Chapter Text
“Foolish girl, step out of my way.”
“No, not Harry, please!”
“Avada…”
For a moment, Hermione Granger thought she’d imagined it, that she hadn’t thrown herself in between Voldemort and a sobbing Hagrid, the latter carrying a seemingly dead Harry Potter in his arms, and been hit with the killing curse when she’d refused to get out of the way. Then she opened her eyes, and she knew her wish for it to have been a product of her imagination was futile. Instead of the rubbled remains of the Hogwarts courtyard, littered with rubbled stonework and blood, she had instead awoken to a marble walled office, a large window to her left letting in a warm white glow that illuminated the room. From her position on the floor, she could see a beautiful mahogany desk, intricately carved with different flowers on each of the four legs. A comfortable powder blue armchair sat on the side nearest the witch, one clearly meant for visitors, whilst the desk chair on the other side was larger, grander, and upholstered in a luxurious royal purple velvet. Behind the desk chair was a row of filing cabinets, though rather than the large metal grey ones she’d seen so often in her parents’ dental practice, they reminded Hermione fondly of library card catalogue filing cabinets: small uniform drawers of a polished oak with a small identifier on the front of each. All in all, the whole office was simplistic yet elegant, if not for the dementor hovering in the ornate doorway.
Hermione gasped, instinctively scrambling backwards as one hand searched her pockets furiously for her wand. She hated dementors even more than she hated her boggart, and struggled with the spell to produce her patronus whenever the icy chill descended on her and sucked all the happiness from the air. Only after her hand hit nothing but air in the pocket her wand was usually kept in did she notice that the dementor was actually… talking.
“52? 52?!” She heard the cloaked figure mutter incredulously. “Oh, David is getting roasted for sure after all of this. Are you certain this Potter boy is her soulmate? He’s not sounding very bright so far.”
Hermione opened her mouth to automatically defend her best friend, only to close it again as the words registered with her. Soulmate? Whoever it was must be talking about Harry and Ginny then, as everyone who saw them together commented on how perfect the pairing was. Even if she didn’t necessarily agree, she knew it wasn’t her place to mention any misgivings to either of her friends. It was Harry’s life; she didn’t get to dictate who he dated.
“It’s all cleared off on, the memory part? Upstairs definitely agreed?” The figure asked. “Well, of course I’m being cautious! I still recall poor Maurice’s punishment from last century, and he’s still got another three centuries to go!”
Belatedly, Hermione realised that the year’s worth of grime and dirt that had practically ingrained itself into both her clothes and her body had gone, and her usual clothing choice of jeans and a t-shirt looked brand new. Even places her well worn jeans had torn or frayed now appeared as though they’d never been there at all.
“Ah, you’re awake. Quicker than last time, at least.” She glanced up at the amused voice, finding, to her surprise, a young woman stood near the closed office door, with vibrant red hair that seemed to sway in a nonexistent wind and swirling silver eyes. She wore a black gown that left her arms and neck bare, with the black hooded cloak hung up on a coat stand previously hidden by the open door. She caught the witch’s glance towards the cloak and laughed. “You’d wear a cloak like that too if you had to work in such freezing conditions day in day out. For the fourth time, no I am not a dementor. Take a seat.”
Clumsily, Hermione stood, making her way to the blue seat and practically dropping into it as the redheaded woman slid gracefully into her own chair. “What did you mean by the fourth time? I’ve never been here before.” She blurted out before the other could open her mouth, unable to contain herself any longer. Immediately, she bit her lip to prevent any other questions from escaping in her lapse of manners. Thankfully, the woman appeared more amused than angry at her.
“The first time you recall, yes, but the fourth time I’ve told you. I’m sure you’ll work it out; you’ve managed it before.”
She frowned. She knew she hadn’t been in that office before, nor met the redhead either, yet the other woman seemed absolutely certain about it all. She couldn’t understand how both things could be true, unless… “Memory charms?” She whispered, guilt threatening to overwhelm her as it always did whenever she recalled what she’d done in an effort to keep her parents safe. At that point, she couldn’t even remember if she’d truly done it for their sakes any longer, or if she’d done it for her own peace of mind instead. Had it been the selfless act she’d told herself it was, or a selfish child’s desire?
“Of a sort,” the woman confirmed, interrupting her doubts. “And make no mistake, your own dabble into memory charms was not your own selfish desire taking over. You kept your parents safe, for the alternative would have been worse.”
“What? How would you know any of that? Where am I?” Hermione babbled, watching the other woman with wide eyes.
“It appears introductions are in order once more.” She stood and gave a slight bow over the desk, though her hair never moved. This close, Hermione could see that the flickering and swaying of the strands resembled the licking flames of a hearty fire, and the silver in her eyes swirled exactly the same as memories in a pensieve waiting to be viewed. Whoever this was, she was no ordinary human. “My name is Allie, and I was originally assigned as your guide to the afterlife. Obviously, that’s all changed somewhat with this being the thirtieth time you’ve been here. And no, we don’t have loyalty programmes with each visit. We probably should; between you and your Mr Potter alone we would have enough custom for it. Anyway, the boss took me off general guide duties on your first visit, and assigned me only to you. He said ‘Alexandra, you and William are going to have your hands full with your newest charges. Their destinies are strong, and Fate is counting on them. Unfortunately, there are those who would think themselves above Fate’s design, and as such you two may be seeing quite a bit of Miss Granger and Mr Potter. Leave convincing the others to myself, and when it is time, we will fulfil the prophecy for those two.’ Personally, I think he just likes to rub it in that both Liam and I hate being called by our full first names, but he does have some useful points. Sometimes.
“You’ve been here thirty times now, as I’ve mentioned, and Liam’s just told me that the Potter boy has been here a grand total of fifty two times.” Allie rolled her eyes. “I did ask if he was sure the file was right when it mentioned some Potter boy being your soulmate, as I did hope they’d have someone smart enough not to get themselves killed so many times as your perfect match, but unfortunately it’s true. Then again, Liam tells me that without all the inhibitions, Mr Potter may surprise me. I doubt it, but we will see.
“As for where we are? We are in my office in the Underworld Gateway building, where those recently deceased are sent to a case manager to be briefed, catalogued and sorted. Those with particular talents or powers get options to work in this building, in one of the other buildings overseen by the boss, or even sent to one of the other main bosses’ domains to live and work there. Those who simply want to move on also have the ability to do just that and are sent on to the underworld. I mean, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but that’s the gist of it.”
“So, I’m dead?” The brunette witch asked faintly, glad she was sat down as instructed for fear she’d have otherwise fallen down at the sheer volume of life altering information thrown her way. Harry had died fifty two times? Harry was her soulmate? She’d died thirty times herself? The underworld was real? Were the gods real? And if so, which ones? Hermione had read a lot of classics, and a lot of history, both before Hogwarts and during the summers she had in the non magical world, and had always equated the ancient gods as myths, like folk stories handed down over time, with each retelling giving the names and stories more weight and power until they were widely accepted as having some form of truth in them. Never had she imagined they were truly real, and around during her time. A little ironic, she knew, considering her blind acceptance of Lockhart’s books as fact because they were in the written word, when she didn’t believe every word written in far older texts. She glanced up at Allie, who read the mixture of curiosity and panic in her eyes instantly.
“Greek, not Roman, at least that’s how you would describe them, dear. My boss would be Hades, though before he got involved, my immediate boss was Thanatos. If you ever meet them, I’ll tell you now; Thanatos is a bit of a prick, whilst Hades is more laid back, but they’re both solid people you’d want in your corner any day of the week. Hades actually finds that little animated film about his nephew hilarious, and he is still trying to find a way of enchanting two pieces of marble to act like those little emotion sidekicks.
“I was originally a case manager under Thanatos’ department, you know, with him being the god of Death and everything, though I suppose the Peverell brothers just referred to him as Death in their children’s tale. Han is most upset by that meddling fool Dumbledore’s refusal to accept he was never the master of the hallows, by the way. Han’s cloak was meant to stay with your Harry as a baby and keep him safe from those people he was left with. The wand, if not for the fool’s interference, was supposed to have been passed from Gellert Grindelwald to Nicholas Flamel, who would have recognised the workmanship thanks to his own work with the philosopher’s stone, and passed it on willingly to Harry in exchange for the return of his stone at the end of your first year. In fact…” Allie appeared to deflate a little, her hair dampening a little as she stared at the overwhelmed young witch. “I can tell you what should have happened if you wish, Hermione, though you must be aware that those events were prevented from ever happening as they were supposed to. Instead, they may simply help you understand the anger and frustration behind your many untimely visits here. The choice is yours, of course.”
Hermione stared back, something deep inside of her wanting to believe Allie despite the unbelievable things she said. Some things made sense, especially about Dumbledore’s need to meddle in people’s lives. Not that she would have ever told Harry, who practically worshipped the headmaster, but sometimes Hermione questioned just why the headmaster of a school was so invested in the home life of one boy, and seemed determined to isolate Harry for no good reason. That wasn’t to say she didn’t respect him, as the need to respect people in authority was still deeply ingrained in her, but she wasn’t quite as naïve as she had been regarding adults at Hogwarts ever since the whole Lockhart fiasco in her second year. Briefly, she debated that she could live more peacefully without the information of what could have been, but never would, only to almost instantly disregard that option. If this Allie had been watching over her for even a short period of time, the redheaded woman would surely know that she would appreciate any information given to her no matter what. “I’d like to know,” Hermione decided quickly. “If you can, I’d also like to know who exactly decided to deny Fate and mess with both our lives. You said ‘those who would think themselves above Fate’s design’ earlier, which implies multiple people, and I’d like to know.” She added on at Allie’s speculative expression.
Allie nodded solemnly. “I shall tell you what I can, Hermione, but I warn you now that I don’t know everything. Fate, Hades, his two brothers, and Chronos are the only people to know everything. Not even Thanatos knows everything; I should know as I got him drunk one night to try and find out what he knew. All in all, that means that seven people know the full extent of it all, but I am not one of them. Fate is actually three sisters, but Fate is an easier name to use as what they weave into the tapestry of time can only be one narrative agreed upon by all three of them.” She elaborated gently at spotting Hermione’s furrowed brow. “I shall start with those that would seek to spurn Fate’s path and then hopefully you will have the additional insight for later.
“There are three individuals who seek specifically to interfere and change yours and Harry’s lives personally. Tom Riddle is another, but his intentions were always selfish, never about you or Harry yourselves, just how they related to himself. Han loved torturing him every time he received a new soul piece. The other three had specific plans for the pair of you.”
“One was Dumbledore, wasn’t it?” Hermione asked as the pieces fit together for her. It made sense, how the headmaster isolated Harry and kept him from Hermione specifically, or made sure that they didn’t have the information they needed, such as during the Horcrux hunt. Allie nodded again.
“His list of misdeeds is long, unfortunately, and again, most of his motives are self centred. He knew your Harry had a soul piece of Tom’s in his scar, and was banking on Tom killing Harry so he could jump in, kill Tom, and bask in his renewed glory at being the saviour of the wizarding world. He had so many convoluted plans that we still have ten people working full time trying to unravel them all. And that’s been happening since his death. We think we’re not even a quarter through all of his plans and schemes yet, and are estimated to hit the halfway mark in about another five years or so.” Allie smiled sadly at Hermione’s shocked gasp. “The other two, are the youngest two redheads you both are friends with. We dare not speak their names round here.”
“But why? Gin-” Hermione cut herself off as the ground began to shake ominously. Clutching at the armrests of the chair, she directed a terrified glance at Allie, who simply sent her a ‘see what you did’ look in return. “What did… those two… do that was so bad? They’re our friends! They’d never hurt us.” She chose her words carefully as the earthquake settled down, eyeing the space around her so vigilantly that Moody would’ve been proud.
“Fate hates anyone interfering with their plans, but all of the top bosses hate anyone coming between soulmates. I don’t know the full extent of it, but I do know that Dumbledore manipulated them too, and whilst the youngest one may have been influenced by a certain diary, the other one was manipulated by greed and fame. They both could see the obvious between you and Harry, and separately decided to give the pair of you love potions to turn your heads away from your soulmate and to them.
“I know you want to automatically deny the truth of it, but if you think about your sixth year, and arguing with Harry over that silly book whilst running around like a spurned lover for the other one, things are painted in a bit of a different light with potions involved. Don’t you think?”
Hermione reddened at the reminder of her sixth year, and how irrationally angry that potions book had made her, particularly towards Harry. She hadn’t even tried to read it and see exactly why there were so many annotations in the margins, or hear Harry out when he tried to explain things to her. Despite her many faults, she thought she’d grown out of her stubbornness and refusal to listen to information, at least in regard to Harry, where any normal rules seemed to fly straight out of the window. If she thought hard enough, she could recall a couple of times where she had calmed enough to consider asking to borrow the book so that she could analyse the extra information against her standard text, but those thoughts appeared fleeting, like whispers on the wind. Most unlike her, who never let go of anything that could yield information. Hadn’t she examined the Marauder’s Map for months at Harry’s side to make sure it was legitimate? Why was the potions book so different? “I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would they do that?” She whispered, glancing down as she instinctively wrapped her arms around her middle section protectively. Part of her brain still refused to believe that the two youngest Weasleys could have done such a thing, but the rest of her cried out at the knowledge they’d gone to such lengths to rip her from Harry, and even more potentially. After all, she didn’t know just how much of her life was altered forever by being dosed with those potions. A thought dawned on her, causing her head to shoot back up to look at Allie pleadingly. “Was one of my deaths related to those potions?” Silently, she hoped for the answer to be negative, that neither of the redheads had gone that far.
Her heart sunk as Allie’s face darkened in sadness and a little anger. “More than one, I’m afraid. At least four times officially, though between Liam and myself, we suspect at least seven times. Three of those were overdoses, as your system overcame the potions far quicker than they realised at first, and instead of amending the potions, your redhead simply chose to dose you again too soon each time. His sister caught him the fourth time, otherwise the count would have been far higher. Fate wanted to feed him to Fluffy for his stupidity.”
“How would Fate know about Fluffy?” Hermione’s eyes widened even as she answered her own question. “Of course, Fluffy is a Cerberus.”
Allie nodded, a hint of a smile crossing her features before she became solemn once more, reminding Hermione a little of Professor McGonagall’s expression whenever she had to be firm following one of the twins’ pranks. “Those are the reasons I know of for those three meddling with Fate, and of course you two as well. Now, our time grows short before a decision must be made. Would you like to learn of the Once Fated timeline?”
“‘Once Fated’?”
“Yes, it was the original narrative, the Fated weave, but will never happen again, and so we refer to it as the Once Fated. Anything following on from it is the New Fated.”
“Okay.” Hermione took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. “Please, tell me.”
The fiery haired woman nodded and waved her hands between them. A cloudy mist stretched out between them, growing and twisting in similar swirls to her eyes only with a wispier consistency. A flick of the wrist saw the mist fly to the far wall, stretching to cover the whole wall from floor to ceiling. Instinctively, Hermione stood as Allie did the same, taking small, measured steps towards the tapestry of grey swirling mist until they were stood side by side staring at it.
“We will stay here; you have no need to walk into it to learn. Let me show you what those three so carelessly ruined in their selfish greed.” Allie glanced at her impassively before waving her left hand at the mist. Hermione gasped as the mist cleared in the middle to show an oval shaped section completely clear and crisp.
“That’s… that’s me.” She pointed at a tiny, bushy haired girl dragging her heavy trunk onto a luggage trolley in the middle of the image.
“Indeed. Now, let me show you.” Another wave of her hand left Hermione breathless, watching wide eyed at the Once Fated timeline playing before her so crisp and clear, it was almost as though she was truly there.
Eleven year old Hermione struggled to lift her school trunk onto the luggage trolley near the entrance to the station. She was incredibly early, but as she had no idea how long it would take to get on the platform, let alone onto the train itself, both she and her parents had agreed that early was far better than late. Her mum and dad had dropped her at the station before they left for work, leaving her alone in the large foyer. They would have come with her, if only the Professor that had told them about magic hadn’t discouraged the idea, telling them that as non-magical people they wouldn’t be able to get on the platform anyway. It had taken her holding both her parents hands for them to see the pub entrance to Diagon Alley, so they all believed the Professor’s warnings and her parents dropped her at the entrance instead.
Just as she was about to give up, her burden was quite literally lifted as a young, skinny boy with messy black hair and wearing too large clothes for his small frame, lifted up the other end of her trunk with a shy smile. Together, they managed to lift her trunk onto a trolley before lifting the boy’s trunk on top of her own as he placed a beautiful snowy owl in a golden cage on top of the pile. She would have protested if she hadn’t seen the Hogwarts crest on the standard school trunk the boy had, realising quickly that he was going to the same school she was, and clearly had non-magical relatives too if he was at the same entrance as herself. Taking a chance, she held her hand out for a handshake. “Hello, I’m Hermione Granger. Thank you for helping me.”
“I’m Harry, Harry Potter. It’s alright, I was glad to help.” He took her hand cautiously, and both children gasped at the spark of magical energy that jumped between them.
“You’re Harry Potter!” She barely managed to keep her voice down in her excitement, though she was also concerned. The Harry Potter in front of her looked nothing like those books supposedly about him and his life. They never mentioned anything muggle, for a start. She smiled softly off of his confused look. “I have some books in my trunk that claim to be about you.”
“What?”
“I’ll let you read them on the train. At least then you’ll know what people think about you. If you want, of course.” Hermione tacked on, recalling her parents' warnings to stop pushing herself so much and allow others to speak. To her relief, Harry nodded slowly.
“I’d like that, thank you. Everyone else seems to know more about me than I do.”
Together, the two children began to push the loaded trolley towards the platform as Hermione explained how to get there to Harry, who listened intently and thanked her for telling him. As they passed through the barrier, neither saw the brood of redheads approaching the barrier, the matriarch yelling out about muggles and the platform number.
…
“Shouldn’t the challenges have been more difficult?” Harry asked as he stared down at the blood red stone in his hand. Hermione shrugged next to him, watching the stone as well.
“Maybe it was a test?” She suggested, motioning over to the ashen corpse of Quirrell near the Mirror of Erised.
“A test for who, though?” Harry questioned back. “Me or him?”
“We need to hide the stone.” Their eyes shot up to Neville’s, the slightly pudgy, quiet boy stood on Harry and Hermione’s other sides to completely surround the Philosopher’s Stone. “If we hide it, we can send it back to the Flamels. My gran has their last known address; I can ask for it without raising suspicion.”
Harry and Hermione locked eyes for a moment, before nodding in unison. “It’s the right thing to do,” Hermione admitted, as Harry quietly placed the stone in her skirt’s pocket.
At the confused stares of the other two children, Harry shrugged. “I’m the one they’re going to search for it, not either of you two. It’s safer with Hermione until we can return it to Mr Flamel.”
…
“Hermione, look!”
She glanced over at Harry’s awed tone, finding him holding an intricate wand with wide eyes, a note in his other hands. She took the note carefully, reading the short note of thanks from Nicholas Flamel as well as a short paragraph on the other side of the parchment explaining that the wand belonged to Harry as the symbol on the bottom proved it was an heirloom from Harry’s family ancestors, as well as warning them to be careful how they used such power. Neither child saw the shocked, pale face of the headmaster at the staff table, watching them intently.
…
Hermione could only watch in amazement, and a growing understanding of Allie’s anger, as she saw the Once Fated timeline unfold before her eyes. Everything could have been so different if only there had been no meddling. Her heart went out to Harry, and the life he could have had. They both could have been so happy, gone so far. Together.
As the last image faded back into the mist, she turned to Allie with tears in her eyes and determination written all over her face, along with a glimmer of anger and love intertwined. Allie shook out the skirt of her black gown, with Hermione finally noticing the intricate shimmering pattern in the fabric, winding round up towards the bodice like vines up a tree trunk. Subtle, but beautiful.
“So.” Her eyes were swirling gently, unlike the whirlwind when she’d introduced herself from the doorway. “Fate, and the boss, have decided to give you a chance. Bit it is your choice to make; I made sure of that. You are dead; there are no two ways about it. You have two options available to you, and I have to tell you that your Mr Potter is also being offered the same chance right now.
“Your first option is to remain dead, pass through and make your choice on where you go next, as I explained briefly earlier to you. I have had many people bidding to pitch their roles to you since your second death, so you are not in short supply of options for your afterlife. I do not know if you will reunite with Harry, as I cannot predict what will happen when you are out of this room.
“Your second option is to go back, to a time you could make the most difference. You would be able to keep all of your memories, which will be guarded against any who would seek to read your mind, and you would of course see your Harry again, though if he does not have his memories, you will be unable to tell him any of yours, or the life you’ve lived,” Allie warned carefully. “Fate has also offered their own gift to you, should you choose to return. They are still particularly upset about the potions.” She produced a small black box, opened to reveal a thin gold chain with a small moonstone pendant hanging from it.
Hermione stared at the moonstone for a long moment, weighing up both options as best she could. However, she knew Harry was being offered the same options, and she knew deep inside which option her best friend would choose every single time. She’d told him off about his saving people thing more times than she could remember. This time would be no different; she could feel it. With Harry in mind, there was only one choice to make.
Reaching out for the pendant, Hermione offered Allie a tiny smile. “Was there ever truly a choice? You already know I’d choose Harry over everything.”
The fiery haired woman let out a short laugh, like a tinkling of bells in the wind. “Oh, I know.” Swiftly, she placed the necklace on Hermione, fastening the clasp in place before directing the witch to the only door in the room. “Just as I know your Mr Potter would choose you every time as well. Good luck, and I shall see you soon.”
Hermione barely even heard the last sentence as Allie opened the door and she raced out with a wide grin and outspread arms. She never saw the bare white room, nor the snickering man dressed in black near another door, dark blue hair rippling like waves on the shore. All she saw was a messy haired wizard grinning back at her, wearing a cleaner version of the clothes she had last seen him in, his arms outstretched ready to catch her.
“Harry!”