Chapter Two: Riddles in the Light

To say that Harry Potter, or Harry Riddle as he was now known, was angry would be an understatement; much like saying that Hagrid was big.

Riddle. Harry bloody Riddle. Of all the people in the world that could be Harry's 'father', it had to be Tom Riddle. He wasn't amused, not one bit.

“H.. Harry? Per.. Perhaps we should, um, read the note Death left us?” Hermione said faintly. She didn't exactly like the idea of being Voldemort's daughter-in-law. Seeing a rolled up piece of fine parchment, Harry grabbed it and began reading. In hindsight, he really wished he could have ignored it.

'My Dear Mr. & Mrs. Harold Riddle,

First of all, allow me to congratulate you both on dear Hermione's pregnancy, I'm sure the child will be absolutely adorable. With such a lovely couple as you for parents, I fail to see how it could be anything but adorable.'

Hermione actually fainted at this. Harry simply stared blankly for a moment before reading it again and promptly taking a very manly visit to the land of blissful unconsciousness. Hermione eventually came around and briefly giggled at Harry's unconscious form, which still held a look of absolute horror, before she recalled the reason for his look. She quickly Re-enervated him, taking note that she now had a different wand, and listened to Harry's string of impressive curses while adding a few of her own here and there. It was with no small amount of trepidation that they returned to the letter.

'Now, I'm sure you have noticed I've done something very peculiar and are no doubt confused and perhaps even a mite bit annoyed. However, I decided that it would be for the best, I do hope that you are not displeased. I feel my solution comes with plenty of benefits and is, in fact, quite nice of me to have done.’

Harry snorted and wondered if he strangled Death, would he die?

‘If you have, by chance, not noticed what I am speaking about, then I should inform you that it is now February 20th, 1982. At least, if you read this right away, it should be.

The Dark Lord Voldemort has, thankfully, been defeated by a Mr. Neville Longbottom, whom we discussed earlier during your visit to nowhere.

Lily and James Potter are alive and well, and, so far as I am aware, young Harry James Potter is as well. I am doing this as a favour to you, Mr. Riddle, and as a reward for aiding in the eventual destruction of Lord Voldemort as well as an additional task that I must ask of you. In the trunk you will find a very old copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It is written in runes and is in fact one of the earliest copies. I suggest you read the Tale of the Three Brothers, where yours truly makes a very dramatic appearance.

I'm sure you'll be able to figure it all out in time. You’re both quite clever, after all. I would suggest that you try and keep an open mind, especially Mrs. Riddle, but seeing as you've already met me, I doubt we would have a problem with that. The objects should not be too hard to find, once you've figured out what they are, if you think logically enough. I could, of course, give you the answers, but really, where is the fun in that? No fun, no fun at all.’

Harry was rather conflicted by this. He was thrilled that his parents were alive, though he was more than a little sad to see Neville cursed with the fate of being the Boy-Who-Lived. Still, at least it appeared that Neville would not have to defeat Voldemort, or at least he wouldn't be alone. And what was this new task Death wanted them to do?

'Now, as to your history. You have, I do not doubt, noticed who your father is, yes? I can only assume that you are confused by this information, but I assure you that I have my reasons for doing as I have done. Only half of them involve my own amusement.

Well, perhaps more than half, but there are one or two very good reasons as well. Though I shall not inform you of these, it is for you to find out for yourself, and for you to use this gift I have given you for the betterment of wizardkind.

Now, Mr. Riddle, your dear mother Dahlia was a very talented spell crafter and a talented curse breaker. She was born in 1921, attended Durmstrang Institute and lived primarily in France, though she spent significant stretches of her childhood in Britain as well. Your grandfather Abélard Purbaton was a high ranking lieutenant of Gellert Grindelwald's Dark Army who was married to an English pureblood witch by the name of Constance Malfoy.

Abélard gained some renown during Lord Grindelwald's War for his various deeds, including the assassination of the French Minister of Magic Jacques Leroy at the outset of the war. He also participated in the Battle of Avalon, Lord Grindelwald's attempt to invade Britain, where he is said to have killed then Chief Auror Alexander Thicknesse as well as a young up and coming Auror, Charlus Potter. He was eventually killed during the final assault upon Lord Grindelwald's stronghold in 1945 by Alastor Moody.

Your mother and father met originally due to their connections with the Malfoy family, and then again during their travels years later. Your father, a charming fellow, seduced your lovely mother in order to acquire her help in finding the lost tomb of Herpo the Foul in Greece. Unfortunately, while they did find it in 1956, there was nothing there. Originally, Lord Voldemort left Ms. Purbaton for dead in the tomb, placing some very powerful enchantments so that she could not escape. However, in this reality, she was clever enough to break the enchantments and escape. Good for her.

Roughly eight months later, Harold Salazar Riddle appeared in the world, born in Lunéville on November 9th, 1956. Voldemort did not know of her pregnancy and believes, in his arrogance, that she died in Herpo's Tomb. He still does not know of your existence.

Sadly, dear Dahlia died in 1967 while working on one of her spells. You were then raised in Revanna for several years by your Great Auntie Léontine Purbaton, who passed on in 1974, while you were only seventeen. Rather sad. While living with Auntie Léontine, you attended Durmstrang Institute, finished quite respectfully in the top portion of your class. Very good, Harry. Very good indeed.

Now, for the next five years you travelled about the world, eventually acquiring Persephone in Egypt. Congratulations. In late 1979, you met Ms. Hermione Blackraven, whom you fell in love with, and married in January of 1981. You moved back to Britain just a few weeks ago following the destruction of the Dark Lord, as dear Hermione had wished to return home.'

Harry didn't really know what to say after reading about his 'ancestry', but apparently being the son of Lord Voldemort wasn't enough, so he had to have a grandfather who fought with Grindelwald and a grandmother who was a Malfoy.

'Now, as to your current situation, Constance Malfoy died in 1951. As far as the Malfoy family are aware, Dahlia died childless sometime in the mid 1950's while travelling. Your mother, it would seem, was not so fond of Riddle after he left her, or of the Malfoy family, and chose never to correct their mistaken notions. Shame, family is such an important thing. I suggest you get to know yours.

Now, my dear sweet Hermione, the Blackravens were a minor pureblood family in Britain. Your father was the last of the line. Your mother's family, the Bonfoys, were likewise a minor pureblood family in Britain, and she was also the last of her family. They were married in 1958. You were born on July twelfth, 1959, in Upper Flagley. The family moved to Dijon, France in 1970, where you eventually attended Beauxbatons Academy, graduating with very respectable marks, congratulations.

Your family moved back to England, specifically to Tinworth, in 1977. Your parents were murdered by Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters in 1979, after refusing to enter into his service. At this time, you started travelling Europe, presumably to escape the troubles of home. Of course, you know when you met young Mr. Riddle, got married, and so on and so forth.

Those are the highlights. I suggest that you go through your memories to understand them better. Learning Occlumency, which you should both already know the basics of, would help immensely.

As I have said before, all the documentation you need, you have already. The Ministries also have all the documents they need. People you would have come into contact with all have vague memories of you, as well. I did not wish for either of you to attend Hogwarts, as that would undoubtedly make things quite a bit trickier, I'm sure you understand.

I should also inform you, if for no other reason than to allay Mrs. Riddle's fears, that you've no chance of creating a Time Paradox or anything of the sort. I am sure, Mrs. Riddle, that you are aware of the Paradox Theory presented by Mr. Josiah Levy. I should hope that you would read his Fifth Law on the consequences of Time Travel. It should be enlightening.

As for the baby, well, I love babies. It'll be fun, and, naturally, I expect to be its favourite Uncle Death. I shall stop by from time to time to see you. Have a lovely life, try not to visit me any time soon and if you do, make it good.

Your friend,

Death'

Harry and Hermione's brains were almost ready to go on strike, they were doing far too much work today and they just didn't like it. Not one bit. Harry's mind was still working out how one would go about killing Death until he eventually gave it up as a bad job.

“Oh, Harry, what are we going to do?” asked Hermione, who for once seemed completely lost. Harry just looked at her.

“I don't know, Hermione, I don't know. I'm hungry. Why don't we eat?” he asked, as if food would give him all the answers he sought. Or maybe it was because he simply didn't want to think anymore.

Hermione, to his surprise, agreed, and they soon made their way to the kitchen. However, before they could begin cooking, a crack signalled the arrival of a house elf named, Harry's memory told him, Loki.

“Missy Hermie, Master Harry, is you being ready for lunch?” he asked excitedly, as if a simple yes would make his day.

“Yes Loki, Hermie and I would like lunch now, thanks.” Apparently Hermione wasn't in the mood for humour, as she glared at his cheeky grin. A distraction came in the form of Elpis the Kneazle, who hopped up on Hermione's lap and demanded a scratching. Harry absently wondered where Persephone was before he ‘remembered’ she was on her perch in his study on the second floor.

“So, Hermione, what are we going to do?” he asked, hoping she'd suddenly come up with a brilliant idea.

“I don't know, Harry. I mean, I wasn't looking forward to it. Our bodies may be older and we may have a lot of extra memories, but just the other day I was sixteen! I mean, we'll have to keep it, of course, but it's not going to be easy. I expect he did it to make sure we stayed together, of course, the bastard.”

“Huh?”

“Honestly! The baby! Did you forget that already, Harry?” she asked incredulously. Harry smiled sheepishly and replied with an “Oh” that did nothing to lessen her glare.

Harry broke the ensuing silence with a question, “So, what, uh, what do you hope it will be?”

“I don't know,” she replied thoughtfully. “I hadn't really thought about it much yet. I mean, I don't know, I'd thought more about having a career and establishing that before having a baby. What about you?”

He shrugged. “I don't mind either way.” A frown creased his handsome murderer-like features. He really hadn't expected to be dealing with something like this so soon.

Lunch was a quiet affair as both seemed lost in their thoughts, and there were quite a few of them. After thanking Loki, the two went to the den and sat by the blazing fire. It was a rather chilly day out. The room had a familiarity about it that made Harry more comfortable despite all the madness that was going on in his life.

“So, uh, Hermione, who is that Levy bloke?” Harry asked, having unsurprisingly never heard of him.

“Oh! He created the Time-Turners. I read about him after Professor McGonagall gave me mine during third year. He also wrote the Five Laws of the Consequences of Time Travel,” she said excitedly.

“Oh, right, and they are..?”

“Well, the First Law states that one must not be seen when they travel back in time, especially by themselves. The Second Law states that they must not prevent themselves from going back in time, or they may create a Paradox. The Third Law says that by the time a person goes into the past, all that will happen has happened. The Fourth Law says that a person can only go back twelve hours, maximum, without causing instability to the time-line. And the Fifth Law, which really is more of a theory, states that if one went back before they were born, they could potentially create a completely alternate dimension, allowing them to affect the time-line as they wish,” she finished, in her lecture tone.

Harry just stared at her for a moment. It hadn’t seemed that complicated during third year. His only rule then was not to be seen.

“Harry, think about third year, all right? You remember we couldn't be seen, right? And we weren't, well, except for you, but that was okay because you didn't realise it was you.”

Harry nodded. He understood that much.

“Well, the Second Law sort of ties into the Third Law. You see, we didn't realize that McNair had chopped a pumpkin in half out of frustration. Our view of where Buckbeak should have been was blocked. And we were in the hospital wing while Sirius was being freed, so we didn't know. Finally, the big one, if you were not there to conjure that Patronus, then we'd all have died. You see?”

Harry was more than a little confused, though. “So, I guess since Buckbeak and Sirius were freed without our knowledge, we still thought we had to go back, right? If we had known they were safe, we would have had no reason to go back in time, right?” Hermione nodded at both of these, but Harry still couldn't wrap his head around the last one.

“But, Hermione, how did I save myself? I mean, the first time it all happened, there had to be a first time, right? I wouldn't have been there and saved myself otherwise, right? I don't understand.”

“That, Harry, is Levy's Third Law. All that will happen has already happened. It's, well, I don't know how, there have been many interesting theories about the Third Law, but they're only theories.” Hermione looked a bit annoyed at not being able to find a logical explanation for Levy's Third Law as she scrunched up her face in concentration. A voice in the back of Harry's head thought she looked quite cute like that, but it was quickly beaten by another part of his mind that was still unwilling to accept this situation.

“Well, anyway, the Fourth Law means that if you go back too far, too many things will change, leading to a Paradox. It's the Fifth Law, though, that concerns us. I suppose, from what Death said, that the theory is correct, although it’s always been highly debated.”

“But, we're not here before we were born, Hermione. We both already exist, don't we?” he asked, though he had a feeling he was missing something.

“Honestly, Harry, don't you pay attention? For one, we are no longer Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Granger, and I mean that in every way. It’s not just our looks that are different, Harry. I expect our magic is as well, amongst other things. But no, remember, Harry: Death said Dahlia Purbaton was supposed to have died in 1956, around March, I suppose. That was the first change, you see, which started this alternative dimension.”

Ah, that was the bit he had been missing.

“Actually, I've been thinking about it, and I believe our parents are real people, our whole family in fact. I mean, even back in our dimension, you know? My parents likely were two real people who got married but never had children and were killed by Death Eaters. Speaking of which, we should review our memories, like Death said.”

At Hermione's command, they sat back in their comfortable chairs by the fireplace and looked back on their 'lives' so far. Harry's thoughts were all over the place, he was still confused as hell about this whole thing, his memories of his old life still popped up, and he had some serious guilt issues to deal with over Neville's death.

He'd missed over a decade of his life, even if he did have vague memories of it. Even worse, the years up to his fifteen birthday were completely different. His 'mother', Dahlia, was a caring mother and showed him just how much he had missed out on by growing up with the Dursleys. Great Auntie Léontine, on the other hand, was probably more similar to Neville's Gran or perhaps a better comparison would be Professor McGonagall.

Durmstrang was an odd memory. It was in some ways similar to Hogwarts, though much more spartan. The school grounds, though, were a sight to behold. He suspected they were even larger than the Hogwarts grounds. Too bad it was rather cold during the winters there, as it was beautiful that time of year.

The next sets of memories were his travels throughout the world. He remembered visiting Egypt, exploring some of the ancient tombs of long dead wizards, then finding Persephone and bonding with her. The experience was something one could hardly put into words; warm caresses of fire, the feeling of something so ancient it could hardly be fathomed, and the sheer goodness of the creature.

Harry had visited Greece for a while, as well as Russia. He spent two years in China, and rather thought that it would be nice to visit there again someday. It was in Italy, specifically Rome, that Harry 'met' Hermione while on a tour of an ancient wizarding settlement. He remembered the two visiting other sites together, their mutual happiness; he remembered the pang of guilt he felt when he heard what had happened to her parents.

He also remembered their wedding, a simple affair near Arles, France, where they lived for a time before moving here. Their little house was on the outskirts of the town, just a small but very cosy little place. He even remembered, quite vividly, their wedding night.

His musings about the past were eventually cut off by Hermione, who had apparently left the room at some point, and was just returning with Death's trunk.

“I thought we should look through the rest of the stuff in here, you know, like our N.E.W.T. scores.” She added the last part sheepishly, which Harry thought was rather cute. At least she was still the same Hermione, even if she had a 'new coat of paint', so to speak.

“Alright,” Harry agreed, hoping that his alternative self was smarter than the real him.

Turns out, it was. Translated into English, which his brain did for him quite well as he was apparently fluent in several languages, Harry found that he did very well indeed. He got O's in the Dark Arts, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Magical Creatures, E’s in Potions, Charms, and Herbology, and A's in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Astronomy.

He recalled that the latter three he had studied for in his free time and went ahead and took the N.E.W.T.s with his others.

Hermione on the other hand had received O's in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Potions, E’s in Herbology and History of Magic, and an A in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration. She too had studied independently, for History, Defence and Herbology in her case, and took the N.E.W.T.s with her others.

“Well, I suppose it's not bad. I could have done better, but I guess Death didn't want us to stand out too much, and these are already acceptable. I suppose,” she said, seeming a little disappointed.

“Yes, Hermione, I suspect that's the reason. You know you'd have done brilliantly on the real thing.” He smiled, and this did seem to brighten her mood some. Harry had thought about adding that she was considered a pureblood now, so she could have failed everything and still be given a job over any Muggleborns, but decided against it. Not the time for a Hermione rant.

“Thanks Harry,” she beamed. “So...oh my! It's nearly dinner time! Wow, I guess we spent a lot of time going over our memories, hmm?” Harry didn't reply, as he was busy giving her a peculiar look.

“Er, Hermione, I know you look different and everything but, your accent is, uh, a bit odd.”

“Well, of course it is Harry. I'm from Upper Flagley here, aren't I? That's in Yorkshire. I'm from Kent originally, so that's a big difference, isn't it? It's funny though, I don't think any differently. It all sounds the same in my head. Did you know that you're speaking with a French accent, Harry?”

“What?”

“Yes, it's not as bad as Fleur's, don't worry, but it is noticeable. Odd, isn't it? I expect we can both speak several languages too, without much thought. I know from my memories that I speak French and Latin fluently, and some Gobbledegook as well. What about you?” she asked, sounding far too excited about the whole thing.

“Er, well, I'm pretty sure I can speak French, Italian, Latin, and German fluently, and English, of course. I think, from my memories, that I speak decent Chinese, and I know a little bit of Egyptian and Russian, too. Oh, and I remember...uh...mum teaching me some Greek, when I was young.”

Hermione looked a bit put out by his linguistic skills. He quickly said, “I speak French because I'm, well, French, and I speak Italian because I lived in Italy with my Auntie, and I speak Latin because, well, don't all purebloods learn Latin? And I speak German because I attended Durmstrang, and that's the 'common' language there. That's what I know from my memories, anyway. Mum taught me Greek too, or was teaching me before she died, so I know a little. Chinese I learned when I lived in China.”

Hermione nodded, seemingly satisfied that she was still more intelligent than Harry before she said smugly, “Don't forget Parseltongue, Harry.”

“That too,” he agreed, though he was decidedly unhappy about it. He didn't want to be reminded of that.

“So Harry, I just, well...” she said hesitantly, looking wildly around the room for something to talk about, preferably something that had nothing to do with what she originally wanted to talk about.

“We should look through the rest of the trunk, don't you think?”

With that, she opened it back up and looked through. They found the book Death had mentioned, along with various official documents and such. They had not one but several vault keys, which, after looking through his memory, Harry realised were keys to their personal vault, the Purbaton family vault, the Bonfoy family vault and the Blackraven family vault. Looking further into it, he realised that while they weren't anywhere near Malfoy, or even Potter rich, they could live comfortably.

After looking through the documentation, Harry realised with some joy that he was a legally registered Animagus, a handsome smoky coloured Egyptian Mau. He quickly transformed, happy to find it was relatively easy for him, and found the feline form to be rather fun. He'd definitely have to do this more often.

Hermione wasted no time in picking him up, and he could tell why Crookshanks liked her; she was an expert ear scratcher.

It was this scene which Loki the house elf popped in on.

“Master, Mistress, your dinner is being done.” He quickly bowed and cracked out of the room.

Cat Harry wasted no time in bolting towards the kitchen, finding himself not at all surprised at the fast speed he achieved.

The evening progressed nicely enough, as both were still trying to figure their new life out. They both examined their new wands in great detail. Harry's was a thirteen inch oak and unicorn hair creation of Gregorovitch's, while Hermione's was a springy cherry and phoenix tail feather creation of Ollivander's.

It was not until they grew tired that their next problem came: where would they sleep? In the end, blushing furiously, they both found themselves in the master bedroom, on the extreme opposite sides of the large bed. Naturally, they were much closer when they awoke.