Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Gryffindor's Golden Girl

February 10, 1948

The day was Tuesday and the time was mid-morning, about ten o'clock when Hermione woke to a familiar rap on the window of her room at the inn. She wasn't accustomed to sleeping in, but she had spent her entire night reading about current events and the like and pouring over the divination books she'd kept in her beaded bag. Hermione's understanding of the tarot cards that Madame Violette had examined in her reading was becoming much more keen in her present circumstances, but she still had yet to decipher the meaning of a few of them. She had extended her stay at the inn but regrettably, her galleons were slowly dwindling. Soon, she would have to dip into the coffers and chests she'd been given by the Malfoys which were still carefully stowed away in her beaded bag. Despite wanting to save them for her philanthropical endeavors, she decided that due to her current situation, her hopes and dreams for a muggle-born foundation wouldn't do much good if she herself couldn't get through the better part of this week.

The big gray owl dropped in her hand a note from Headmaster Dumbledore. He requested her presence in his office that afternoon if she was available.

She donned her red robes, hoping that her Gryffindor colors would bring her an extra bit of luck. Perhaps she should've invested in a vial of Felix Felicis, but there was no time for that now.

After a hearty lunch in the dining room of the inn, Hermione set off to Hogwarts with her heart in her throat.

"Have a seat, Miss Granger."

Dumbledore wore bright orange robes with gold trim; they complimented his blue eyes and auburn hair, making him look quite Merlin-esque in his finery.

Hermione sat before him, lifting her chin proudly to meet his stare.

"I have examined your memories in-depth, Miss Granger. I have decided that I do not wish to know any further details concerning the events of the future. I do trust that you will do your best to execute positive change with that knowledge regarding these future happenings, but I implore you to do so with the utmost secrecy and care. Not one soul can know the truth about you, Miss Granger. The danger is too great. I fear for your safety. Have you any training at all, in occlumency?"

"I do, sir. I'm perhaps not as skilled as yourself, but I am proficient."

"Good... good. I will see to it that you are trained in this skill to the best of my ability. I will see to it personally. That is imperative."

Her eyes widened. "That would be incredible, Headmaster."

He nodded as he looked down at her thoughtfully. "I have thought at length about what we might do about your situation. You require a new identity, one which doesn't draw too many questions. I have had a rather enlightened idea, which at first, seemed to be the opposite of what is necessary... but the more I think about it, I believe the solution is quite perfect. That is, if you will agree to it."

"What solution would that be, Headmaster?"

His blue eyes were intense. "I would like you to be presented to the wizarding world as my long-lost daughter, Hermione. This would provide you with a level of protection that I doubt you will be able to achieve any other way."

Hermione sputtered. "Excuse me? But... your daughter? How would that work?"

He gazed over her shoulder as he spoke. "There was an old friend of mine, whom I was rather close with as a younger man. She has recently passed away. Beautiful, charming witch. Her name was Eleanor Dagworth-Granger, a distant cousin of the potioneering Dagworth-Grangers. Many of my contemporaries can corroborate the claim. She lived in Edinburgh and would have brought you up there. She was a spectacularly gifted witch. I will see to it that the necessary memory charms are performed and that you are educated on the details of the story. Upon her recent death, you discovered a letter from her informing you of the truth about your paternal lineage. None other than myself, of course."