Chapter Text
Newly minted Hogwarts Headmistress Hermione Weasley sat down in the large ornate chair behind the office’s main desk and sighed. She rested her head against the hard wood and closed her against the empty frames of the former heads. The one frame that remained occupied was that of former Slytherin Phineas Nigellus Black, though he remained silent and offered her nothing save for a look of contempt mixed with mild curiosity. Hermione, however, didn’t seem to notice…or even care.
After relaxing for a few more minutes, she stood and started exploring her new office. If she had to be completely honest, not much had really changed since she had left school. The only difference seemed to be the absence of the devices that Dumbledore had kept. Minerva had only kept them up due to nostalgia, though Hermione wondered if Minerva had moved them to the Room of Hidden Things before Hermione stepped into the Head’s office again. Hermione decided it didn’t matter, as the only reason the devices had been used was to keep track of her now long deceased best friend and blood brother, Harry Potter. While they may have protected him from Death Eater attacks, they certainly didn’t protect him from the neglect and abuse by his foul relatives. It was something that still angered her to this day - and she was sixty years out of school.
As she explored, she stopped in front of Fawkes’s old perch. No one had seen the phoenix since Harry had been killed and it made her wonder if he had flown back to the small phoenix sanctuary just outside of Avignon, France. She had been there once, when she was studying for her potions mastery, and had been in awe of the dozen or so phoenixes that resided there. To hear them all sing at once had sent her to her knees and when she returned home, she immediately placed the memory in her pensieve so as not to allow the memory to be dimmed by time. She wished Harry had been able to accompany her, but even then, he had already been gone for several years.
Harry had passed not long after defeating Voldemort due to a build up of dark magic, though many people believed, then and now, that Hermione had smuggled Harry into the muggle world and was helping him hide. Those same people also assumed that they were together, though both situations couldn’t be further from the truth. While it was true that she did have a small crush on him during her fourth and fifth years, that crush seemed to utterly disappear shortly before the beginning of her sixth year. At the time, she had assumed that the disappearance of the crush had been a good thing, as she didn’t want to be distracted from her OWL’s, and then her NEWT’s. Though she knew now that it was thanks to being potioned against her will, she didn’t then, and the pair had gone their separate ways, though she still considered him her best friend.
A piercing cry startled her out of her reverie and she looked up at Fawkes in amazement. She had thought that she would never see the fire colored phoenix again. He landed on her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek. When she reached up to rub his head in greeting, he nipped her finger. Moments later, she could hear his “voice” in her head.
‘Hermione Granger,’ the voice flowed like water into her mind. ‘Welcome back to Hogwarts.’
“Thank you, Fawkes,” Hermione replied aloud. “But I’m married and have been for many decades now.”
‘Ah, but you shouldn’t be,’ Fawkes gave her a secret smile. ‘At least to the person you are currently with. However, I can help free you…from all the atrocities…if you’ll allow me.’
Hermione’s mind almost stuttered to a stop, whirling with confusion - and a sliver of hope. She had been through and dealt with many things throughout her eighty years on the planet and there were several things she wished she could change. Then the logical side of her mind kicked in - Fawkes’s offer almost seemed too good to be true.
“There are many things I would like - even love - to change,” she finally admitted slowly. “But isn’t it impossible to go that far back in time? And wouldn’t it create a paradox from hell?”
‘It would,’ Fawkes allowed. ‘If your whole physical body was going back. What I’m proposing would only send your mind back.’
“Back to when?” Hermione asked, questions filling her mind. “How old would my body be?”
‘Unknown,’ Fawkes confessed. ‘Though certainly far enough to be able to change many, many things.’
Hermione’s thoughts started speeding a million kilometers a minute. Would she want to go back? How much would she be able to change? How much good could she do? Would she be able to prevent herself from being potioned to her eyeballs against her will?
‘Yes, you will be able to prevent yourself from being abused with potions,’ Fawkes answered, startling her as she didn’t realize she had asked the last question out loud. ‘There is someone who could help you, but I cannot divulge who it is.’
“Cannot? Or will not?” Hermione asked.
‘Cannot,’ Fawkes smiled. ‘Oath and bonds prevent me.’
Hermione nodded in understanding. Oh yes, she knew all about how oaths and bonds could tie hands when it came to keeping others unaware. It was why she could never divulge what she had - until recently - gone through on a daily basis. Her new job was the only reason why she was currently unmarked. It wouldn’t do to have the bright witch of her age and strongest member of the golden trio being seen in public with cuts and bruises on her.
It wouldn’t do to have the mudblood wife of the war’s remaining male hero showing signs of not being properly cared for, especially since many considered her the wizarding world’s sweetheart. With that thought, Hermione quickly made her decision.
“How?” she asked, trying not to appear too eager.
‘For centuries, the Heads of Hogwarts have hidden documents and items in the hopes of concealing information from those they deemed unworthy,’ Fawkes intoned. ‘Most of the time, they left instructions to have that which they had hidden to be revealed after their death. I can only think of one case in which that statement is untrue.’
“Who?” Hermione asked.
Instead of answering, Fawkes flew to the other side of the room and appeared to land on thin air. Hermione quickly deduced that Fawkes was holding on to something that she could not see and had, until that point, failed to notice.
‘The person who’s secret resides here thought that even after death, they’d be able to keep their secrets,’ Fawkes explained. ‘They assumed that once they died, I would refuse to form a familiar bond with anyone else, thus keeping their secret safe, as if taking it to the grave. And while that was true for a time, I believe it is time to unveil their secret. Unfortunately, due to measures beyond both of our control, I was unable to approach you until you entered this office.’
“Why not?” confusion colored Hermione’s voice.
‘Because the moment you walk through the door, any and all spells and enchantments that have been placed on you are completely nullified,’ Fawkes replied. ‘Am I to guess that you’re already feeling lighter? Freer?’
Hermione took time to think before answering. After several moments, she smiled at Fawkes.
“You’re right,” she breathed, her smile brighter than it had been in many years.
“I thought so,’ Fawkes smiled. ‘If you would like to learn what was left behind, this cabinet will need to be opened.’
Hermione looked around.
“What cabinet?”
‘That was what I was afraid of,’ Fawkes sighed. ‘In order to access the cabinet, you’ll need to offer a few drops of blood in order to break the enchantment that has been placed.’
Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. She hoped beyond hope that Fawkes was right about the enchantment upon the door, as one of the spells that had been placed on her was one that prevented her from purposely harming herself. In order to free herself of her mundane - and frankly boring - life, she had twice tried to harm herself. Both times had ended in failure, however, when the dagger she had attempted to use had been transfigured into a super soft and stuffed fake wand. When her husband had come across her the second time, he gloated about the spell and informed her that she’d never be free of him. Swallowing hard, she placed the tip of her wand to the tip of her finger. She took a deep breath and spoke.
“ Diffindo ,” she whispered. To her shock, a small cut appeared and several droplets of blood leaked out. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she applied the blood where Fawkes had indicated and watched as a hidden door shimmered into view. With trepidation, she opened the door and stared at a small pile of books that rested within. While the contents of the cabinet didn’t surprise her, the name of the author did.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
What. The. FUCK?
However, before she could reach out and touch them, Fawkes chirped a loud warning.
‘Don’t touch those,’ he warned. ‘They’ve been enchanted to harm anyone except for their author.’
“Is there a way I can break the enchantment?” Hermione asked, perplexed.
‘Believe it or not, a simple finite incantatem will do,’ Fawkes answered after taking a few moments to study the spell.
“Of course,” Hermione rolled her eyes at the simplicity. “Stupid fool thought that no one would be able to access these after he died, since most would assume you would disappear forever. Stupid stupid meddling fool.”
She pointed her wand at the books and silently cast the spell. A bright flash briefly blinded the pair, and once the spots stopped flashing in front of their eyes, Fawkes inspected the pile of books again.
‘It’s safe now, to touch the books,’ he smirked, chuckling at her epitaph. ‘Though I would still recommend using your wand to move them, and read through them, for extra protection.’
“Very wise, Fawkes,” Hermione smiled at her companion. “I will do as you recommend.”
She silently levitated the large books to the desk, then performed a diagnostic spell on them. When the books flashed a bright red, Hermione’s face went from curious to stone cold shock. She shook her head slightly and continued her scans. With every spell she ran, the books flashed a different color, until Fawkes had witnessed the entire rainbow. He had seen Albus place several spells on them, but never did he imagine that there would be so many. He watched as Hermione huffed as she ran the last spell and the books glowed a bright silvery gray. The color surprised him. He knew the former headmaster had a mastery in alchemy, but Fawkes never imagined Albus would have done…this.
“Fawkes, I don’t recognize the last color,” she frowned in irritation. “Do you know what it is?”
‘It is a spell that I have only seen once before,’ he replied, his voice hollow. ‘The spell that causes that color, when combined with alchemy, is one that creates what is known to the ancients as reality parchment.’
“Reality parchment?” Hermione asked in confusion. “I’ve never heard of that. What is it?”
Fawkes sighed. He knew that almost nothing good was going to come from this conversation, save for the fact that the one solution to the problem that he could think of would be the thing to send her mind back in time.
‘It is a truly heinous thing, the reality parchment,’ he intoned. ‘Once created through a mix of spells, alchemy, and potions, reality parchment has the ability to create reality. When one writes upon it, what is written is what will come to pass.’
It didn’t take long for the truth to dawn on Hermione. She paled in shock, then rapidly turned cherry red in anger.
“So every single event that we’ve lived through…everything that we’ve ever done,” Hermione seethed. “Was all because Albus wrote these stories on this….this reality parchment?”
Fawkes dipped his head in both anger and shame.
‘Yes, Hermione,’ he said softly. ‘I apologize for not being able to warn you - or help you - sooner.’
“Fawkes, the fault of what happened is no more on your shoulders than it is my own,” she comforted the phoenix, nuzzling her head against his. “No, the only person at fault is the one who created this parchment, then wrote his stories upon it.”
Hermione started pacing across the floor of the office, trying to think of what to do now.
“Fawkes,” she turned to him. “Do you know of any way to destroy these…sorry excuses for books?”
‘Well, there is one sure way to destroy anything that is made of parchment,’ he chuckled. ‘And that is to throw it in the fire. However, I do not know what consequences there would be should you choose to do that.’
“Almost anything that could happen would have to be better than what we’ve had to live through - what I’ve had to live through - these past decades.”
‘Consider this before you decide,’ Fawkes spoke gently. ‘Should you decide to burn the parchment, and the consequence is starting over from the beginning, would you be happy to be in the body at an extremely younger age even if your mental age remained the same?’
Hermione thought about the question for a moment before answering.
“I am eighty years old,” Hermione smiled softly. “If I were to land in my eleven year old body with everything I know now, Harry, along with so many others, would still be alive. I would do everything in my power to help them survive.”
‘And what of the meddling Albus?’ Fawkes asked. ‘How would you distract him in order for him to leave Harry alone?’
“I do not know the answer to that,” Hermione admitted. “But I would do everything that I could. Even after we parted ways after the war, I still considered him my blood brother, as well as my best friend.” She sighed in frustration. “I know there is so much that could go wrong, but I also know there is so much that could go right!”
Hermione closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. Scenario upon scenario played through her mind until it stopped on a random, and quite frankly uncomfortable, question.
“Fawkes, if I were to burn the books and go back to the past, would we still be bonded?”
‘I do not know, if I am to be as honest with you as you are with me,’ he answered, not liking being truthful with her in this instance. ‘I can hope so, but still, I do not know.’
“I know you dislike telling me the truth, so I thank you,” Hermione smiled at her familiar. “And while I do not know what the future - or would it be the past? - may hold, I do know that this is something that I need to try.” She sniffled as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I do not wish to be kept in bonds and under oaths for the rest of my life.”
‘I understand,’ Fawkes smiled back. ‘And even if we are not bonded when you return, it won’t take long to reinitialize it, especially should you let me read your thoughts. You are not the only one who has been kept in bonds and been under life preserving oaths, Hermione.’
“You?” Hermione was shocked. It was a crime against nature to enslave an animal or beast against their will, but it was especially heinous to do so with a phoenix. “Albus had you under bonds?”
‘To my shame, yes,’ Fawkes replied sadly. ‘He caught me under them after I burned during your first year. He thought that by doing so, I would have no choice but to return to my homelands when he died. He either didn’t understand - or deliberately misunderstood - that once he passed, any bond or oath he had over me would be broken when I once again burned.’
“You’ve burned recently?” Hermione asked, allowing herself to be distracted for a few moments.
‘Last Christmas,’ he answered. ‘Nicolas was there to see the destruction of the bonds. He said that he had never seen or felt a phoenix burn so hot before and correctly deduced that I had been freed of something.’
“Nicolas Flamel?” Hermione was stunned. Thanks to a certain former headmaster, she had been under the impression that Nicolas Flamel had died after the destruction of the Philosopher’s Stone her first year out of Hogwarts. “The same Nicolas Flamel that I learned about when I was twelve?”
‘One in the same,’ Fawkes confirmed. ‘It was he who tutored Albus into gaining his Alchemy mastery.’
“It was also he that left enough clues for Albus to figure out how to create the Reality Parchment,” the snide voice of Phineas Black said from his frame on the wall. “In my opinion, that was the beginning of Flamel’s downfall.”
“Headmaster Black, do you know what could happen if we burnt these books?” Hermione asked politely.
“Yes, Miss Granger, I do,” he replied with less venom in his voice. “But do you really think you are prepared for the consequences?”
“I will do anything to change the circumstances under which I have been bonded and potioned against my will,” Hermione said firmly. “And I will do anything and sacrifice everything in order to help Harry defeat Voldemort and Dumbledore before he even turns thirteen.”
“Very well,” Phineas sighed. He knew, more than anyone, just how stubborn Hermione Granger could be when she set her mind to something. “Yes, your mind does return to a past point in your life. No, I do not know how old you’ll be when you go back; that was something that was never told to me. Yes, I do believe going back will cause more good than harm. And yes, I do believe you should stun and obliviate Albus of his knowledge on how to create the Reality Parchment as soon as you see him. Wordless and wandless would work best, as he will not be expecting it.” He stopped for a moment before continuing. “And yes, the familiar bond between you and Fawkes will remain.”
“Thank you for the information, Headmaster Black,” Hermione said gratefully. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” She turned to the pile on the desk before turning back to the portrait. “Will you remember what is happening here and now?”
“Yes, but I will be the only one that will remember,” Phineas replied. “The runes that are etched onto the bottom of my portrait ensures that I will remember everything.”
“Then may I please inform you of the locations of Voldemort’s horcruxes before I burn this pile?” she asked respectfully. “If we can destroy them while he has possession of another being, defeating him will be just that much easier.”
“Horcruxes?” Phineas stood up in shock. He had never heard of a person making more than one. “As in more than one?”
“Yes,” Hermione answered sorrowfully. “He wound up making seven of them - though one of them was unintentional.”
Phineas fell back into his chair in shock. Seven horcruxes? It seemed impossible, but in all the time he had known Hermione, she had never lied to him.
“Yes, I will gladly hold the information for you,” Phineas finally said.
She smiled and told him what he needed to know. When she was finished, he glared at her.
“When you get back to whatever time you’re going to, and if Harry still has the horcrux in his head, make sure to take him to Gringott’s immediately,” he urged. “They’ll be able to remove the foul abomination from his head.” He stopped, then continued. “Though not without a great deal of pain on his part. I’ve heard others compare it to being under the Cruciatus for a full minute.”
“I’ll be sure to warn him,” Hermione shuddered, though she was positive Harry wouldn’t care about a great deal of pain if it meant not having a piece of Voldemort stuck on his forehead.
“Then by all means, Miss Granger,” Phineas replied. “Levitate those books into the fire…and incinerate the evil tomes.”
Hermione did as instructed, though she put a little more oomph into the destruction than what Fawkes and Phineas had expected. After the books landed in the bottom of the fireplace, she warded the flue of the chimney with her strongest ward, before sending the most destructive fire spell she could think of at the books.
“ Fiendfire ,” she hissed. When the spell hit the books, she then warded the mouth of the fireplace with the same ward she used on the floo. Within seconds, most of the books were incinerated. Just before the last book was completely destroyed, she heard Phineas’ voice.
“See you on the other side, Hermione.”