! Good eye, sir. Would that be the trunk you'd like today?" He nods.
"As well as the wards done for both me and my friends blood, the wards on my bag, and would you be able to put lightweight on the trunk and shrinking charms on them both?" If he only got those compartments warded no one would suspect anything. 'An unwarded trunk? They couldn't possibly be hiding anything else, right?' (Commence doe eyes). He almost snorts at the imagery his imagination conjures up.
"Great! Yes. All together, with the deal, that will be 1,200G. If you could just leave the trunk and bag over by the counter and I'll get to warding and charming it after your friend here is done." He said as he waved towards the counter in question.
He trudged them over and set them into it. He looked around the counter and spotted a owl order form for the shop on the counter. Taking two, he made his way back to Hermione.
"Good, good. I'm glad you like it. Now could I interest you in a bag?"
"Hm.." she meandered to the bag rack to look. "This one of you could. And charmed like his." She said, carrying over an Twilight bag, almost pearlescent – like a ravens feathers.
"Of course!" He levitated both the bag and trunk over to the counter. "Just a mo', I'll have you both finished up quickly – just need the blood." He held out two vials to them along with a small blade. They both gave the blood, a little queasy afterwards. He took the vials back and hurried to finish the trunks.
"I got these from the desk, never know when you might need it." He handed her one of the owl order forms he had grabbed. She studied it thoroughly before nodding.
"Your right. Should we get robes next? We can't count on nobody noticing our clothes forever."
He barely had time to agree before the clerk was back, their items hanging in the air behind him. "Here you are! 1,200G for the lad and 1,000G for the little lady." He held out two separate bags for them to deposit their money into. He took out his own pouch, thinking of the amount he wanted, and poured the money into the one that was held out for him. As the last coin went in, the number displayed magically above the pouch read 1,200.
"All set! Just tap this button to shrink and think of which compartment you want went you open it to get the right one – your regular trunk space and the expanded space. If you don't have one in mind, or someone who isn't connected to the wards taps it, the regular trunk space will appear. Feel free to come back if you need anything else!"
And they were off to the next store, just like that. Joy. Clothes shopping.
They came upon a shop that he didn't recognize from their own time. It seemed to sell almost exclusively ready made clothes. Not up for the whole tailoring experience, he dragged Hermione in – with heavy protest.
"Harry James Potter." She whispered harshly to him. "You just don't want to shop for clothes, do you? What is your aversion to it? You need this!" She huffed before deflating a bit. "Really, this could be good for you. You need a new wardrobe."
"Well I can help with that!" They both startled to find a young women in front of them. She seemed too cheerful to be here in his opinion. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you! Your young man giving you trouble?" She laughed to herself. He could only trade looks with Hermione at the implications. The young woman didn't seem to catch on though, plowing through the awkward mood to speak again.
"No worries! This is just the shop for you! We have ready made clothes for your needs, and for the little lady in need of a shopping trip we have tailoring services. If something in the middle is perfect for you then we have an owl order form here –“ she waves to the front desk grandly. “where you can order whatever you want at a later date, all you'd have to do is step up to get measured." She finishes with a smile.
He gives Hermione a smug smile before dragging her further into the store. "Great! We'd like an outfit to go and a form. Where would we get measured?" He said with a curious tilt of his head, Hermione spluttering beside him.
"Splendid!" She swishes her finger and two measuring tapes attack them. Well, no – they just violate them. They wiggle inside of his and Hermione's robes, taking every measurement they can before flying back to the clerk – who now had two pieces of parchment lazily floating in front of her.
"Hmm... Well aren't you a skinny one, lad..." She shoots him a worried look. "No matter, here are your forms. Just go through the catalog here and write the corresponding identifying number here. Send it in, and bam! New wardrobe." She spoke while handing them two catalogs and pointing out where to fill the form. "I'll let you two browse, let me know if you need anything!"
With that she walked away. Hermione took his arm and stomped over to some racks towards the back. It seemed to take a few moments of going through them to calm her down enough to talk.
"Why, you- I just-" Or maybe not.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" He asks softly. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what he could have done to upset her this much.
She let out a controlled sigh before continuing. "I just wanted you to find nice things..." She couldn't meet his eyes while talking, seemingly glued to the rack she was going through. "I know you have, and have had, the money to get nicer clothes and personal items since you were 11. I guess I just felt like those clothes you always wore were shackles of a sort... Keeping you in the Dursley mentality."
He wish he could say he was shocked by the revelation – but he wasn't. Knowing something and moving past it were two different things. He gave her a small heartfelt smile for her thought though. Not many tried to help at all – if they even saw anything.
"I appreciate that, really, I do. It's not that simple though. It's hard..." Deflating a bit at the prospect of talking about... emotions... he continues on. "New clothes wouldn't have helped any, anyways. I would still be stuck there. If anything, it could've hurt worse to have this new me open up – only to fall harder when summer came."
She looked at him with glassy eyes and a wobbly smile. "You're never going back." She whispered wonderingly. "You can be who you are here, without holding back." She bumped his shoulders before speaking in a joking tone. "Don't think I haven't noticed you holding back on me." She grew serious again. "You aren't the golden boy or the chosen one, Harry. That's not you. You're snarky and mean sometimes. You have a temper and dark humor is your friend." She gave him a conspiratorial look. "And don't think I haven't noticed you don't hate the library as much as you say you do."
He let out a startled laugh at that. She wasn't wrong though. When he'd first gotten to Hogwarts, he used to hide in there and get away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. It was truly a marvel, with its sleek shelves and dark decor. Leave it to Hermione to figure him out, though.
"Well, getting through the arduous task of getting a wardrobe in store isn't my idea of a good time anyway. And neither does it seem like yours."
"Arduous – big words now, huh" she giggled.
"I thought you wanted me to be more myself...?" He asked, a little insecure now. He hasn't really had anyone to be himself with, scared people would leave him when they found out he wasn't like the tales made him out to be. He's almost afraid he doesn't know who that is anymore in the first place.
"None of that now, I was just poking fun." She rolls her eyes before shooting him a glance. "Unless it was too far. I never mean to put you down Harry, you know that, right? I'll never leave you – even if you change into who you are inside. I want that for you."
He gave a hesitant nod before joking to dispell the tension. "You know, I don't think wizarding style has changed in the last 50 years."
She laughed and nodded before finally picking out two outfits for them. "Here – try these on, and if they fit come out in them. We'll be leaving in them."
He took them with a dubious look, before giving her a shit eating grin. "Looks like I was right to choose a ready made store, no?" And promptly ran to the changing room, escaping the ire of one Hermione Granger – picking up a pair of boots on the way.
After he finished changing, he had to admit, the outfit was nice. It shaped him just about perfectly and complimented all his best features. It was an emerald green robe – almost like the school rodes – with golden clasps at the front. It worked wonders with the white dress shirt and black slacks, which were tucked into the boots. The shoes he picked up were a shiny black dragon hide, in an almost combat boot style.
He loved it actually.
He gave the mirror a weak smile, sending a thanks to Hermione mentally, before heading out. Hermione herself was in a dusty periwinkle period piece. It had long sleeves with puffed shoulders and a heart shaped neckline. The skirt was sort of flowy and had an overskirt that reached from her waist to her hips – almost like a suit with a pinched waist. They paid at the counter and left wearing their outfits.
"Do you want to get school supplies another day? I'm getting kind of tired. Maybe just the wands and book store today, we could get our years book bundle on the way to the register?" He asked once they were out of the store, just strolling at this point. She looked contemplative before nodding in agreement.
Stopping at the bookstore first, they agreed to divide and conquer. Hermione was in charge of history, runes, and arithmancy, he was in charge of miscellaneous magics that seemed useful or interesting – Hermione would be here all day if she was in charge of that.
He's always been more practical with it: never took hours just to catalog what the library had, never read on end because that was what he'd rather do. They'd always just been an escape to him. He didn't think that was wrong necessarily either, not to rag on Hermione or anything. Though, he was starting to get properly excited at the prospect of discovering magic again.
When he was eleven, it was all about escaping. Escaping his home life with fantasy books, escaping the student bodies current mood about him by camping out in the library – but, now, he was starting to feel that spark. The want to learn all the magic he could because it was magic.
He found quite some awe inspiring books too. Some were on blood magic – which wasn't outlawed yet, apparently – along with some books on wards. There were all sorts of books, really. After he'd gathered more than his fair share he went to hunt down Hermione.
She was in the middle of her own little castle of books when he found her. Leaning towers surrounding her while she sat cross legged on the floor, a book open on her lap. She didn't seem to see him approaching as she hadn't moved an inch.
"Hermione." He whispered to her, in an attempt to not spook her. He needn't have tried. As soon as she was aware of him she shot up and made her way towards him, not even looking up from the book, face stuck in a mix between horror and interest.
"Harry, they have blood magic...!" At this she finally looked at him, whipping her head around with enough force to send her hair flying.
"Yes, Hermione, they do." He said carefully, eyeing here expression dubiously.
"But! It's dark magic, they cant- it's-"
"Exactly how long ago have we already had this conversation? We just got trunks with blood wards, Hermione."
Her eyes widened comically before snapping out of it with a shake of her head. "Sorry... I know. I guess old habits die hard, huh? Seeing all this magic that's been outlawed for years, all at once..." She looked at him a little ashamed. "Dumbledore- I know Harry, just let me finish." She said when he opened his mouth, ostensibly to tell her were Dumbledore can stick it.
"Dumbledore brainwashed us – all of Britain! I know I have a tendency to... be overly trusting of authority."
"And books." He can't help be an ass about it, but she cracked a smile. That was his goal.
"I think that's why his words dug deeper in me, you know? I may have judged him for what he put you through, but I've always had trouble being too trusting of authority. It's not like I forgot, but... Its just automatic at this point. It's a good thing we're in this together. If I'm being honest, I don't know how well I'd be able to get along with Riddle. It's comforting to have you here, I know you can get through to anyone you set your mind to. After all, you got me – and I know I wasn't easy in the beginning."
He gave her a soft smile – that promptly turned evil, if the way Hermione looked at him was any indication.
"That's good, because I got blood magic books! Apparently its legal to use, but you need a license to sell any products of it. Besides that, I got a ton of good stuff. We just need the bundles and we can check out."
She nodded nervously before standing ram rod straight. He couldn't help but look at her fondly, that was his Hermione. "And it's a little funny – I had almost that exact thought before we came here."
Her expression changed to one of surprise before it softened. "We're in this together." She spoke softly to herself, giving him a thankful look.
They made their way to the counter, then, nabbing a 5th year bundle each. He spotted an owl order form during check out and nabbed that too, might as well make it a habit. Might come in handy as well.
Next stop, wands.
He idly wonders if he'll get the same wand while walking. Had his wand chosen him for his connection to Voldemort – to Tom Riddle? Did the Phoenix feather see the piece of soul inside his head, recognize it, and chose him based on that? It would make sense in a way. Not to say he wouldn't miss his holly wand – he would, very much – but would it still choose him?
His mind ran circles around that question. Even as he approached the door, even as he walked up to the counter, even as Hermione's wand was purchased. It was inevitably his turn; he'd get his answer one way or another, soon enough.
"Ah, and who are you?" Mr. Ollivander asked, eyes seemingly looking past him. Or around him. Or even into him, it felt.
"Peverell, sir."
"Yes, yes, Peverell. Been a while since I've heard of one of those walking around." A Measuring Tape from hell™ came around the desk then. It began taking measurements of every surface of his body before blessedly going away again. "Hmmm... Wait here."
He left towards the back of the shop with an absent minded aura. It seemed to take ages before he was back, with how nervous he had grown. One box in hand, he gave great reverence to setting it down.
"Your magic has a very curious aspect, Mr. Peverell. One I may not be able to accommodate, shall this wand not choose you. You see, I sense Death magic on you." He looked over his glasses with a stern eye. "Which can be very dangerous and Dark. You aren't tinkering with such magics, are you?"
"No, sir." Mr. Ollivander appears to believe him, if only for the bewildered look such a question brought to his face.
"An affinity, then. Do be careful. An affinity gives you immunity to most of its cost, think of it as permission from Magic, but they are still exceedingly dangerous. As it stands, I fear this is the only wand I have for you. Elder and Rowan with a thestral hair, go ahead. Give it a wave." He says as he delicately uncovers the wand.
The wand is beautiful; black and white make up the shaft in a closely twisted pattern, small waves puffed outwards. The grip seemed to be exclusively of elder, shaped like a daggers handle. He gives a gingerly wave causing a gentle white glow to emanate from his person.
"I'll say... Very curious. Very curious indeed."
"What's curious?" Hermione asked, like she didn't know better. To be fair, she wasn't with him for his first time getting a wand. But Harry was too stuck in a demented sense of deja vu to intervene.
"Why, it is very curious indeed that he should glow white. Glow at all, yes, but white specifically. You see, us, wand makers, are privy to many of Magic's secrets. To glow is to be a Lord of Magic. Now you, lass, glowed golden. This could mean you are, or will become, a Light Lord." How had he not noticed that? "But to glow white... Is unprecedented. Maybe a Grey Lord? But to have two get their wands from me – at the same time? An honor."
He bowed his head to them to show case this. Harry just wanted to curl up into a bed and let the day be over. Hermione, though, looked suitably amazed at the occasion.
"I see. How much?" He asked curtly.
They didn't linger in the shop much after that – the alley either. They stopped to get the potions Lady Magic asked them to and promptly checked into the leaky. Once there they took the time to eat, unpack in their separate rooms, and unwind from the day. He chose to do this with a long, long, bath. They were due a conversation with Lady Magic eventually, though. So, with great reluctance, he dressed into the clothes he'd came to this time in – as they were the most comfortable – and went to fetch Hermione.
"Hermione?" He knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"
His answer came in the form of the door opening. He walked to the bed and sat down, Hermione joining him.
"You ready?" At her nod, he cast a patronus.
It didn't seem to work for a beat or two before it morphed into a woman. She gave them a fond smile taking in their appearance.
"You both look exhausted. Lets wrap this up so you can both go to bed." At their tired nod she began to explain in more depth everything being here entailed.
"Let's start with what your purpose is in the short and long term. You two, in the short term, are to befriend and help heal Tom Riddle of all that makes him Voldemort. Make no mistake – he will never be kind or generous. His mistakes took him down a path that got his emotions, empathy, and intelligence taken – but he will never have the moral compass of someone egregiously good." Hermione looked a bit constipated at that. "Your only duty is to care about his well being unconditionally."
"But what if he starts throwing unforgivables around? If he kills someone?" Hermione asked, a little frantic.
"Still. Magic is magic. Would you wish Harry to die if it was kill or be killed? Why is that kill better or worse? The act of a killer is not unforgettable. It's the emotions behind it. The fact he killed in cold blood – to have no emotional attachment, but to do it because you could, is what harms the soul. That isn't to say not to try and stop him, just don't give up on him."
"What about the long term?" He asked.
"In the long term I wish for the three of you to create equality and help the wizarding world prosper. I leave it to you on how you shape it that way, beside what I've already requested – I have every faith that you all will succeed in this endeavor.
Just know, Lords of magic gain a significant power boost after their majority. You must be in peak condition, otherwise it may be dangerous for you and those around you. Practicing the Old Ways is the best way for you to make sure everything is optimal, but that should be happening for some time when the time comes.
I will help guide you when that time comes, nevertheless."
She took them in for a moment, as if to check their ability to process what has been discussed so far. They must have looked fine, for she continued.
"I want you to try and brush up on your occlimency, living with two powerful ones, as you will be, leaves much vulnerability to our plans. Be warned, though, no matter what, never close of your emotions. Besides being incredibly hard to restore, you have to want to. This is nearly impossible in such a state. You would be safer together because the other could watch out for the signs, but best not risk it." She gave them a significant look, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it meant.
"Besides that, brush up on, not just this era's magic, but your skills in general. Learn all you can with the time given and be ready for anything that comes your way. I'm sure you remember, Dumbledore is not one to rest on his laurels – especially when it concerns Tom Riddle and power."
She waved her hand over them.
"And now you both are immune to the trace, it will not activate once you are at Hogwarts. Do not abuse it. I also strengthened your shields. It should last you long enough to shore them up on your own, I'm afraid I cannot give a more permanent solution." Giving one last fond look at them, she spoke once more before disappearing. "Farewell."