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Much Ado About Everything Or That Time When Tom Was Sarmassophobic And Hermione Hated Dumbledore
It was a silent night and the moon was shining with its full strength, illuminating everything under the sky, and highlighting the walls of a large and rather famous estate. A small, cloaked figure was slowly making its way across the gardens, trying not to attract any attention to itself. It reached the walls of the mansion and slunk under a large carved arch to enter a veranda.
The cloak shifted slightly to reveal a wand with a glowing tip, and the muggle security systems protecting the mansion were rendered useless. The door inched open and the figure crept inside, made its way past a large entrance hall and started to climb the stairs. As soon as it reached the top, a hand shot out and covered its mouth, pulling it back and shoving it against the wall. The figure reacted instantly, pulling out its wand and was just about to cast a spell when it felt a familiar squeezing sensation, a loud crack and the surroundings fell away.
Once the transportation was complete, the figure staggered but regained its footing. Rasping, it pulled away from the hands that were tightly wrapped around its wrist. But, not before the other person had pulled the cloak off of its head.
Bushy brown hair fell out from beneath the hood and hid Hermione’s face, but she pushed them back to look at her abductor. Her eyes came to rest on a handsome young man with black hair and dark eyes. He was looking at her with narrowed eyes, as if trying to gauge who she was.
Wow.
Her inner self was already.... complimenting the man’s looks. He was without doubt one of the most handsome people she had ever set eyes on, but she reminded herself to remain on her guard. After all, he had just kidnapped her.
“Who are you?” she asked, backing away from the stranger.
An amused smile started playing on his lips, while he continued scrutinising her intently.
"I believe the better question would be, who are you? After all, I’m quite familiar with myself.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. She tried a different approach.
“What is a wizard doing here?”
Tom’s eyes automatically glanced at her wand before sending her a pointed look.
“And I suppose you’re just a Muggle child playing around with a wooden stick?”
Hermione glared at him. He had the nerve to call her a child? He didn’t look past twenty himself.
He shrugged.
"I suppose I shall have to be the more polite one here and introduce myself. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.”
Hermione’s eyes widened as she took two more steps away from him.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
His eyes narrowed immediately. Then he sighed.
“Please tell me you have heard of me simply because I am the Head Boy at Hogwarts.”
Hermione shook her head, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“You’re Lord Voldemort.”
Tom sighed, bringing a hand to his head and massaging his temples.
“For the last time, I am not the ugly, worm-brained, snake-faced, old coot.”
Hermione looked shocked for a moment. Then realisation suddenly dawned on her.
“She did that to you too?”
Tom looked back at her.
“I’m assuming you mean Joanne Rowling.”
Hermione nodded.
“What do you mean by ‘too’? Are you part of that infernal story as well?”
Hermione nodded again.
“My name is Hermione Granger.”
“That Potter brat’s best friend?”
She nodded a third time, and took the opportunity to look around. From what she could see, they were in a hotel. There was a king-sized bed that dominated most of the room. An LED TV was hanging from a wall. They were standing near a small sitting area with sofa and armchairs.The room was decorated in shades of beige and gold. Overall, it looked to be one of the more expensive suites.
Tom seemed to seemed to know what she was thinking.
“These muggle electronic devices are very easy to fool. The goblins at Gringotts would have died of shame if they knew that banks with such pathetic security existed,” he smirked, before sitting down on a stuffed armchair. He leaned back and fixed her with his questioning gaze.
“So why are you here? What business do you have with our lovely Ms Rowling?”
Hermione didn’t fail to notice the venom dripping off his words when he mentioned the writer’s name.
“To take up the issue of my character with her.”
She moved and sat on the sofa in front of him.
“And what about you?”
He shook his head while smirking at her. “Oh no, you’re not getting out of it that easily. Don’t forget that you are sitting in my hotel room, abducted by me. So tell me exactly what you want with Rowling.”
Hermione glared at him . She didn't see what qualms he had with Rowling. In Hermione’s opinion she had written his character pretty spot on. Nevertheless, she spoke,
“She’s made me out to be some desperate girl whose clinging to Ron and Harry even when they ignore her just in hopes of finding some friends. And she married me off to Ron! Ron, of all people! She even gave us children! What is wrong with that woman? And they’re my friends! They would never treat me as badly as she shows!”
Tom was chuckling by the time she had finished. But by then she was curious too.
“What do you have against her?”
Tom snorted.
“The list could go on and on. For starters, look at who she chose as the protagonist. Harry Potter! What worthwhile qualities does that brat have? And the series was based on killing me. Why would I not find something wrong with that? Not mention I got turned into that snake-faced creep who was just obsessed with killing babies. Does she honestly think I wouldn’t have been able to kill a one year old if I had wanted? She’s made me into some psychotic, cracked-in-the-head villain who runs around killing people for the sake of being evil. I just killed myself at the end! And after 70 years I had found no permanent cure for mortality. It would be impossible to become immortal once you’ve torn your soul into so many pieces! Does she think I would only have relied on horcruxes for that? Or that I’m too much of a fool to find another way? Or that I would lose my beautiful hair for the sake of killing a baby? Besides, the entire idea of her somehow knowing so much about us and the wizarding world makes it necessary to track her down and question her as it is.”
She had to admit, his last point made complete sense. But seriously, he was that concerned with his hair? Well, she reasoned that if you had a face as perfect as his you were bound to pull a Narcissus and become obsessed with yourself.
She murmured her agreement before speaking hesitantly.
“So how did you find out about those books anyways?”
Tom’s pointed look clearly told her there was no way in hell he was telling her that until she told him first. Stupid cryptic idiot.
"I was working on a Potion’s essay in the library for which I needed Moste Potente Potions from the restricted section. It was in a secret door in that section that I found the entire series.”
Tom mulled over her story.
“There was a copy of the series in the Hogwart’s library?”
“Yes, though it was hidden.”
Tom nodded slowly, as if pondering over something for a minute, before looking back at her.
"I was doing some... experiments, in regard to inter-dimension travel when the books landed in my lap.”
He didn’t offer any more explanation.
Hermione raised her eyebrows and looked at him apprehensively. She was wondering exactly how similar he was to his character in the books. He seemed to notice her looks because he added, “they were all perfectly legal, I assure you.”
She let out a sigh of relief, though not before realising she had no way of knowing whether he was speaking the truth or not. But, she reasoned, there really was no need for him to lie. She was still, in some way, his ‘abductee’.
“From there I managed to re-open the portal which had linked our dimension to this world, and came here.”
Hermione was impressed. That sounded like very powerful magic. She wondered exactly where he had gotten so much knowledge.
"I used a spell I found.”
Tom raised one elegantly arched eyebrow.
“You found a spell?”
Hermione nodded, blushing before his intense scrutiny.
“Well, in the Restricted Section.”
An amused smile played on Tom’s lips.
“That’s hardly very legal, Hermione.”
The red just couldn’t seem to vanish from her cheeks.
“I-I was just curious!!”
Tom held up both hands in mock-surrender, his amused smile still in place.
"I didn’t say anything.”
Flushing, she changed the topic.
“Since both of us are trying to track her down, wouldn't it be a good idea to pair up and do so to make it easier to find her?”
Tom smirked before answering.
"I assure you, Hermione, that I in no way need anybody’s help for doing something or even for making it easier. However, if you have realised by now that you will be unable to do it on your own, then I could, of course, be a model Head Boy and help a Hogwarts’ student in need.”
Hermione sent him a glare which would have incinerated a lesser man, but Tom remained unperturbed.
“Are you insinuating that I am incapable of finding Rowling on my own?”
Tom gave her an amused look.
“Insinuating? I don’t insinuate. I know that you won't be able to find Rowling. Especially considering that Rowling has not been living in the mansion you visited for the past two months.”
Hermione digested the news while ignoring the sting to her pride. She challengingly looked up.
“What were you doing in that mansion, then?” She asked.
Tom nodded as if expecting her question.
“The mansion still happens to be her official residence. I was checking to see whether she had left any clues as to how she had gathered all that information about our world.”
She slumped back into her seat, deflated.
“Oh.”
She started twirling her bushy brown hair around her finger as Tom watched her idly.
“Where is she, then?”
“At her estate in Scotland.”
Hermione stood up suddenly, almost startling Tom. Almost.
“Let’s go.”
He eased himself out of the armchair.
“I’ll make the portkey.”
Hermione shook her head.
“I’ll do it.”
Tom raised an eyebrow.
“I don't quite trust you and your... skills. I’ll make the portkey.”
Hermione bristled.
“For your information, I’m more than capable of making a portkey. I also happen to know the address to that Scotland estate.”
Tom rolled his eyes.
“You might be capable of geting an O or two but knowing the pathetic standards of the teachers in Hogwarts that does very little to assure me of your talents.”
Reaching out he picked up a vase from the side table.
Hermione was furious. How dare he? She covered the distance between them quickly and also grabbed the vase while raising her wand. A tug-of-war ensued before they both simultaneously spoke out.
“Portus.”
__________
They landed on a hard, sunny pavement with a loud thud. Disoriented, Hermione got up and looked around, trying to gauge where she had landed. Next to her, Tom was already on his feet, and looking warily at the surroundings, trying to gauge where they were.
She looked around. They were standing in an alleyway, but she could see a busy and bustling street. Tom focused his attention on her.
“Happy? You’ve managed to land us in an unknown country due to your incompetence.”
Indignation surged through Hermione.
“My incompetence? This happened only because you were too thick-headed to let me make the Portkey! I said it first!”
Tom haughtily raised an eyebrow.
“Might I remind you, Hermione, that had you actually said it first, we would not be in this predicament right now.”
Hermione huffed and turned away from Tom, silently vowing not to talk to him ever again. That vow was forgotten a moment later when she realised exactly what he had said.
“Wait, what do you mean, we’re in an unknown country?”
Tom gave her an incredulous stare.
“Hermione, does it sound like these people are speaking English?”
She strained her ears, and realised that yes, they were indeed not speaking English. It was French. And they were... cooing?
“The language is French,” Tom commented.
“I know,” she snapped, “lets go what’s happening and find a way to get back.”
With that she walked out of the alley.
And instantly regretted it.
The street was filled with couples, hugging, kissing, cuddling. They were everywhere, in roadside cafes and on park benches and in trees. She could almost see the hearts flying around in the air.
Tom, who was standing behind her, had blanched, and looked like he was going to be sick.
A boy with a basket of flowers approached them.
“Une jolie fleur pour la jolie mademoiselle et l'heureux jeunes mariés couple.”
“...What?”
With a wiggle of his eyebrows, the boy vanished, leaving Hermione with a red rose.
“Umm... thanks?”
Tom rolled his eyes, and grabbed Hermione, pulling her into a cafe, where he proceeded to drag her into the bathroom. They got a couple of giggles from two waitresses, but nobody tried to stop them. Once they were inside, Tom shut and locked the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hermione hissed. “Do you know exactly what everybody thinks now?”
“Unless you’re planning on staying in France, I doubt you need to care. Now give me that rose.”
Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.
“You know, I don't care how handsome you are, I don’t feel that way about you so-”
As he realised what she was talking about, Tom sighed exasperatedly, before reaching out and snatching the rose from her.
“Portus,” he muttered, and then grabbed her hand as she felt a tug on her navel and the bathroom disappeared in a swirl of colours.
__________
Hermione stumbled as soon as she hit ground, but managed to stay upright. Once she had straightened herself she looked around. The first thing she noticed was that Tom was standing next to her, immaculate as always, rose in hand as he surveyed the surroundings, too.The second thing was that they were indeed standing at the back of a large estate with conveniently open doors. After they remained standing for a minute or two, Hermione cleared her throat.
“Ahem, do you remember how we came here.... with a purpose? How about we head inside?”
Tom looked at her, smug smile in place as he drawled,
“Well, if you say so, Hermione. However, don't you think we should check the estate for hidden spells and wards? Personally, I wouldn't want to walk inside and then get stuck and unable to return, but of course if you want to do so, I will in no way stop you.”
She flushed furiously at his words. Arrogant ass. How was she supposed to know he had been checking for spells? It wasn't as if he had his wand out or anything.
Huffing, she started to march to the doors, noticing that he was following her now. They entered and she gasped.
The house was very well decorated. The floors were an alternating mix of marble and stone, and it looked like a very old building, though it had aged gracefully. Chandeliers hung from the roof and painting adorned the walls. A large marble staircase was visible at a corner of the hall.
Beside her, Tom looked unimpressed.
“Come on, let’s go find the study.”
Hermione floundered.
“But this place is huge! How are we supposed to find a room in this?”
Tom arched a perfect eyebrow.
"I thought your motivation for finding Rowling was great enough to dwarf the tiresome job of looking for her study?
Hermione scowled. He was making her out to be some spoilt little girl, when he was the one who was acting like it!
“Of course it is. I was just observing that it would-”
“Nevertheless”, Tom continued, ignoring her, “I already know where the study is, so you can just follow me.”
And he turned abruptly and started walking up the winding marble staircase .
Hermione growled, and then calmed herself down with fabricated visions of Tom falling off the staircase and breaking his head. Shaking her head to clear herself of the gory, unrealistic thoughts- he was too graceful to just fall off- she started to follow him up the stairs.
When they reached the top he turned to the right and walked towards an ornately carved door. She hissed, he didn’t even bother to wait for her. As she reached him where he stood still, she looked inside the door and realised that it was a cozy study. There was an unlit fireplace in a corner of the study and the room was filled with an assortment of chintz armchairs. A blonde woman who looked to be in her forties was seated at the oak office desk. For some reason, she was wearing a black negligee.
She looked back at Tom. Faint pink was visible on his cheeks and he was making sure not to look at the woman who Hermione assumed was Rowling. She furrowed her brows for a second, before realisation hit her like a brick wall.
Tom was from the 1940’s, where they had been much more conservative. It was obviously strange for him to be standing in front of a woman who was wearing that!
She suppressed a giggle. So the high-and-mighty Tom Riddle was embarrassed? The aforementioned Tom Riddle shot her a glare, before managing to look back up at Rowling, who was now standing up and hence revealing even more. He looked back down.
“Oh, Tom! Hermione! What are you doing here? Perhaps I had too much sherry last night.” Her voice was high and girlish, and Hermione and Tom exchanged looks and suppressed shudders.
Then Tom pointed his wand at her.
“How do you know who we are?”
Rowling giggled, and Tom suppressed the urge to jump out of the window and fall to his demise, immortality be damned.
“Of course I know you, sillies! I wrote you! But what are both of you doing here?”
The falsetto voice was grating on Hermione’s nerves. She stepped up, and gave Rowling the worst glare she could muster.
“We want you to change a few things you wrote in the books, ones we find very offensive.”
Rowling giggled again, and said
“Oh, but the books are already written, dearie! I can't change what I wrote inside them now!”
Hermione grimaced at being called ‘dearie’. This woman was starting to bear uncanny resemblance to Trelawny. She hated Trelawney.
Tom decided it was his turn to speak.
“We don’t care whether they’ve already been written, we can take you back in time and change everything then”- Hermione shot him a surprised look, he could do that?- “however, we’re also quite interested in knowing how you know so much about the wizarding world. and why there is a cocoon of advanced spells surrounding you.”
At this, Hermione’s eyes widened. She pulled out her wand and cast a revealing spell. Sure enough, Tom was right. There was a mass of what looked like advanced transfiguration spells surrounding Rowling, and the haze was so great that she couldn't even see her properly. She briefly wondered why she hadn't noticed it before, but chalked it down to being too amused by Tom’s reaction to Rowling state of dress.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Rowling let out another giggle, but Hermione could sense the nervousness lacing her voice. “Magic isn't real, how can there be spells.?”
Tom rolled his eyes, before pointing his wand at Rowling.
“Shut up and take the spells off. Now.”
Suddenly Rowling eyes narrowed, and her entire demeanor changed her voice sounding more human-like now. She glared at Tom.
“Fine.”
She reached into the drawers of her desk, and Tom and Hermione tensed instinctively. However, Rowling pulled out a carved wand that Hermione found very familiar. Come to think of it, the cozy study and the chintz armchairs were equally familiar. And the sherry...
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
Puffs of smoke surrounded ‘Rowling’ as ‘she’ broke off each spell. When ‘she’ finished, the smoke cleared, and Hermione was left speechless.
“Dumbledore.”
It was Tom who had spoken, and Hermione detected a certain iciness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before.
Hogwarts’ bearded headmaster inclined his head.
“Tom.”
As an afterthought, he turned to Hermione too.
“Miss Granger.”
Hermione briefly wondered at the change in address but her brain had managed to blank out everything apart from a single thought.
“Dumbledore is Rowling. Dumbledore is Rowling. Dumbledore is Rowling. Dumbledore was wearing a lacy black negligee.”
She sputtered, and her brain woke up with a start.
“P-professor! You-”
Dumbledore raised a hand, motioning for her to stop. Years of training served him well, and she shut up instantly.
“As you can see, I,” Here, dumbledore hesitated, "I am the author J.K. Rowling. I have been writing a somewhat fictional series under this pseudonym, in this world, but I believe that merits an explanation from the two of you. What are you doing in a separate dimension when I have not given you leave to stray from Hogwarts’ grounds?”
Tom let out a stark laugh and completely ignored Dumbledore’s attempt to turn the tables on them.
“Pseudonym? You turned into a woman. You’ve been fooling two worlds for a decade and you're asking us for an explanation for leaving Hogwarts’ grounds?”
Now, Hermione was usually very fond of her illustrious Headmaster, and his discovery of the uses of dragon blood and everything, but she was siding with Tom on this one. Dumbledore was Rowling? That was wrong on so many levels. And what the hell was with that negligee?
“Umm, Professor Dumbledore..?”
Both men both their staring (glaring) contest, and looked at her.
“Why do you think that Ron and I would make a good couple? I mean, R-you even gave us children! He’s just a friend!”
Dumbledore nodded wisely.
“Ah, yes. You can probably tell, Miss Granger. You have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, and while that is a good thing, usually, it is necessary to keep some sort of check on that knowledge to ensure that the bearer does not go astray. Mr. Weasley has a noble heart, and he is a true Gryffindor. With him by your side, your morals will remain strong and they will prevent you from turning into someone akin to Mr. Riddle here.”
Tom bristled, and glared at Dumbledore furiously.
“You’re sitting here writing books about me turning into a crazy mass murderer, and then you say that I’m the one who’s ‘gone astray’? What about you? Let’s start with why you were wearing... that. You were born in the mid 1800’s or something.”
Dumbledore stared at Tom, but Hermione noticed that his signature twinkle was gone. And then Tom noticed something too. That Hermione was furious.
“You!” She suddenly shrieked, pointing a finger at Dumbledore. “How could you?! You’re the Headmaster! We trusted you! You haven’t even given Tom a chance! You’re proclaiming him evil when he hasn’t even done anything wrong! What sort of justice is that? And you're talking about Ron controlling me? Of all the bloody chauvinistic... You’re just trying to control me and make sure I don’t fall in with the ‘wrong company’! I’m a Gryffindor too! I’ll show you!”
Suddenly jumping forward, Hermione seized Tom by the front of his clothes and crashed her lips into his.
Originally she had done this just to spite Dumbledore, but his lips were soft and warm, even though he had gone completely stiff and was frozen into place.
She pulled back after a few seconds and gave Dumbledore a pointed glare.
“So you can keep your lovely Ron. I don’t need some gold-hearted idiot to keep me in check.”
She took note of Dumbledore’s dropped jaw. Had he really thought she was the weak little girl he had made her into in his books?
Tom, on the other hand, was quite composed, though she could feel threats rolling of him in waves. She didn’t have time for him. She could deal with him later.
Right now she was busy with Dumbledore, whose eyes were narrowed at her.
“All you moody women, I’m sick of you. You have no common sense, but you like to act as if you know everything about the world.”
Hermione’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t think you were a chauvinist...”
Dumbledore laughed.
“Chauvinist? Please. I’m too nice to you.” Suddenly his demeanor changed and he fell to the ground lamenting.
“Oh, Gellert! Why on earth did you love this stupid sex?! We could have been so much together, but you threw all of it away! Did you never care?And now here they are, ruining my life’s work with their feminism! And now you’ve left me! Even though I’m much more beautiful! Did you see my negligee?! Gellert!”
Dumbledore curled up into a ball and started sobbing bitterly, his frame shaking.
Hermione staring at him for a second, wondering exactly what the hell just happened, when she heard Tom reciting some spells. Just as she turned around, there was a flash of light and Dumbledore had disappeared.
Sighing, Tom turned to Hermione.
“Well, that’s that,” he said. “Now perhaps you can explain why you suddenly jumped on me like a deranged woman and kissed me?”
Hermione uncharacteristically smirked.
“What are you, sarmassophobic? Now, what are we going to do about Dumbledore?”
Tom glared at her.
“I don’t need to be sarmassophobic to dislike some random woman jumping out and kissing me. Anyways, I’ve sent him to Wizengamot. I’ll go there myself now and tell them what happened. The Court can decide what to do with him themselves.”
Hermione nodded, seemingly satisfied with the legality of the procedure.
“Then I’ll be going, Tom announced, moving to stand in thecenter of the room and reciting the spell. Before he could do so, Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a small hug, then stepped back. She noticed how Tom had gone stiff and laughed.
“You really are sarmassophobic, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” Tom grumbled, before finishing the incantation and vanishing.
Left alone in the mansion, Hermione sighed. Then she finished her own incantation, and went back home.
_____
Hermione was sitting in the library, completing her two-and-a-half-foot Defence Against the Dark Arts homework when a book dropped ono her lap.
She picked it up and looked at the back.
Harry Potter and the Unexpected Betrayal
Harry has managed to defeat his arch-enemy, Lord Voldemort, but what happens when a close friend betrays him and sides with the Dark Lord while blinded by love. How do Harry and Ron.....
She growled.
“Dumbledore!”