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Chapter Text

To say that Hermione Granger, age eleven and a half's endeavor in gaining her wand had been memorable, would be putting it very lightly.

Hermione lived in a world where soulmate marks existed. And she had no idea who her soulmate was, as she had never seen a matching soulmate mark on anyone before. On her right shoulder, a few inches above her chest, was the soulmate mark of a dark blue dragon with its wings opened up. Now to ask someone if they had that same mark on them, would be rather intrusive, wouldn't it? She couldn't ask if someone had that mark, could she? Not in that part of the body.

And with the life she had led? Hermione knew that she should expect weird stuff.

But still?

The strange man with floppy, silver hair and timid eyes, Mr. Ollivander, had given her multiple wands to try with, to see which wand would be her permanent wand. From a birch wand with unicorn hair, to a holly wand with a phoenix feather inside. But finally, she had gotten a wand, made from redwood, with dragon heartstrings.

The reaction from Ollivander had been…troubling, to say the least.

He had told her something she would always remember. That the dragon the dragon heartstrings had come from, had had only two dragon heartstrings taken from it. And the dragon in question? Was a very rare type of dragon, called a 'Obsidian's Flame Dragon.'

A dragon that was considered so powerful that it was hunted to near extinction.

After Hermione had gasped at how barbaric that was, Ollivander had then said something that had stopped her heart almost.

He had said that it was curious that she got the sibling of the wand that he had sold previously, to a wizard who had abhorred muggle-borns. And was the most famous dark wizard of all.

Hermione had felt cold when she had heard that. She knew who Ollivander had been talking about.

Who wouldn't know who he had been talking about?

Ollivander had then said, "I think it is clear, we can expect great things from you, Ms. Granger. After all, 'he who shall not be named' did great things, as well. Terrible, yes, but great."

Hermione had felt her blood run cold, hearing that.

She had read every book she could get her hands on, when it came to magic, after learning where her abilities came from. And so, yes, she knew who Ollivander had been talking about.

Voldemort.

Hermione had left the shop soon afterwards, feeling cold, when she eventually gotten her familiar, Crookshanks.

She had hugged her mother goodbye and eventually went through the portal that led to the train station that would take her to Hogwarts.

She tried to put it all in the back of her mind, during the trip on the train. She had the same wand that Voldemort had. But what did that mean?

Again, she tried not to think too hard about it. And when a young, sheepish boy named Neville Longbottom had announced he was looking for his pet toad, Trevor, she thankfully had a distraction.

The train trip and the boat trip had been calming and oddly uneventful. Oddly uneventful for a trip with multiple witches and wizards. She had repaired the glasses of that boy, Harry Potter, "the Boy who Lived." She had read up all about him, about how he had somehow stopped "Voldemort." She knew better than to buy into all the fame of him. Somehow a baby had stopped Voldemort, and yet, he didn't even know how to repair his own glasses? Either he was very good at hiding that he was a powerful wizard, or he was utterly clueless.

So, Hermione saw no reason to do anything to do with him, or with his red-haired friend, Weasley, unless she gained something from it.

When she and all the other children reached Hogwarts, they went into the castle and went up the stairs, she took in all of the designing. Big, vast stone hallways, archways and bronze statues.

Sprawling staircases.

They reached the top of the stairs, finding an elderly woman standing there, straight and tall and proud, despite her age, with a stereotypical witch's getup.

The woman gave her introduction to all of the houses, and Hermione frowned at the distaste in the woman's voice when she said, "And Slytherin." Hermione didn't understand the disgust for the Slytherin house.

Sure, people who ended up in that house usually ended up turning bad. And yes, the founder had been bigoted against muggle-borns and half-bloods, but just because it had a bad reputation, didn't mean that it should be treated like a house full of pariahs.

She had read up on all the houses. Gryffindor was full of people that thought they were better than everyone else-not that different from Slytherin. Hufflepuff was full of loyal sweeties and Ravenclaw was full of actual lazy, but brilliant people.

Hermione had analyzed every single house, coldly, clinically and obsessively. She had finally made her choice when she had heard that distasteful remark from the woman at the top of the stairs.

Alright, since she was a muggle-born and she had figured out how muggle-borns and half-bloods were treated in this society, and since she had a hard time making friends anyway? Might as well go all the way in.

She was going to see if she could get put into Slytherin.

As she and the rest of the children walked through the hall, between the four tables-flanked on both sides by multiple students.

Hermione looked up at the fake sky that was made. Unable to help herself, she told the girl next to her, a girl with black hair, that she knew that the sky in the ceiling of Hogwarts was fake because she had read "Hogwarts: a History."

They reached the steps leading up to where the teachers and headmaster were all seated, and the woman who had described the houses to Hermione and the others showed them the sorting hat and began reading names off the scroll.

Hermione tried to ignore the tightness in her chest as the woman read the names off the scroll.

This was a new chance. She might actually be able to make friends this time. There were so many kids back in the muggle world who had disliked her, and had happily ignored her, not interested in her "nerdiness."

She knew that House Slytherin wouldn't like that she was muggle-born, but she'd persevere, make them respect her.

The people that had raised her for the first five years of her life had made sure that she had had a taste of what being a pariah was, before her mother had adopted her.

So, she wouldn't put up with that.

Eventually, the woman called Hermione's name and Hermione went up the steps to the stool, getting up on it and feeling the sorting hat drop onto her head.

She pushed the thought to the front of her mind. Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin.

The sorting house said to her, "I see…," the hat said, "If you're sure, then…Slytherin!"

Hermione smiled and Slytherin cheered as the woman pulled the hat off her head and Hermione noticed the distrustful look on the woman's face as Hermione exited and headed for the Slytherin table.

She sat down next to an older girl who smiled at her and shook her hand. The girl quickly introduced herself as Daphne Greengrass.

Hermione smiled at her and turned to watch the rest of the sorting. That pompous boy, who had had a tiff with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley on the train, as Hermione had seen, had unfortunately been sorted into House Slytherin. Though that wasn't really a surprise. He was Draco Malfoy. And the Malfoys had been in the Slytherin house for centuries.

Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, as was Ron Weasley-again, not a surprise, all the Weasleys seemed to have ended up in Gryffindor and Potter's parents had been in Gryffindor too.

After everyone was sorted, Dumbledore announced the feast and platters and platters full of food popped up onto the table before all the students.

Hermione happily grabbed whatever she could-Yorkshire pudding, chicken legs, lamb chops and black pudding onto her plate.

The food here seemed nothing like the food that had been in that facility that she had lived in for five years of her life before her mother had taken her in.

It had been so cut and clean and in small portions.

Daphne asked Hermione where it was she was from. Hermione smiled at her, and had readied herself for the shitstorm that would come with the truth when she started talking.

"I'm from London," she said, smiling, "I don't know who my biological parents are, but I was adopted by a muggle woman. And I'm pretty sure I'm muggle-born."

Daphne's eyes widened. Her mouth opened into an "O" shape, but she said nothing.

Across from Hermione, one girl, whom Hermione had learned was name Pansy Parkinson, announced, "A muggle-born? Oh, that's just perfect." She snorted, "How did YOU end up in Slytherin?"

Hermione looked to her and smirked, "Good question, I don't know. Oh, well, I guess the sorting hat got some indigestion and had vomited the first word out."

Pansy blanched and Hermione fought a snort. All else failed, as she had learned over the years repulse people, so that they pissed off.

The group of Purebloods eyeing Hermione, went back to small talk, confused as to what Hermione was doing in their house.

Eventually they were all brought to their dorms, in the dungeons of Hogwarts.

In Hermione's dorm, there Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's twin sister-though younger, if Daphne asked, as Daphne kept teasing Astoria that she was ten minutes older than Astoria and so Astoria should listen to her, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Ivy Avery, Catherine Fawley, and so on.

Hermione sat up almost all night, too excited to go to sleep, with her darling Crookshanks on her lap, petting him, looking up at the various decorations around the room.

As she looked around, she heard footsteps coming over to the wingback, Edwardian chair. Hermione turned to look at where the footsteps were coming.

She smiled when she saw Astoria Greengrass.

"Hey," she said, "What are you doing up?"

Astoria said, light brown eyebrows lifting up, "I might ask you the same thing."

Hermione shrugged, "I'm just so not used to all this. This magical world," her smile widened, "It's wonderful."

Astoria chuckled. "I'm sorry to say this," she said, "But we Slytherins aren't very warm to muggle-borns and muggles."

Hermione nodded, "So I've read," she admitted, "Still, I'm glad to be at this school, regardless of which house I'm in."

Astoria shrugged, "Well, glad to hear," she said, "Because you're going to have to deal with a lot from the others. Be careful of Malfoy. His family is big on blood purity. He won't like finding out that you're muggle-born, if he doesn't know already."

Hermione chuckled, "Great."

Astoria said goodnight and she went off to bed. Eventually, Hermione went to bed as well, Crookshanks curling up on the right side of Hermione's legs as she slept.

The next day, Hermione went off to class, on time, noticing that there was a black and gray striped cat on the desk, and multiple papers all along each desk, with the description of the class's first assignment for the school year.

Hermione frowned as she and the other students sat behind their respective desks and dropped down, grabbing their quills. She had a theory, but she wasn't going to say it.

She had read all about animaguses. Those that could transform into an animal.

She had no idea if the woman who was supposed to be teaching this class, Minerva McGonagall, and the same woman who had helped with the sorting yesterday, was an animagus, but if she was? That cat on the front desk, probably wasn't actually a cat.

Hermione noted that there were two unoccupied seats. She had no idea who was late, but that was their problem, not hers.

She jotted down what she was certain were the right answers and was almost finished with the assignment, when she heard footsteps running and coming closer to the classroom. Hermione rolled her eyes as she worked.

She had an idea of who was late.

And she was proved to be right, when both Harry Potter and the youngest Weasley boy came bursting in through the classroom door, and Hermione fought a smirk at what Weasley said, "Could you imagine the look on McGonagall's face if we were late?"

Hermione glanced up from her papers, getting her answer about the cat, a second later.

The cat leapt off the desk, transforming into the human figure of Minerva McGonagall.

Weasley looked at McGonagall and said, "That was bloody brilliant!"

"Well, thank you, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, "I suppose I could transfigurate one of you into a pocket watch? That way at least one of you will be on time."

"We got lost, professor," Potter said.

"Then I suppose a map?" McGonagall said, "I assume that you don't need one to find your seat."

Hermione went back to her work as Potter and Weasley sat down, people snickering around them. It was not her problem.

Next was Potions.

Hermione saw the professor come through the door and she ignored a shiver that went down her spine as the figure dressed in black, with shoulder-length, greasy black hair made his speech about the rules in this class.

She knew who this was. She had read all about the "Death Eaters."

She knew that this world had a darker side to it, because she had read all about it. Every detail she could get her hands on? She had greedily consumed the information. So, she knew about Death Eaters.

The servants of the dark wizard whose name was never mentioned-but she knew what it was, because again, she read a lot-his name was Voldemort, but people didn't like saying it, and his servants? They were called "Death Eaters."

And it was not kept secret who had been Death Eaters. Some of them-most of them, had ended up in the witch and wizard prison. Azkaban. Some of them had claimed that they had been under the imperius curse, the curse used to make people do other witches and wizards' bidding.

But some of them? Some of them had given information to others, in exchange for leniency. In exchange to re-enter society respectably.

A load of hogwash, if someone asked Hermione.

And she knew who this man was. Severus Snape.

A Slytherin who had joined the Death Eaters.

And who had been forgiven, because he had helped Dumbledore during Voldemort's last days.

Hermione didn't know how anyone could trust a Death Eater, but Hermione kept quiet about THAT particular opinion as Snape seemed to zero in on Harry Potter, who was jotting down notes.

Hermione nudged Harry out of his note taking, getting him to look up at Snape.

Snape stared down at Harry and said, "Mr. Potter, our new celebrity."

Hermione by no means missed the distaste in his voice. Snape then asked Harry where to find an ingredient and Hermione put her hand up, eager to show off what she knew.

She felt Snape glance at her, then saw him pause, when his eyes fell on her house badge. She knew that he had been in Slytherin, and was the head of the house.

He then turned to her and said, "Wait till Potter answers, if he can, Ms.?"

"Granger, Professor," she said, "Hermione Granger."

"Wait a moment, Ms. Granger," Snape said, looking back to Harry, "Well, where do you find it, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't know, sir," he confessed.

Snape then asked another question, and again, the same thing happened. Hermione knew the answer, she put her hand up, Snape sighed and told her to wait and see if Harry could answer. Harry didn't know the answer.

Then it happened a third time and Snape finally allowed Hermione to give her answer.

She gave all three correct answers.

Snape nodded and said, "Twenty points to Slytherin."

Despite her distrust of the former Death Eater, she felt a surge of pride at the assigned points to her.

Snape then looked at Potter and said, "Pity that you couldn't answer, Potter. It seems, fame isn't everything."

Hermione then almost winced. She hadn't meant to take a part in the bullying of Harry.

She had no idea what Snape's problem was, but he obviously didn't like Harry on sight. And the smirk Hermione caught on Draco Malfoy's face at Snape's horrible words, didn't help Hermione's guilt.

Eventually, that uncomfortable class ended and the rest of the classes thankfully weren't as painfully awkward or as uncomfortable.

Eventually they reached their flying class, and Hermione found that she had trouble getting her broom up into her hand. Harry and Malfoy got their brooms into their grasp almost immediately. Weasley got smacked in the face and Hermione had to fight a laugh. Eventually, she finally got the broom into her hand.

One student, the boy who Hermione had met on the train, and had helped to try to find the pet toad of, Neville Longbottom, began lifting off from the ground on his broom. Neville fired off into the air, eventually falling off his broom, his cloak being caught on the metal rim of a torch, before falling off and dropping to the ground, most likely injuring himself.

Madam Hooch, the teacher of the flying class, helped Neville up and led him away.

"Everyone stay on the ground, I'm getting Longbottom to the infirmary," Hooch ordered, "I see one broom in the air, you'll be on the train home before you can say 'quidditch.'"

Hermione zeroed in on Malfoy, seeing him go over to where Neville had fallen. Hermione noticed a round, plastic or glass item in his hand. Hermione recognized it as a "Remembrall."

Malfoy snickered at his two buddies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. "Did you see his face?" He asked his two goons, "Maybe if I gave this a squeeze, he'd remember to fall on his fat ass."

Hermione snorted and pulled her wand out, aiming it at the Remembrall as Harry came over, obviously about to confront Malfoy. She said loudly, "Accio, Remembrall!"

The Remembrall disappeared from Malfoy's grasp, and was now in Hermione's hands.

Harry, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and everyone else turned to her, stunned.

She raised the Remembrall in her left hand, showing it off, "I'm going to give this to Longbottom at the infirmary," she said, "Anyone want to try to stop me?"

All of the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs stayed silent, naturally. Some of the Slytherins were quiet as well. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson all gawked at Hermione, as she walked past them, carrying the Remembrall with her, going to the infirmary and giving it to Longbottom as he recovered.

He looked at her suspiciously and she smirked at him.

"Neville," she said, "Do you really think I'm such a different person, just because I'm in Slytherin?"

Neville opened his mouth, then closed it and took the Remembrall. "Thanks," he said, taking the item with his good hand, wincing as the nurse worked.

"You're very welcome," she said, smiling at him, "Hope you feel better soon."

She then left and went back to where the others were. Madam Hooch joined them soon afterwards. She looked at Hermione with admiration when she returned. Hermione looked at her, curiously. "Is something the matter, Madam Hooch?" Hermione asked.

Hooch said quietly as the others got their brooms ready, "I saw you bringing Mr. Longbottom's Remembrall to him, Ms. Granger. I wouldn't normally think that a Slytherin would do something for a Gryffindor."

Hermione shrugged. "Well," she said, "I guess you learn something new every day. We Slytherins can be surprising."

The session came to an end and Hermione found that while she definitely was not into flying, she was…reasonable at it.

Malfoy and Harry were naturals at it, but she hardly noticed them, though Malfoy kept trying to taunt her into noticing him.

She ignored him the whole time.

When the day came to an end and it was time for all the students to head off to their dorms, Hermione tore off from the rest of the group to start exploring. She might be a know-it-all, but she broke the rules unlike anyone else.

She went onto the changing staircases, going to different halls, where she knew it was not allowed for students to go.

Hermione liked giving people a false pretense, that she did what everyone said. She didn't. If the first five years of her life and her mother's lessons about the world had told her anything, it was that rules and authority were meant to be challenged.

She eventually reached the forbidden corridor, the one that Dumbledore had announced at the feast was out of bounds for students and would lead to…certain death.

Well, Hermione had faced those odds before, before her mother had adopted her.

She reached the furthest door from the entrance and pulled her wand out. It was locked, but that would mean nothing for her.

She got the door open, and peered inside, freezing almost immediately, eyes widening.

A giant, dark brown, furry, three-headed dog lay on the floor, big, three heads resting on its huge paws.

Its eyes were closed at the moment, but it slowly opened up its eyes and as soon as it saw her, all three heads began barking and snarling.

Hermione yelped, closing the door and locking it before the dog-no, the dogs could dive for her.

"Okay, then," she said, shuddering, "I won't go near THAT door again."

Her mind then replayed what she had seen, as her racing heart started slowing, when she went out of the corridor and went back to one of the stairways. The dogs' heads had been on its paws. Which had been on top of a wooden door of some kind. A trapdoor.

This brought Hermione to a conclusion.

The dogs were guarding something. She didn't know what. But they were.

She sighed. Oh, well, not her business. She went back down to the dungeons, gave the password to the wall-the easiest password to guess, by the way, "Pureblood," and the stones in the wall shifted and opened up.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went in.

She was surprised to see that the Greengrass sisters were awaiting her arrival. Daphne and Astoria got up from the couches near the fireplace.

"Hermione," Daphne said, "We were worried. Where were you?"

"Got lost?" Astoria asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, nothing like that," she assured them, "Just exploring."

Daphne chuckled, smiling, "Well, be careful. Don't want anyone catching you where you're not supposed to be."

Hermione smiled, "Don't worry about it. I'm careful. Sorry, were you waiting here for me this whole time?"

Astoria shrugged, smiling. "We didn't want you to be in any danger or anything, so we wanted to be ready if you came any later than you did just now."

Hermione's eyes widened and she said quietly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep the two of you out of bed for so long."

"It's alright," Daphne said, shaking her head and looking at her sister, "We figured you might be better off having someone looking out for you."

Hermione smiled, warmth filling her chest. "Thank you," she said, "That means a lot to me."

Daphne smiled back, as did Astoria. "Don't worry about it," the older Greengrass twin said, "We're here for you. I know we don't know each other very well, but we're here for you."

Hermione grinned. She didn't think it was a lie. She knew that Slytherins tended to not be trusted, but she didn't believe it was a lie.

At least, she certainly didn't want it to be.

She also didn't want to ask anyone about their soulmate marks, as that was a very personal matter and she doubted anyone wanted to talk about that. And she wasn't going to step on anyone's toes in that area.

The next day was Halloween.

The first class of the day was with Professor Flitwick, and she unfortunately, was seated next to Malfoy.

She caused the feather to lift up with ease. Malfoy watched with envy and he growled, "You might be talented, but it doesn't change that you're just a mudblood."

Hermione whirled on him, furious, and stared at him.

Malfoy smirked at her, pleased that he had gotten a rise out of her, "You can pull off as many tricks as you want, Granger, but your blood will always be filthy."

Hermione, before she could stop herself, suddenly pressed the tip of her wand to Draco's throat.

His gray eyes went huge. Hermione felt a spike of pleasure at the fear all over his face.

He was scared. Good.

She could see all of his arrogance drain from him in seconds.

A hand then touched her right shoulder. She gasped, turning to look at Astoria behind her. Astoria shook her head. "Don't," she said, nodding to where Flitwick was, "He's still looking at the Gryffindors, but he won't for long."

Hermione nodded and pulled her wand away from Malfoy's neck. "You are very lucky," she said coldly to Malfoy, "Just imagine if I had pulled off an unforgivable curse properly," she was bluffing, of course, she hadn't been about to do THAT, but the look on Malfoy's face made it worth it. She then added, "Or worse, imagine if I hadn't pulled it off properly, and you'd be in even worse shape." She added, smirking, "Don't ever fucking talk to me like that again, inbred."

Malfoy's eyes got even bigger and Hermione placed her wand back onto the desk in front of her where the feather was hovering and slowly lowering.

Malfoy, needless to say, didn't mess with Hermione for the rest of the day.

But Hermione? She was ashamed of herself. She had almost hexed another student and one of the people in her own house. She went to the girl's bathroom and stayed there, crying in shame at her actions. For all his faults, Malfoy was just a kid, like her.

She cried in the bathroom, for a long time, before Pansy Parkinson showed up and asked her what was wrong. She said that nothing was wrong. Pansy didn't buy it, but left.

Twenty minutes later, she dried her eyes and got up from the toilet from where she had been sitting, and froze, when she heard loud, heavy footsteps walk into the bathroom. That sounded too loud and too heavy to be any student's footsteps, or even the footsteps of a human being at all.

She lowered herself to the floor and looked under the door.

The door to the bathroom was opening up and Hermione's eyes widened when she saw the huge, green-gray feet with bumps all over them, walk in, a thick, heavy looking, wooden club being dragged behind those feet.

Her blood ran cold.

A troll.

She had read a lot, so she knew those feet and what creatures tended to carry around those clubs.

Those feet didn't look right for a giant. No, this was no giant. It was a troll.

She stood up, backing up in the stall. She heard the door close up and she heard the big and heavy footsteps go further into the bathroom.

The troll moved around, grunting, seeming to investigate, to see if there was any living thing here. It occurred to Hermione that she should duck down, in case the troll started to swing the club around at the stalls.

She got down to the floor, eyes on those feet and that club.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened up again, and Hermione's heart jumped, hoping it was some of the teachers.

It wasn't.

Hermione's heart fell when she recognized the shoes. Oh, no. Daphne and Astoria. And Parkinson?

Hermione's eyes widened. Oh, no. Now the three of them were in danger too.

She saw the feet of the troll turn slightly and saw the club lift up. Her heart was caught in her throat. The troll was going to kill the other three. She got up and opened the stall door, brandishing her wand at the troll as she moved.

Pansy, Astoria and Daphne all turned to her, shocked, their own wands out, on the defensive.

Hermione aimed the wand at the troll's raised club, swished and flicked her wand and yelled, "Windgardium leviosa!"

The club tore itself out of the troll's hand and the troll, when trying to send his fist forward, found his hand empty and looked at it, grunting as he looked for his club stupidly, before looking up above his head.

Hermione yelled to the other girls, "Get out of the way!" she then lowered her wand and watched as the club fell, clogging the troll on top of its head.

The troll grunted in pain and it dropped down to the floor. Daphne, Astoria and Pansy all had to move out of the way as the troll collapsed to the ground, grunting in pain as it landed next to its club, unconscious.

Hermione stepped closer to it, eyeing it. "Is it dead?" She asked.

Watching the beast breathe, Daphne shook her head. "I don't think so," she said, "Just knocked out."

Hermione couldn't help the relief she felt. It would have tried to kill her and the other girls, of course. But she still couldn't help her relief. She had never killed anyone or anything before. And she didn't want to anytime soon.

Hermione's attention was drawn to Pansy when the other girl said, "Damn, Granger, I didn't know a mud-a muggle-born could take on a troll," Pansy said, fixing what she said when she got a glare from Hermione.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she said, staring at Parkinson with meaning, "I bet they don't teach you purebloods that muggle-borns can be strong too."

Parkinson looked guilty and glared at the ground, before Hermione said, voice softening, "Thank you, Pansy," Pansy looked up at her, startled, and Hermione smiled, "Thank you for coming to find me." She then looked at Astoria and Daphne, "Thank you. All three of you."

Daphne, Astoria and Pansy all smiled brightly at the words.

Their touching moment was interrupted, when they heard the door open up and heart footsteps come running in. They whirled around, seeing all three professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell come in, all three of them shocked and out of breath.

When she saw the sight in front of her, she said, "Explain yourselves!" She looked at Pansy and the Greengrass sisters, "All of you!"

The three girls were about to give their excuses, when Hermione spoke up, saving them, "It's MY fault, professor McGonagall." She felt the shocked looks from the other girls and the shocked looks from the teachers.

To say the look on Snape's face was humorous, was giving a great understatement.

Hermione gave her ridiculous story. That she had read about mountain trolls and thought that she could take this one on. And she said that she was wrong, and that if the other three girls hadn't come looking for her, she'd probably be dead.

That might not necessarily have been wrong. After all, hadn't Pansy and the Greengrass sisters given her the distraction needed for her to catch the troll off guard?

McGonagall was shocked and disappointed and took five points from her, and then awarded five points to all three Pansy, Astoria and Daphne. In her own words, "for sheer, dumb luck."

As McGonagall left, Hermione's caught the sight of Snape's right leg. His pants leg had been ripped and there was a disturbing amount of blood all over his leg.

Snape's cloak was drawn over his leg when he caught Hermione staring at his leg. Hermione eyed his leg, troubled, then followed the other three girls out of the bathroom.

"You didn't have to do that, Hermione," Daphne said, looking at Hermione, "We would have been fine with telling them about what Malfoy said to you."

Hermione almost laughed. She had actually kind of forgotten about that in the fight with the troll.

"It's alright," She told the other three girls, "After all, it turned out alright. Besides, thank you. All three of you, for coming for me."

She felt warmth flood her chest when all three Astoria, Daphne and Pansy smiled, all happy to be there for her, even Parkinson, who obviously came from a long line of proud purebloods.

After that? Their friendship was solidified.

However, Hermione kept what she saw in the back of her mind, along with the piece of information that she shared a wand core with the most dangerous and darkest wizard ever known.

That part she hoped to take to the grave. She wished no one to ever know that piece of information, except for her.

But she kept one other thing in mind.

She remembered that Snape had had an injury on his leg.

She planned to tell all three Pansy, Astoria and Daphne tomorrow about what she had seen.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione had proceeded to do so. Hermione had tried not to grin when all three Astoria, Daphne and Pansy sat next to her, flanking her as they ate.

And because Pansy seemed to be friends with her, Draco Malfoy was now looking at her with confusion and perhaps some reevaluation.

As everyone quieted down, Hermione softly told the other girls what it was she had seen last night, on Snape's leg. She then had told them about the three-headed dog she had seen the other day.

None of the three girls, nor Hermione understood why anyone would go anywhere near that huge three-headed dog, but it was the only thing that made sense. For some reason, Snape had gone to the three-headed dog, and had gotten himself bitten. But why?

What exactly had Snape been after?

He didn't strike Hermione as someone who just really, really loved dogs, and would risk being ripped apart to pet a giant, three-headed one.

Hermione suggested to her three new friends that they keep an eye on Snape, though she wasn't sure what he was after.

It would be a complication. After all, Snape was the head of their house.

But they could do it.

Pansy being friends with Hermione, had caught Millicent Bulstrode's attention. And eventually, she came to hang out with them, albeit, sending distrustful looks to the "muggle-born" the whole time. However, those looks gradually softened with time.

Hermione smiled as they ate, the serious matter at the moment, forgotten. She actually had friends now.

What a change.

Chapter Text

A few hours after breakfast, the first quidditch match of the year began.

Hermione knew that the Slytherins could be underhanded, but nonetheless, she, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent cheered their team on with zest.

The seeker for the Gryffindor team, some fifth-year boy named Timothy Caldwell, was pitiful, and hadn't gotten the snitch. And at the end, the Slytherins won.

When Hermione had first heard his name, she had almost panicked, before replaying what the name of the student was. Caldwell. Not Cromwell. That was a relief. Hermione had almost laughed at her relief, because of course, his last name wasn't Cromwell. Even if his last name HAD ended up being Cromwell, it wouldn't mean anything. It wouldn't mean that there was any connection…

Even if Cromwell was still alive, most of his goons had died in the explosion. They couldn't reach her. Or her mother.

Afterwards, Hermione and the other four girls walked around Hogwarts grounds, talking. To Hermione's delight, both Greengrass sisters seemed fascinated with Muggle living and though she hid it, Millicent seemed interested too.

Christmas came and went, during that time, Hermione had gone back home and happily told her mother all about the friends that she had made. She had watched as her mother had smiled at her, overjoyed hearing all this.

When Hermione came back to Hogwarts, she began exploring the castle again. She found that she was very good at hiding from the janitor and watchman, Argus Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris.

Granted, she was a Slytherin and Filch, the bitter man, seemed to be fond of Slytherins, however, she did not wish to be caught by him.

She went through the corridor and went down the stairs, and then reached a room and opened it and she walked inside, seeing something interesting. It was a mirror. A mirror that was arched.

She stepped closer to the mirror and looked at it, curious.

Her eyes widened when she saw multiple people next to her in the mirror. A bunch of them were Slytherins, including Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent surrounding her. All smiling at her. All of them hugging her.

She frowned and looked around her. There was no one here, but her.

Hermione looked back at the mirror, confused.

She went back to her dorm and got Pansy, bringing the other girl to the mirror, showing it to her. Pansy had already been awake when Hermione had gotten her, and Astoria, Millicent and Daphne were asleep.

It made Hermione happy to know that they were more at ease about her wandering about the castle afterhours than they had been before.

However, she needed someone else's eyes besides her own.

Pansy stood next to her in front of the mirror. Hermione looked at Pansy, asking the other girl what it was she saw.

Pansy stared at the mirror, shocked. "That's me!" She said, "And Draco! We're in the great hall and people are dancing around us. I think Draco is taking me out to Yule ball."

Hermione's eyes widened.

The Yule ball was a ball that occurred every so often in Hogwarts-when the Triwizard Tournament took place. And no, it didn't surprise her that Pansy saw herself with Draco. If her theory about this mirror was right, then this thing reflected what people wanted most. And Pansy was very much besotted with Draco. Why, Hermione could hardly guess, but she was.

Hermione was pretty sure that Draco wasn't Pansy's soulmate-at least, she hoped he wasn't. But she hadn't seen the mark on his shoulder yet. Pansy had allowed Hermione to see hers. A bright green crownlike symbol.

Pansy said hopefully, "Maybe this mirror predicts the future?"

Hermione chuckled, "Maybe." She didn't buy it, though. Seeing the future? That was silly. Only very practiced seers could do that. There were spheres with prophecies in them, as Hermione had read-in the Department of Mysteries. But that was the extent of it. As far as Hermione knew.

After a few weeks of Hermione staying around the mirror, as it was dubbed, with the words above the mirror, the "mirror of Erised," which Hermione figured out easily, was "desire" spelled backwards, she sat on the floor, curious. She then heard a low and deep voice speak from behind her.

"I see like many others before you, you have discovered the delights of the mirror of 'Erised.'" Hermione almost jumped, eyes widened, turning around, seeing Dumbledore standing there in his usual clothing. She got up and looked at him cautiously.

"Dumbledore?" She asked.

Dumbledore came over to her and gestured to the mirror as he said, "There is much speculation as to who originally created this mirror. But one thing is always agreed upon when it comes to this mirror," the elderly man's eyes became deep with sadness, or what Hermione suspected was sadness, "This mirror is going to be moved. And I must ask you not to look for it, Ms. Granger. People have wasted away in front of this mirror. Even gone mad. It does not do, to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

Hermione turned back to the mirror, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She hadn't stayed staring at this mirror because she had yearned for friends. Did she want more friends than she had? Yes, like a greedy child, she did. But that wasn't why she stayed near the mirror, or at least, that wasn't why she believed she stayed near it. She kept coming back to it, because she wanted to study it. She wanted to know the extent of what it showed.

So the mirror was going to be taken? Fine. Perhaps for the best. She didn't understand why it wasn't just destroyed, but fine.

Hermione nodded to Dumbledore and said goodnight to him and left, heading out and heading back to her dorm.

She couldn't help but feel suspicious of Dumbledore. After all, her past had told her nothing, if not that authority-at least, some authority needed to be questioned.

Six and a half years ago

Jean Granger, age thirty-nine, sat in front of the screens, watching the events unfold on those screens.

Within the halls of the station, where Jean Granger worked, and helped her fellow scientists, she looked at the screens, belonging to the cameras, surveying the children that she and her fellow scientists were studying.

The children in the cots below, snuggling under their blankets, were all what were known as amongst this world as "anomalies." Freaks of nature.

In other words, children who could perform what was commonly known as "magic."

Amongst these children, was a young, small, five-year-old child, a girl, by the name of Hermione.

No one knew what any of these children's last names were. Those who were orphans, weren't allowed to know any last name, and those who had had parents? They had been taken away from those parents and commanded not to use their last names.

Jean, like the rest of the station she worked in, had no idea where these abilities of the children came from. It would just be, one day, a couple of average human beings would have a child together, and suddenly, the child would develop powers. Abilities that were out of the ordinary.

Making objects move across the room like a stuffed animal, a toy or some chocolate.

Or the child would throw at tantrum and suddenly there would be an exploding TV or an exploding phone or air conditioner.

This had been happening more and more. A child, with completely normal parents, would develop abilities and become dangerous, and so Jean and her company-the self-acclaimed "Human Saviors," would snatch every last one of these children and use them for testing.

So far, the origin of these children's abilities were never answered.

Hermione, the little five-year-old whom Jean Granger had grown attached to, was taken, as well, if what Jean had heard from those that had taken the girl was correct. She had no idea who Hermione's biological parents were, though. That the higher ups kept secretive about.

Jean checked the time. It was time for the children to get up and have their breakfast.

Jean yelled to her fellow staff members, "Get some food ready for the kids!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Some of the staff members yelled back, going downstairs to the kitchens to get food ready for the children to eat.

Jean turned back to the screen and stared at the smallest of the five to seven-year-olds asleep.

Hermione.

Jean's chest hurt, thinking about how that little girl, that precious little girl was going to suffer in the next few years, being experimented on repeatedly and tested on.

Hermione had already experienced far too many blood tests and brain scans than were normal for any child.

The guards woke the children up, pulling them out of their beds and escorting them to the doors leading to the main rooms, where they would eat.

The kids would assemble in the room for breakfast, and then the day would begin.

Jean pulled back from the screens and got up. It was time for she herself to get ready for the day, as well.

She went to where her equipment lay, gathered it all up and headed out.

When she reached the room downstairs, she plastered a smile on her face as Hermione and the rest of the children turned to look at her.

"Ms. Granger!" Hermione cried out happily.

She hopped up from the table, jumped down from the bench and ran over for the woman and Jean leaned down, arms open and outstretched for the girl to run into them.

Hermione ran right to Jean and Jean picked the girl up and held her tightly, Hermione threw her arms around Jean's neck and Jean held her close.

Jean's heart hurt.

This sweet, little girl had done nothing to hurt anyone. But she would suffer in the later years. She already had suffered so far.

"Hi, sweetie," Jean said, kissing Hermione's forehead, "Did you have a good night's sleep?"

Hermione nodded against her. "Yes, mu-Ms. Granger. I did."

Jean smiled sadly. She wasn't a fool. She knew this girl tended to almost call her, "mum" or "mummy." She knew that this girl saw her as her mother, even if she knew she shouldn't address the woman as that title, because she had been told not to do so.

Jean wished that Hermione would be allowed to call her that title. She so wished for it.

She carried little Hermione to the table, slowly putting the girl down onto the bench of the table.

Hermione looked at her hopefully and Jean nodded, speaking softly, "We can play in the play area later, sweetie. But right now? You need to eat some food. So, eat first, then we can play together."

Hermione frowned, but turned around and went to eat her food. Jean walked to the table where the other adults were and began eating with them.

Noah and Jack Banks both turned to Jean, smirking.

"Still have that soft spot for that kid, huh, Granger?" Jack asked, grinning.

Jean's lower jaw tightened. Noah and Jack Banks were brothers-born only three years apart from each other, and they treated the children like the little freaks that they thought the children to be.

Jean never liked leaving either or Noah or Jack to be alone with any of the children. It made her worried that they might hurt the children.

None of the guards had hurt the children yet-but Jean was positive that they would one day.

"I find it best to make the children think we're their friends," She said, the lie hurting to say, hoping these punks would never repeat her words to Hermione or any of the other children, "Unlike you, Banks, I know how to play my cards right."

Jack scoffed and smirked, but didn't say anything else after that.

Jean looked back at where the children were eating.

She wanted Hermione safe, but she needed to do her job.

She heard footsteps coming and she turned to see Mr. Percival Cromwell. The chairmen of this department.

He sat down next to her, between her and the Banks brothers. He had short, silver hair and a short silver beard, his left ring finger had a gold wedding band on it and his face was broad and proud. Normally he was a quite pale white, but given how sunny it was and that he spent a good portion of his time outside, exercising with his wife, he had accumulated a fine tan on his face.

Mr. Percival Cromwell observed the rest of the children, one table after another.

He was the chancellor of this place, of this prison full of young children, each and every one that had been stolen from their parents.

Jean greeted him, nodding to him politely, hiding her disgust. She wasn't going to deny that she loathed him. He had stolen each and every one of these children. He had convinced her that they were doing the right thing when he had met with her for the second time, almost eight years ago, when she had been thirty-one, and had been about to put out applications to a new job.

He had introduced himself to her and her family when she had first met him and had been about to enter college, at the age of eighteen, after having been interested in one of her essays about studying DNA. And he had asked that when she graduated from college, she come work for him.

And she had been taken in by his words.

So, after she had graduated from college, when she had been twenty-one, she had worked for several other companies, but his words had stayed in her mind. So, when he had offered the job a second time, when she had been thirty-one, she had gone to work for him.

And five years after she had begun working for Cromwell, after she had begun working here, she had immediately been drawn to the small, helpless two and a half-year-old, Hermione, a child who had been stolen from her parents.

And Cromwell? He knew, he had to know that she had come to love Hermione these past three years since meeting the little girl. Hermione was his way of keeping his control over her.

Cromwell said, looking to Jean, "Ms. Granger, there's a matter I wish to discuss with you," he said calmly.

Jean lifted her eyebrows. "Yes?" She asked.

Cromwell sighed, "It concerns Hermione," Those words made Jean's heart fall, "We want to inspect her DNA. We'll be able to see what makes the more advanced anomalies tick."

Jean felt her chest become tight. Anomalies was the name that the staff members gave the children around here, to make them be less human.

Jean tried to ignore the unease in her chest.

What exactly was Cromwell going to do to her Hermione?

"What exactly is the plan?" Jean asked.

Cromwell smiled, "Simple," he answered, "We cut her open, see what's inside. See how she ticks."

Horror upon horror entered Jean, making her shiver. No.

They were going to kill her little girl?

"None of the other experiments have called for that," she whispered, unable to stop her helpless emotions, "Why do you need to do that to her?"

Cromwell smiled at her. "There's no reason to be attached, Ms. Granger," he said, "she's just an anomaly. She's worthless. Her only contribution to science would be being dissected. I know you care about her. But she is a freak of nature. Best to study her, than feel any empathy for her."

Jean nodded, giving a neutral, "yes, sir," before looking ahead emotionally.

Jean made her decision then. She had to get Hermione out of here. She had to.

Jean began her planning to save the girl who had become her daughter.

Present day-six years later

On Hogwarts grounds, a few weeks after Dumbledore had given Hermione his little lecture, which still made her roll her eyes when she thought of it, Hermione and Astoria played some chess.

Hermione was surprised to find that she was actually pretty good at wizard chess. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, given how violent this version of chess was.

But, oh, well.

Hermione, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent took a walk throughout Hogwarts, ignoring the ghosts that floated back and forth across the halls and walked around the grounds of Hogwarts.

Eventually, night fell, and as they got close to where Hagrid lived, Pansy pointed something out to the others, seeing Hagrid carrying something in a bucket.

Pansy smirked, nodding to him. "Let's check that out," she grinned, "I wonder what the moron's up to."

Hermione groaned. She didn't care that much about Hagrid. He was a perfectly decent man, as far as she could tell. People didn't know it-though she didn't understand how people didn't know it, but Hagrid was obviously a half giant. How else was he so large? He was obviously half giant. Or maybe a quarter giant.

She had no strong feelings about him either way.

But she wished the Slytherins could be nicer to him.

"We could just leave him alone, you know," she said, looking at Pansy critically in the torchlight placed around Hogwarts on the outside of it.

Pansy smirked. "Why?" She asked, "Are the teachers nice to us Slytherins? Let's go!"

Pansy went off in the direction of Hagrid's hut, and Hermione, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent shared an aggravated look and followed Pansy down the hill to Hagrid's hut.

The hill downwards was paved with stones and headed to a patch of pumpkins that were in front of the hut.

The five girls headed down, reaching the hut, after Hagrid had gone into it and had closed the door behind him.

They reached the window and peered through it. Hagrid was sitting down, holding that same bucket over a fire.

He had big, heavy oven mittens on.

After a few minutes, he leaned forward, picking up the bucket and pulling the contents out.

It was an egg. A big, brownish egg.

"The heck is that?" Millicent asked.

"I think I know," Daphne said, frowning, "But how did he get ahold of one?"

Hermione frowned. Get ahold of what? What was that egg?

She knew that Hagrid had an obsession with dangerous creatures, but…

Eventually, the egg began cracking and the shards of the shell came flying off.

Hermione gasped, seeing the shell break apart, small, gray, batlike wings emerged from the egg, as well as little talons and a reptilian tail.

Hermione asked, smiling, "Is that…a dragon?"

"Yes, yes it is, Hermione," Pansy said, chuckling next to her, seeing the dragon's head emerge from the egg.

"I think that might be a Rhodesian Ridgeback," Millicent said, "I was reading about creatures before I came back from the break. And I read about some of the dragons too."

Hermione's smile widened. She had always wanted to see a dragon. Not just since she had learned that she was a witch, when that letter from that owl had come to her and her mother's house almost a year ago.

But her whole life. She had always wanted to see a dragon. Ever since she had realized what the soulmate mark on her shoulder was. Back in her room in that facility, when she had been experimented on, before Jean Granger had rescued her and had taken her in, she had had a stuffed, dark green dragon toy that she had always hugged before going to sleep. Jean Granger-who had become her mother had gotten it for her. After it had been torn to pieces by the guards during Jean's rescue of her, Jean had gotten her a new stuffed dragon, a black one that had a place of prominence on the pillow of Hermione's bed back at her home with her mother.

Hermione smiled at the little, baby dragon.

Hagrid reached out with a hand that wasn't gloved anymore, stroking the bottom of the dragon's chin with his big finger, smiling at the dragon.

The dragon burped out a flame and hit Hagrid's beard, setting it on fire, so Hagrid had to pat it out.

Hermione chuckled and Astoria and Daphne's eyes widened. Millicent and Pansy snickered.

Hermione then noticed movement to her left. She turned her head, eyes widening when she saw Draco Malfoy there.

He glared at them, "What are the five of you doing here?"

"We're just looking at that dumb-dumb, Hagrid," Millicent sneered, glaring at him, "This isn't any of your business."

"What isn't?" Draco sneered back, coming over to the small window and peering inside.

His eyes widened. "Oh…," he said, "That doofus has…has a dragon," he grinned at the girls, "Wait till the professors hear about this!"

"Wait, Malfoy!" Both Hermione and Daphne yelled when Draco turned and ran away from the hut.

Millicent and Pansy cursed under their breaths.

Hermione was about to race after him, but Pansy grabbed her arm and whispered, "Don't! If the teachers catch us out of bed, they could deduct points from all of us."

Hermione winced. She tore her arm out of Pansy's grasp and shook her head and ran after Malfoy, hearing curses behind her and running after her.

She didn't want Slytherin to get into trouble, but she didn't want that baby dragon to be hurt either. And she didn't want poor Hagrid to get into trouble.

She bolted after Malfoy, and Millicent, the Greengrass sisters and Pansy chased after her.

Unfortunately, Malfoy got to the teachers first.

McGonagall found them, deducted fifty points from each of them, then sent them out to the Forbidden Forest, including Malfoy, for being out of bed afterhours.

Hermione smirked at his pouting at that. One bit of justice in all this.

However, she tried to ignore the glares she was receiving from her four companions at them getting caught and having the points deducted from their house.

She told them sorry multiple times as Filch led them to Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid was lamenting the loss of his dragon and Hermione tried not to wince. Poor dragon.

Hagrid led all six students into the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione knew that the forest was supposed to be dark and eerie at night, but there was just something about it that reminded her of a forest where monsters would come out of that would hide under children's beds.

But she supposed that that fit. After all, they were in the magical world. And this forest was filled with werewolves, vampires, ghouls, giant spiders, krakens and giant snakes and centaurs and maybe some giants.

So, she supposed the comparison that she had made, was a fitting one.

Hagrid led the six students deep into the forest and they came to a glimmering, silver pool of something.

Hermione stared at that. What was that?

Hagrid leaned down and dipped two big fingers into the pool of silver and pulled his fingers out, showing it off to the children. "See this?" He said, "That's unicorn blood, that is."

Hermione's eyes widened. Unicorn blood? Oh, no.

Unicorns were pure, innocent creatures. To kill one of them…it was a terrible thing to do.

"There's something that's killing unicorns," He said, and he nodded to the pool of silver blood, "This one here is hurt. We'll need to find it."

Hermione paused, hearing something moving in the woods. She glanced at where she heard the noise, and she shivered, positive that she saw a figure dressed in a robe almost hovering through the woods.

She frowned. Had...she really seen that?

She then heard Hagrid's voice, making her turn back to him, "Pansy, Millicent, Astoria, you're with me. Malfoy, you're with Hermione, Daphne and Fang. Oh, and just so you know, Fang's a coward."

Hermione looked down at the wrinkled, gray dog who whined.

Their party split up.

Hermione, Daphne, Malfoy and Fang walked through the forest and Malfoy, of course, was complaining the whole time.

"I can't believe that buffoon sent us to do this," He whined, "This is servant work!"

"Oh, shut it, Malfoy," Daphne grunted, "A little work won't kill you. And by the way, none of this would have happened if you hadn't sold Hagrid out to McGonagall."

Malfoy snapped at her in disgust, "And if you hadn't been out there in the first place-"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, "No one made you sell Hagrid out to McGonagall," she added when Malfoy glared at her, "And don't even think about saying the 'M' word to me, Malfoy. It doesn't matter what my blood status is, you still made your choice to go to McGonagall and got all of us in trouble, that was YOUR choice! Your choice, Malfoy. Your choice. So, you know what, Malfoy? Shut the fuck up!"

Both Malfoy and Daphne blanched in shock, never having heard such anger from Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, sighing. "I'm sorry, okay?" She said, and she looked at Daphne, "I'm sorry I lost us all those points, but we wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for Malfoy. So, please," she nodded to Malfoy, "Hold the person responsible for this responsible, okay?"

She shook her head again and said, "Let's just get moving, please."

Daphne glared at Malfoy and nodded to Hermione and walked after the brunette. Malfoy scoffed, but he and Fang followed them.

They reached a hill with multiple roots curled up around it, and Hermione stepped down the hill, seeing two figures in the distance. Her eyebrows narrowed. One of the figures was sprawled along the ground. It was pale white…and it looked like it had hooves and a horn.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, hell," she said, "I think we just found the unicorn killer."

Malfoy and Daphne looked at where Hermione was staring, and all three of them saw a figure dressed in black, leaning forward over a dead unicorn.

The hooded figure stood up, looking at the three students, and Hermione barely made out the shape of teeth glistening, with blood all over them.

Malfoy screamed and ran away, with Fang at his heels.

Daphne and Hermione watched as the figure in a black, hooded robe slithered, very actually slithered around the unicorn corpse, and slithered up to a stop, the mist on the ground blasting forward with the figure's halting.

The figure didn't stop moving for long. It began walking forward, thankfully no longer slithering, but it was coming closer.

Hermione felt her heart clench in cold terror as she watched the dark figure coming closer and closer.

Daphne stood in front of Hermione protectively, pulling her wand out and aiming it at the oncoming figure.

There was the thundering of hooves from behind Hermione and Daphne, and they gasped, turning, when a figure with hooves came leaping out from behind the hill, and jumped at the hooded being.

The hooded figure made no sound, but turned and fled, slithering around the ground and flew to a tree and ascended it, disappearing out of sight.

Hermione gasped into Daphne's back, shaking.

Daphne turned to Hermione, hugging her. "Are you alright?" She asked the other girl.

Hermione nodded weakly, trying to ignore her shivers. "Yeah," she said, "I'm alright. Wow. What was that?"

They turned to the hooved being that had just dropped in on them and had saved them. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw the centaur that was in front of them.

It was a muscled male centaur, with pale blonde hair and beard.

He looked at both girls and asked, "Are the two of you alright, young ones?"

Daphne and Hermione both nodded.

"Thank you," Hermione said, "Sorry, I don't know your name."

"Firenze," the centaur answered, "My name is Firenze. The both of you are safe now."

"Thank you," Hermione repeated and asked then, "What was that thing that attacked us?"

Firenze looked to the unicorn, an expression of disgust on his face as he said, "Drinking the blood of a unicorn will extend one's life, even at an inch of death, but for a price. You will live a sorrowful life. A cursed life."

Daphne shook her head as she pulled away from Hermione, her long, oak wand still clutched in her hand, "But who would ever choose to live like that?" She asked.

Firenze smiled grimly. "Can neither of you think of anyone?" The centaur asked.

Hermione's eyes widened. Her heart stopped. No.

She didn't want to even think it, but there was only one person that came to mind. None of the Death Eaters had recently disappeared or anything like that.

But their leader? The one that had disappeared ten years ago…

The name spilled from her lips before she could stop herself, "Voldemort."

Daphne winced at the name, and Firenze nodded solemnly.

"That's right," the centaur answered, "Voldemort," again, Daphne winced, but gasped this time. The centaur continued, "Only he would do something so twisted. And do the two of you know what resides in Hogwarts at this moment?"

Daphne and Hermione looked at each other, confused, then turned to the centaur, shaking their heads.

Firenze said, "Think, if Voldemort wishes to live forever, what would he need? He doesn't have enough unicorn blood to do it. He needs something else."

Hermione frowned. She tried to ignore the spiking terror that ran through her, knowing that Voldemort himself still existed and still was alive, still in this world, and was trying to regain his strength.

The same wizard that had committed multiple murders, had taught hatred of the entirety of muggles, muggle-borns and half-bloods, was alive and here in this forest, where she and her friends were.

She could feel the coldness in her stomach.

But her mind did indeed began traveling. What exactly could give someone immortal life?

Only one thing came to Hermione's mind. She had done some light reading and had read about someone named "Nicolas Flammel," and he had created something called the "Philosopher's Stone," or the "Sorcerer's Stone," in some areas.

"The Sorcerer's Stone," Hermione said quietly, mouth dropping, making Daphne to look at her.

Firenze smiled. "That's right," he said, "The Sorcerer's Stone. It will grant someone eternal life. Voldemort must not get ahold of it."

Hermione stepped forward, feeling a shiver run down her spine, "Do you know where in the school it is?" She asked, but she already had an idea.

That three-headed dog was guarding something. And if the Sorcerer's Stone really was somewhere in Hogwarts, where else could it be? Except under the most dangerous creature in that school?

Firenze shook his head. "I don't," he said, "safe there. Somewhere safe there."

Hermione said nothing, but she already had her assumptions.

She heard footsteps running over and heard Hagrid's yell, "Firenze? What are you doing here?"

Hermione wondered if Malfoy had told Hagrid exactly where she and Daphne were. She supposed he had to have. She supposed he had some redeemable qualities.

That night, in the dungeon, in the Slytherin Common room, Hermione, Millicent, Pansy, Astoria and Daphne sat on the sofas and sofa chairs and faced each other, as Hermione and Daphne told their friends what they had seen and what they had heard.

All three Astoria, Pansy and Millicent stiffened up, staring in shock.

"He's returned?" Pansy asked weakly, tensing up.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she said, "If the centaur, Firenze was telling the truth, then yes, he is."

There was a cold silence in the room, that felt like it permeated the entire room.

"So, what now?" Hermione asked.

"What do you mean, 'what now?'" Millicent asked, staring at the other girl.

Hermione took a breath, forcing the uneasy words out, "Look…I don't know how to say this. But…your parents…were they in any way involved with 'you-know-who?'"

The silence somehow became even tenser and colder.

Pansy, Astoria and Daphne's eyes widened and Millicent's mouth dropped.

"You…," Millicent whispered, "How DARE you? You," Millicent actually looked upset now, "You actually think that we'd-?"

"Millicent," Hermione said sadly, looking at Pansy Parkinson, "I've read the names of the Death Eaters. I know the name 'Parkinson' was amongst the name of the Death Eaters." She stared at Pansy sadly, watching the other girl flinch.

Charles Parkinson was Pansy Parkinson's father. And he had been a Death Eater, sworn to Voldemort.

He, from the sounds of it, hadn't been the worst of the lot. No, that honor had gone to the Carrows, Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch Jr., Fenrir Greyback and arguably the worst of the worst, Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's "most faithful," and her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange.

Charles Parkinson had been hypocritical, as he had joined Voldemort, but had not allowed his wife to do so. Whether it was because he had wanted to keep her safe and keep her innocent of crime, or because he believed that women shouldn't also get the honor of being in Voldemort's army? That was debatable. But either way, he hadn't wanted his wife to be involved.

Hermione then looked at Astoria and Daphne's hurt expressions, "I know that the Greengrass family didn't join Him, but I know that the Greengrass family didn't oppose Him, either." She nodded to Millicent, "And neither did your family." She shook her head, "I'm sorry, but I have to ask. If Voldemort is back," she ignored the others' wincing, "And if he's trying to gain his power back, will the four of you help me stop him?"

She added, "I'm a muggle-born. And you all are purebloods. I want to think that you'll help. I think that you're good people. But you're still purebloods. Does the bigotry that your society taught you mean more than doing the right thing?"

She knew that they were good people-at least, she wanted to believe that.

Pansy wouldn't have told the Greengrass sisters about Hermione being in the bathroom while that troll had been on the loose on Halloween, if they weren't good people. Hell, even Malfoy probably had some good in him, if he had told Hagrid and the others where Daphne and Hermione had been when he had left them in the woods.

But still, she had to be sure.

There was silence again. Still, the Greengrass sisters, Millicent and Pansy looked hurt.

Hermione sighed, "Look, i'm not trying to pressure you. I swear. Just promise me that you won't tell anyone that I'm going after the stone, okay? I won't ask any of you to come with me, but I need to ask that you not tell on me. And if I'm caught, I promise I'll tell them that none of you knew anything."

Then Daphne said, smirking at her, "You dumb brat," she said, "Of course I'm going to help you. Even if you weren't my friend, I think I'd want to anyway. After all, how else am I going to expunge the shame of my family not doing anything during His reign?"

Astoria looked stunned by her twin sister's impassioned statement, then she looked at Hermione and nodded. "That's right," she said, "I'm with you too, Hermione."

Millicent glared at Hermione. "Fine," she said, "But only so you'll shut up about being distrustful of me. You've got a lot of nerve to think I'd join the Death Eaters after everything, Granger. So, fine. If it'll take that stick out of your arse, then I'll do it."

Hermione chuckled. Millicent's aggressive words probably shouldn't have amused her so much, but it also meant a lot for her to hear.

She then looked to Pansy.

Pansy was searching each other girl's face, desperate somehow, shaking her head. She then looked at Hermione and demanded, "Granger, are you insane? Think about this. This is 'You-know-who,' himself! We'll die! He'll kill us, don't you get that! There's a reason why my father joined Him. It wasn't just that we wanted power, and there was bigotry. My family was scared! They wanted to avoid being killed by him too." Pansy leaned forward and stared at Hermione, almost imploringly, "To challenge Him! Even if he's weak right now, that's insane. That's suicide."

Hermione tried not to shudder. She was right. For all of Pansy's problems, she was right.

But Hermione knew that quitting now wasn't an option.

It just wasn't.

"And what will happen if we do nothing?" Hermione threw back, "What happened when everyone stood back and did nothing the last time? Huh? Tell me, was everyone safe when people stood back and did nothing? And let everything happen? We can make a difference now, by stopping Voldemort from getting the Sorcerer's Stone."

Pansy and the others winced when Hermione said Voldemort's name.

Hermione glared as she added, "You don't have to come with me to find the stone, okay? Just don't try to stop me. Please."

"Us," Daphne corrected, "Don't try to stop us."

Hermione smiled appreciatively at Daphne, then looked back to Pansy.

Pansy huffed out, glaring back at her.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," she said, "But alright. I'll come with you. You stupid, stupid muggle-born."

Hermione grinned.

They had a group to go after the stone.

The next day, the five of them walked out of the castle and as they passed by Hagrid's hut, Hermione paused when she heard what Astoria said, when Daphne asked passively where Hagrid got a dragon egg.

Astoria said that Hagrid got the dragon egg from a stranger he had met down at a pub.

Hermione froze. How many people walked around with dragon eggs? What was more, who would give up a dragon egg if they had one?

"Wait a second," Hermione said, turning and walking down the hill to Hagrid's hut.

"Hermione?" Pansy asked, and she and the other girls followed after her.

"What is it?" Daphne asked her.

Hermione called back, "Who gave Hagrid that egg? There's only one thing that makes sense!"

The five of them reached the hut and stopped in front of where Hagrid was playing a flute.

Hermione interrupted his playing, "Hagrid, I'm sorry to interrupt," she started, causing Hagrid to pull away from his flute, "But can you tell me who gave you that egg? The dragon egg?"

Hagrid shook his head, "I don't know," he answered, "He kept his hood up mostly."

Hermione fought a shiver, remembering the hooded figure from last night. "You and the hooded man," she started, "Did you talk at all?"

"A little," Hagrid confessed, "He seemed interested in the creatures I raised and I said, after 'Fluffy,' a dragon egg would be nothing."

"Who is Fluffy?" Hermione asked, and then she added, "It's not that three-headed dog, is it?"

Hagrid's eyes widened, "Oh, you know about Fluffy? How did you see him?"

"Never mind," Hermione said, shaking her head, trying to ignore how ridiculous it was that a giant, three-headed dog was named Fluffy, of all names, "Was the hooded person interested in Fluffy?"

"Well, why wouldn't he be?" Hagrid asked, "How often do you see a giant, three-headed dog? Even in the trade? But you know what I told him. The key for any beast, is to know how to calm them. Take Fluffy, for instance. All you have to do is play him a tune, and he falls asleep."

Hermione's eyes widened, heart stopping. Hagrid frowned. "I shouldn't of told you that," he said.

Hermione turned and bolted from him, and all four Millicent, Pansy and the Greengrass siblings chased after her. Hermione ignored her friends' yells after her as she ran to professor McGonagall's classroom.

She ran to her and said, gasping for breath, "I need to speak to professor Dumbledore, now!"

McGonagall looked startled and lifted her head, "I don't know what it is you're worried about, but I'm afraid Dumbledore is off on an urgent business trip."

Though Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent had no idea what had gotten Hermione so freaked out, they understood that this wasn't good, as Dumbledore was the only wizard that Voldemort feared.

"Now?!" Millicent demanded, "But it's an emergency! This is about the Sorcerer's Stone!" Hermione glanced at Millicent. She wasn't sure how good telling people that they knew about the stone was, but too late.

McGonagall's shock was palpable.

"How do you know about the-" She began, but Hermione cut her off.

"Someone's going to steal it!" She said.

She wasn't sure she could say who was going to steal it. After all, wouldn't it cause a panic if everyone knew that Voldemort was trying to return?

McGonagall said, frowning, "I don't know how you know about the stone. But I assure you, it's safe."

Hermione sighed, pulling away from the woman's desk and when she left the classroom, the others followed her out. She stood outside the classroom and looked at the others. "If Dumbledore is gone right now?" She asked, "Then the stone is in danger of being stolen, tonight. Which means, we have to go get it now. Tonight."

Pansy nodded. "Alright," she said.

Millicent and Astoria and Daphne all nodded.

Hermione glanced down the hallway and her eyes widened when she saw Snape down the hall, eyeing them, before turning and walking down that hall.

"Hermione?" Astoria asked.

Hermione turned back to the others, "I think Vol-You-know-who," she changed the name when she saw her friends wince, "might be working with someone."

Millicent followed Hermione's gaze, and caught sight of Snape.

"Professor Snape?" She asked, "Seriously?"

Hermione grimaced. "Think about it," she began, "Snape was a Death Eater. He allied with Dumbledore at the end, but he WAS a Death Eater. And I saw that bitemark on his leg the night the troll got in. And how did that troll get in, in the first place? Someone had to have let him in. And isn't it weird that Snape had blood on his leg, on that very night, when the troll got in? I think Snape was going after the Sorcerer's Stone. That's what Hagrid's three-headed dog, Fluffy is guarding."

"Wait," Daphne said, eyes widening, "Are you saying that you think that Snape let the troll in and while everyone was evacuating the students, Snape tried to sneak past 'Fluffy?'"

Pansy shook her head, "No," she said, "that's insane."

"Is it?" Hermione asked, "Why did he have blood on him on the same night the troll got in? Fluffy's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone. And what else could have given Snape that mark? And oh, yeah, wasn't Snape a Death Eater?" She spit the word, "Death Eater," with hate in her voice. She really hated the Death Eaters. And it wasn't just because they killed muggle-borns like her. It was because they had a precious gift like magic and they squandered it by torturing and murdering people left and right.

When she had come to understand where her powers came from almost a year ago, when her letter had arrived via a great-horned owl, she had been overjoyed. To have magic? What could anyone call that, except a blessing?

And the Death Eaters abused that power, misused it-used it for entirely the wrong reasons. It was disgraceful.

Astoria took a breath. "Great," she said, "So, not only is He who must not be named coming back and trying to get the Sorcerer's stone, but the head of our house and our potions professor, is working with him." She corrected herself, "Is STILL working with him."

Hermione gave a weak laugh, "Yeah. I don't like it any more than any of you do. But we have to stop them. If Dumbledore isn't here and McGonagall doesn't believe there's any reason to worry, we're the ones that have to stop them."

Millicent mumbled, "Shit."

Hermione nodded. She said nothing to that. But she didn't think there was anything else that they could say. 'Shit' sounded about right. Hermione could feel a joke getting ready to launch itself, to ask if Millicent's proper pureblooded parents taught Millicent to talk like that, but she held her tongue.

That night, they waited, and then got out of the dungeon.

The five of them checked that no one was in the Common room. No one was here. They got out and headed for where the big, three-headed Fluffy was.

Chapter Text

When all five Slytherins, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Astoria and Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode rushed to the hall where Fluffy and the trapdoor were hidden, Hermione got the door open with her wand, they cautiously came in, expecting three snarling heads of a huge dog, but instead, got a surprise.

The three-headed dog was asleep. All three heads were resting on big paws on top of the wooden trapdoor.

Harp music flew through the air, filling all of the girls' ears.

They entered the room and closed the door behind them, staring at the big harp playing.

"Snape must have been the one to use that harp," Hermione said, "He must have enchanted it."

The three heads of the dogs snored, their breaths blasting the girls' hair around their heads as they stepped closer to the dog.

Hermione, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent kneeled down in front of the dog, pushing the big heads and big paws away from the wooden trapdoor, and grabbed the black, metal handle of the trapdoor and pulled it, yanking the door open.

Down below, it was dark. So dark.

Hermione looked at the others. "Alright," she said, "Are you all sure about this?"

Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy all nodded.

"You kidding, Hermione?" Daphne said, "I think I'm offended that you still have doubts."

Hermione sighed, nodding, she then froze, frowning. "Hey," she said, suddenly hearing the silence, "Did it suddenly just get quiet? The harp stopped playing."

"But if it did," Pansy said, turning to the three-headed dog, "Then that means…,"

"Crap." Hermione grunted, "Jump inside!"

Astoria and Millicent jumped in first, then Daphne made sure Hermione jumped in next. Then Pansy jumped in and finally Daphne jumped in just when Fluffy began snarling at them.

One of Fluffy's giant heads rammed its way between the frame, head getting stuck as he snarled and barked at them.

The five girls flew down and landed on something. Something soft.

They each grunted as they landed, looking at each other, startled.

"What did we just land on?" Pansy asked, looking around.

To the girls' surprise, they had landed on top of a mass of what looked like…plants?

Suddenly, vines began wrapping around each of them.

"Whoa!" Daphne cried.

"Easy!" Hermione yelled, "It's Devil's Snare. The more we struggle-"

"The faster it'll kill us," Pansy said, as each vine wrapped around their necks.

"What do we do?" Hermione gasped, "We need sunlight, Devil's snare hates sunlight, but-"

"Are you a witch or not?!" Millicent demanded, her arms restrained by Devil's Snare, not allowing her to get to her wand, "Your arms are free, you can use your wand!"

Hermione's eyes widened. Right. She had forgotten. She pulled her wand out and summoned bright light.

"Lumos solem!" She yelled.

Light blasted all around them, and the Devil's Snare reacted instantly. It shriveled and retraced their vines from around all the girls, and the five of them slipped through the patches of vegetation and dropped down onto the floor below them, all of them crying out on impact.

They got up slowly. They each had bruises. Hermione had landed badly on her left hand, Millicent had landed badly on her right leg. Astoria and Pansy were the lucky ones as they had landed on their rears, though it still hurt for them. Daphne had landed on her right side, feeling bruised up. Incredibly bruised up. They got up and helped Millicent hobble across the hall to the next door.

"Do you hear that?" Pansy said, pressing her left ear to the door, hearing the fluttering of wings, "It sounds like wings."

They opened up the door and walked through, closing the door slowly.

There was a broom in front of them, just hovering there in midair.

They looked up. They saw multiple things flying around above them.

Keys. With wings.

"Flying keys?" Astoria asked.

"What is this?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Daphne said, and then looked up and saw another door, opposite of the room. She pulled out her wand and headed over to the door.

She pointed the wand at the door's lock and said, "Alohomora!"

Nothing happened.

Daphne turned to the others who all had a, "did you think it would be that easy?" look on their faces.

"Well, it was worth it, wasn't it?" Daphne asked.

Hermione groaned, "What are we going to do? There must be a thousand keys."

"We're probably looking for a small key," Pansy said, "Probably like the lock."

"There!" Daphne said, pointing at a fluttering key that seemed to be the flying equivalent of limping, "The one with the crooked wing!"

"So," Hermione said, "Who's the best at flying here? I know it isn't me."

"I can do it," Astoria said, going to the broom, straddling it, and as soon as she put her hands on the other end of the broom, everything escalated.

The keys all reacted at the same time, flying down, assaulting Astoria, flocking around her.

Daphne gasped, "Astoria!" She tried to run to the twin sister, but Hermione grabbed her arm, stopping her, as Astoria lifted up off the floor and began to fly through the air, chasing after the crooked winged key.

Astoria reached her hand out as she flew after the keys, reaching for the crooked winged key. Eventually, she was able to get her hand on the key and as she swooped around, being chased after still, she yelled, "Catch!"

She threw the key down to Hermione and the others. Daphne jumped up and caught the key that her sister threw down, and turned to the door, stuck the key into the keyhole and turned it.

The door unlocked, they pushed their way through and went in and Astoria swooped around the room again and swooped at the door and flew through it and Daphne closed the door behind them, and the attacking keys rammed into the closed door.

The five girls backed away from the door and they turned away from it, going into a new room. A very dark room. They could make out dark shapes in the room.

They went through, Hermione and Daphne helping Millicent limp across the room. "Is this a graveyard?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think so," Astoria said, stepping closer, noticing a marble floor that was checkered with black and white squares, "I think it might be a chessboard."

The lights in the room suddenly flickered on-lights, being a bunch of torches. And it proved Astoria's suspicion correct. This was a chessboard.

The five of them moved across the board, when the pieces in front of the back pieces suddenly moved, pulling out swords and crossing them, keeping the five girls from passing by.

The girls backed away. "Bloody hell," Pansy said.

Hermione looked at the others. "Are we going to have to play?" She asked, fearing the answer.

Pansy nodded. "I think so," she said.

Hermione shook her head, "No way," she said, "if it's as dangerous as actual wizard chess? Then no way." She turned to where Astoria had tossed the broom that Astoria had used. It was discarded by the opposite door. She said, "Everyone stay here!" She ran back to the opposite door, leaning down and picking up the broom and brought it over to the others and held it out. "We can use this," She said, nodding to the space above all the chess pieces, "We can fly over the pieces, use the accio spell to bring it back and the next person can fly over them and so on."

Astoria, Millicent and Pansy's eyes widened, obviously not having thought of that.

"Good idea!" Daphne said, grinning.

"Alright," Pansy said nervously, "I'll go first."

Pansy got on the broom and flew up, flying at the chess pieces and aiming to fly above them.

The queen, king and the other pieces raised their weapons, but Pansy was too fast, and she flew right over them, going past them and lowered down to the floor behind the chessboard.

Hermione and the others grinned.

"Alright," Hermione said, "Millicent, you should go next. Accio, broom!" She yelled, waving her wand.

The broom disappeared from Pansy's hands and ended up in Hermione's hands. She handed the broom to Millicent. Millicent got on the broom and started flying at the ceiling, to fly over the chess pieces.

Finally, all five of the girls got over the chess pieces and landed and dropped the broom onto the floor. Hermione, naturally was the worst flyer of the group, but she got over the chess pieces, and walked away from the chessboard with the others.

They walked and reached a new room.

There was a huge troll, unconscious, knocked out, up against a wall.

Pansy swallowed. "I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," she said, "Glad that that one wasn't the one we ran into on Halloween."

Millicent nodded, chuckling, "Yeah."

They stepped over the large feet and then entered a room with a platform with a shelf full of vials.

They paused when they saw the ceiling of the room with the vials.

The ceiling again was high. They could fly over the table easily.

"What's the task here?" Millicent, frowning.

"Good question," Hermione said, stepping forward, allowing Daphne and Pansy to hold the limping girl up and walking forward.

As they got closer into the room, flames suddenly shot out from both sides of the room. One side of the flames black, the other on the other side, purple. The flames reached the ceiling, effectively trapping them inside.

Hermione's eyes widened. Okay, so maybe they wouldn't be able to fly over the table and get to the next room.

"Shit," Pansy said, "we're trapped."

Hermione noticed a scroll on the table, next to the vials. She picked it up and unrolled it, looking at its contents.

She read the riddle.

She read aloud, "Danger lies before you. While safety lies behind. One among us seven will let you move ahead. Another will transport the drinker back instead. Two among our number hold only nettle wine. Three of us are killers, waiting in line."

"Oh, great," Daphne grumbled, staring at the vials.

"So," Pansy said, "If we drink the wrong one, will be sent back to the chessboard, or die, or drink nasty wine."

Hermione kept reading, "Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore. To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four. First: however slyly the poison tries to hide, you will always find some on nettle wine's left side. Second: different are those who stand at either end. But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend. Third: as you see clearly, all are different size. Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides. Fourth: the second left and the second on the right are twins once you taste them: though different at first sight."

"Great…," Daphne said.

"Okay," Hermione said, trying to ignore the heat from the flames, "I think we see a pattern here. Of what the professors were doing. They all put obstacles in our way. The three-headed dog was Hagrid's. And Professor Sprout must have enchanted the Devil's Snare. Flitwick must have enchanted all the keys."

Daphne nodded, "McGonagall must have enchanted the chess set."

"And here we have Snape's work," Pansy said, glaring hatefully at the vials.

"That leaves Quirrell's obstacle," Astoria said, "Great, so what do we do about this?" she gestured at the vials.

"Let me take care of it," Hermione said, looking down at the scroll again, "Okay, so," she smiled, "This isn't magic, it's logic. Everything we need is here on this paper. One will get us through the black flames. The other through the purple. Give me a minute." She read through the scroll's contents several times. Then she looked over the bottles and finally found the smallest one.

"This one," She said, pointing to the smallest bottle, "This will get us to the next room." She then pointed to the bottle on the furthest right-hand side, "That will get us back to where we came."

"Are you sure?" Daphne said, looking at the vial that Hermione said would move them forward, "There-Hermione, there's not enough for even two of us!"

"I know," Hermione said, nodding, "So, listen to me. You four? You take the vial that will take you back, and go get help. I'll take the potion that will help me go forward. And I'll find the stone, I promise."

Pansy and Daphne's eyes grew huge. Astoria shook her head, "No way! You shouldn't go alone!"

"But there's only enough for one of us," Hermione said, "Whoever drinks it, will be going in against Quirrell and maybe Voldemort too," Hermione ignored her friends' flinching, "-they'll be going in completely alone."

"Then it should be me," Daphne said insistently, "I'm the oldest. I'm not letting you go, Hermione."

Hermione sighed, snatching up the smallest vial. She didn't want to have to put Daphne to this, but, Hermione's life had told her nothing, except that she knew what it took to do the ruthless things to survive-and she didn't want Daphne or any of the others to live with that choice. If it came to killing Snape? Would the others be able to do it? She didn't know. But she didn't want them to have to find out.

She uncorked the bottle, dropping the scroll and brought the vial to her lips, gulping it down in seconds, before Daphne could lunge for her.

"No!" Daphne cried, rushing forward, but it was too late. Hermione had gulped down the liquid, allowing her passage through the flames ahead.

Hermione dropped the empty glass vial, allowing it to fall to the floor and it crashed, breaking into pieces.

"What if He's with Snape?" Millicent asked, whimpering.

Hermione nodded to them, "Then that's an even bigger reason for me to go in. The four of you need to live so that there's resistance against Voldemort."

She smiled as their eyes widened as she said Voldemort's name again, "Now drink that last vial," she pointed to the vial on the right end of the table, "Do it before I go off and possibly meet my death!"

Astoria whimpered and lunged forward, hugging Hermione, surprising the brunette. Daphne lunged forward and hugged her too. Millicent and Pansy came forward, Pansy supporting Millicent as they all hugged Hermione tightly.

They hugged for what felt like forever, then Hermione chuckled against them, trying to fight her tears, "You know, I should probably get moving, before the potion wears off."

She heard small peals of laughter against her, and Daphne nodded against her as she and the others parted from their friend.

"Alright," Millicent said, and Hermione pushed down the painful warmth in her chest when she saw the tears in the large girl's eyes, "But Hermione? Just be careful."

Hermione nodded. "I will be," she promised.

Daphne stepped forward, and picked up the potion on the right end of the table, uncorking it and began taking a small sip from it. She shuddered at the taste, then handed the vial to Astoria, who also took a small sip. The younger Greengrass sister shuddered as well, and handed the vial to Pansy.

When all four other girls had gulped down the contents of the last vial, they dropped it, letting it shatter to pieces, and they turned and walked close to the wall of purple flames, which led back to the way they came.

They looked back, just one last time at Hermione.

She smiled at them reassuringly.

Daphne looked pained and nodded and she turned and walked through the purple fire, and Pansy, Millicent and Astoria followed her out.

Hermione turned to the wall of black flames and sucked in a breath and rushed forward, going through the wall of black fire.

When she was on the other side, she reached stairs and thought to herself, pulling her wand out, at the ready, (I'm coming, Snape.)

She bolted down the stairs, getting ready for the last obstacle, prepared to see anything, and when she reached the bottom of the stairs, there were a lot of things she had been ready to see.

But not what she actually saw.

Her eyes widened when she saw who was standing in the middle of the room. It was not Snape.

It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Quirrell.

Professor Quirrell stood in front of the mirror of Erised.

This was obviously where they had sent the mirror. But what…what was Quirrell doing here?

Quirrell turned around and faced her, looking as startled to see her as she was to see him.

"Ah," He said, "Ms. Granger. I'll admit, I didn't expect to see you here."

Hermione frowned, alarms suddenly going off. Where was his stutter? Where was his timid voice? Where was his twitching?

Her heart suddenly felt like ice hit it.

Who was it that had alerted the staff and everyone to there being a troll in the dungeon? Who was it that would have the last spell that was required to get to the Sorcerer's Stone? And wouldn't it be convenient if the person actually after the stone, put on a persona of helplessness and of being pathetic?

"YOU let the troll in," Hermione said, eyes wide with realization, "YOU tried to get the stone on Halloween. Snape was stopping you from getting it on Halloween! That's why he got bitten by Fluffy!"

Quirrell chuckled, smirking, "Very good. You really are bright, aren't you, girl? Too bright for your own good. It's really too bad. It wasn't you I was hoping would find me here. But Potter."

Hermione was startled. Quirrell had been expecting Harry Potter? Then again, that made sense. After all, didn't Voldemort feel like he needed to compensate for being made to look like a weakling next to a baby? And didn't he need to get rid of a loose end?

"Where IS Harry Potter right now?" Hermione asked curiously.

Quirrell scoffed, "Well, since he was too stupid to recognize the signs I sent him that I wanted him to reach here for me to finish him off, I presume safe in his room in Gryffindor Tower."

Hermione nodded. She supposed she could be grateful for that. At least he was safe. And at least he wasn't getting in her way.

That was a rather mean thought, but she couldn't help it. From what she had deduced over the year. Harry might have gotten lucky by surviving the death curse, but that was all he was. Lucky. Nothing else.

And stupidly brave, from some of the things she had heard about him and Ron's shenanigans.

But nothing else.

"And you," Hermione said, eyeing Quirrell, "You're the one that's working with Voldemort?"

Quirrell's eyes suddenly narrowed and he snarled, "You DARE speak his name! You don't even get to look at him, you mudblood shit!"

Hermione's jaw tightened, feeling like she had been slapped in the face.

She shouldn't have been surprised, though. After all, if he was working with Voldemort, then he had basically swallowed the Pureblood mania as so many of his followers had.

Quirrell raised his right hand and snapped it and ropes suddenly appeared and wrapped around Hermione, restraining her. Hermione hissed.

"Now, then," Quirrell said, turning to the mirror and inspecting it, "This mirror will help me find the stone." He checked the back of the mirror and walked back to the front. He stared into the mirror.

"I see what I desire. I see the stone," He said, "So, how do I get it to my master?"

Hermione struggled in the ropes as she said, "You're working for him? When did you meet him?"

She knew the answer to the first question, but she needed him distracted, so that she could work on freeing herself.

Quirrell chuckled, "I met him years ago. When I was a young man. When I was foolish and had unintelligible ideas about good or evil. There is no good or evil. There is only power. And those too weak to take it."

Hermione tried not to scoff at his nonsense, and as he talked she used her wand and spoke several different spells, aiming the wand at the ropes around her. Nothing happened. Again, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. After all, these spells down here were meant to stop the most powerful people from getting ahold of the stone. No mere first-year witch's spells would be able to free her.

He then eyed the mirror again, "How do I get the stone?"

Hermione struggled in the ropes and managed to fall to the left, but Quirrell didn't look at her.

Hermione then heard a voice, a whispery, almost papery voice.

The voice said, "Use the girl."

Hermione froze. Firstly, who said that? Secondly, what did that voice mean, 'use the girl?'

Suddenly, the ropes were off Hermione and she was free-or as free as she could be when faced with a fanatical bigot working for the most evil wizard in history.

"Come here, Granger," Quirrell ordered, "Look in the mirror and see what you see."

Hermione went over hesitantly, keeping her wand close and looked at the mirror. She had to lie. She knew that.

Whatever she saw? She had to lie.

She saw a frightened girl. That was all. She saw nothing. Then, something strange happened.

The Hermione in the mirror reached into her pocket and pulled out a big, shining scarlet stone. Then the Hermione in the mirror pocketed it again.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she felt something heavy in her right-hand pocket, up against her side. How? How had the stone come to her? She didn't know. But it had.

"Well?" She heard Quirrell ask her.

Her heart jump and she quickly lied, "I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore," she said, "I've won the house cup for Slytherin."

She heard Quirrell spit at her hatefully, "Should have known a mudblood would be useless!"

He pushed her backwards so that he was closer to the mirror.

The voice that had spoken before, spoke again, "She lies!"

Quirrell turned on Hermione, about to threaten her, when the voice talked again.

The voice said next, "Let me speak with her…,"

Quirrell spoke as Hermione tensed up at the random voice, "Master, you're not strong enough!"

"I'm strong enough for this," the voice answered.

Quirrell hesitantly reached up to his turban and slowly unwrapped it.

Hermione frowned, narrowing her eyes. She looked around the room. She saw no one else here except the two of them. So, where had that voice come from?

That answer was given to her a second later.

And it was a horrifying answer.

Hermione froze, blood turning to ice and her mouth dropped when she saw Quirrell turn around, Quirrell's own face, looking into the mirror, his back to Hermione, and there was a face on the back of his head.

A leering face on Quirrell's bald head, snickering at Hermione.

There were slits for nostrils and burning red eyes.

"Young witch," The voice whispered from that terrible mouth, "I'll admit, you were not the one I expected to see here. But no matter. Now, I'm sure you know who I am."

Hermione nodded, swallowing, trying to ignore the icy cold lump of fear in her gut. "Yes," she said, "I know. You're Voldemort."

"Yes," Voldemort chuckled, seeming to halt any anger Quirrell might have over Hermione using his master's name, "I am. You see what I have become? Become a parasite to survive. But there are always those who will let me into their hearts." His grin widened at the glare Hermione threw him. He continued, "I see, you are like me, aren't you? You're a survivor too, aren't you?"

Hermione sneered, "I'm nothing like you!"

Voldemort chuckled again, grinning, "Oh? I recognize the look of you, child. You might not be pureblood, but I suspect any wizard or witch would be foolish to underestimate you. You're a survivor, even if you deny it."

Hermione tried to ignore her growing unease. He couldn't know about what her life had been like. He couldn't know about Cromwell or her mother.

She then remembered something terrifying.

Voldemort had been a master Legilimency user.

He could enter peoples' minds and read their minds in seconds, without barely any effort.

Hermione quickly mentally erected a brick wall at the front of her mind, hoping that that would help, though she doubted it.

"Now, then," Voldemort said, "Why don't you give me the stone that's in your right-hand pocket?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Again, had he read her mind? She didn't know.

She really hoped he hadn't, but…

"No, way!" She snapped, gripping her wand tightly.

Voldemort still grinned at her. "Ah," he said, "Bravery. An admirable trait. But it will not help you for long. It's a fool's virtue. So many have shown their bravery to me, and it didn't matter at the end of it. I killed them. They were all too weak to join me. Courage takes people only so far. Surely you know this. After all, that's not a Gryffindor badge I see on your robes."

Hermione tensed. Her being Slytherin had nothing to do with it.

Voldemort then said, "I was in Slytherin too, you know. I'm sure you've seen signs of my old life before when I at one time lived here as a student. A time before my great power. You could have that power too, child. Being Slytherin, you should know that Dumbledore's delusions of good are lies. Dumbledore speaks with great intentions, but he is a fool. A hypocrite. You may be of muggle birth and blood, but if you were able to get here, you have great potential. Do not squander that potential. Join me."

"Never!" Hermione cried.

Finally, Voldemort lost his grin.

"Kill her!" He commanded Quirrell.

Quirrell walked backwards and Hermione gasped, raising her wand and aiming it at Quirrell.

She knew the words. She knew the words she had to say-had to.

She had read up on all kinds of advanced spells. So, she knew what spell was needed to kill someone.

But oh, she didn't want to.

"Please don't make me do this," she pleaded weakly.

She had pleaded, but Quirrell did not desist. When Quirrell was close, she unfortunately knew she had no choice.

"Avada Kedavra!" She yelled out, green firing out of the end of the wand.

The green blast shot out and hit Quirrell. Quirrell stiffened up and screamed, and slowly he collapsed.

Hermione whimpered, watching as Quirrell died in front of her.

And Voldemort?

She watched as a humanoid shape rose up from the dead body of Quirrell, and hovered above the corpse, and Hermione's heart stopped when she realized she was looking at Voldemort's essence leaving Quirrell.

He snarled at her and launched at her. Hermione tensed up, crying out and Voldemort blasted through her body, leaving the room and flying out of the room.

Before he disappeared out of the room, Hermione heard the chilling words that Voldemort said. He said, "We will see each other again, child."

Hermione turned, watching his essence disappear from the room.

She gasped, slowly turning and staring down at the dead body of the former professor.

She felt her eyes begin to sting again. She had just used the killing curse. She had just killed someone. It had been self-defense.

But still, she had killed someone.

She felt her throat go dry. How was she going to live with this? How was she going to tell her mother what she had done?

She stayed there, staring at the body. It was possible she could go back through the fire-and that the potion she had drunk could still work, but she wasn't going to try it. She stared at the body. She deserved to stay here, with her guilt.

Eventually, Dumbledore arrived and retrieved her from the room with the mirror. Daphne and Pansy were with him. As soon as they saw that Hermione was safe, they ran to her and hugged her tightly.

Hermione shook against them, fighting more tears.

She was brought to the hospital area and looked at. Her wrist was taken care of, as was Millicent's leg.

Everyone was talking.

Everyone knew what Hermione and the other girls had done.

So many Slytherins who were arrogant and were bigoted, stared at Hermione now with both respect, admiration and reverence. It was a lot for Hermione to deal with.

And Gryffindors and the other houses who saw Slytherin as a lowly house, stared at Hermione with shock and reverence.

Hermione didn't give the stone to Dumbledore. She kept it hidden in her pocket.

She didn't trust Voldemort, no. But she didn't trust Dumbledore, either.

She told Dumbledore that she didn't know where the stone was, and from what she could tell, he believed her.

It was the end of the year, and Hermione, Millicent, Pansy, Astoria and Daphne sat together at the feast for the end of the year. Hermione kept the Sorcerer's Stone close to her, stuffed in her pocket, along with her wand.

Hermione hadn't noticed how Malfoy was looking at her. The fear in his eyes, knowing what he knew now, that she had killed the body that Voldemort had been using-had essentially defeated Voldemort.

Hermione wasn't going to pretend that she didn't enjoy his fear.

She did.

What was interesting were Harry Potter and Weasley's reactions to her.

Weasley had kept going on and on around school about how it was mad that "Granger stopped Voldemort, and that she probably killed him to take the stone for herself." Hermione wasn't sure he was wrong. Because she wasn't going to tell anyone that she had the stone.

Potter looked at her with interest, respect, but also suspicion now.

It was time for the house cup to be announced.

Dumbledore stood up and said, "Given the current events, and that Slytherin already has the highest points of all the houses, the placement of the house cup should not be a surprise. But more points should be given. To all three Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode, I award you fifty points for your bravery, for the risks you took to stop a great threat to the school."

Millicent, Pansy and Daphne both gaped, staring at the headmaster.

The whole Slytherin table roared with cheers and joy. Hermione grinned at her friends.

"And secondly!" Dumbledore said, "To Astoria Greengrass!" Astoria's eyes widened, listening as Dumbledore continued, "For skills in flying and getting what was needed to help your friends find the stone, thirty points!"

Daphne smiled at her sister, patting the younger girl's back.

"And finally!" Dumbledore said, "To Ms. Hermione Granger, for strong will, keeping a cool head, and brilliance, and doing what was needed for the witch and wizarding world, I appoint you eighty points."

Hermione's mouth dropped. That was what she got? For killing someone?

It was a bastard working for Voldemort, sure. But still…she had killed someone. She was a murderer.

The table around her cheered, and the flags above them all changed from the multi-designed Hogwarts flags, to the Slytherin flags.

Green flags with silver snakes on them hovered above all the tables as all the Slytherins shouted and cheered at their accomplishments.

Daphne grinned at Hermione and Hermione smiled back, hiding her unease. She had used an unforgivable curse. She had killed someone. And she was willingly withholding the Sorcerer's stone from everyone.

As she plastered a grin across her face and everyone at the table cheered, she felt the uneasy dread grow in her chest.

Later on, that day, when they were walking back to the trains with their luggage, Pansy whispered to her friends and pointed to people by the stairs of the train station. Dumbledore was standing there, talking with someone dressed in a black suit. It was an elderly looking man, but sturdy looking.

The man looked at them and started coming over to them.

"Who is that?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"That's Cornelius Fudge," Daphne said, sounding distrusting, "The Minister of the Ministry of Magic."

Hermione paused.

Cornelius Fudge stood in front of her, looking at her. "Hermione Granger," he said, "It's an honor to meet you, preventing Quirinus Quirrell from getting the Sorcerer's Stone." He offered his hand.

Hermione cautiously took it and allowed him to shake her hand.

"Thank you, sir," she said, then pulled her hand away, "You know that you're going to have to be careful now. Voldemort's out there again."

As soon as she said that, she knew she had made a mistake. Fudge froze up, looking pale. Hermione thought that it was because she had said Voldemort's name, but it wasn't that. Or at least, not just that. "That," he said weakly, "Is a misconception. He's gone. He will never come back. He's dead."

Hermione looked past Fudge to see Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave Hermione a sad look that said, "He's not willing to see the truth. He won't accept that Voldemort was a part of what happened."

Hermione tried not to snort. She looked at Fudge. "You know how I stopped Quirrell, don't you?"

Fudge nodded stiffly. "I do," he said, "The killing curse. And normally, that would be punishable. But given the circumstances? I will not have you brought into the Ministry."

"Well, that's good to hear," Hermione said, more relieved than she could say.

Fudge smiled. "You've done the witch and wizarding world a great service, Ms. Granger," he said, "I want you to remember that."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you sir," she said smiling, hiding her unease that she had over still having the Sorcerer's stone one her person.

Fudge nodded to her nodded to the other girls and walked away.

Hermione grumbled to the girls when he was out of earshot, "Alright, can we get out of here, please."

Pansy chuckled, smirking, "What's the matter, Granger? Don't like the attention?"

"Not if it's because of me killing someone," Hermione answered.

"It's alright, Mione," Daphne said, using the nickname that Daphne and the others occasionally used for her, "You had to. He was trying to kill you. And who knows how many people would have died if he had gotten the stone? Wherever that is now."

Hermione sighed as she walked with the others to the train. "I know," she said, getting onto the train after Millicent and Astoria, "But it still hurts to think about. I hope I don't have to do it again."

Hermione, Crookshanks, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne, Millicent and their respective familiars got onboard the train and as the train drove off, Hermione eyed Dumbledore on the train platform, till he was out of sight.

She had kept the Sorcerer's Stone or the Philosopher's Stone or whatever from him for a reason. Because she couldn't risk someone as manipulative as him getting his hands on the stone. She didn't know what he would want with it, but she didn't want to risk him grabbing the stone any more than she did Voldemort or Quirrell.

She turned to look at Millicent, listening to what she said, or half listening to what she said.

But silently, she was wondering what to do about the stone.

Should she try to find a way of destroying it? Or let her mother look at it to study it. To see if it could be used for good?

She didn't know.

Either way, it was in her custody now.

She also knew one thing. After this? If she wasn't on Voldemort's radar before, she certainly was now.

Chapter Text

Dumbledore was aware of the fact that the girl, Hermione Granger was in possession of the Sorcerer's Stone. He knew that.

The girl had kept it from him for a reason. He held no judgments. When Cornelius Fudge left him and went onto the Ministry, believing that Voldemort was truly gone, not wishing to even entertain the possibility that he might have been working with Quirrell.

Dumbledore…he had his own plans. He knew something that Cornelius Fudge didn't. After Voldemort had disappeared, after the Potters had been killed and Harry had had to be brought to his family members, Dumbledore had gone to the Department of Mysteries and checked for any prophecy that might have involved Voldemort or the name that he had gone by, before he had started calling himself 'Lord Voldemort.' He had seen no prophecy surrounding Harold James Potter.

But he had seen one surrounding a girl, by the name of Hermione. Her last name had changed at some point. To Granger. But before that it had been different.

And though Dumbledore had not seen the prophecy-only the one the prophecy had surrounded, which was Hermione, could pick it up and look at it, but he couldn't help but find the timing odd. The prophecy appeared only a day after Voldemort had disappeared almost eleven years ago. And now this? Hermione had been the one to stop Voldemort in present day?

And with the killing curse, no less?

Dumbledore knew that the killing curse a great deal of power for it to be used effectively the first time.

And Hermione was going to be a second-year soon. Dumbledore knew without question, if Hermione was powerful enough to use the killing curse the first time she had ever to summon it and she had killed someone? When she was only eleven and a half years old?

No, Dumbledore knew that Hermione was no weak witch. She wasn't just clever and intelligent and brave. She was powerful.

Unimaginably powerful.

There were three prophecies. One with the name "Hermione Granger," on one shelf, and another, with the name, "Bellatrix Black," on another shelf. There were a few other prophecies that had popped up on the shelves during that time. Prophecies with the names "Cedric Diggory," "Viktor Krum," "Fleur Delacour," and so on. But there had been no prophecy with the name "Harry Potter" on it. It seemed that Hermione was more integral to the future than he had originally thought.

Dumbledore knew he needed to keep following Hermione's progress over the years. Regardless of what house the girl was in.

Dumbledore was certain that this girl was going to be instrumental in the fight against Voldemort and his followers.

A mere eleven-year-old, on the cusp of turning twelve, and she had mastered the killing curse, in seconds.

She might have had difficulties in other spells, but she had used the killing curse only when she had needed to, and she had done it excellently.

Dumbledore knew, he just knew, that that girl was the key to stopping Voldemort. After Voldemort had disappeared and Harry Potter had been retrieved from Grimmauld Place by Hagrid, he had believed the key to Voldemort's permanent defeat would lie in the boy.

Now? Now, he wasn't so sure.

So, yes, he let Hermione have the Sorcerer's Stone. Some part of him knew he was playing a dangerous game, as he had before.

If Hermione was anything like the wizard whom she shared a wand with, this could end very badly.

But if she fought against Voldemort, as she had in her first year, then there may be hope yet for the witch and wizarding world.

Dumbledore had played this game before-and it had ended with the Heir of Slytherin being loose upon Hogwarts and rising to power. And here? He was making another gamble. But he would have to see where it led him.

Back at Hermione Granger's home, in the muggle world, Jean Granger welcomed her daughter home.

"Mama!" Hermione cried, running over to her mother, dragging her luggage behind her as she ran over, Crookshanks, who she had allowed out of the cage, following after her to the parking lot and she embraced her mother.

"Hermione!" Jean cried, hugging the small brunette girl tightly, kissing the top of her head, "I'm so glad you're back, sweetie."

"Mama," Hermione sniffled, crying into the woman's chest, and Jean looked down at her little girl, confused.

"Honey, what's wrong?" She asked her daughter.

Hermione whispered into her mother's chest, "Mama, I've done something terrible."

Hermione knew she had to tell her mother everything. That she had killed someone-even if it was in self-defense. That Voldemort, the most feared wizard, was back, and that she had put herself in serious danger.

When Jean Granger had gotten her daughter and her daughter's furry friend, Crookshanks, into the house and had closed the door up and had seated Hermione down and had been ready to ask the girl what was wrong.

Hermione, when she had settled down, began to spill everything.

Well, almost everything.

She hadn't told her mother that Dumbledore was likely looking for the Sorcerer's Stone. Or about the Sorcerer's Stone in general. The less her mother had to do with all this, the better.

But she did tell her mother what she had done to Quirrell.

Jean's eyes widened as she absorbed the information that Hermione gave her.

Her daughter had been in serious danger. Then again, that had basically been Hermione's whole life, but still, finding out that she had gone off to school-a new school and technically a new world, and she had almost been killed multiple times.

And she had been forced to kill someone in self-defense.

Jean leaned back in her seat and breathed out hard.

"Are…are you angry, mama?" Hermione asked cautiously, "that I killed someone?"

Jean's eyes widened. "No," she said insistently, "No, my darling, absolutely not." She leaned forward and framed her daughter's face with her hands, "You did what you had to. That's all that happened. Someone tried to kill you. A murderous, bigoted wizard. And you were just defending yourself."

Hermione whimpered, closing her eyes.

She hadn't wanted to, but…but Quirrell and Voldemort hadn't given her a choice.

It had been "kill or be killed." That was all that had happened.

So, why did it hurt so much to know that she did it?

"Mama," Hermione said quietly, "When…when you killed Cromwell's men, did…did you cry? Did it hurt to do?"

Jean paused and she nodded, as Hermione opened her eyes. "Yes," she confessed, "I didn't want to do it. And I cried. But I had to protect you. And I knew they would never stop taking and murdering children. Muggle-born children."

Jean and Hermione hadn't known the proper name for the children that Cromwell's facility had a tendency of taking, until a year ago, when that Hogwarts letter had been brought to them by that owl.

That was when they learned the technical term for the children who had normal parents, but who had magical powers. Muggle-borns.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get you out, my love," Jean said, "You, none of you children deserved to be treated like that in any capacity."

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said, "You don't need to apologize, mama. It wasn't your fault. You got me out." She smiled at her mother adoringly, "And you destroyed the labs. If anyone is a hero when standing against people like Cromwell, it's you."

Jean tried not to smile sadly. Hermione said that now. But that was only because the girl didn't know about the harm that her mother had caused during those years that she had worked for Cromwell. And Jean? She wanted to keep it that way. She wanted her mother to think of her only as a protector-rather than the monster she had been.

Jean could go ahead and claim that she had just been "following orders," but there was nothing that excused her actions-and that excuse, that was just what people back in 1930s to the early 1940s Germany used to say, to excuse what they had done to Jews, disabled people, the Romani people, trans people and homosexuals.

Nothing Jean had done had been excusable. All she could do, at least for Hermione, was take care of her, look after her and protect her. That was all she could do to make up for what she had done. But even that, she knew, would not amend for the things she had done.

Still, she was glad for Hermione to naively think that she was some sort of heroine for what she had done.

Before Jean had worked for Cromwell, she had used to be married. To a man named Richard Preston. He hadn't been her soulmate. They had different soulmate marks. Jean had the mark of a dark purple goblet on her right shoulder. Richard had had the symbol of a white trident.

They had divorced not long after Jean had first started working for Cromwell. They had had problems before that, so her working for Cromwell hadn't been the reason for the divorce.

Richard's former wife, and actual soulmate, a woman named Cecilia Jones had died years before. In a car crash. It had driven Richard to the bottle and had led to one too many fights with Jean.

So, they had split up.

Jean hoped Richard was doing better. But given that he wasn't the type that likely would try to do better, it was unlikely.

Jean hadn't been with anyone else since him.

For a multitude of reasons. Because of her work, and later, because she had a child with powers that she needed to protect.

What if Cromwell sent someone to Jean, pretending to be a suitor, and instead, turned out to be someone sent to retrieve Cromwell's "property?"

Or, even if it wasn't someone sent by Cromwell, what if it was just someone who didn't know about magic and discovered what Hermione could do and got scared off by what they saw as a "freak?"

That was something she hadn't told Hermione. Because she hadn't wanted Hermione to feel guilty.

Because even though there was no reason for Hermione to feel guilt, Jean knew that the girl would feel that way, after hearing the reasons why Jean never dated.

Then there was the other reason. Even when Hermione grew to adulthood, and moved out to start her own life and have a family of her own, how was Jean going to be able to share the things she had done with a prospective partner? She had done terrible things. Even if she found a completely understanding possible partner, would anyone truly be able to trust her, knowing all she had done in her former life?

Besides, she had never met anyone with the same soulmate mark that she had and she doubted she ever would. Her soulmate mark had never started glowing. So, she doubted she'd meet them.

Jean ignored those thoughts and paid attention as Hermione then told Jean, as Crookshanks got up onto a sofa chair and curled up on it comfortably, about the Sorcerer's stone and that she had it and that she wanted to study it. Potentially to extend peoples' lives.

Jean had almost fallen out of her chair when she heard that part.

Her daughter had lied to the headmaster of her school?! And had stolen the Sorcerer's stone for herself? And was hoping to use it to make people live longer?

"Hermione," Jean said, almost laughing in her shock, "My love, I don't think that's a good idea. It's dangerous. Too dangerous."

Hermione looked surprised, then asked, "But you're a scientist, mama. You could study it and see its properties. See how we can spread it to different people-provide long life for everyone around the world!"

Jean sighed. Her daughter truly didn't understand the danger here.

"Hermione," Jean said softly, "What do you think will happen if people find out that we have something that can make people live longer? Something like that? It could start a war. It could cause different countries to fight each other for the stone. And what will happen if it starts being used by the powerful? Then it will be denied to the poor, to the working class. And I think you know that."

Hermione's eyes widened and Jean smiled sadly, seeing that the young girl HAD known that in the back of her mind, but hadn't wanted to accept it. Had wanted to believe that there was an answer to things like death, without the price of possible warfare.

"Oh," Hermione whispered, eyes still wide, shaking her head, "I hadn't…, I mean, I didn't think-"

"It's alright," Jean said softly, "I know you just want to do the right thing. I know. But this? This is dangerous, Hermione."

Hermione lowered her head. Jean got up and hugged Hermione close. "It's alright, it's alright."

Hermione nodded at last. "Okay," she said, "I won't use it. But…but what do I do with it now?"

Jean sighed as she sat down again, reaching out and stroking Hermione's left cheek with her right hand, "We'll hide it, okay? Make sure no one else finds it."

Eventually, they found a place to hide the sorcerer's stone. Hermione looked up some magical spells, used to block the place where she had hid the stone, so that if anything magical tried to get the stone, would be singed.

Hermione then went about to setting everything back up in her room for the summer, and then start sending off letters to her friends.

Her mother was so happy for her, that she had a bunch of friends now. It made Hermione self-conscious, but glad.

The summer passed by, as if in only a matter of minutes. Hermione had sent letters to her friends, and owls had come swooping to the Granger house and would take her letters from her and deliver Hermione's friends' letters to her.

Hermione read up on advanced magic, and on more spells. And eventually, the second year began to roll around.

However, days before the first day of the Hermione's second year at Hogwarts, something happened.

Hermione and Crookshanks were walking out in the garden, getting some of Hermione's mother's tomatoes at her mother's request, when something caught her eye.

A snake. A big, wide, green snake unfurling from around the bottom of one of the garden fence's posts.

Crookshanks hissed at the scaly intruder.

"Crookshanks," Hermione said urgently, "No." Crookshanks eyed her. He was part Kneazle, which meant that he understood her commands. Though he often didn't listen to them.

Hermione picked up a small hand-shovel from the ground, deciding to pry the snake off the post. She had seen snakes like these. And usually when she yelled at them, they slithered off, sensing the danger of a bigger creature in front of them.

She leaned close and snapped at it, "Get the hell out of here!"

The snake's head shot up and it stared at her, stunned, and Hermione held up the shovel threateningly.

The snake did the smart thing and turned and slithered out from behind the post and slithered off into the forest.

It was odd, but snakes always seemed to find their way into the garden, around the Granger property.

Hermione would chase them off and they'd slither away.

There was one time, when Hermione had yelled at a snake when her mother had been nearby, and after the snake had slithered off, her mother had looked at her strangely. Very strangely, but had said nothing and had proceeded to tend to her garden. That had been three years ago, when Hermione had been eight.

When the next year's first day came rolling around, and Hermione got all her things together the night before, and on that morning, Hermione, Jean Granger and Crookshanks went to the train station, went through the portal and went on the platform and headed for Diagon Alley.

Jean took in the sights of Diagon Alley, as she had before, delighting at the different animals and different buildings. Hermione bought a few new things, and heard that there was some big celebrity running around and getting his picture taken. Some bloke named Gilderoy Lockhart.

Hermione and Jean stopped in a bookstore for Hermione's essential school books for the year, ignoring the many crowds gathered around the young man, who Hermione presumed was Lockhart, who was grinning at everyone for different cameras being snapped at him.

Hermione and Jean gathered everything and started heading out of the store, when Hermione saw a family of redheads come through the front door of the store.

Uh-oh.

Hermione fought a grimace, knowing how Ron Weasley saw her.

As soon as Ron and his family were in the store, Ron glared at her. "Oh," he sneered, "You're here, Granger."

"Ronald," Hermione said coolly, hiding her disdain from him.

Jean looked at her daughter, then looked at Ron, confused.

The redheaded woman with Ron, who Hermione couldn't help but assume was Ron's mother, said, "Oh, is this the girl you told me about?" She then looked at Hermione, "The one who stopped 'You-know-who?'"

Hermione was startled. She hadn't expected that particular acknowledgment from the family of Ron Weasley of all people.

Hermione took this time to eye the rest of Ron's family. Fred and George Weasley, the twins and Ron's older brothers, looking at Hermione curiously, as if she was both a curiosity and a possibility to be admired. Or something like that.

The tall, thin redheaded man next to them, who Hermione knew was Percy Weasley, eyed her with some suspicion and scrupulousness.

There was a redheaded man, who Hermione suspected was the children's mother, who smiled at her, greeting her with some politeness. "Hello, Ms. Granger," he said to her, "It's an honor to meet you," he then looked to Jean Granger, "And her mother, I presume?"

Jean nodded. "Yes," she said, "And you are?"

"Mr. Weasley," The man answered, "Arthur Weasley."

Jean nodded, but did not give her own name, recognizing that her daughter was uncomfortable. "Well, then," she said, "I suppose my daughter and I should be going. Nice to meet all of you."

As they headed to the door, two more people appeared in the doorway. A boy and a man. Only this time, they were both almost platinum blonde haired.

Hermione froze, recognizing the boy. Draco Malfoy.

And the long-haired man with her, obviously his father.

His Death Eater father.

Lucious Malfoy.

Hermione swallowed, chest feeling tight.

Lucious Malfoy had been Voldemort's second-in-command in the previous years during Voldemort's reign. And after Voldemort's disappearance? Lucious had started a group to continue Voldemort's work, until those following Lucious had been captured and brought to the Ministry for a trial.

And then? Then Lucious hadn't seen one day in prison. Not one!

It was infuriating.

It was disgusting.

"Ah," The man, Lucious Malfoy, looking past the Grangers at the Weasley family, "Weasley Senior."

"Lucious," Mr. Weasley acknowledged, with distaste in his voice.

Only then did Lucious look at Hermione and Hermione tensed up again, feeling like the worst kind of snake was paying close attention to her. "You are…," he looked at Draco, "Ms. Granger, right?"

Draco nodded, glancing at her, again with that unsettling curiosity that the Weasley family had given Hermione.

"And," Lucious said, looking at Hermione's mother, "Your mother? A muggle, isn't she?"

Hermione glared at him, a warning in her eyes.

It was Jean Granger, however, who spoke, "And you," she said, smiling coldly, "Were at one time, a Death Eater, weren't you?"

Lucious looked startled at this, as if stunned that a woman dared to speak to him like that. Let alone a woman who was a muggle.

Jean Granger took Hermione's hand and walked out of the store, past Draco and his father, uncaring that they were in the way. Hermione watched with amazement as her mother stared with a cold, piercing gaze aimed at Lucious as she passed him.

The two of them reached the street and stopped when they heard Lucious scoff, "Here, girl," Hermione watched as Lucious dropped a couple of books into her cauldron, making Hermione frown. She looked at the former Death Eater suspiciously. Lucious said, "Your muggle mother probably can't afford you the best," he gestured to the book in Hermione cauldron, "So, that can be something to compensate." He turned and walked into the store, a smirking Draco following him.

Hermione glared after him, half debating throwing the books that he had given her at his back. She also debated throwing the books out-because she'd be damned if she'd ever want any kind of "charity" from someone like Mr. Malfoy.

But she was admittedly curious as to the contents of what Lucious had given her.

She walked with her mother to the train station, mumbling quietly, "Sorry you had to see that and get involved in that."

Jean shook her head. "Don't worry about it, honey," she said, "Someone like that? He deserves every awful thing that comes to him."

Hermione chuckled. Yes, that was assuming however, anything bad happened to the asshole.

The two of them reached the platform of nine and three quarters and they reached the train. Jean hugged Hermione, kissing her forehead, telling the twelve-year-old girl that she loved her over and over again. Hermione hugged her mother tightly, telling her mother she loved her, also not telling her mother that she had put several charms on her mother's house and on her mother herself-protection charms.

If Hermione was now on Voldemort's radar? Then that meant her mother potentially was in danger.

Hermione hadn't yet gotten a visit from the Ministry of Magic. Which meant either she wasn't powerful enough to catch the Ministry's attention, or they were giving her leniency, based on her actions the previous year-stopping Quirrell and Voldemort from getting the Sorcerer's stone-though she doubted any of the Ministry would admit the Voldemort was back.

She suspected the first of the reasons. That she wasn't powerful enough to catch the Ministry's attention.

Hermione smiled at her mother as her mother looked at her with love, but also fear. Hermione ignored the guilt that she felt for that fear. All parents feared to a certain extent that something bad would happen to their children. That was just normal. But Jean's fear was more poignant. Because Jean and Hermione both were so used to the danger, they knew that worse than the usual could happen.

"Please be careful, Hermione," Jean pleaded with her daughter and Hermione nodded.

"I will, mama," she said, and she meant it-she'd be careful, if there weren't as many dangers this year as there had been last year, "I love you, mama."

Hermione went through the wall of the portal to platform nine and three quarters, and headed to the train.

Hermione got onboard, and checked through the different compartments.

Eventually, she found the Greengrass sisters sitting across from each other. She knocked on the door, grinning at them.

Astoria and Daphne turned to her, beaming as soon as they saw her and as Hermione opened up the door to the compartment, Daphne jumped up and went over to Hermione and hugged her tightly.

"Mione!" She said, "It's so good to see you! So glad you're here!"

Astoria got up from her seat, grinning and running over, hugging Hermione.

Hermione came in and let Crookshanks out onto the seat next to her as she sat next to Astoria, across from Daphne as the other two girls sat down.

As the train moved, going along, and the girls got to talking about how their summer was, Pansy and Millicent eventually found them and sat down with them, hugging them.

They all sat together, still talking, grinning, overjoyed at seeing each other again, Hermione eventually took out the leather-bound books that Lucious had given her, telling them the story that had taken place in Diagon Alley.

Her friends inspected the books suspiciously and they shook their head after checking the books with their wands.

"Nothing seems wrong with them," Daphne said, "I think it's like you said. It's just a way of him trying to show that he's better than you by giving you charity."

Hermione nodded, scowling and picked up the books, putting them away. All of them, except one. That one being the apparently empty diary or journal.

Hermione opened up the blank tome, frowning. She then closed it and checked the different corners of it.

There was a name on the edge of the corner of the journal. The name was "T. M. Riddle."

Hermione frowned. "Huh," she said, "It looks like this belonged to someone previously. Does anyone know the name, 'T. M. Riddle?'"

She watched as Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy all shook their heads-then Pansy paused, her eyes widening in recognition.

"Oh!" She said, "I think I've seen some trophy or something. With his name on it."

Hermione nodded. "Can you show me it?" She asked Pansy.

Pansy nodded back. "I'll show it to you when we get to Hogwarts," she assured her friend.

The train trip was almost uneventful, save for the occasional magical creature flying past the train and the occasional familiar getting loose on the train.

Hermione, Astoria, Pansy, Daphne and Millicent got to the boats, and went off to Hogwarts.

They reached the castle and got to the Slytherin table.

Hermione was unable to help but watch Draco Malfoy suspiciously the whole time. There were those goons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle with them. And another boy. A young twelve-year-old black boy named Blaize Zabini.

Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important about that journal that she had in her possession.

She couldn't put her finger on it.

But the feast carried on without incident. One thing that Hermione heard that was curious. Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter hadn't shown up yet.

Unfortunately, Gilderoy Lockhart had been appointed as the new Dark Arts professor. Hermione rolled her eyes. That was a laugh.

Hermione didn't ponder too much on why she felt odd about the journal or the diary, as she and her friends and the other Slytherins headed off to their dorms.

As everyone else slept, Hermione decided that she might as well put her name in the diary. If no one else owned it, then she might as well address it to herself.

She opened it up, and began writing her name at the top of the first page. She jotted in "Hermione Granger," with her quill.

She sat back on the sofa chair using her wand to light up the room as she saw her name on the page.

Then watched, her eyes widening as her name disappeared from the page. Absorbing into the page.

"What the-?" Hermione asked, mouth dropping.

A few seconds later, words appeared on that same page. The words on the first page of the journal said, "Hello, Hermione Granger." The words disappeared and new words appeared in a new sentence. "My name is Tom Riddle," was the next sentence.

Hermione stared at the journal, stunned as that sentence faded away. She dropped the journal onto the table in front of her in the Slytherin Common Room, staring at it still, as if she expected it to do more. A shiver ran down her spine.

A sentient journal? She admitted, she had never read of anything like that before. How? How was that possible? Maybe it was enchanted to respond to peoples' names?

Hermione decided that that was the only logical explanation. Still, despite that, she didn't touch the journal again for the rest of the night, hiding it in her room and tried to get some sleep.

The next day, Hermione and her friends heard something interesting.

Harry and Ron had arrived at school last night. In a flying car, apparently. And had crashed it into the whomping willow, of all things.

Hermione had scoffed, hearing that. Because of course they did.

Later on, between classes, as Pansy went off to get some books, Millicent did an errand for Snape and the Greengrass sisters went off to the library, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her.

She went to a secluded area, opened up the journal and started writing in it again. She couldn't help it.

She didn't know what it was, but she felt drawn to the journal for some reason.

She wrote in the journal, "Are you enchanted to respond to a person's written questions?"

The answer came seconds later, emerging onto the page. The answer was, "In a way, yes."

Then there was a new question, "Is this still Hermione Granger?"

Hermione frowned. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing that this thing knew what her name was, but she jotted down, "yes."

The "yes" disappeared, then a sentence appeared. It was a question. The question was, "which house are you in, Hermione?"

Hermione answered, deciding to lie, "Gryffindor."

The answer came a second later, "Ah, I see. I was in Slytherin. Years and years ago. I hope you don't find that off putting."

Hermione responded with, "I don't. What was it like all those years ago? I've heard that you had a trophy somewhere. What was it for?"

The response was, "It wasn't that different I suppose from how it might be from your time. At least, I don't think so. Eventful, warm and enlightening. The trophy? That's complicated. I did something for the school and I think that the school wanted to sweep it under the rug so that they didn't have to deal with it, so they just gave me a trophy and told me to be quiet about it."

Hermione frowned. That sounded incredibly unjust.

She wrote down, "I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

The response to her was, "It's alright. Authority is…well, complicated. And often to be questioned."

Hermione smiled, despite the strange conversation and wrote back, "You've noticed that too?"

Hermione then asked, "This might be a personal question, but Tom, are you dead?"

The words disappeared and there wasn't anything that appeared again for a while and Hermione was suddenly worried that she had crossed a line-though she wondered how that would be possible if this book was in fact just enchanted.

Then the response came a second later after Hermione had wondered if she had been out of line.

The response was, "The answer to that is somewhat complicated. It's best to see me as a memory of someone. And we can leave it at that."

Hermione felt like there was more to the story, but let it go. She already got the feeling that she had crossed a line with that question.

So, instead, she asked him about the classes he had taken and they went back and forth like that.

Hermione wasn't sure if the journal actually was sentient in the sense that there was someone actually talking to her, or if it was just enchanted, but she wanted to show it to her friends.

Two days later, when Hermione was sure that she, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent were alone in the common room, it was then that she showed her friends the journal. She wrote a question into it and they watched as the question disappeared.

The question Hermione had written had been, "Are you still there, Tom?"

Ink words appeared on the page again, saying, "Yes, Hermione, I'm still here."

Hermione grinned when she heard her friends gasp around her.

"It's enchanted?" Astoria asked, looking at the journal curiously.

Hermione nodded. "That's what I'm thinking," she said, "I don't know what the enchantments were. But I'm sure it's been enchanted."

Hermione wrote down in the journal, "My friends are here now. They're curious about the journal."

A new answer said, "Ah, hello, Hermione's friends."

Hermione smiled at the others as they shared shocked looks.

"This is the journal that you had before, right, Hermione?" Pansy asked, "The one that belonged to Tom Riddle?"

Hermione nodded. "That's right," she answered.

She quickly wrote into the journal, "Tom, what year did you graduate from Hogwarts?"

The answer came a few seconds later, saying, "1945."

Pansy's eyebrows raised up.

"Wow," Astoria said.

"Maybe keep this around," Millicent said, grinning, "This journal might tell us what we need for the later exams years from now."

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. "Seriously, Millicent," she said.

Still, it was a fascinating find. The girls kept the journal hidden away, right under Hermione's mattress.

Days later, something happened.

Hermione was communicating with Tom in the journal, while the others were busy, and she got a piece of information that caught her attention.

Apparently something had happened here in Hogwarts years and years ago, while Tom had been in school.

Fifty years ago, a student had been killed. In the girls' bathroom.

Tom claimed that he had caught the person that had done it, but the person had just been expelled and nothing more and the creature that had been used to murder the girl hadn't been caught.

And that? That had been what Tom had been given the trophy for, in exchange of keeping quiet.

Hermione was horrified by this story.

If true, then there had been a great injustice done in this school.

Hermione asked Tom where his trophy was. Tom told her, and Hermione got up to go find it.

She found it eventually. It was a pretty big trophy. Colored light gold, though Hermione doubted it was actually gold.

On the plaque of it, it said, "Tom Marvelo Riddle."

Hermione's eyes widened. So, that was what the "M" stood for.

Huh.

Hermione looked at the words below the name. The words said, "For a service to his school."

Hermione scowled. If what Tom had told her was true, then Tom had did more than just a service to the school. He had done a service for everyone by stopping a dangerous monster and its owner. And all that had happened to the person that had brought the creature into the school had been expelled? That was it?

A few more days passed by, and Hermione, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent went through the school year, without events. They ignored Draco and his goons, and ignored Lockhart and his floundering about, showing off and all his moronic shenanigans in the Dark Arts class.

Very early in the year, he had idiotically let a bunch of Cornish pixies loose in the classroom, and hadn't known how to contain them again.

Thankfully, Hermione had her own spell for that. She used the "immobulus" spell, to freeze all of the pixies in midair. Pansy, Astoria and Millicent ducked down and Daphne had hit several pixies with a book, sending them flying, before Hermione had administered the spell.

Poor Neville had been dangled above the classroom, on a chandelier.

Hermione had looked up at him, sympathetically.

"Why is it always me?" He had asked.

Aside from that? Nothing had happened, pretty much all year.

Hermione had snuck into one of the offices, hoping to find some records of who had been expelled, hoping to get an idea of who exactly had been responsible for bringing a dangerous creature into Hogwarts all those years ago. But she had found nothing.

Eventually, Hermione had told Tom that she was in Slytherin, not Gryffindor. And that she had told him that because she hadn't trusted him initially.

Tom had reacted with understanding and no judgment.

The days passed on. And again, nothing had happened. However, Hermione's curiosity was peaked, as it had been as soon as Tom had told her about the incident with the monster. Afterhours, while the others were asleep, she snuck into the Common Room, and began writing in the book to Tom.

She asked, "Can you tell me how you stopped the person that let the creature into the house that killed the girl?"

The answer had disappointed her. The answer was, "No."

Hermione sighed, sagging back into her seat. Then new words popped up onto the page. The words said, "But I can show you."

Hermione frowned. What did that mean?

She leaned forward, holding the journal close to her person. Suddenly she felt a jolt ripping through her and she felt something pull her closer to the journal.

"What-?" She asked weakly, feeling herself being pulled forward, hard.

She felt the blood leaving her, paling considerably, which was impressive, as she was already very pale.

There was a flash of gold light, and suddenly the Common Room disappeared from Hermione's view.

She suddenly was in a room she had never seen before. It was a vast office of some kind, covered along the walls with portraits moving. There was a desk up ahead, where an elderly looking man sat.

He looked younger than Dumbledore, but still elderly. She then noticed that a boy stood in front of the desk. A handsome boy, who looked around fifteen or sixteen. He had a head of short black hair, and his eyes were light brown.

He had a Slytherin uniform on.

The boy said, looking at the man, "Is there no way that Hogwarts will stay open if these attacks don't stop?"

The man behind the desk looked at the boy, "I'm sorry, Mr. Riddle, but unless the culprit is caught, the school will have to be closed down. You have a family to go back to, don't you?" He asked.

Hermione turned to the boy. Riddle? This was Tom Riddle?

"Tom?" She asked him, and as soon as neither Tom, nor the man behind the desk registered that she was there, she mentally kicked herself. "Right," she chuckled, "I'm in a memory. They can't see me. This has happened already."

Tom answered the old man's question, "No, sir," he said, "I've never seen my father, and my mother died when I was born."

The man nodded, an unsympathetic look in his eyes, "Muggle-born?"

Tom shook his head. "No, sir," he answered, "Half-blood. My mother was a witch. My father a muggle. If the school closes, I have only a muggle orphanage to go back to."

"I see," the man said, "I'm sorry, but I'm sure you understand that under the circumstances, the school will have to be closed, unless whoever is behind the attacks is caught."

Tom looked somber as he answered, "I understand, headmaster. Good day, then," he then turned and walked out of the office, going down the stairs into the next hall.

Hermione remembered, as she followed Tom, what the name of the headmaster had been before Dumbledore. Headmaster Armando Dippet.

Hermione tried to ignore the pain in her heart as she followed Tom. It hurt to imagine this young boy, someone who's memories had more or less become a comfort to her over this past year, and who apparently had had no one-not his mother, not his father, and only had had an orphanage to go back to, was in this position.

She followed him to the stairs, and had a brief encounter with Professor Dumbledore, before he had been headmaster, of course.

After Dumbledore had told Tom to go to bed, Tom had quickly left and had then gone to another room, using the spell used to unlock the door and went in.

Hermione saw a student that was for lack of better terms, huge. Big, stocky, and incredibly wide and tall.

There was a big, square wooden box on a table in front of the big student.

Tom stood in front of the big student and aimed his wand at the other student. He said, "Rubeus, I'm sorry, but I need to get rid of the creature that you've brought to the school. Monsters don't make good pets."

Hermione's eyes widened. Rubeus? That was Hagrid's first name.

This was Hagrid!

The large student shook his floppy-haired head. "No!" he said, "It wasn't him! It wasn't Aragog! He didn't do it!"

Tom said coldly, "The most that we can do for the girl's family is to dispose of the monster that butchered their daughter."

"No!" Hagrid cried.

Tom aimed the wand at the box, spitting out a spell, ripping the box open.

Hermione cried out, backing away when she saw what came out of the wooden box. It was a huge, hairy, eight-legged creature with multiple beady eyes.

Hermione felt sick as she watched it emerge from within the box and scuttle out, scurrying across the floor. Hermione backed away as Tom aimed his wand at the spider and used a spell, but the spider got away.

The young Hagrid grabbed Tom, trying to pull him back, but Tom aimed the wand again at him, making Hagrid back away and release Tom. Tom said in warning, "You are going to be expelled for this, Rubeus. I'm sorry."

Hermione felt herself being drawn back violently as she shot out of the memory, crashing hard back into the sofa chair where she had been before, in the Slytherin Common Room.

Hermione gasped, shaking as she took in the surroundings of the room, realizing that she was back.

Her chest heaved as she absorbed what she had seen, her pale white cheeks turning pink with the exhaustion of what she had just witnessed.

"Well," she said quietly, "Shit."

She almost jumped when Crookshanks jumped into her lap, seeming to stare at her as if asking, "Where the hell did you go, human?" Hermione sighed, petting him gently as he rubbed into her hand.

Rubeus Hagrid. Was he the one that had gotten that girl killed? Even if it was an accident, had he brought something into the school and had gotten a girl killed?

Hermione didn't want to think that he was capable of that kind of negligence, but she wouldn't put it past him either.

And who was she going to trust more? The man who tended to bring dangerous creatures into Hogwarts and was a teacher, or a half-blood with no one to support him who had tried to do the right thing?

Hermione decided that she needed to keep a close eye on Hagrid from now on.

And try to find out who the girl was that had been killed.

And before anything else? Tomorrow, when her friends were awake, she would need to tell them what she had seen.

Chapter Text

Hermione had told her friends what she had seen in the memories held in Tom's diary. She had mentioned the spider and Hagrid and Tom trying to stop Hagrid. About the girl that had been killed by some creature, in a bathroom.

Millicent, Astoria, Daphne and Pansy all looked stunned, shocked and fearful.

They knew then that they'd need to be cautious. They kept a close eye on Hagrid. They avoided looking at him too much when he passed them by them in the hall or on the school grounds.

Hermione had heard a rumor. About a ghost in one of the girls' bathrooms. There were multiple bathrooms within the school, as there were multiple students. The bathroom in question, where some of the students between the corridors leading from the dungeons to the towers, and there was a ghost there. Named Moaning Myrtle.

Hermione could put two and two together, thank you. Moaning Myrtle was the ghost of the girl that had been killed all those years ago in the bathroom. The one that the giant spider potentially had killed.

Hermione asked Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent if they wanted to go meet the ghost that might be able to give them some answers.

They agreed and the five of them headed to the bathroom where the ghost supposedly was.

They reached the bathroom and looked around. They started calling Myrtle's name.

Pansy whirled around when she saw a transparent shape fire out of the wall. A ghostly figure with dark hair in long pigtails.

The ghostly girl stared down at Pansy, looking maudlin, to say the least. "What do you want?" The ghost asked, sounding like it was an effort to be here in front of the girls.

Hermione, Millicent, Daphne and Astoria turned to see the ghost and came over to where Pansy was.

The girl had a Ravenclaw uniform on and she looked absolutely miserable.

"Hi, Myrtle," Hermione said softly, "Listen, I'm sorry for us disturbing you. But we'd like to ask you a few questions, if you're willing to answer."

Myrtle tilted her head, smiling suddenly. "Oh?" She asked, voice sounding lighter now, "You want to know about me? That's different. Usually no one wants to know about ugly, miserable Moaning Myrtle."

Hermione felt a pang to her chest and she knew the emotion was pity.

She imagined that Myrtle wouldn't appreciate the pity, so she held back that emotion, made sure it wouldn't reach her face.

She unfortunately knew exactly how Myrtle felt. She had been the "odd one out," in the muggle world for years. And she had not liked the feeling even remotely.

"Yes, we would like to speak with you," Daphne said gently, "I'm sorry about being this blunt, but we'd like to know about your death."

Myrtle's eyes widened and a smirk touched her face.

"Oh…," she said, sounding intrigued, "It was awful. I was in a stall, crying because someone made fun of my glasses, and I heard someone come in and I heard them talking. The strange thing is, they were talking in some language I couldn't recognize. It sounded like a boy."

"Did you hear what it was he was saying?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Myrtle said, sounding almost affronted by the question, "I was distraught! But I could hear him keep talking. In that strange language. And so I opened up the stall to tell them to GO away! And then…I died."

Hermione frowned, turning to her friends. They all looked confused and troubled.

"Just like that?" Daphne asked, "Did you see anything else?"

Myrtle grimaced. "I just remember a pair of great big, yellow eyes," she said, nodding to where the sinks were, "Over there, by that sink."

Hermione looked at the sink where Myrtle had described. The sink she felt was important. But…what was it, though?

Hermione asked, "Did you see anything about the boy? How big was he?"

Myrtle shook his head. "I didn't see the boy," she said, "Just the yellow eyes. I heard his voice. But that was all."

Hermione frowned, thinking. "Okay," she said, "Can you describe the boy's voice? What did it sound like? Low? Husky? With a heavy west country accent?"

Myrtle frowned, seeming confused by this line of questioning.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "Nothing like that. The voice was smoother. And the accent was more like an average British accent."

Hermione nodded. Okay, that didn't sound like Hagrid. And yellow eyes? A pair of them?

That did NOT sound like what she had seen come out of that box that Hagrid had in the memory in the diary. The creature that Hagrid had stowed away into Hogwarts, had been a big, creepy creature with multiple legs-but it hadn't had yellow eyes.

Hermione remembered the image of that creature in her brain and it always sent a shudder through her when she remembered that thing.

The spider thing had had eight eyes. Eight black eyes. Not yellow. Black.

And the eyes of the creature that Myrtle said had killed her, had yellow eyes. And two eyes. Not eight. So Myrtle said.

So, what did that mean? There had been two dangerous and potentially murderous monsters in the school?

To be frank, that wasn't too odd. After all, somewhere in this school, there likely was still a three-headed dog. Whether it still was on the floor where the Sorcerer's Stone had used to be hidden or not, Hermione didn't know. But either way? Hogwarts was chockful of danger. So, if both a lethal, giant spider was hidden somewhere here, and so was some creature with yellow eyes, it wouldn't surprise her.

But what Myrtle had described to her, hadn't sounded like that hairy spider creature with black eyes that she had seen in the memory in the diary. And the boy's voice that Myrtle had said, hadn't sounded like it had been anything like Hagrid's voice.

So, who-?

Hermione then wondered what the motive was.

Why had Myrtle been deliberately killed? She suddenly remembered something she had read about those that had been in this school all those years ago, around the time of Myrtle's death.

She asked, "Myrtle, I'm sorry to ask this, and I know that this is an intrusive question, but are you a pureblood or a half-blood?"

Pansy, Astoria and Daphne looked at her, startled.

Millicent frowned.

Myrtle winced, looking offended.

"No!" She piped, "I'm muggle-born! Why would you ask that?"

Hermione swallowed. She didn't want to think that maybe that had been what Myrtle's murder had been about, but-

Hermione and the other girls thanked Myrtle and headed out, discussing it quietly. The important thing might not have been the creature that had been the murder weapon. But it might have been the boy that had commanded it.

"So, that didn't sound like it was Hagrid who was telling a beast to kill someone," Millicent said dryly, "It sounds like someone else."

"Yeah," Astoria agreed, "And that thing that Myrtle described, didn't sound like a spider with black eyes."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she said grimly, "It didn't. But the question is, what was it?"

"Big yellow eyes," Pansy said, narrowing her eyes, "Sounds like a reptile. Or maybe a werewolf."

"Maybe," Hermione said, "But I think we're going to need more information on how Myrtle's body looked after she died. The damage that was done to it, I mean."

"Right," Daphne said, nodding, "Damn. This is not going to be pleasant."

Hermione sighed. She was right about that. This was not going to be fun.

They would have to investigate about a dead student's body. That was horrifying on its own, even without knowing about some great beast being used by someone as a murder weapon.

"But where would we start learning about those kinds of details?" Pansy asked, looking at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know," she confessed, "But maybe Tom might know more."

"And we're sure that we can trust him?" Pansy asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know," she said, "But he's our best clue to the past. He was here all those years ago when Myrtle died. We'll have to talk to him more."

Daphne and Millicent nodded. Pansy looked uneasy and Astoria said, "Understood."

Hermione added, "If Myrtle was killed for being a muggle-born, that could be a clue as to who killed her."

Hermione didn't want to think that that was what it had been about, but what else could it have been?

It had been about sixty years ago, the first Death Eaters had started popping up. And about almost sixty years ago, Myrtle, a muggle-born, had been killed. Deliberately killed.

If one could put the pieces together, which Hermione could, then Myrtle had been killed for being a muggle-born.

The year passed on, and Hermione got the information over time from Tom. About the suspicions people had about who had killed Moaning Myrtle. About the damage done to the body. According to Tom, he hadn't known those specific details. When he had seen the teachers go by with Myrtle on a stretcher, she had had a white sheet over her body her right arm dangling out, the hand of the girl disturbingly pale.

But that had been all he had seen of Myrtle's body.

Hermione had been troubled by that mental image.

She then had asked what had happened to Hagrid after Tom had reported the big student.

She knew that Hagrid had been expelled, but she hadn't known any more than that.

Tom told Hermione that Hagrid had been put on trial. But that had been about it. He hadn't been thrown in jail or anything like that. Just expelled.

Hermione asked Tom after one class, a thought striking her then, asking him if any of the people who had eventually become Death Eaters had been in Tom's classes during that time.

This question had led to a long silence. Then an answer.

The answer was that several people who had become Death Eaters-and some the parents of the Death Eaters.

Reinhard Lestrange, a Death Eater himself and the father of the two Death Eaters, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange.

Druella Rosier, the mother of the three Black sisters. One of which, had been Bellatrix Black, married eventually to Rodolphus Lestrange, becoming Bellatrix Lestrange, and she had been a Death Eater herself. One of the worst ones. And the youngest of the sisters had become the wife of one Lucius Malfoy and the mother of Draco Malfoy.

Cygnus Black III and his sister, Walburga Black, both had attended Hogwarts around that time. Cygnus had ended up being Druella's husband, and the father of their three daughters. Walburga had married another pureblood-of course, her second cousin, no less-Orion Black, who had also been at Hogwarts during that time. And had been the father of Walburga's two children-a pair of sons, Sirius and Regulus Black. Regulus Black had grown to be a Death Eater.

And Sirius had sold out his friends, James and Lily Potter to Voldemort and had murdered their other friend, Peter Pettigrew. Regulus had been killed later on, Hermione didn't know under what circumstances and Sirius had been thrown into Azkaban for his crimes.

Members of the McNair family and the Avery family had been at Hogwarts too. So had the family members of the Yaxley family.

And Lucius Malfoy's father, Abraxas Malfoy, had been there at Hogwarts during Tom Riddle's time.

Hearing that didn't surprise Hermione.

If anyone was capable of killing people with magical creatures, it was people in the Malfoy family.

And Myrtle had said that the voice had sounded lighter, with a regular British accent.

That could have been Lucious Malfoy's father. Or a number of British young wizards.

Basically, given how many purebloods had been at Hogwarts during the time Tom had been here and during the time Myrtle had been killed? It was basically a whole lineup of potential suspects.

All of them stoked up on pureblood fanaticism.

And she needed to look at a book of some magical creatures. See what creatures had yellow eyes. Two yellow eyes. She knew that that wouldn't be narrowing it down, but it narrowed it down some.

As time came to final exams, the girls had gathered as much information as they could. They had eventually, thanks to Hermione, Pansy and Astoria breaking into the medical files in the hospital wing, they had learned that the dead girl, the muggle-born Myrtle Warren, who had been murdered on the thirteenth of June, in the year of 1943.

Hermione shivered.

Hadn't that been two years before Tom Riddle had graduated from Hogwarts?

Which meant that Tom had to have at least seen whoever it had been that had murdered Myrtle in the girl's bathroom all those years ago.

Hermione knew she had to ask Tom some more questions.

Apparently, from the description of Myrtle Warren's body, the young witch hadn't had any physical damage done to her body. The only obvious damage? She had been dead. That was it.

There hadn't been any marks. Any bites or slashes or anything like that. Basically, nothing that screamed-"This girl has been killed by a big beast."

In other words, the girl might as well have been killed by the killing curse, but everything Myrtle had told Hermione and her friends, said that she had been murdered by a beast of some kind. A beast being used by a student, but a beast, nonetheless.

This befuddled all five girls. Completely.

What kind of magical creature could have killed someone without leaving a mark on that person?

Between studying with her friends and classes, she communicated with Tom. She asked Tom if there was anyone who he had found suspicious while here. If there was something Cygnus Black III, Walburga and Orion Black, Reinhard Lestrange or Druella Rosier or Abraxas Malfoy or any of the others had seemed suspicious.

Tom had answered in a way that had startled Hermione. He had said, "I don't like speaking ill of my classmates and of the people who I shared a house with, but yes, I found many of my fellow Slytherins suspicious. Especially Abraxas Malfoy. I do feel some remorse in saying that, as he was always polite to me, despite my unfortunate blood status."

Hermione had glared at those words, furious. As if Abraxas Malfoy, a self-important pureblood bastard had been so, so fucking kind by "deigning" to pay attention to some lowly half-blood like Tom. Even though, from all her time speaking with Tom, Hermione could tell that Tom was ten times the magic user that any Malfoy had been or could be.

Abraxas Malfoy became Hermione's biggest suspect.

Then Hermione asked Tom if he had ever been in the Forbidden Forest. Tom had gone on about how he had loved studying magical creatures-that he was curious about phoenixes and dragons.

Hermione had smiled at the dragons part.

Tom had become like the older brother that Hermione always had wished she had and fast.

She supposed that was kind of sad, as Tom was basically a memory in a diary, but still? Tom had become important to Hermione over the course of her second year.

Pansy, Millicent and the Greengrass sisters, had been hesitant at first, but had come to trust Tom more over time, as well.

On the last night of Hermione and the girls' second year, they were relieved to learn that Gilderoy Lockhart was going to move onto another occupation, out of the school. And then they had gone off to their dorms.

During one of her conversations with Tom, Hermione had come up with an idea. A way of allowing Tom out of the diary, temporarily. So that when she or anyone else had the diary open, an image of Tom would come out to talk.

Tom wouldn't be solid, obviously, and wouldn't be able to touch anything, but he would be physically present.

So, Hermione had asked Tom if he was comfortable with her doing that and he had said yes, that he was comfortable with that. Hermione had then started to experiment with some spells and eventually had succeeded, much to her shock.

As soon as she had used one "projection" spell, an image fired up out of the diary, and stood in front of Hermione in the Slytherin common room.

Hermione gasped, recognizing Tom Riddle in the room with her, in front of the fireplace. Crookshanks meowed loudly in surprise and jumped on Hermione's lap, hissing at the form of Tom.

"Crooks!" Hermione snapped at her familiar, then she looked at Tom and said, "Sorry about him, Tom. He's just not used to this kind of magic."

The projection of Tom nodded and looked down at his hands, obviously stunned at seeing that Hermione's spell had worked.

Tom smiled, chuckling, "It's been so long since I saw my own body. You did it, Hermione." He looked at Hermione, beaming with happiness, "Thank you."

Hermione grinned, pride swelling in her chest.

"You're very welcome, Tom," She said.

"I'm sorry," Hermione added, losing her grin, "I know that you won't be able to touch anything and you're not solid."

"I know," Tom said, nodding, "And it's alright. I assure you, I in no way am disappointed. Do I wish that I was solid? Of course, I do. But I don't expect to be anytime soon. It's quite alright, I promise."

Hermione smiled wryly, looking up at Tom's gentle brown eyes. "I'm sorry, but I didn't bring you out just for pleasantries."

Tom smiled. "And I didn't expect you to," he said, "What is it you would like to know, my friend?"

Hermione tried not to grin at hearing Tom call her his "friend." Given how highly she had come to think of Tom, thinking about a half-blood that had grown up in a muggle-born orphanage and still had done such a noble thing like trying to find the person that had murdered Myrtle-albeit, unsuccessfully, but still had tried a lot more than others had, how could she not come to like and respect him?

"Well," Hermione said, "I talked with Moaning Myrtle. The ghost of the girl that was killed sixty years ago. She said that the last thing she saw before she died was a pair of big, yellow eyes. Two yellow eyes. That doesn't sound like the eight black eyes of that spider creature, does it?"

Tom frowned, seeming to contemplate that. "No," he said, sounding puzzled, "It doesn't, does it? So, then, the girl wasn't killed by Hagrid's monster? The "Acromantula?"

The Acromantula, as Hermione had learned, was Hagrid's pet's species. Aragog was a giant spider, and that species was called the Acromantula.

As much as it froze Hermione's blood to think about there being more than one of those things that she had seen crawl out of the box that Hagrid had had in that memory, she knew she needed to focus on the task at hand.

She said to Tom, "And we checked the medical files on Myrtle's body. There wasn't a mark on her body. She might as well have been killed by the killing curse."

Tom's eyebrows lifted. "Was she?" He asked.

Hermione shook her head. "That's the thing," she said, "She wasn't. It's just not clear HOW she died."

"Hmm," Tom said, sounding troubled, "That IS strange," he agreed, "Myrtle, she was a muggle-born, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she sighed sadly, "She was. That's what makes me worried. Myrtle said that there was a boy ordering a creature of some kind around. And she was killed. And she was muggle-born."

"You think this is blood purity related, don't you?" Tom asked, sounding worried at that idea.

Hermione nodded. "Don't you?" She asked, "I mean, if a muggle-born has been deliberately killed, and people like Abraxas Malfoy, Reinhard Lestrange and Druella Rosier were here during that time-all of them pureblood fanatics, where does your mind go to automatically?"

Tom still looked troubled as his eyes widened. "You're right," he said, sounding worried, "That is exactly where my mind goes. I'm surprised I got away unscathed."

Hermione nodded. Yes, Tom had graduated in 1945. So, if Tom was dead-then he had died later. Either way, he had escaped Hogwarts without being killed.

Tom then looked at Hermione sadly. "You know," he said, "You deserve better than having to deal with this."

Hermione looked at Tom, startled.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

Tom smiled. "You're only twelve," he said, "You're a child. You shouldn't have to be burdened with this."

Hermione shrugged, though she felt warmth in her chest at Tom's concern. He was always so kind and considerate. "It's alright," she said, "It was a long time ago, and it's possible that whatever the creature was that killed Myrtle, is dead by now. The one thing that worries me is what trouble Abraxas or whoever it was that did it has done since then. I'm also worried about Lucious Malfoy."

Tom nodded. "Ah, yes," he said, "Didn't he join 'You-know-who' at some point?"

Hermione said darkly, "Yeah, that's right." She and Tom had talked about Voldemort before. Hermione had asked him if he had known anyone who had fought Voldemort and Tom had said that most of the people he had known of who had fought Voldemort had been killed. Hermione had felt instantly bad for asking him that.

Hermione added, "That slimy git," she said, referring to Lucious Malfoy, "He joined Voldemort," Hermione watched Tom when she said that and watched as Tom winced at the name, "And he was so loyal that as soon as his master disappeared years ago after Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter, Lucious brought a group of Death Eaters and started a reign of terror, until his followers were captured and Lucious went back to normal life, trying to avoid being imprisoned."

She shook her head, trying to hide her anger, but failing, "That piece of scum wasn't punished ever. Not ever, for what he deserved to be punished for what he did."

"That bothers you, doesn't it?" Tom said, sounding sad, "Those that have done wrong never seeing justice?"

Hermione nodded to him. "Yeah," she said, "I guess that's something you understand, right? I mean, you tried to find who had killed that girl, and your headmaster made sure that you couldn't."

Tom smiled. "Yes," he said, "I suppose I'd know about something like injustice."

Hermione sighed, "It just sucks so much."

"It does," Tom agreed, "But I advise you not to try to harm the Malfoy family. They have a great deal of influence in the witch and Wizarding world. And I don't want you getting hurt."

Hermione smiled again at Tom. "Thank you," she said, "Your concern means a lot to me. But we have to know if there's a threat at our school. And if Voldemort has come back? He's still out there. I saw him last year and he got away. I doubt he's done."

Tom nodded, still looking troubled. "I doubt it too," he confessed.

They talked more and more. Crookshanks still was on guard as he watched Tom.

Hermione learned what Cygnus Black III and Walburga Black were like. And what Orion Black and what Druella Rosier were like.

Self-important, racist purebloods, of course. Misogynistic too. Thinking that women were good for only one thing. Being married off to a rich, pureblood husband. But Hermione learned a lot of interesting details about all of them.

Tom had then smirked and had almost conspiratorially informed Hermione that he had seen pictures of Cygnus Black III later on in his life, and Tom could tell that Cygnus, unlike Tom himself, when Tom had been in his early forties, had not aged well.

Hermione had giggled before she could help herself, hearing that.

That probably wasn't such a kind joke, but considering what Cygnus Black's politics had been, was there much to cry about when it came to any disadvantage that he might have had-if any?

Hermione informed him that Lucious's son, Draco Malfoy was here at the school in her year.

Tom had snorted, "Someone actually married Lucious Malfoy?"

Hermione again had giggled, despite trying not to.

"Yes," Hermione said, "Believe it or not, yes. Apparently it was one of Cygnus and Druella's daughters. Narcissa Black. Now Narcissa Malfoy."

Tom's face took on a look with an "oh, no," quality to it, "Poor Draco never had a chance," he said, "He was always going to be a pompous brat."

Hermione fought down another giggle.

Tom always found a way of making her laugh. Was always kind. She hadn't thought she'd like a possible ghost so much, but she did.

Eventually, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent wandered into the common room, and all of them yelped, when they saw what was in front of them.

Hermione turned to them, and so did Tom.

"Who are you?" Pansy asked Tom, "I've never seen you around here before."

Tom smiled at Pansy. "Sure you have," he said, "You've seen my picture. Near my trophy."

Hermione chuckled at her friends' confusion, "Guys, this is Tom Riddle. The person I've been talking to in this journal for months now."

Pansy and Millicent looked at Tom, stunned. "That's him?" Astoria asked, mouth dropping.

"How?" Daphne asked, "He hasn't aged at all."

Hermione nodded. "That's right," she said, "I projected him from this diary. So, he looks like how he did years and years ago."

"I'm not solid though," Tom added, "I can't touch anything. So, if you're suspicious of me, don't worry, I can't hurt you."

Daphne chuckled, despite the shock still very present on her face, "No, I wasn't worried about that. I just…I just never thought we'd see something like this," she looked at Hermione, "You need to show me how you did this, Mione."

Hermione grinned still, feeling pride fill her. She felt like she might be getting a big head in her pride, but she couldn't help it. She had pulled off spells that most second year students couldn't even dream about pulling off.

She couldn't help but feel incredibly proud of herself.

"Hermione," Tom said and the girls looked at him, and Tom said kindly, looking at them in a soft way, "It's late. All five of you should get to sleep. I'm obviously not your father, but it's the finals soon. And you should sleep."

Hermione smiled at Tom.

She appreciated his concern. Always.

"Thank you, Tom," she said, "I'll get to sleep soon, promise."

She then looked at her friends. "Should we head off to bed, then?" She asked them.

Pansy and Astoria nodded. "Yeah," Daphne said, staring at Tom, "Sure."

Millicent snorted at Daphne's stunned expression as she said, "Yeah, let's get to bed."

Hermione looked at Tom, "Goodnight, Tom."

Tom smiled back at her. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said, before looking at the other girls, "Goodnight, Pansy. Millicent. Daphne. Astoria."

"Goodnight, Tom," the girls said together.

Hermione closed the diary and as Hermione knew would happen, though had hoped it wouldn't, Tom disappeared into thin air as soon as she did it.

Hermione felt a wave of sadness hit her as Tom disappeared. She wished that he could stay longer after that, but that was just how this particularly treacherous magic worked.

Hermione took the diary, her cat and wand and followed her friends into their dorm and got to bed, hiding the diary under her mattress again, before trying to get to sleep-trying to pretend that Abraxas's grandson, Draco Malfoy, wasn't only a room away from her and the other girls' room.

The next day were the final exams.

Hermione felt confident about how she had done on them, and from the relieved looks on her friends' faces after the exams, they did too.

When the five of them were leaving Lockhart's class, Hermione noticed Millicent looking at something on Lockhart's desk as she exited the room.

"Milli?" Hermione asked, saying the rare nickname for Millicent that Millicent liked hearing, "What's wrong?"

Millicent said, frowning as she sided next to her friends, "There's just something odd about those books on Lockhart's desk."

"What about them?" Pansy asked in a bored tone, telling the others exactly how she felt about Lockhart.

"Well," Millicent said, still seeming stooped in troubled focus, "The thing is, I've seen those titles before. My aunt worked for a wizard who was an adventurer, and he lost his mind a few years back. Named Alfred Burton. And the thing is, she claimed that he had been writing a book on meeting the yetis. He had a title of his book, similar to the one that Lockhart had on his desk."

Hermione thought about that. "Maybe Lockhart and Burton travelled together?" She suggested.

"Maybe," Millicent said, "But here are the weird parts. Burton was writing a book on meeting the yetis, but he never published it. That book never saw the light of day. Now Lockhart has his own book out on it? And it says that he was the only one that had gone to the yetis? Even though Alfred Burton definitely went there first? And then there's another part of Lockhart that just doesn't sit right with me. It's that every adventurer who is famous, has more or less gone insane and has ended up in St. Mungo's. But I've never even heard of Lockhart until the more recent years."

Now Hermione felt alarms going off in the back of her brain. You know, that actually was kind of suspicious sounding.

"What are you saying?" Daphne asked Millicent, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Well," Millicent said, "I just had a wild theory. Probably not worth pursuing."

Hermione glanced at her friend. "We'd still like to hear it," she said.

"That's right," Astoria said, nodding, "You can tell us anything, you know that, right?"

Millicent smiled, her cheeks turning pink. "Thanks, guys," she said, "Well, isn't it weird that Lockhart is such an incompetent wizard? But he's famous? If anything, you'd think he'd be famous for being a useless no-talent wizard."

Pansy and Hermione smirked. Astoria and Daphne nodded in agreement.

Millicent went on, "He's so incompetent, yet he's famous and there are so many books about him. Books that until recent years, no one's ever heard of. But there are so many other adventurers out there, who have explored, but they've ended up at St. Mungo's. Isn't it convenient that Lockhart seems to be the only person left, claiming those stories?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked at the others, seeing the comprehension dawn on all three Daphne, Pansy and Astoria's faces.

"You're saying that you think that Lockhart-?" Daphne asked, mouth dropping.

Millicent said, shrugging, "I told you it was a crazy idea. And, I mean, Lockhart can't even do a door opening spell correctly. He'll screw it up all the time. So, what, he used a memory charm to get rid of the memories of all those former adventurers?"

"You're right," Pansy said, "It does sound kind of wild, but, I trust you more than I trust Lockhart."

"That's a low bar," Hermione said, smirking.

Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne looked at Hermione curiously and chuckling, Hermione told them what "low bar" meant. It was a form of saying, "low standards." And so, someone having low standards meant that they'd accept subpar performances. When they should be aiming for higher expectations.

They then decided that they could figure out whether Lockhart was legitimate or not.

They would ask him about the adventurers that he had possibly obliviated.

But with subtlety.

Pansy and Hermione decided to approach him. And Millicent, Astoria and Daphne waited outside of Lockhart's office door, waiting for shit to hit the fan, and move in, if anything went wrong.

Hermione and Pansy came over to the smiling and friendly Lockhart. "Hello," the irritatingly smiling wizard, said, "Ms. Granger, Ms. Parkinson. How may I help the two of you?"

"Professor Lockhart," Pansy said, "I hope we're not bothering you, but we have some questions."

"Of course," Lockhart said, still smiling, to the point that it looked like it hurt, "What would you like to know?"

Hermione said firmly, eyes never wavering in their stare, "We would like to know about Alfred Burton."

That finally made Lockhart lose his grin.

"Alfred Burton?" He asked, "That…I've never heard that name?"

"Really?" Pansy asked, "You haven't? Wasn't he a famous explorer before he got mentally ill and ended up in St. Mungo's?"

Hermione caught the panic in Lockhart's eyes. This was nothing that could be held up in court, but Hermione could practically feel that Millicent's suspicions about Lockhart had been right.

"What about Thomas Bones?" Hermione asked, recalling the grandfather of Susan Bones, who was in the Hufflepuff house, "Didn't he go on a tour throughout the world, cataloging all his encounters with dragons, but before he could publish his work, he seemed to have lost his mind?"

Pansy finished, "And then you showed up with a book on dragons all around the world?"

Hermione watched as Lockhart tensed up, looking more and more like a caged bird, ready to burst out. It struck Hermione as strange that he had been Ravenclaw. He reminded her much more of a Gryffindor. Loud and self-important, but the moment he was held accountable for his actions? He was ready to bolt, looking like he couldn't believe that he was ever being held accountable for those actions.

Pansy added, smiling, "And what about that French bloke, Antoine Garnier II? He had a theory about the relationship between Phoenixes and firebirds. And he was in danger in one of the most magically dangerous place in France, and now he's in a place like St. Mungo's, in Paris? And don't you now have a book about firebirds and phoenixes out?"

Lockhart's jaw tightened and Hermione knew that they had him.

"Is it possible," she said, already knowing the answer, "That you stole the work of all those witches and wizards and claimed that you did all of that? And obliviated those witches and wizards to make sure that they wouldn't tell anyone the truth?"

Lockhart had a panicked look in his eye and he glanced to his desk, seeing where his wand was and tried to bolt for it.

Hermione and Pansy looked at each other and pulled out their own wands and aimed them right at Lockhart, as Lockhart whirled around to face them with the wand in his own hand and he froze.

"Don't even think about it," Hermione warned him, "Pansy, take his wand from him."

Pansy nodded, reaching out with her free hand and taking Lockhart's wand from his grasp as he glared at the two girls woundedly.

Pansy inspected the wand. Cherry wood. Who knew what the core was?

It was only then that Millicent, Astoria and Daphne came out from where they had been hiding, pulling out their own wands and aiming them at Lockhart.

Lockhart swallowed, looking like he might piss himself. However, he said quickly, "And what are you ladies going to do now? You have nothing that could be held up at the Ministry."

"Maybe," Millicent said, "But we'll see what Dumbledore says about that."

Lockhart's face hardened and he sneered, "You think he'll believe a bunch of Slytherins? Everyone knows that Slytherins can't be trusted."

"Oh, yes," Hermione sneered, "And all Ravenclaws are so honorable, apparently."

Lockhart glowered at her hatefully.

"We're going to see Dumbledore now," Daphne said, as she and the others herded Lockhart out of his office and through the classroom, heading to one of the main halls.

They got Lockhart to the hall, and that was when everything fell apart.

A small "meow" caught everyone's focus, and they saw Mrs. Norris in the hallway, looking at the scene with deep red eyes.

"Uh-oh," Pansy said.

And all the girls put the same pieces together that she had.

Mrs. Norris was here. So, what did that mean?

That meant that Argus Filch of all people, was coming and would catch them.

They heard Filch's grungy voice rang out in the hall, though he didn't see any of them and they didn't see him.

The approach of Argus Filch had most of the girls' attention, so that was when Lockhart acted. He lunged at Daphne and Astoria, trying to snatch their wands from them.

Hermione punched him between the legs, making him cry out in pain, eyes going wide, but he still crashed into the Greengrass sisters.

Lockhart's wand dropped out of Pansy's hand, because Astoria crashed into her after Lockhart collided with the younger Greengrass twin.

Lockhart stumbled, then noticing that his wand had dropped to the floor. He lunged for it and Millicent lunged at him, trying to stop him from grabbing his wand, then Lockhart, rammed his fist into Millicent's stomach.

Millicent cried out, and she bent over as Lockhart grabbed up his wand and ran from the girls as they ran after him. He ducked quickly to the right, avoiding any spells that the girls might throw at him.

"Get him!" Pansy yelled, though her cry was unnecessary, as all of the girls were furious now, and all got up, wielding their wands and running after Lockhart.

Hermione and the others ran after Lockhart, and Lockhart leapt up, grabbing a purple, blue and green tapestry against the wall, pulling it and tearing it down, throwing it at the girls. All three Hermione, Pansy and Daphne yelped as the tapestry hit them, obscuring their vision of Lockhart.

Hermione was hit by the tapestry and knew that she had to do something underhanded, unless she wanted Lockhart to erase their memories.

She reached into her robes and retrieved the diary, opening it up. She didn't need to say any words. She had enchanted the diary so that it would project Tom's image as soon as she opened it up.

As soon as the diary had opened up, Tom's image fired out of the pages, appearing in the hall, next to the five girls, right in front of Lockhart. Lockhart gasped, stumbling away, his grip on his wand loosening only a little.

"What?" Lockhart asked, staring at Tom, "Who are you? What are you doing here? Where the bloody hell did you come from?"

Tom stood there, looking quite the contrast to Lockhart. Lockhart's hair was wild now after Lockhart had been in that scuffled and he had looked panicked, his face stricken and sweaty.

Tom? He was practically the picture of perfect regality. Tall, calm, looking nearly serene.

"And who are YOU, sir?" Tom asked, even his crisp and clear voice sounding like the exact contrast to Lockhart's harsh and heavy voice.

"I am Lockhart," The man said, raising his head as Hermione and the others threw the tapestry off them, "And you? You are about to have your memories taken." He aimed his wand at Tom and yelled, "Obliviate!"

The white light shot out of his wand and hit Tom-only to go right through him. The spell fired out through Tom and disappeared into the air as it shot out of a window to the outside world.

Lockhart stepped back, eyes widening now. "What are you?" He asked, "You're not a ghost. You don't look like one!"

"No," Hermione said, aiming her wand at him, "He doesn't. But I can't say you won't in a second. Expelliarmus!"

Her blast hit him and sent him flying across the room, sending him crashing onto a set of stone steps, making him cry out in agony. His wand flew out of his hand and rolled away.

Pansy went over to where Lockhart had crashed and leaned down, picking up his wand and looking at it, then looking at Lockhart. She turned to Hermione. "I think I should obliviate him," she said.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Wait, what?" She asked.

"We can't just obliviate someone, Pans," Daphne said.

"He was going to do it to us," Pansy said, turning back to Lockhart, "And what is he going to do now that he's seen Tom?"

Hermione's heart stopped. She hadn't thought of that. She looked at Tom, suddenly incredibly remorseful for what she had involved him in. Had she put him in danger? There could be a debate about whether or not he was even alive, but he existed-in some fashion. And if anyone was alerted to his presence in the diary? He could be destroyed, because Hermione was positive that the enchanted diary was a form of dark magic.

"Oh, shit," Hermione whispered.

"That's right," Astoria said, looking at Tom, "I hadn't thought of that."

Pansy said, nodding at the still groaning and weak Lockhart, "He was going to erase our memories, and who are the teachers going to believe. Him-a teacher? Or us? A bunch of Slytherins?"

Pansy added, "And if we want to protect Tom, we should do it."

Hermione felt herself going numb. She had killed someone, in her previous year. Professor Quirrell. He had been working with Voldemort and would have killed her, had she not used the killing curse on him. But that…that was different, wasn't it? Hermione had had no choice. She had been at a serious disadvantage a year ago with Voldemort and Quirrell. Sure, Lockhart had tried to obliviate them, but he was helpless right now, right?

Pansy must have seen Hermione's conflicted look, because she nodded and said, "It's alright. You don't have to make the choice. I'll do it for you."

Before Hermione could deduce what Pansy meant by that, Pansy aimed Lockhart's wand at him and said, "Obliviate!"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but the blast was out of the wand already and had hit Lockhart, knocking him out. Pansy then did something unexpected and took Lockhart's wand, and smacked it hard against the edge of the stone pedestal next to the stairs, cracking Lockhart's wand.

Pansy then tossed the wand onto the stairs next to the limp Lockhart.

Pansy then looked at the other girls and Tom. "So, what now?" She asked.

Hermione groaned, turning and looking down the hall, knowing that Filch hadn't seen them.

She then turned to Tom. "Tom," she said, "I'm sorry, but you need to go back into the diary and disappear for a while. Or else Lockhart will see you or one of the other teachers will."

Tom nodded. "I understand," he said, "Will the five of you be alright?"

Hermione nodded. "We'll be fine, Tom. Thank you."

Hermione closed the diary up and Tom disappeared. As soon as he did, Hermione stowed the diary away back into her robes.

Hermione turned back to the others.

"Alright," she said, breathing out weakly, "We're going to have to get our stories straight."

Chapter Text

They had come up with a story quickly. That the five of them had figured out that Lockhart had been stealing other witches and wizards' stories and had tried to confront him about it. And then he had tried to obliviate them, and they had run, and then they had gotten into a scuffle. In that scuffle, Lockhart had broken his wand and so when he had gotten away from them, and had tried to use the obliviate spell on them, the spell had backfired and had hit him instead.

When Dumbledore, McGonagall and the other teachers had come along and had found them and a Lockhart now lacking in all his memories, that had been the story that Hermione and the others had given them.

Pansy even picked up Lockhart's wand and handed it to Dumbledore, saying, "Go ahead, see what the last spell was that Lockhart used with this wand."

Dumbledore investigated it and saw that the wand, indeed had been used for the obliviate spell, very, very recently.

Dumbledore had sighed, looking down at the kneeling and oblivious looking Lockhart, asking where he was almost innocently.

McGonagall nodded. "This doesn't surprise me," she said, disgusted, "This actually answers a lot of questions. How else did such an incompetent wizard become so famous?" She then looked at the five young students in front of her and the headmaster. "You know," she said, voice sounding troubled, "I wonder, after last year? Are the five of you looking for trouble now? Why didn't you come to one of us, as soon as you had these suspicions?"

Hermione, Daphne and Astoria stiffened up and Millicent glared at McGonagall. Pansy said nothing.

Hermione had to wonder, WERE she and her friends looking for trouble by this point?

After what had happened in their first year, after all the danger they had gone through, after being called heroes after stopping Quirrell and Voldemort, were they just looking for the next big thrill?

Hermione felt her stomach dropped. She hoped that hadn't been why they had ignored the danger and had confronted Lockhart, instead of going to Dumbledore or McGonagall with their suspicions.

And their hesitant looks, Dumbledore said softly, "I suppose we shouldn't be too harsh, Professor McGonagall. The naïve courage that comes with youth, is to be valued. But guided correctly," He looked at Hermione and the other girls, "You all have again, done a service. But in the future, I advise that you consider coming to us for similar problems."

Hermione nodded, though she wasn't sure she'd be able to trust him or the other teachers. She just didn't trust authority.

It was just too difficult for her to do-given her past experiences.

Lockhart said, "So, uh," he picked up a scroll on a desk, looking at it, as if wondering what it was for, "This a strange sort of place…"

Dumbledore sighed, and turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Madam Pomfrey," he said, "Please escort Lockhart to the medical wing and get him ready to be transferred to St. Mungo's."

Pomfrey nodded and walked over to Lockhart, taking his hand and escorting the confused former teacher away, down the hall.

Hermione had to tighten her jaw to keep herself from smirking.

It seemed like justice, didn't it?

Lockhart had erased the memories of so many magic users. Had had them thrown into various magical mental hospitals-all so that he could be more and more famous. And now he was going to be going to one of those mental hospitals himself. It sounded like justice to her.

At some point, Lockhart had been sent off with healers to go to St. Mungo's, and the rest of the students chattered about what had happened. About how Lockhart had been a fraud and about how he had tried to erase the memories of all five Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and Astoria and Daphne Greengrass.

And that the five girls in question, had been the ones to stop Lockhart's reign of memory wiping and fraudulence.

And again, for the second time during their time at school, Hermione and her friends were called heroes.

And again? For their service, they gave just enough points to the Slytherin house, for them to win the House cup.

The cheers that filled the hall were strictly Slytherin and the teachers-well, usually, but this time, both the entire Slytherin table, the teachers and some students from other tables applauded, obviously respecting what Hermione and the others had done.

Well, all of them, except for the people at the Gryffindor table. But as Hermione had come to understand, Gryffindors weren't into other people having the glory.

Hermione by no means missed the dark glare that both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley gave her and her friends from across the Great Hall.

After that, everyone packed up and headed off to the train.

It was during their trip back to the train that Hermione mulled over the question that had popped into her head whenever she spoke with Tom.

Why had Lucious Malfoy given her the diary?

She didn't trust him even remotely. And he was a slimy git. But despite that? He had given her a diary with a ghost or a memory of some half-blood. But why? What would he have benefitted from doing something like that?

When Hermione, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne had gotten to a compartment on the train and were alone together, without anyone except their familiars to hear them, Hermione asked them that question and she put that query exactly like that. Asking why a pompous pureblood had given her, a muggle-born, a diary of a half-blood.

None of them had an answer.

Astoria had nodded, looking disturbed. "That's a good question," she said.

Hermione leaned back in her seat with Crooksanks on her lap. Tom, she suspected, didn't understand or didn't know if he was being used as a means to an end by Lucious-if that was actually what was going on.

She decided when she got home and had the chance to be alone, she would ask Tom herself, see if he suspected anything. While she didn't think he knew anything specifically, he might have had an insight that she hadn't grasped yet about what Lucious Malfoy was planning-if anything.

Hermione and her friends promised to write to each other over the summer and that when they were back in the train next semester, they would find each other by meeting up in this specific compartment, compartment 8. And if there were people already in this compartment? They'd wait by the compartment, until all five of them were together by the compartment, and would find an empty compartment for themselves.

When they parted ways at the train station, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne all hugged each other and Hermione and went to join their parents.

Hermione eyes the pureblood parents. Astoria and Daphne's parents, Calvin and Mary Greengrass eyed her, suspiciously.

Daphne turned to her mother, telling her parents that Hermione was one of her best friends.

"She is a muggle-born, correct?" Calvin asked, and Hermione tried to ignore the tightening in her chest.

"Yeah," Daphne said, nodding, "She is. And is that a problem? She's braver than anyone I've ever met and in my House. And she defeated 'He who must not be named' in her first year. Using the killing curse. And she helped protect us from a troll in our first and a teacher that tried to obliviate us this year."

Hermione smiled, feeling warmth in her chest at her friends defending her.

Pansy's parents and Millicent's parents were nearby and heard all this. Hermione kept an eye on Charles Parkinson, wanting to keep him in her view.

The Greengrass parents looked at Hermione, curious, then Calvin came over and stuck his left hand out to her in a universal offer of a handshake.

"Hello, Ms. Granger," Calvin said, voice sounding even, "It's an honor meeting you. Thank you for being there for my daughters."

Hermione cautiously met his hand with hers, shaking his hand.

"Thank you, sir," She said, also keeping her voice even, eyes on all the pureblood parents, "It's nice to meet you too." She deliberately said 'nice.' Not 'an honor.' There was a difference between being polite and nice and being actually kind or a good person. Mr. Greengrass might be polite to her right now, but she doubted he was pleased by the fact that his daughters had become friends with a muggle-born.

Calvin said, releasing her hand, and startling Hermione with his words, "I hope you'll continue to be there for my girls."

Hermione's eyes widened. She admittedly hadn't been expecting that.

Calvin walked back to his family. Mary Greengrass still eyed her, but didn't seem vindictive. Astoria and Daphne both grinned, seeming satisfied by this development.

Millicent's parents, Anne and Cornelius Bulstrode had watched this whole thing and seemed to come to decision. Anne nodded to her and Cornelius, who had a top hat on, tipped his hat to her, saying, "Ms. Granger," before he and his wife left, with Millicent waving to her as she followed her parents, a hopeful and optimistic look on the chubby Slytherin's face, indicating that she thought her parents' reactions to her friend was a good thing.

Hermione hoped that Millicent was right.

Hermione then glanced at Pansy and her parents, Charles and Olivia Parkinson.

Olivia gave Charles a look, and Hermione tried to read that look, but wasn't quite sure what the look meant.

Charles seemed to nod, yielding to his wife's nonverbal suggestion.

Then both parents turned to Hermione.

Olivia said, "Ms. Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you, Ms. Parkinson," Hermione said, hoping none of her distrust leaked into her voice, "It's a pleasure to meet you too." She then turned to Charles Parkinson, "Mr. Parkinson," she said, nodding to him.

Charles nodded to her, looking uncomfortable. Hermione half suspected it was either because he didn't know how to act around a muggle-born, or because he was self-conscious around a muggle-born given his history-but which of these was the actual reason, Hermione couldn't guess.

The Parkinsons began to walk off and Pansy smiled at Hermione, and again, like Millicent, Pansy had a hopeful look on her face-as if optimistic about how this encounter Hermione had with Pansy's parents had gone.

Hermione watched all the purebloods walk away, and she hoped that her friends' assessment of the situation had gone was correct. That their parents were fine with them being friends with a muggle-born.

Still, Hermione was not going to forget that one of those purebloods had been a Death Eater at one time.

Before Hermione reached the other side of the platform, where the portal between this platform and the muggle platforms were, she caught sight of three figures near the train.

Hermione's eyes widened, recognizing Draco Malfoy and his father. She also noticed a tall, curvy woman with long blonde hair next to Lucious and Draco. Hermione couldn't help but assume that this woman was Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black.

Hermione glared at all three people, hoping they knew the extent of her dislike for them.

Draco glowered right back at her and Narcissa looked at her with an unreadable expression. Hermione presumed that it wasn't "ladylike" in the pureblood world for pureblood women to show any big emotion about anything. She had a good idea of how purebloods and how the magical world saw women in general. It was a disgusting fact.

Hermione then caught sight of Lucious Malfoy's face. Lucious looked surprised. He looked stunned at the sight of Hermione. Shocked that she was here. That she was alive and safe.

Hermione's stomach turned, her mind going to the diary that Lucious Malfoy himself had given to her. Her suspicions had now been raised.

Unable to help herself, though she doubted that any of the purebloods in front of her understood this gesture, she raised her left hand, putting up two fingers in a reverse-peace sign to them, her index and middle finger up in a V shape, with her knuckles aimed at the Malfoys.

She doubted they knew what this sign meant-it was a sign that basically meant "fuck you" in the UK. The Brit's version of the Americans' middle finger.

At Lucious's still startled and confused look, she dropped her hand and went to the portal to go through it, too disgusted by the Malfoys' presence to want to be there anymore.

Hermione left the platform, got to the muggle world and headed off to the front of the station, grinning as she dragged her things along to where her mother was waiting for her in the car, outside of the train station.

Last year, her mother had been busy with her job, so it hadn't allowed her to pick Hermione up at the station, but that time had been rare.

Hermione got everything into the trunk and backseat of her mother's car, secured Crookshanks's carrier in the backseat, smiling wryly at Crookshanks's displeased "meows" and she went to the front seat of the car, put her seatbelt on and closed the car door.

Her mother leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Hermione," she said happily, "Are you alright?"

Hermione was surprised at the worry in her mother's voice and Hermione understood.

Of course. Her mother was worried. After all, the last year, Hermione had come back, and what had happened? It had turned out that Hermione had had to kill someone in self-defense.

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine, mama," she said, "I promise. Nothing like what happened last time happened this time."

She would explain that she and her friends had almost had their memories erased by Lockhart and that he had accidentally erased his own memories, but that would have to wait when her mother wasn't already on the verge of complete and utter concern.

She and her mother would need to get settled back at their home before she did.

As her mother drove them home, Hermione pressed her left hand to her robe, feeling the diary secure in her robes' pocket.

And Tom? No, she knew that she couldn't tell her mom about Tom. Not yet.

Hermione was sure, so sure that the magic that had bound Tom to the diary, was dark magic.

She was sure, that it had been dark magic.

And while it certainly brought into question whether Tom had been experimenting with dark magic or not, it also meant that it could be potentially dangerous for her mother, unless Hermione knew what to do with the diary.

Also, she wondered if Lucious Malfoy had anything to do with the dark magic in the diary.

And that was all the more reason not to tell her mother about the diary and Tom.

And as much as she liked Tom, there was something in the back of Hermione's mind that kept telling her that she couldn't trust him. She wanted to ignore that voice that told her that. But it was just a lingering feeling.

Hermione didn't like that feeling. Tom had been like her. A half-blood in a Hogwarts House that abhorred anything other than pureblooded witches and wizards. And what was more? He had a much worse life, having grown up in a muggle orphanage without anyone to love him or be there for him.

Hermione felt for him. She truly did.

So, why did she have this feeling in the back of her brain that kept telling her not to trust Tom?

Why was there some feeling in her gut that told her that something was off about him?

But here was the thing-gut feelings didn't automatically mean that someone was a bad person.

So, Hermione wasn't going to pursue that distrustful line of thought. Not where Tom was concerned. If anyone couldn't be trusted, it was Lucious Malfoy and his awful family.

After a few hours of Hermione settling back into her home, she eventually told her mother about what happened with Lockhart-or rather, the story that she, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent had come up with.

Hearing this story, Jean had actually sagged in her seat, looking stunned and drained.

"Hermione," she said weakly, "I know that you'll protest about this, but…maybe this place is too dangerous-"

Hermione shook her head. "No, mama," she said, "I'm not going to not go to Hogwarts. Just because there's been dangerous stuff. Every place is dangerous, mama. I think you know that."

A pale Jean sighed, nodding. After all, the first several years of Hermione's life had been in danger, not because of any witches or wizards, but because of the supposedly "normal" muggle world.

During those first years of Hermione's life, she had been in danger of being killed and cut apart for science, by muggles claiming that they were doing what was right.

There was danger everywhere. Just because the danger this time was magic related, didn't make it any worse than the other dangers.

Jean said tiredly, sure that she would regret what she was about to say when the words came out, "You had to kill someone in self-defense, darling."

Hermione winced but nodded. "I did," she said, "But so did you. Years ago. To protect me."

Hermione added, before Jean could respond, "I can't stay at home safe forever, mama. I have to know the world where my magic comes from. And that means taking risks. Even dangerous ones."

Jean nodded. She knew she wouldn't be able to reason with her daughter. Could she put her foot down and insist on Hermione not going to Hogwarts? Yes. But what would that do to Hermione? Outside of when Hermione had been adopted by Jean, she had never seen Hermione look nearly as happy as the girl had been these past couple of years.

If she kept Hermione from her friends at Hogwarts, from the magical world where Hermione seemed to have made something of a life for herself, she would be destroying her daughter.

And Jean wouldn't do that. Not until there was proof that she had to.

Jean sighed, nodding again at her daughter. "Alright," she said, "But please, Hermione, be careful next year."

Hermione smiled. "I will be, mama," she said, "Promise."

And Hermione meant that promise. But she and Jean both knew that danger often came from out of nowhere, and made people break those kinds of promises.

As Hermione went off to her room and her mother got dinner ready, it was then that Hermione opened up the diary and allowed Tom out.

Tom stood in the middle of the room and looked around, startled.

He turned to Hermione. "Where are we?" He asked curiously.

"My home," she informed Tom, "Me and my mother's home. In the muggle world. Sorry," she chuckled, "I'm afraid this isn't as fancy as the Slytherin common room."

Tom smiled. "It's alright," he said, "I was raised in an orphanage, remember? This is much, much nicer than any place I've stayed, before Hogwarts, anyway."

Hermione smirked. "I'm not sure how much of a high bar that is," she said, "But glad to hear that it's not a bother for you," she then sat on the edge of her bed, frowning, and focused on the troubling line of questioning she was about to ask of Tom. "Tom," she started, "Can I ask you something?"

Tom looked at her and nodded. "Of course," he said.

Hermione said softly, "Tom, the diary that you're in? It was given to me by Lucious Malfoy. Did you know that?"

Tom seemed visibly startled by this piece of information, his eyes widening.

"Really?" He asked, "Lucious Malfoy did? Abraxas's son?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm afraid so," she said, "Which makes me a little nervous, I'm sure you can understand."

Tom nodded, frowning and looking understandably worried. "I understand perfectly," he said, "That IS troubling. I don't know why he would do that. Maybe he didn't know what the diary contained?"

Hermione nodded. That was a thought. And she had considered that before. Perhaps Lucious Malfoy had given Hermione the diary in hopes that it would be a cursed item that would kill or hurt the "pesky mudblood" that had caused his "Dark Lord" so much trouble. But it was possible he hadn't known what was in that diary.

It was very possible that he thought it was a dangerous item to Hermione and didn't know that the thing inside it would just be a half-blood wizard who would eventually become Hermione's friend.

"I hadn't thought of that," Hermione said, "At least not for a while. I mean, I thought of it. But I never really looked at that closely as a possibility. But that makes sense."

Around the floor, Crookshanks stalked around, eyeing Tom every now and then, but thankfully not hissing at the apparition or memory.

Hermione asked, "You think that Lucious Malfoy will try something else?" She then added, "I saw him and his son, Draco and I presume his wife, Narcissa too, at the station. He looked genuinely surprised to see me. I think he had been expecting me to be dead or not physically healthy. Which means that he obviously was hoping something would happen to me. Had even intended for it," she remembered the taste of her disgust for the man at the train station.

"So," Hermione said, smiling grimly at Tom, "Any advice?"

Tom frowned and thought about it. "It sounds like Lucious Malfoy is a threat," he confessed, "I don't like saying this. But you're going to have to defend yourself. Do you think there's any possibility that Lucious or any of his family would attack you outright in the open?"

Hermione thought about that and quickly nodded. No. Lucious and his family didn't have the spine for it. They were too cowardly.

"I don't think so," she said, "Lucious Malfoy and his son don't seem to have spines. I don't know anything about Lucious's wife, but she's likely the same way if she married Lucious."

Tom nodded.

"Alright," he said, "Here's my advice. Stay in public whenever one of the Malfoys are around. Don't ever be alone with one of them."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she said, "I already figured that much. I don't want to have to hurt any of them. But I'm worried it might come to that."

Tom sighed. "I know you don't want to have to kill again," he said, "But if it comes to it, if one of the Malfoys or someone else tries to kill you or your friends, are you willing to defend yourself? What if someone tries to hurt your mother?"

Hermione tensed, feeling cold. She already knew the answer. Yes. If it came to it? She WAS willing to kill. To defend herself, to defend her friends. To defend her mother.

"Yes," Hermione said, looking at Tom with conviction, "If it comes to that? I'll do it."

Tom nodded again. "I know that that's not what you want to do," he said, "But if it's necessary and you CAN do it, but I'm sorry, that's a good thing. Because it sounds like danger is coming."

Hermione grimaced. He was right. He felt it too. Trouble was coming.

Voldemort was still out there. And Lucious Malfoy had given her an item of dark magic for a reason.

Something was going on, and Hermione knew that she had to be ready when it all came to a head.

"Thank you," she said to Tom, "I just wanted to make sure what it was you thought."

When dinner was ready, Hermione had to close the diary and Tom disappeared. Hermione hid the diary under her mattress, as she had in her dorm at Hogwarts and went downstairs to get the dinner.

She fed Crookshanks and made sure he had more water too, before she washed her hands and she and her mother sat down for dinner.

The summer went by without incident. Hermione and her friends exchanged letters, as before and Hermione grinned at some of the funny things her friends said. One of the letters she received from Millicent mentioned that her parents had verbally mentioned they never had imagined a day when they would allow their daughter to be friends with a muggle-born. But if their daughter was going to be friends with any muggle-born, they supposed it might as well be someone as brave and talented as Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes at that, figuring that Millicent's parents' comments about that basically was insulting, but perhaps the best she could expect of pureblood parents at this point in time.

At the very end of summer, few days before it was time for Hermione to head off to Hogwarts, Hermione was gathering things from her mother's garden and her mother was at work right now, so Hermione had let Tom out of the diary to spend time with her in the garden.

The garden was in a secluded place in the backyard. It was unlikely anyone would see Tom out and about. The diary was opened up on a table in the backyard, just outside of the garden.

She had never mentioned that she had the Sorcerer's Stone hidden under her house. She trusted Tom. But she wasn't sure she trusted him that much, just yet.

Hermione and Tom were talking, when Hermione noticed a snake near one of the pepper plants.

Hermione growled, irritated. Why were there always snakes near her mother's house?

She went over to the snake, and snapped at it, "Leave! Get out of here, you little-"

The snake turned and darted quickly away from the plant, seeing a large figure and potential predator and fled the scene.

Hermione sighed, turning around to get some of the other vegetables from the garden, when she saw Tom staring at her, stunned.

She frowned. "Tom?" She asked.

"You're…," Tom said, mouth dropping, "You're a parseltongue?"

Hermione froze, her eyes widened. What?

"Tom," she said, feeling a chill go down her spine, "What do you mean by that?"

"You can talk to snakes," Tom said, looking at Hermione now in confusion, as if he didn't recognize her, "And snakes obey you. And are drawn to you."

Hermione felt cold seep into her heart.

She read a lot. So, yes, she knew what a parseltongue was.

But she wasn't…she wasn't a parseltongue.

She couldn't be. She was muggle-born.

Parseltongues were witches or wizards who could talk to snakes, control them and would draw snakes to themselves.

Salazar Slytherin himself? He had been a parseltongue.

That was why the symbol of his House had been a snake.

"I'm not," Hermione said, shaking her head, "I'm not a parseltongue. I can't be."

Tom shook his head. "I know what I heard," he said, "You sounded like you were hissing."

"But I wasn't hissing," Hermione said, shaking her head, "I was just talking."

"It sounded like hissing to me," Tom said, "I've read about parseltongues. As I'm sure you have. And apparently, people can't hear the words that parseltongues say. It sounds very different for those that don't speak parseltongue."

Hermione shuddered. She was a parseltongue? She was a parseltongue?

No, her mother had seen her yelling at snakes before. Wouldn't her mother have told her if she had been speaking another language when doing this?

Hermione knew that her mother had to have noticed something like this. Had to have.

Wouldn't her mother have told her?

"I heard you," Tom said, "I know you were speaking parseltongue."

Hermione shook her head slowly, not willing to mentally accept it.

That couldn't be true. But she was positive that Tom wouldn't lie to her.

"I….," Hermione said, "I think I need to talk to my mother about this."

Tom said nothing, just looked at her sympathetically.

When Hermione's mother arrived home, Hermione closed up the diary and Tom disappeared and Hermione hid the diary under her mattress and went to her mother as her mother came in and put her things away.

Hermione cautiously approached her mother and asked, "Um, mama?" Hermione watched as her mother looked at her, smiling.

"Hi, love," Jean said to her daughter, "How are you?"

"I'm alright," Hermione said, nodding, though she wasn't sure how accurate that statement was, "I need to ask you something."

Jean nodded. "Go ahead, sweetie," she said.

Hermione sighed and began speaking, "Alright. You've seen me scare snakes off before, right?"

Jean frowned and nodded. "Yes," she said, "I have. Why?"

Hermione sucked in a breath, "Mama, do I speak differently when I do this? Does it sound like I'm hissing when I do this?"

Jean's answer brought fear and shock to Hermione. "I thought you knew you were doing that, honey," Jean said, sounding troubled, "You speak another language when talking to snakes. I thought that that was just one of your special things when you were a kid. That all kids like you could do that."

Hermione's stomach fell.

Her mother HAD heard her speaking parseltongue. And she had thought that that was the norm for witches and wizards, which it wasn't.

Hermione felt her heart fall.

She was a parseltongue.

But what did that mean? She was muggle-born.

How could she be a parseltongue?

Unless…

Hermione paused, thinking. She had heard a theory that the reason why muggle-borns existed, was because they had magical ancestry.

It seemed like a likely enough possibility.

However, that thought made her even more unsettled.

If Hermione had had an ancestor had that had been magical, and it was a parseltongue, then what did that mean?

The only known parseltongues, including Salazar Slytherin, had been registered throughout history as cruel. Bigoted. Vicious.

Hermione swallowed. Had an ancestor of hers been a bigoted parseltongue? If that was the case, how had their blood ended up in her veins? Wouldn't that parseltongue had abhorred muggles? And would have taught those same lessons to their children and grandchildren?

How had Hermione ended up with a parseltongue as an ancestor, if that was what had happened?

Jean asked, "Love, are you alright?"

Hermione nodded, though she knew she was lying even before she spoke, "I'm fine, mama, promise."

She felt bad for lying to her mother. But she felt like she had to. Until she figured out what was going on.

She could see the doubt on her mother's face, but Hermione knew that her mother wouldn't push for answers.

Hermione got back up to her room, disturbed. She almost didn't want to tell her friends, but she knew that she had to.

They needed to know this. And besides, they might have insight, where she didn't.

A few more days passed by and then the day for when Hermione was to head to Hogwarts came along.

She packed everything up, packed away Tom's diary, her wand, her books, got Crookshanks's carrier ready, much to Crookshanks's displeasure-and got ready, going through the remaining mail that she had gotten recently.

As soon as she did, she found some of Pansy and the others' letters.

She opened them up and read through them, seeing something that made her heart stop.

She had hoped that the next year would be uneventful.

It seemed that that would not be the case.

Sirius Black, the man who had betrayed James and Lily Potter, had gotten them killed and had murdered Peter Pettigrew, and was a secret Death Eater, had escaped from Azkaban.

Hermione felt cold. Like a deep, icy cold starting from her stomach and traveling throughout her body.

Sirius Black. He had escaped. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Hermione tried to reassure herself that Hogwarts would be hard to break into. The only reason why Voldemort had been able to get into Hogwarts had been because he had had the help of Quirrell.

And besides, why would Sirius even want to get to Hogwarts? Except maybe to get at Harry Potter.

And even then, he had only just escaped Azkaban. It was unlikely that he would risk capture so soon again.

She packed away those letters, making sure her mother wouldn't find them.

She had only just been able to get her mother to let her go back to Hogwarts. She didn't want to think about how her mother might react if she found out that an infamous Death Eater had escaped from Azkaban recently.

She made sure that the enchantments she had put on the house were still in place. They were.

She checked to make sure the enchantments she had put on her mother as well were still in place, checking them silently without magic, while her mother had gotten the keys, and she was relieved to see that the enchantments were still there on her mother.

Hermione was positive her mother would be safe.

Besides, what reason would Sirius Black have had to go after her mother? She had killed Voldemort's vessel, Quirrell, sure. But she hadn't killed Voldemort himself. She most likely wasn't as big of a target as Harry Potter was.

And while Hermione felt awful for hoping that Harry would be targeted instead of herself, if it meant that her mother would be safe, she'd take that outcome.

But it was still unlikely that Sirius would try to get into Hogwarts.

Hermione clung onto that suspicion. Confident in it. That made sense to her. It seriously did.

Hermione hugged her mother fiercely, telling her goodbye as they separated at the train station.

She headed onto the platform and went to the train.

She got to compartment 8, and saw that Pansy was already waiting there.

She grinned and she and Pansy hugged tightly. Compartment 8 thankfully was empty, so they quickly went inside it and settled in.

Astoria, Daphne and Millicent joined them soon afterwards and they all hugged and sat down in the compartment.

They faced each other and Hermione sighed, "So, I got your letters. About Sirius Black."

Pansy nodded, looking incredibly worried.

"Yeah," Millicent said, shaking her head, "Merlin's beard…this is bad."

As the train went on, going a few hours through the mountains, something happened.

And that always seemed to be the case, didn't it? Something always happened.

The train stopped, making all five girls in compartment 8 get jarred on their seats, yelping.

"What the hell was that?!" Daphne demanded, panic in her voice.

"I don't…," Hermione said, shaking her head. Something in the back of her mind told her to look out the window.

She did.

She felt cold spread throughout her chest when she could have sworn she saw something in the distance. It looked dark. A patch of black-gray in the distance, like a cloud, drifting across the blue and now graying sky.

But it wasn't a cloud.

It was moving way, way too fast to be an actual cloud.

"I think there's something out there," Pansy said, seeing what Hermione had seen.

Hermione then noticed something disturbing. It was getting colder. It wasn't just her imagination or her dread.

It was actually getting colder in the train.

But why?

Ice began spreading across the window of the train and the glass of the door of the compartment.

A thin layer of frost spread across both the window and door.

Hermione, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent gasped and breathed out, eyes wide as they watched their own breath became visible.

"What's going on?" Astoria asked, fear in her voice, "Why is it getting so cold?"

Crookshanks got in Hermione's lap, squeezing close, trying to either warm his human or gain warmth from her, or both.

Pansy's owl, Roger, flapped and hooted, shaking a little and trying to fluff his black feathers to get warmer.

Astoria wrapped some cloth around her pet, an iguana named Isla, to keep the iguana warm.

Daphne's own pet, her toad, Miles, was much in the same physical situation, as Daphne had wrapped a cloth around him.

Millicent's own cat, Amelia, snuggled close to Millicent, most likely to gain warmth or give warmth as Crookshanks was doing for Hermione.

Hermione looked down at Crookshanks and Crooks watched the reptiles skeptically. Thankfully, Hermione had learned that Crookshanks wouldn't hurt either of the reptiles. He seemed to see them as beneath his notice.

Amelia more or less had figured out that Roger, Miles and Isla were sort of part of the "pack," she didn't mess with them. If only for the consequence of what would happen if she tried to hurt any of the other animals.

Hermione turned to the door and she and the other girls froze and watched as a dark, shadowy figure passed by the frosted glass door of the compartment.

"What is that?" Astoria asked, voice trembling.

Hermione shook her head. She had no idea.

Hermione took Crookshanks off her body and placed him onto the seat and got up, getting close to the door and watched the dark, shadowy figure go down the hall, away from the door of her and her friends' compartment.

She was relieved that whatever it was, hadn't entered their compartment.

Yet…yet she couldn't help but wonder. What was that thing? It couldn't have been Sirius Black, because as far as she knew, he didn't have the ability to just stop the train or make it freezing cold.

Suddenly, down the hall, Hermione could hear a door opening up. A compartment door had been opened up. Hermione gasped, when she heard another sound. It sounded like someone was yelling, and that yell had been cut off.

Thankfully, Hermione wasn't the only one on the page of trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

When that yell was heard and when it was cut off, Daphne put her toad in a bag full of warm cloth, which had her warm scarf inside it, and jumped up from her seat and opened up the compartment door, pulling her wand out.

Hermione did the same, taking her wand out and she and Daphne jumped out of the door, aiming the wands at whatever it was that they had seen.

And they were not prepared for what they saw.

One of the compartment doors down the hall of the train had been slid open, and there was a tall figure in a big, billowy gray-black cloak, the cloak waving as if swirls of smoke. Hermione felt an icy bolt hit her heart.

Oh, fuck.

She knew what that thing was.

It was one of the things about the magical world that had filled her with fear, just at reading about it.

This? This was one of the guards that was stationed in Azkaban.

It was a dementor.

Hermione heard Daphne suck in a weak breath.

"Oh, Merlin," the older Greengrass sister said, "What is THAT doing here?!"

Hermione then saw the dementor pulling its head back, and she saw something going into the face of its hood.

Hermione felt horror fill her. She knew what was happening. The dementor was attacking someone.

For dementors, attacking someone meant draining them of their happiness-all the joyous memories, would be stolen from that person.

Then there was the Dementor's Kiss. Where they would steal a person's soul. But that was different.

This was someone getting their joy and happiness drained.

At least, Hermione hoped that that was all was happening here.

Hermione knew the spell that needed to be used against a dementor. The patronus spell.

Unfortunately? That spell was incredibly hard to use. Particularly against a dementor, which existed specifically to drain happy memories.

And a patronus? That thing could only be summoned with the most joyous, most happy memory anyone ever had.

Hermione aimed her wand, and focused her mind.

Her most happy memory. She could do that.

She saw the memory in her brain, focused on it. A great-horned owl, with a letter in its beak. Her first Hogwarts letter, telling her that she had been invited to Hogwarts and that she was a witch and that there may just be a place where she belonged. And that there was a magical world that awaited her. The happiness she had felt in that moment. The pure joy.

She focused onto that memory, clung to it, felt it fill her being.

"Expecto Patronum!" She yelled.

White light began to spill out of her wand. She grinned. She could feel it. Something warm and powerful began to exude out of her. Bright white-blue light began flooding from her wand and out of her.

The dementor turned its attention from whoever it had been attacking, turning its head to Hermione and Daphne.

Hermione heard Daphne grumble, "Oh, crap."

Hermione felt the power coming out of her, but…something was wrong.

The dementor was moving closer, not further away. And it wavered slightly as soon as it got close to Hermione's attempted patronus-attempted, because Hermione saw no patronus animal coming out of the wand.

She sucked in a breath. What the hell was going wrong?

The dementor leaned in close and that was when Hermione felt it. Her happiness, her joyful memories, she could feel them being drained out of her into the dementor.

The dementor's opening-which horrifyingly was a toothless mouth of a small hole, sucking in Hermione's good memories and happiness.

Hermione shuddered, a new memory flashing through her brain. Her and Daphne in a similar situation. Almost two years ago, in her and Daphne's first year, in the Forbidden Forest. They had been cornered by a hooded figure with unicorn blood on its grinning mouth.

Hermione whimpered, feeling horror fill her now, ice traveling throughout her body.

This time there was no centaur here to save them.

Suddenly, movement fired out from the compartment where the dementor had been standing at before. Hermione felt her happiness fall away, her attempted patronus disappearing.

The figure that had come bolting out of the other compartment appeared. It was a man. Tall, slim, with short brown hair and a tired look on his face. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the dementor.

He said, "Expecto patronum!"

Unlike Hermione's attempt, his patronus came out fully formed, white-blue light exuding out of his body, a wolf appearing from out of the man's wand leaping at the dementor.

Hermione was weak against the wall, as was Daphne, but the dementor almost shrunk and fled, going past both Hermione and Daphne as it ran away down the hall of the train.

Hermione gasped, shaking as she balanced herself against the wall. Daphne did the same, eyes wild as fear covered her face. Astoria came out and saw Daphne and hugged Daphne and Hermione both.

"Are you okay?" She asked tearfully.

Hermione and Daphne met each other's gazes, dread and fear in both their gazes.

No. No, they were NOT alright.

Millicent and Pansy came out a few seconds later, hugging both Hermione and Daphne too.

Pansy turned to the man who was watching them, the man that had gotten rid of the dementor.

"Thank you," Hermione said to him.

The man nodded.

"Um, who are you?" Pansy asked, "Thanks, by the way," she was trying to be polite, but was clearly still suspicious.

The man smiled. "My name is Remus Lupin," he said, "And I am your new Defense against the Dark Arts professor."

Chapter Text

When the train had begun to move finally and had come to its stop, Remus Lupin, the new DADA teacher, had said goodbye to them as he and the two boys who had been in his compartment-who as it turned out had been none other than Harry Potter and Ron Weasley themselves.

Harry had looked as disturbed as Hermione felt and she knew instantly that it had been him whom the dementor had been assaulting.

Ron had looked troubled, but not close to the way Harry looked. The two boys followed after some other kids, and Hermione followed after her friends to the carriages.

The first years and second years used boats to get to the castle in the lake. But teenagers thirteen and up used carriages. Because it looked like it was going to rain very, very soon, the carriages would be covered, but carriages, nonetheless.

Hermione tasted the aftertaste of chocolate as she moved. She and Daphne both had been given chocolate by Remus, saying that they'd need it to get their energy after it being drained from them with their encounter.

Hermione supposed that Harry had been told to do the same thing.

When Hermione, her friends and their familiars got to where the carriages were passing along, they saw the back of the last covered carriage that had come by.

The next carriage would be coming along soon.

Hermione heard heavy footsteps, followed by the dragging of wheels.

"Hmm," Hermione said, "Wonder what creatures are pulling the carriages."

At this, she received confused looks as Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy looked in the direction of the forest, where the carriages would be coming from.

"There's nothing in front of the carriage, Mione," Astoria said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, confused. She could have sworn she heard something walking in front of the carriage.

She turned to look at where the carriage was coming, and yes, she saw something. Walking right in front of the carriage. Pulling it along.

"What are you talking about?' Hermione asked, confused, "There's something walking in front of the carriage. I see it."

As the creature in front of the carriage got closer, Hermione felt her stomach drop. It was a rather…unsettling looking creature. Thin, tall, skin tight against its body. Horse like in appearance, but seemed almost reptilian in the limited light around them. There were big, batlike, leathery wings on its back and a long, skeletal tail.

Hermione shivered, despite knowing that these creatures were most likely harmless to students.

"Hermione?" Millicent asked, sounding worried, "What is it? What do you see?"

"Do you…," Hermione whispered as she stepped closer to the creature that had stopped in front of them, "Do you see this? This horse like thing with wings?"

She could practically sense her friends looking at each other.

"No," Pansy said, now sounding as concerned as Millicent did, "Hermione, I don't see anything in front of the carriage. There's nothing there."

Hermione felt cold again, and this time, her dread and the dementors could not be blamed for that.

Why was she the only one that could see this thing? Was this a parseltongue thing?

Back in his carrier, much to his displeasure, Crookshanks hissed at something. Hermione looked down at him. Crookshanks hissed hatefully from out of the bars of his carrier, glaring right up at the creature in front of the carriage. The creature that apparently Hermione's friends couldn't see.

Hermione then heard another hiss and she turned, to look at Millicent's cat, Amelia. The cat was doing the same as Crooks. Hissing at a being invisible to her mistress.

Hermione then looked at Roger in his cage. Roger puffed himself out again, only this time, it didn't seem like he was trying to keep himself warm-but trying to make himself look bigger.

Her eyes widened with comprehension. Whatever this thing was? For some reason only she and the animals could see it. But why? What did that mean? Again, did this have to do with her being able to speak to snakes? Was she more in tune with animals than she was with humans?

Noting that there were reins put on this creature, indicating yes, despite the creature's gruesome appearance, they were indeed trusted by the teachers to bring students to the school, Hermione nodded and said, "Never mind. Let's get on the carriage."

Hermione and the others loaded up into the covered carriage, Hermione's friends all looking deeply concerned about what Hermione had said a few seconds ago, but making no comment about it. After what Hermione and Daphne had just gone through, none of them wanted to make waves.

The carriage began to move, and Hermione tried to not feel nervous about that THING drawing the carriage forward. She hoped that the teachers' faith hadn't been misplaced.

Then again-they had made mistakes before, as they had trusted both Quirrell and Lockhart before, right?

The carriages all reached the castle without incident. Hermione and the others got out of the carriage, carrying the containers with their familiars inside with them and stood in the mud as the rain began to fall.

Hermione looked around her, seeing the entrance to the castle was surrounded by the carriages.

And by the creatures right in front of those carriages.

Hermione eyed all the creatures, trying to ignore the shiver running up and down her spine.

Hermione and her friends went inside the castle, and Hermione could feel those creatures behind her in the courtyard in front of the castle.

Hermione and the others put their stuff and familiars away in their dorms, then went to the Great Hall.

The first years got sorted and Slytherin welcomed in new members.

Dumbledore announced the new changes to the Hogwarts staff. Telling them that Hagrid would be the teacher for Care of Magical Creatures. And Remus Lupin, of course, had been announced as the new DADA teacher.

Hermione noticed that Draco Malfoy and his buddies, Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini were chatting, and they were looking over across from the Slytherin table. At the Gryffindor table. Hermione looked over at where they were snickering.

They were looking at Potter and Weasley-as always.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Honestly, she'd think that Malfoy might just have a crush on Potter, that was, if she didn't suspect that Malfoy was too bigoted to even consider it being acceptable to be attracted to someone of the same sex. She did vaguely entertain the possibility that Malfoy and Potter shared a soulmate mark, but dismissed that thought. Malfoy might have been an ornery little brat, but Potter actually seemed reasonable. He would have said by now if he and Malfoy were soulmates, wouldn't he?

There were other whispers around them and Hermione heard, "did Granger and Greengrass really try to stop a dementor?"

Another student said, "I heard that Granger almost produced a Patronus!"

In response, the other kid-who Hermione recognized easily as Ivy Avery, said, "No way, really?! Wow! And didn't that new teacher save them?"

Hermione fought the urge to snort. Of course. As always, the rumor mill was getting started fast.

Then Dumbledore released some rather troubling news. About the dementors being allowed to be around Hogwarts grounds.

Hermione shuddered at the thought. On some level, she understood. Sirius Black had escaped. So, the dementors needed to patrol every possible area.

But still, the thought of those things near her and the other children…

Hmm, Hermione was starting to wonder if Dumbledore and Hagrid were closely related. They both seemed to have a fixation on dangerous creatures.

Between allowing a creature like Fluffy to be in a school, even if it was to guard the Sorcerer's Stone, the creatures that had drawn the carriages that had brought Hermione and the others here, and now the dementors? Hermione wasn't convinced that Dumbledore didn't have a dangerous creature fetish of some kind like Hagrid did.

Hopefully the DADA teacher this year wouldn't be full of surprises like the last two.

Eventually, they all went off to bed and Hermione thought of the words that Dumbledore had said before Hermione and all the other students had started eating. That if the dementors tried to harm them in any way, "happiness could be found in the darkest places sometimes. If only one remembers to turn on the light."

He had been referring to patronuses, right?

Well, then what the hell had Hermione done wrong?

She had focused on that happy memory of hers, of receiving the Hogwarts letter. Had clung to it, and had used the spell. So, what the hell had she done that hadn't been right?

This question followed her all the way to the dorm room, and as she and the others all got settled in, Hermione glanced out the glass window of one of the chambers near the Common Room.

The Slytherins, from these windows, all had the perfect view of the lake.

And across the lake, in the sky, Hermione could see swirling dark figures, passing by each other. Ghostly wraiths far more threatening and demonic than any ghost.

Hermione sighed and pulled the diary out from her robes, looking at it in contemplation.

Should she bring Tom out? Ask him what he thought about what she might have done wrong when trying to summon the patronus?

She tilted her head at the room where the others were. She heard their snoring and she knew that almost everyone would be asleep by now.

Looking around her, Hermione was sure that no one was around and she opened up the diary, letting Tom out.

Tom stood before her, looking startled, but pleased.

"Hermione," he said, smiling, "I see you're back in Hogwarts."

Hermione grinned at him, sitting down in one of the winged back chairs and Crookshanks jumped up on her lap.

"Yeah," she said, "And I have some…unnerving news for you."

Tom frowned. "Oh?" He asked.

Hermione nodded. "You know about dementors, right?" She asked.

Tom now looked very tense. "Of course I do," he said, voice taking on a hint of unease, "Hermione, what's this about?"

Hermione sighed, "Well, firstly, Sirius Black, a follower of Voldemort has escaped from Azkaban. As a result? The dementors have been allowed to roam on Hogwarts grounds."

Hermione would give anything to photograph the look on Tom's face when he absorbed this news.

"Oh, Merlin," he whispered, "That…that's madness. That's inexcusable."

Hermione nodded. "I agree," she said, "But I'm not the one calling the shots. Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge are."

Tom scoffed, giving Hermione an idea of what he thought of the two of them being in control.

Hermione smirked despite the subject they were discussing.

"And I should tell you this before you hear this from my friends," Hermione said, "But the dementors got on our train on the way here. And one of them almost attacked me and Daphne."

Again, Tom's expression was priceless. If he wasn't so pale already? He would be ghost white by now.

"Dear Salazar," he whispered, "Hermione, are you alright? Is Daphne alright?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm alright," she said, "I'm fine, promise. So is Daphne. We're just both very shook up, understandably. But a professor on the train helped us. He saved us with a patronus. He's the new DADA professor. Remus Lupin."

At the name Remus Lupin, just like with the name Sirius Black, Hermione saw recognition in Tom's dark eyes.

That wasn't odd though, was it? After all, Remus and Sirius likely were famous to whatever time period this memory of him or ghost of him had gotten trapped into the diary. Remus Lupin, the friend of James and Lily Potter. And their other friend-the traitor, Sirius Black, a follower of Voldemort.

Everyone would have heard of them at some point around the time of the Potter couples' murders.

"There's something else," Hermione said, "When that dementor was charging me and Daphne? I tried to summon a patronus. And I almost did, but…," she shook her head, "But I couldn't. Not fully. And I don't understand why. Do you have any idea? Is that a parseltongue thing? Not being able to produce a patronus?"

Tom's eyes widened and he chuckled, shaking his head. At Hermione's offended look, he said, smiling softly, "Sorry, Hermione, but I'm not laughing at you. But no, being a parseltongue shouldn't inhibit you from summoning a patronus."

Hermione felt relief fill her. Though she was curious as to how he was so sure of that, but she hoped he was right.

She then wondered if she should tell him about the creatures that had been pulling the carriages, that only she and the animals could see.

"There's another thing," Hermione said after a few seconds, "I saw something. Creatures. Pulling the carriages to Hogwarts."

Tom nodded, no surprise on his face, causing Hermione some alarm. "The thestrals," Tom said simply.

Hermione frowned. "Thestrals?" She echoed.

Tom nodded. "Creatures that can only be seen by those who have seen death," Tom said, as if quoting some ancient text, "Or by animals."

Hermione's eyes widened. Oh. Now that made sense.

In fact, she recalled reading something like that in her first year. Creatures that were invisible to all, except to those that had witnessed death and except to animals.

And hadn't Hermione seen a lot of death in her life? The kids at the labs? At Cromwell's labs? They had been killed right in front of her. Some by gunfire, some by stabbing. Either way, she had seen plenty of death.

And the thestrals? They had been for third years and up, so she hadn't been anywhere close to see them before.

And even if she hadn't seen all those other kids die? She had certainly seen Quirrell die. After all, she had killed him herself.

So, if anyone was eligible to see a thestral, she supposed she was it.

"Oh," Hermione said, sagging in her seat, eyes cast down to Crookshanks, "Oh."

Tom voice was gentle now, "Hermione, it's alright. Remember, you had to. Quirrell, he was dangerous."

Hermione nodded, sighing, "I know. I know. It's just…wow, I'm a muggle-born whose also a parseltongue and only I and a few others can probably see the thestrals? Well, if I didn't want to be singled out for being weird and different…"

Tom said softly, "There's nothing wrong with you, Hermione. Don't think there is. Ever."

Hermione smiled, again, feeling bad that she didn't completely trust him. He was always so kind.

Here was the thing, if someone was a magic user, but couldn't summon a patronus, could speak to snakes and had enough reason to see creatures that could only be seen by those who had seen death-what did that scream?

That screamed "Dark witch." Didn't it?

Because who couldn't use patronuses? The answer was simple.

Death Eaters.

"Tom," she said, looking up at her friend, "I tried to use a patronus against the dementor. I couldn't though. Why? Do you have an idea? Also, how do you know that the thestrals are the things pulling the carriages?"

Tom looked troubled now and shook his head. "I don't know why you can't fully summon a patronus," he confessed, "What I DO know? Is that it's difficult for people with particularly horrible memories to summon a truly happy memory."

Hermione looked at him, startled.

Tom smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I know from personal experience," he confessed, "And it's the same reason why I can see the thestrals too. I was raised in a muggle orphanage, remember? I was hardly given any affection there. My father abandoned my mother and me. And my mother died when I was born. And I'd like to remind you that I'm a half-blood. My mother's family was from one of the 'Sacred twenty-eight.' The Gaunt family. You think her family would have taken me in?"

Hermione felt disgust in her mouth. Yes, "Gaunt," was one of the names of Sacred twenty-eight pureblood families. And while from what Hermione had read about them? They had more or less gone extinct, but she could just imagine how much harm they had caused to any members of their family who didn't conform to their views.

"Sacred," her ass.

True, the Bulstrode family, the Greengrass family and the Parkinson family were of the Sacred twenty-eight. But there was only so much "purity," that could be praised.

And if they alienated their own family members like the Gaunt family had done to Tom, then wasn't there obviously a societal problem?

Tom spoke again, "And if my father had wanted nothing to do with me, I doubted that his family would have either. So, I was alone, more or less. And I'd like to remind you of the time period I grew up in, while in Britain."

Hermione thought about that, and went over the years that Tom had grown up before going to Hogwarts, and her heart stopped. Oh. Right.

Tom Riddle had grown up in Britain during the very late 1920s and early 1930s before going to Hogwarts. Hitler had come to power in 1933. Riddle had started going to Hogwarts in 1938. Tom must have witnessed a lot during that period, before going to Hogwarts. And he certainly would have during the summers in between Hogwarts semesters.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione said, shuddering, "I'm so sorry, Tom."

How much bigotry had Tom witnessed? How much anti-Semitism, how much how much homophobia, transphobia, anti-Romani bigotry, how much ableism, had he witnessed?

Tom shook his head. "It's quite alright," he said, "It wasn't me who received those awful acts of violence. Others received that abuse."

Hermione nodded. "I know," she said, "But you shouldn't have had to see that. And just the fact that people like the Nazis existed…"

Tom said softly, "They're gone now. You don't need to be afraid of those particular monsters. They're gone."

Hermione smiled wryly. She knew Tom was trying to be reassuring. But that wasn't really true, was it? That a threat like that was gone. Sure, the Nazis themselves no longer existed, but there would always be bigotry. Always. The Death Eaters had been proof of that, given that they had appeared after the end of Hitler's life.

As long as bigotry existed? There would always be people who would take up arms claiming that they were the victims and that those that they hated for one reason or another-whether it was because of their victims' religion, race or other, were the ones to blame.

But she understood what Tom had been trying to tell her. "Your life must have been very hard," Hermione said, hoping that she didn't sound like she was being pitiful. She doubted Tom would appreciate pity or sympathy.

Tom nodded. "Thank you," he said, "But I'm afraid the story isn't done. When I reached my third year at Hogwarts? I went back for the summer after the third semester. And I met my soulmate."

Hermione's eyes widened. Oh.

In a way, as ridiculous as it was, she had almost thought that Tom didn't have a soulmate. But that was ridiculous, because everyone had soulmates. As far as she knew, anyway. But for her? Tom had struck her almost as a figurehead of history. A figment of Hogwarts's past, with memories of all that had happened here during his time at this school. And therefore, he had no romantic attachments.

In hindsight, Hermione realized how not just preposterous that idea was, but also how completely cruel that thought was. Because Tom didn't exist just to give her answers about Hogwarts. He had had a life before whatever it was that had happened to him that had led him to ending up in this diary.

"Who-who was s-who were they?" She asked, correcting herself before saying "they" as the pronouns. She had no idea whether Tom's mate had been a girl or a boy. She had grown up in a society that was deeply homophobic, despite there being multiple couples throughout the world that were same-sex. As many, as far as she could tell, as there were heterosexual couples.

But many societies had taken on severe homophobic views on those particular romantic relationships. And sadly, Britain was amongst those many societies.

Tom answered, not seeming to have noticed Hermione's slip up, "Her name was Ella. Ella Taylor. With long, chestnut brown hair and amber eyes. She wasn't an orphan. I met her on my way to a muggle town, getting some food for myself. As soon as we saw each other, looked at each other's eyes, I could just feel my heart stop." He smiled softly, a good, happy memory obviously taking hold of him. But Hermione had a feeling that this story was going to go south very fast.

Tom continued, "We got to know each other, over the course of that summer. We told each other things that I suspect neither of us would have told anyone else. Except I didn't tell her that I was a wizard. That one part, made me nervous to tell her," he shook his head, "I wanted to trust her. I did. But I had seen how muggles treated each other for being different. How they treated me for being an orphan and for having a father that abandoned me. I didn't want to think about how this sweet girl, who I had come to love more than anyone, might spurn me if she learned I was a wizard."

He took a breath and continued, "I loved her. As much as a thirteen-year-old who probably knew very little about love, especially given my upbringing? I loved her. And I wanted to be there for her if she ever needed me. When the next year came around and it was time for me to go back to Hogwarts, I promised I'd write to her. And I did. We couldn't communicate through owls like everyone else did, I'm sure you understand. It would be a lot to explain about having owls deliver messages to a muggle who didn't even know about magic."

Hermione nodded. She understood that. If someone's soulmate was a muggle and knew nothing of the magical world, precautions had to be made, so as to keep their world from being exposed.

Tom continued, "There were ways to send and receive messages without there being risk of our world being exposed to muggles. So, my letters were sent that way and her letters were picked up and brought to me-just not by owls. I'm sure you know how."

Hermione nodded. In case the students here had muggles in their family or loved ones who didn't know about or accept magic, there were precautions put in when it came to mail. The letters would be sent off and an errand person would take those letters to a muggle postage place and magically put those letters into the postage place so that those letters could be transferred through muggle means to the recipient. And the same would happen with the letters of those who had no idea magic existed, if they wished to communicate with someone at Hogwarts. The letters would be magically taken from the postage place, and brought to Hogwarts.

Tom went on, "So, we communicated that way for a year. And it hurt. It hurt not being able to see her. Except on holidays. During that year?" Tom smiled, "I actually for one time in my life, had a reason to go back to the muggle world. And then Christmas came," Tom frowned deeply and Hermione felt her stomach drop, knowing that something bad was about to happen.

Tom continued, "I went to visit the girl and her family. She had invited me over. We both were fourteen and for us? This was new love. Entirely a new adventure. It certainly was for me. And the girl's parents? They seemed kind and nice enough. But then…something happened. The fireplace that she and her family had, it wasn't well regulated. It was open and some of the wood almost stuck out. While Ella was opening up one of her presents, the fire caught on the wrapping and started climbing up it. Closer to Ella. Ella screamed and as soon as I saw that, I rushed to help. Ella's parents were in the kitchen. They couldn't help. And I hope you understand, I was young, I didn't use common sense. I could have grabbed something and smothered the fire. But I didn't. I was too panicked. So, I used an incantation I had learned to get rid of fire."

Tom sucked in a breath and continued, "Ella's father had heard his daughter scream and had come into the room, just when I put the fire out. Ella's father had seen what I had done, and so had Ella."

Tom grimaced and Hermione felt herself growing cold again. Oh, she had an idea of where this story was going.

Tom then spoke, voice and eyes full of pain, "Mr. Taylor, Frederick Taylor," Tom practically spit the name out, "he knew what I was. He had come from a devout Christian stock. And as soon as he knew that I could use magic? That was it. He didn't care that his daughter and I were soulmates. He didn't care that it might destroy his daughter to be separated from me. All that mattered was that the 'vile heathen' who had entered his home, would get out and stay away from his precious offspring. So, he had grabbed the fire poker from the fireplace, had grabbed a crucifix off the wall and held it in front of him like a shield, and had started swinging at me with the fire poker."

Hermione's chest tightened. Holy fuck. How could someone do that? Even if your beliefs told you to think a certain way, how could you deny your own child her soulmate?

Tom chuckled finally, looking morbid, "I didn't get hit by the fire poker, in case you're worried about that. No. I wasn't on the receiving end of that. Ella? Darling Ella? Who loved me? Truly had loved me? In fact, the only person who had ever loved me, thrust herself in front of me to protect me from her insane and fanatical father, regardless of what it was she saw me doing, and she? She was hit. Her father was so erratic and fanatic that he didn't even bother seeing who it was he was swinging the poker at. And Ella? She got the hardest blow. I could hear the cracking of her skull as the poker had made contact."

Hermione sucked in a breath, hot tears beginning to fill her eyes. Oh, Merlin, no.

Tom nodded, as if reading her thoughts. He kept speaking, "I heard the skull cracking inside her head. And I think I went into shock when I heard that," he grimaced as he said then, "Damn me for being so weak and hesitant, for not acting when I needed to. Because a second? That sometimes can make all the difference. And I just didn't move fast enough. And Ella's father? I think he was just as shocked. He pulled the poker out of Ella's head and her blood came spilling out as she collapsed to the floor.

"Ella's mother, Catherine Taylor, screamed and looked at the scene, in shock too. And Ella's father had decided who he was going to blame for his daughter's death. And yes, Ella was dead-well, dying, to be honest. But that didn't matter, did it? Because even though I saw her breathing, and even though I told both her parents that we could save her life, if we just did something. And you know what's funny?" Tom said smirking, "I wasn't even thinking about magic. I wanted to get her to the hospital. I would have used magic if I had to, but I knew that she could be saved through muggle means. But Frederick Taylor? He couldn't stand the thought of someone like me anywhere near her. So, he said that I wasn't to use any magic to save his precious daughter. If he had to, he would let her die 'naturally' instead of being 'tainted' by my evil. And he drove me out of the house."

Tom chuckled again, eyes glinting with dark mirth as he looked at the wall closest to him in memory, "The next day? I learned what happened. Those bastards…Frederick and Catherine? They really DID let their daughter die. I could feel it. It felt like a hole inside me was opening up and ripping me open. I could feel it over night. I screamed and screamed in pain and despair, making all the other orphans and staff panicking. Unfortunately for them, my magic reacted too. It was an explosion of my pain and it sent so many others in the orphanage backwards."

Tom nodded and continued, "Needless to say, the Ministry had to get involved. An explosion like that power, when I was only fourteen years old? Of course, they sensed what I had done. They arrived and repaired the damage and erased the memories of all the people at the orphanage, so that they wouldn't be able to tell anyone what they had witnessed or experienced. But there was nothing they could do for me."

Tom looked pained as he ended, "My beloved Ella was dead. Had been left for dead by two Christian fanatics. By their bigotry. And my soulmate mark? It disappeared."

Hermione's teeth clenched as she felt like she had been punched. That pretty much made it final, didn't it?

When someone's soulmate died? Their soulmate mark disappeared completely.

Tom then said, "And Frederick and Catherine Taylor also had to have their memories erased because of what they had witnessed me do. They had no memory of what I did, or that they had gotten their own daughter killed. The memory had been reformed so that they believed their daughter had slipped and fallen in the night, cracking her head open against the marble mantel of the fireplace. So, magic was hidden again from muggles, and the people that murdered my soulmate got off scot-free."

While the intellectual part of Hermione's mind immediately presumed that the term, "scot-free" was not a politically correct term, she couldn't focus on that right now. Her friend was in pain. So much pain.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I…can't even imagine."

Tom gave another chuckle, shaking his head, "You don't need to. It's alright. So, what i'm trying to say is, I've seen death before. Not Ella's. I could feel that. But I didn't see it. But I've seen plenty of orphans dead, from drug use or suicide. That's how I was able to see the thestrals. The point is, you don't need to be a Death Eater to not have enough happy memories to produce a patronus, okay? So, don't feel bad about it."

Hermione felt her heart clench. Here he was, spilling his life story to her, and he was trying to make her feel better?

"I…," Hermione shook her head, "I'm just so sorry. Is there anything I can do, Tom?"

Tom smiled wryly again and shook his head. "No," he said, "There's nothing you can do. It's alright. It happened and it's over. That's all."

He looked at Hermione and said, nodding to her, "I have a good idea of what muggles are capable of. But that's not the point. The point is, just because you can't produce a patronus, doesn't make you bad, in any way."

Hermione smiled sadly, trying to ignore how much her heart hurt for her friend, "Thank you. But," she raised her right hand, wiping the back of her hand against her eyes, wiping away the coming tears, "It's just…it's just so awful that you went through that and that the Taylor parents didn't get punished."

Tom nodded. "Sometimes that's just what happens," he said, "No one ever said that this was a just world."

Hermione gave a weak, pained laugh. He wasn't wrong. Not by any means. In a world where fleeing Nazi scientists were welcomed with open arms in some countries-because they were useful, and abusive Christians who had killed their own daughter could get away without any punishment, what else could you say, except that?

And Hermione, she knew about how cruel muggles could be. She and Tom? They both knew damn well what the cruelty of muggles was like. For Tom, it had been the orphanage and his mate's parents, for Hermione it had been Cromwell and his goons.

"You…," Hermione said, "You deserved so much better, Tom."

Tom smiled softly. "It means a lot to hear you say that, Hermione," he said, "It truly does. But it's late. You should get some sleep. I think you've been upset enough."

Hermione chuckled wetly, "I'm not sure I'll be able to get to sleep after this."

Tom nodded. "I know," he said, "I'm sorry for that. But please try to get some sleep. You want my advise? It's that. Please get some sleep. It will hurt less in the morning."

Hermione chuckled, and nodded, getting up and Crookshanks jumped out of her lap, onto the floor.

"Thank you for trusting me with this," Hermione said quietly, "It couldn't have been easy for you to tell me that."

Tom chortled again, shaking his head. "It really wasn't," he confessed, "But, just remember that, okay? It might not be your fault that you can't fully produce a patronus," he shook his head, "Sometimes, this world is too cruel for an individual to have any truly happy memory."

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to keep her pain at bay and nodded to Tom. She then forced her eyes open and said, "Thank you, Tom. I'm so sorry. But thank you."

Tom nodded. "I hope that helped reassure you that there's nothing wrong with you," he said, "Sometimes this world drains any happiness some people have."

Hermione said quietly, "Goodnight, Tom."

"Goodnight, Hermione," Tom said, "Please try to get some sleep."

Hermione nodded and slowly closed the diary, and Tom disappeared. Hermione's heart hurt even more when she did.

It was just so awful. She hugged the diary to her chest, doubting that that was comforting Tom in any way, but feeling like she needed to do something to comfort him.

She froze when she heard someone say her name.

"Hermione…," she turned in the direction of who had said her name. Daphne emerged from the dorm room, her eyes wide.

"Daphne?" Hermione asked, "what are you doing up?"

Daphne shook her head, eyes pained and shocked, "I don't…,"

Hermione's eyes widened as she understood. "How much did you hear?" She asked.

Daphne gave Hermione a remorseful look. "All of it," she said.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," Daphne said, "I know I had no right to eavesdrop."

Hermione turned to Daphne. She wanted to be angry, but she couldn't be. Not right now. It was like Tom's story had ripped apart any ability she had to be angry at anyone except the people that had hurt him and the girl he had loved.

Never mind how hard Christmas likely had been for Tom ever since that day. Christmas being a difficult time for those that had experienced trauma during Christmas, had often been scoffed at by those who didn't understand trauma. And she knew that Christmas particularly could be difficult for those without families.

Tom had been an orphan. Abandoned by his father, his mother having been dead since his birth.

Hermione's chest hurt and she clutched the diary to her harder.

Daphne said, reaching her left hand to her face and wiping away her own tears, "I don't understand how anyone could do that."

Hermione nodded. She didn't understand either. Who the hell knew how people like Percival Cromwell, Ella Taylor's parents and the Death Eaters thought? Who wanted to know?

"But he's right," Hermione grated out, "We should go to bed."

Daphne nodded, looking weakly at the diary in Hermione's grasp.

"It's just so wrong," she said.

"It is," Hermione agreed, "It's just so awful."

The two girls slowly went to their beds, Hermione stuck the diary under her mattress and she and Daphne looked at each other sadly as they got into bed, Crookshanks jumping up on Hermione's bed and they tried to get to sleep.

That night, Hermione dreamt of a brown-haired girl of fourteen with amber eyes, with blood pouring out of her head, laying on a floor, surrounded by opened Christmas presents, with two cruelly laughing people above her, an adult man and an adult woman, laughing, both of them wearing big, threatening looking crucifixes, and the man had blood covering his hands and the man grinned at his hands, relishing the sight. His blood-stained hands reached the crucifix around his neck, and wiped the blood all over it. In the corner of the room, where the two adults were aiming their laughter and sneers at, a crouching young boy of fourteen with dark hair, buried his face in his hands and his body shook with quiet sobs.

Hermione woke up the next morning, wiping fresh tears from her eyes. Daphne noticed her trying to avoid being seen crying and went over to her and hugged her tightly.

They tried to go about their day like nothing had happened. After all, Tom had trusted Hermione only with this story. And Daphne had just happened to eavesdrop.

But there was something that Hermione thought about telling her friends. That she had seen people die. So, she could see the thestrals. She wondered if Daphne had heard that part last night.

She decided to ask Daphne that at some point.

When Astoria, Pansy and Millicent were busy looking for books in the library, Hermione turned to Daphne as they sat together at one of the library tables. "Daphne," she said, "Did you hear that other thing that I told Tom last night?"

Daphne frowned. "What?" She asked.

Hermione nodded to her, "About the thestrals?"

Daphne's eyes widened. "Oh," she said, and nodded, "Yeah. I heard that. That the only way for people to see thestrals is by someone having seen someone else die."

Hermione gave a weak chuckle, "You heard a lot."

Daphne grimaced. "Sorry," she said.

Hermione nodded. She supposed she couldn't be too condemning of what Daphne had done. After all, some things were hard NOT to listen to.

"But you know you had no right to hear what I told Tom or what he told me." Hermione said, emphasizing her words. Regardless of what excuses she wanted to use for her friend, what she and Tom had said to each other had been said in trust. And Daphne had had no right to eavesdrop.

Daphne nodded, wincing. "I know," she said, "I wish I had asked first. And I know I shouldn't have eavesdropped. I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed, and looked back to her open book. "It's alright," she said, then a cold realization came. She looked at Daphne, "Then you heard the part about parseltongues?!"

Hermione had completely forgotten after hearing Tom's tale of woe, but now that her mind was more clear, she remembered that yes, she had talked about herself being a parseltongue with Tom.

Daphne winced and nodded. "I did," she said quietly, "And it's okay. I'm not going to judge. We're Slytherin, remember? Gryffindor and the other houses will judge. We won't."

"But," Hermione said, shaking her head, her eyes wide, "It's wrong. It's so wrong."

Daphne looked startled, her eyebrows narrowing. "What's wrong about it?" She asked, "That you can talk to snakes? Just because you're a parseltongue, doesn't mean that you're evil. It's like saying all witches and wizards are evil or all muggles are evil. That's just not the truth."

Hermione gave a small chuckle, "You really think that?"

Daphne nodded. "I do," she said.

Hermione looked at Daphne, her anger over her friend having eavesdropped beginning to subside, "Thank you."

Daphne smiled.

Hermione then said, "I'm going to need to tell the others about me being able to see the thestrals. And about the parseltongue thing."

Daphne sighed, "You don't need to worry. Like I said, they won't judge. I mean, hell, a muggle-born who's a parseltongue? If the rest of Slytherin don't believe that you belong in this House, they sure will now."

Hermione gave a small laugh, before she could help it. That was one way of looking at it, she supposed.

When Pansy, Millicent and Astoria came back and sat down around the table, sitting down next to Hermione and Daphne, Hermione knew that she'd need to tell them now.

"Hey, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria," Hermione said, "There's something I need to tell the three of you."

Millicent, Astoria and Pansy all looked at her, startled. "Yeah," Pansy said, "What is it?"

Hermione took a breath and nodded to Daphne, "I told Daphne last night. Because we both were awake. Remember I mentioned seeing something in front of all those carriages last night?"

Millicent nodded and so did Astoria. Pansy frowned.

Hermione sighed, "I read something about that and I have a theory. I think they're thestrals."

"Thestrals?" Astoria she asked, mouth dropping, "Really? Actually, that…that makes sense."

"Yeah," Hermione snorted, "I thought the same thing. Only I could see it. And you weren't there when I…when Quirrell died."

True, even if Hermione hadn't killed Quirrell, she had seen enough death thanks to Cromwell and his goons back in the muggle world, to have be able to see the thestrals. But, still, Quirrell was the only death that she saw that her friends knew of.

"Right," Pansy said, nodding, "Damn. That's…wow."

Hermione added, "There's one other thing. Something else I told Daphne last night. There was a snake in my mom's garden and my mom and I were out in the garden and I chased after the snake and yelled at it and the snake fled. But when I turned back to my mom, she told me that I was speaking another language when talking to the snake. She said it sounded like hissing. And the snake obeyed me. I think I'm a parseltongue."

Millicent and Astoria's mouths both dropped.

"What?" Pansy asked, stunned.

Daphne shrugged. "That's the story she told me," she lied.

They didn't like lying to their friends, and Daphne certainly didn't like lying to her twin, but Tom had trusted Hermione only with that story. And they couldn't risk breaking Tom's trust. Not after everything he had done for Hermione.

"I mean," Hermione said, "If I'm a muggle-born and I'm a parseltongue? Then that means that I have to have had a parseltongue as an ancestor, right?"

Pansy and Astoria were at a loss for words, but Millicent seemed contemplative. "That does sound like a reasonable theory," Daphne said, seeming to think about what Hermione had just said, as Millicent had.

"But what worries me," Hermione said, "Is how did the blood get there? How did I end up being a parseltongue? Since most parseltongues were pureblood and bigoted against muggles and muggle-borns, right? So, then, how did a parseltongue end up copulating with a muggle or muggle-born and have a child together? Unless through non-consensual means," she added, flinching at the thought, "After all, rape isn't about love, is it?"

Daphne, Pansy, Astoria and Millicent all winced. That was a disturbing thought admittedly.

But a reasonable one. Logically, if all known parseltongues had been hateful against muggles, muggle-borns and half-bloods, it wouldn't take much for them to do something like sexually assault one-because rape? As Hermione had said, it wasn't about love. it was about hurting someone. It was a type of humiliation and pain-a way of torturing someone.

There was disturbed silence for a while after that.

After that, classes began again, and Hermione began trying to arrange her schedule, only to huff out in aggravation. It had been only a day after she had told her friends about her being a parseltongue and her theory about how that had happened and about the thestrals, and right now she was trying to bury herself in her classes.

But how did she get to all the classes?

There were some classes at the same exact time, for goodness sake, so she wouldn't be able to get to all of them.

She had been sitting at a table near McGonagall's classroom as she did this, which was when McGonagall came along and said, looking down at her, "Having trouble choosing a class, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione was startled and looked up at the witch. "Professor?" She asked.

McGonagall smiled kindly as she said, "Would you like a way to go to all the classes?"

Hermione paused and nodded. She did. She was very greedy in a way. She happily hungered for endless knowledge, no matter what the class was or what the book was she was reading.

She supposed it was a flaw of hers. Fixation on knowledge. Greed for more and more knowledge, no matter what.

McGonagall said, reaching into her robe and pulling something out by a thin, flat gold chain, "Dumbledore said that you may benefit from having this," and she carried the necklace to Hermione, "But I ask that you don't do more than turn it more than required. Do you know how it works, right?"

Hermione frowned, cupping her hands out and taking the item that McGonagall had given to her.

Her mouth dropped when she saw the round part of the necklace. With an hourglass in the middle of it.

A time turner. This was a time turner!

"Professor…," Hermione said, looking up at McGonagall, "You…why are you trusting me with this? With a time turner?"

Professor McGonagall said smiling, "Why wouldn't I? You stopped You-know-who and Quirrell, didn't you? And you wanted to stop Lockhart before he obliviated anyone else. I think you're just as good as any to have it. I don't think that you'd misuse it, would you?"

Hermione shook her head. She wasn't even sure HOW she'd misuse it. She knew how these things worked. Every turn was one hour back in time. What was she going to do, turn it over a thousand times to go back in time and kill Cromwell before he had stolen her from her biological parents? And what then? What would happen then? It was called a paradox. Who knew what would happen?

Even if she had the most noble of intentions and turned the time turner enough till she went all the way back to when Voldemort had first started to rise in power, and she killed him, what then? What would happen then?

Besides, even she didn't know how many turns of the time turner that would take.

And again, who knew what kind of paradox like that would do to the world or to time in general?

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said quietly, "I know how it works. I…," she looked at McGonagall, "Are you sure?"

McGonagall nodded.

"Well," Hermione said, frowning and troubled and pulled the gold chain over her head and around her neck and let the time turner's main piece fall to her chest, "If you're sure. And Dumbledore really wanted me to have it?"

McGonagall nodded. "That's right," she said, "He believes that you will benefit from having the time turner with you."

Hermione still frowned, but nodded.

She didn't know how she felt about that.

Dumbledore, if he had been the one that had wanted her to have the time turner, what did that mean?

Again, Hermione's distrust for Dumbledore grew.

And it seemed she had yet another secret to keep from Tom.

She would tell her friends about this, eventually. But she wasn't sure she should tell them immediately.

An hour after that, the students' got their books for the courses shipped in. And one of these books? It tried to bloody eat her, for goodness sake.

It had fur on it and it immediately opened its "mouth," which was the book's body and tried to gnaw on her right arm, and she had to wrap one of her belts around the book's body and secure it closed to make sure that it couldn't open its mouth.

She'd obviously have to ask Hagrid how to keep it under control, as the book was a "Magical Beasts," type of book.

She then, after securing the book shut and making sure her friends had the books secured shut too, Hermione began to plan on how she was to arrange her classes and which one she should use the time turner to get to.

Chapter Text

The first two times Hermione had used the time turner, she had been surprised, and disturbed at just how easy it had been.

She suddenly was very grateful that supposedly all the other time turners had been destroyed.

She had transported herself back only a few hours. Two hours for one class. Three hours for another class.

And all she had to do? Was make sure that no one noticed that she was in the other classes. Or rather…her past self was in the other classes. She understood immediately that this was going to get confusing. Incredibly fast.

Knowing which classes coincided helped.

She would be in one class then would go back in time, disappearing from the halls or room.

And would go off to another class.

This continued on for a few days. So far, none of her friends seemed to have noticed, much to her relief.

In Dumbledore's office, the headmaster and McGonagall were having a disclosed discussion.

The two magic users faced each other, Dumbledore behind his desk and McGonagall in front of it, looking at him.

"Are you sure this is wise, Albus?" She asked him, and they both knew what she was referring to.

Dumbledore smiled at McGonagall, "Ah, giving Ms. Granger the time turner and seeing what she'll do with it? I don't believe that that's a mistake. If I'm right? Then nothing will happen. She will simply use the time turner to go to different classes, and we'll know that we made the right choice. Don't forget about the prophecy."

McGonagall nodded. She hadn't forgotten about it.

But she was troubled. Hermione was dangerous. That went without question. No first year McGonagall had ever met-no eleven and a half-year-old, could ever master the killing curse on first try.

McGonagall supposed she agreed with Dumbledore's theory.

Contrary to what most people with noble intentions thought, it would not be the right thing to do to go back in time and kill Voldemort. What would something like that do to the world and time itself?

How many people would suffer from that paradox?

It was sparing potentially the entire planet from disaster, by letting several awful tragedies occur.

If Hermione didn't go back in time and do that, then to Dumbledore, that was a sign that he had chosen right.

Dumbledore added, "And I'm sure you know about Potter, don't you?"

McGonagall said, sighing, "I do. It's…it's terrible, how are we going to pull what You-know-who did to him, out?"

Dumbledore sighed, resting against his seat. "I don't think that there IS a way of stopping it, McGonagall," he said, "If Potter has some of Voldemort in him, there's nothing that can be done. It simply needs to be left alone and we have to see what will happen," he sighed again, "Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter both are saplings and we don't know yet what they will grow to be. We simply have to wait."

McGonagall nodded, though she withheld what she had wanted to say, which was to ask if Dumbledore recalled what happened the last two times he had just "waited."

The last two times?

Voldemort himself had risen.

And one of the three Black sisters had become one of the cruelest and darkest Death Eaters and followers of Voldemort, this world had ever seen.

But she supposed that yes, that was all they could do. Just wait.

Less they wished to harm two children who had shown no evidence yet of having potential for being dark magic users.

All they could do, was wait.

Today, as the classes began, one of Hermione's first classes, unfortunately, was her Divination class, taught by professor Trelawny. Hermione tried desperately not to roll her eyes every time the professor gave some big prediction. She almost growled when she saw how Trelawny said to Neville that he shouldn't be so sure that his grandmother was fine. Just because she was desperate for people to believe her bullshit, didn't mean that she should take it out on the more vulnerable students.

She then had said something or another about how that "thing" that Lavender Brown in Gryffindor, would happen this coming Friday.

Again, Hermione tried to hold in her groans. If Trelawny started moving in on either of her friends who she shared the class with, Millicent or Pansy, she would give that woman a piece of her damn mind.

She showed some big show of claiming that Harry Potter was going to die this year and said that the tea leaves in his cup were a sign of the "grim," a big black dog that symbolized death.

Hermione actually almost burst out laughing.

What a joke!

The next of the next set of classes-which was one of the classes she had travelled back in time to go to, had been to the Care of Magical Creatures. Taught by Hagrid.

The class with McGonagall had been a breath of relief, as McGonagall reassured Harry that he would be fine and that no student whom Trelawny had predicted would die, had died as of yet.

Then Hagrid's class was next.

She, Pansy, Astoria, Millicent and Daphne and the rest of the Slytherins in the class, went with the other students to the yard where Hagrid was.

At some point, Malfoy grunted, "How are we supposed to open our books?"

For a moment, Hermione was actually grateful for his loud mouth. She wondered that herself. In fact, she was positive everyone was questioning that.

Hagrid approached and upon hearing the students complain about the book, he said, "Well, stroke them of course!"

Hermione frowned, pulling out her book, still belted shut.

Hagrid took her book, causing Hermione to raise her head and look at him. Hagrid took the belt off from around the book and stroked the spine instantly. Hermione's book shivered and then purred in content as it relaxed, the book opening up.

Hagrid then handed the book to Hermione.

Hermione's eyes widened as she saw how completely obedient the book was now.

"Oh, that's how we get them to calm down," Daphne said, stunned and taking off the belt on her own book.

"Oh, how silly I am," Malfoy grunted, "Why couldn't I guess that?"

Malfoy's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Again, Hermione was surprised that she actually agreed with Malfoy. How the bloody hell could anyone guess that the way of getting a book like that calm was to stroke its spine?!

Hagrid said, now looking less confident than before, "Well, I thought they were funny."

Hermione winced. She liked Hagrid. She felt bad for him. He was big and naïve and often misunderstood.

It was just that he tended to bite off more than he could chew with a lot of the dangerous creatures he took into his care.

Harry Potter thankfully spoke up, getting Hagrid's attention, "So, what are we being taught today, Hagrid?"

Hagrid brightened up and nodded. "Yes," he said, "I'll go get the creatures for today." He went off to get whatever it was he wanted to show to them today.

Hermione desperately hoped, for Hagrid's sake, that it wasn't too dangerous a creature.

Malfoy, as always, couldn't keep his mouth shut. He sneered, "This place has really gone to the dogs, hasn't it? Can't believe this oaf is teaching classes."

"Shut up, Malfoy," both Hermione and Harry said at the same time.

Hermione looked at Harry, startled, and he looked at her, also surprised.

She then looked back at where Hagrid had disappeared off to.

Malfoy wasn't done, though. He grumbled, "Wait till my father hears about how this oaf is teaching the classes-"

"Shut up!" Hermione snapped this time, glaring at him, "Merlin, Malfoy, you can't ever fucking leave anything well enough alone, can you?!"

Whether it was the look in her eye or the tone in her voice or the vulgarity she had just said, but Hermione saw with satisfaction that Malfoy had looked startled. So startled that he lacked any retort.

The other students looked around, from Hermione to Malfoy. They were wondering what would happen next. Hermione turned away from Malfoy, not willing to do anymore. She just said, "You sound like the most entitled, spoiled little bitch I've ever met," Hermione said simply, stating it as fact, "You never had to work for anything, did you? Mommy and daddy always got you everything. Merlin forbid you ever work for anything, right, you sack of shit?!" She glared at Malfoy and something in how she looked at him must have scared him, because he backed away and Hermione felt satisfaction at the flicker of fear in his eyes.

A good portion of the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, stared at her, shocked and some horrified.

Hermione heard Lavender Brown gasp and she looked at where the Gryffindor was pointing.

Hagrid came back, but this time? He had a bunch of leashes in his hands, guiding several large, very dangerous looking creatures over.

Hermione's eyes didn't leave these creatures for a second.

Apart from that baby dragon she had seen in her first year and the body of that dead unicorn she had seen in the same year? The creatures she saw Hagrid leading over, were the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen.

Large, feathered creatures. Big beaks. Wings on their backs. Claws. And horse-like.

Hermione stared at those creatures. What the hell were those things?

One was gray. Another was chestnut brown. Another was reddish. Others were gold and almost green, black, orange and bright blue.

"What-?" Harry asked.

Hagrid said, "These are hippogriffs. Aren't they beautiful?"

Hermione couldn't help but wholly agree.

They WERE beautiful.

She watched as Hagrid untethered the gray hippogriff from the others and brought it over.

"This is Buckbeak," Hagrid said, "So, anyone want to come over and say 'hello?'"

Hermione walked forward, stepping closer to the fence surrounding where the hippogriffs were standing.

Hermione heard her friends gasping.

"Mione!" Pansy whispered, fearful. Hermione glanced back over her right shoulder, seeing all five Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent stared at her, terror all over their faces.

Hermione gave them a reassuring smile.

She was confident. After all, she wasn't a moron like Malfoy was.

She reached the fence and noticed that Harry had also stepped forward.

"Good!" Hagrid said, smiling, "Granger, Harry, if you want to come closer, you need to bow and do not blink a lot. Do not offend any hippogriff. They are very, very proud creatures. Insulting them may be the last thing that you ever do."

This didn't deter Hermione. She stepped closer. And so did Harry.

She heard some of the girls in Gryffindor whimper, "Harry, be careful! Remember your tea leaves!"

Hermione almost snorted, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

She got closer to where the single hippogriff stood and she bowed at the waist, never breaking eye contact with the creature. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry doing the same.

Then something unexpected happened. The hippogriff, Buckbeak, stared at both children approaching him and he slowly bowed his head. Hermione gasped.

Hagrid let out a chuckle of glee. "Oh, excellent," he said, "Now I think if you keep doing that, he'll let you get close enough to pet him."

Hermione smiled and happily went forward, still bowing, still staring at Buckbeak's orange eyes.

She could see harry start to falter. He was nervous. He didn't want to get any closer.

That was fine with her.

She stepped closer and reached her right hand out, showing Buckbeak that she wanted to pet him.

To her surprise, Buckbeak lifted his head, allowing his feathers to brush up against her palm, nuzzling Hermione's hand.

She gasped, eyes widening and grinned.

All around her and Harry, there was an applause of cheering and clapping.

"You're beautiful," Hermione whispered to Buckbeak and she was positive that Buckbeak knew what she was saying as he leaned further into her hand, and let out an almost crooning noise, making Hermione's grin widened.

As Buckbeak allowed her to pet him, she glanced back to see Malfoy and his buddies. They were glaring at her and Harry. Most likely hoping to see the hippogriff attack them and was disappointed that that wasn't what had happened.

If Hermione had felt any appreciation for the slimy little brat? She felt none now.

She wondered if she could get away with putting a hex on him, or if anyone would suspect hers specifically.

"Well," Hagrid said, "Very good, Ms. Granger. Now, I think Buckbeak will let you ride him."

Hermione froze. Um, wait, what?

That was a lot more than she was ready for.

Before she could protest, Hagrid had picked Hermione up and placed her down onto Buckbeak's back.

"Grab onto his feathers," Hagrid said, "But don't pull 'em out, because he won't thank you for that!"

He then, to Hermione's surprise, smacked the hippogriff's arse, and Hermione had to grip Buckbeak's feathers hard, as the hippogriff lunged forward, running across the ground and his wings spread, leaping up into the air and flying off with Hermione on his back.

Hermione wound her arms around Buckbeak's neck, tight, her legs clenching around Buckbeak's horse-like body.

She could feel several curses getting ready to launch themselves out of her mouth as the wind whipped her hair and against her skin.

What the bloody hell had she been thinking?!

She wasn't even good at riding a broomstick!

Let alone something that had a mind of its own and could fly of its own free will.

Buckbeak flew around above the yard and eventually swung back down to the yard, landing gracefully, despite the feathers that was being pulled as he dropped down. Hermione almost laughed in relief as Hagrid reached up and pulled her off of Buckbeak and lowered her back to the ground.

She swore she could feel all her hairs along her arms standing up on end.

She gasped as she walked along the ground floor, legs shaking. Wow.

Her friends came over, all four of them bowing to Buckbeak, so as to appease the creature.

Buckbeak bowed to them and Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne, and the four girls rushed over to Hermione, hugging her.

"That was great, Hermione!" Astoria said, grinning, "I know you don't like flying. But how was it?"

Hermione gave her four friends an aggravated look and all four of them laughed, seeing the "what the hell do you think?" in that look.

Pansy patted Hermione's back and Millicent, who had her left hand on Hermione's right arm, squeezed reassuringly.

"You did a great job, Hermione," Daphne assured Hermione.

Hermione smiled. "Thanks," she said, "All of you. Do you want to pet him?"

She chuckled at the nervous looks that Astoria and Pansy sent Buckbeak. Daphne and Millicent looked less hesitant.

Millicent and Daphne both bowed and Buckbeak allowed them near, and they began petting him.

Some of the other students came forward, emboldened by Hermione's success.

The students began bowing and creeping forward to the hippogriffs that bowed as well.

Hermione didn't miss how the remaining hippogriffs thrashed in their bonds. They didn't like being leashed like this. Hermione sent a glare to Hagrid, wondering what he was doing, keeping them locked up.

Hagrid might have liked magical creatures.

But Hermione was beginning to get the uncomfortable feeling that he liked them when they were in chains and were obeying him.

She pushed that thought away. She could just be looking too deeply into that. After all, one needed the control over magical creatures so that they could be taught about in class.

Then Malfoy and his friends came over.

Hermione tensed as Malfoy came close to her and her friends, bowing.

As he did, Buckbeak bowed his head.

Malfoy stuck his hand out and started petting the hippogriff.

Malfoy then said something that made Hermione grab the back of Millicent's clothing and the back of Daphne's clothing, pulling them back.

Malfoy said, "This isn't too hard at all. If that lowly mudblood, Granger can do it, anyone can. And you're not so bad, are you, you ugly chicken?"

And it was a good thing Hermione had pulled Millicent and Daphne away, because a second later, Buckbeak leapt up and swung his front talons forward, slicing Malfoy's arm open.

Malfoy cried out, howling in pain, blood all over his slashed opened arm.

Hagrid ran over and grabbed Buckbeak's collar, pushing the Hippogriff. "Buckbeak!" He yelled.

Pansy cried out, looking at Malfoy forlornly, "Oh, no! Draco!"

When Hagrid got Buckbeak under control, he turned around and kneeled down, scooping Malfoy up.

"Take him to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione yelled to him, "She'll heal him up fast!"

Hagrid carried Malfoy off with a group of students following, all chattering fearfully.

"Will he be alright?!" Pansy wailed.

Hermione tried to be comforting to her, even though she felt like Malfoy had deserved it.

"It'll be alright, Pansy," she said, "Pomfrey is an excellent healer, you know that."

Pansy nodded, sniffling.

Hermione bristled when she heard Crabbe say that Hagrid should be sacked.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" One Gryffindor student, Dean Thomas protested, and Hermione tensed when she noticed both Crabbe and Goyle flexing their muscles, getting ready for a fight. She then noticed something that startled her. Blaize. Blaize Zabini. He had tears in his eyes. He was wiping them, either because he had been taught strict gender roles, and had been taught the toxic myth that boys "shouldn't cry," or because he was trying to keep more drama from spilling out into the situation.

Hermione pushed the thought away. It was good to see that not all boys conformed to the unhealthy belief that "boys don't cry." It was a very unhealthy belief. And it led to unhealthy coping mechanisms when boys grew into adulthood.

Then one more thing caught her attention. Crabbe did something very uncharacteristic and turned to Blaize and said gently, "It'll be alright, Zabini. Malfoy will be alright. He'll be fine."

Zabini nodded weakly and quietly thanked Crabbe.

Hermione frowned, curious. But she decided to ignore the questions that were being raised and followed after her friends and Hagrid.

Draco was brought to the hospital wing and looked after.

Hermione had no doubt that Malfoy would be milking his injury for weeks-if not months to come.

That night, Hermione and the others spoke with Tom.

When all the other Slytherins had gone off to bed, including a wounded and patched up Malfoy, moaning his head off about "how horrible it was" and how "he had almost died," Hermione and the others spoke to Tom.

Tom stood before them out of the diary, in the Slytherin Common Room.

Daphne and Pansy told him everything.

Well, not everything. After all, Hermione's friends didn't know about the time turner. Or about the sorcerer's stone. Or about Cromwell and the labs. Not yet.

But they told Tom about Trelawny's bullshit. And about how Hermione had ridden a hippogriff and that that same hippogriff had attacked Malfoy because of the boy's foolishness.

Tom absorbed all of this and nodded, smiling.

"I can't say I'm surprised to hear of such hubris from someone like Abraxas's grandson," he said, "I presume he'll be alright."

"Of course," Hermione chuckled, earning a slight glare from Pansy, "He'll be fine. But he's going to be milking this injury for a while. As long as it gets him attention. I swear, if Malfoy ever gets a patronus, I'm betting it would be a peacock."

This actually earned a small giggle from Pansy and a smirk from all three Daphne, Astoria and Tom.

Millicent looked troubled though. "You know," She said, "Malfoy's not just going to let this go."

Hermione nodded, trying not to grimace. "I know," she agreed, "I'm worried about Hagrid's position."

"And about Buckbeak," Daphne said, "What if he gets Buckbeak hurt?"

"We don't know that yet," Astoria said gently, "We just have to wait for now."

An exasperated shared groan filled the room. No one liked just waiting. But apparently? That was all they could do as of right now.

Hermione shook her head, "Yeah, wait for a corrupt Ministry to make the choices. You know? Sometimes witch and wizard politics really suck."

Daphne, Millicent and Pansy all chuckled. They knew she wasn't wrong. And Hermione had told them what the word "suck" meant in muggle terms when it referred to something bad, almost a year ago.

It was more of an American muggle word, than anything else, but it had made its way over to Britain too.

"Well," Tom said, smiling sadly at Hermione, "I think we both know that muggle politics are bad on their own, as well."

Hermione winced. Well, he wasn't wrong. "You have that right," Hermione confessed, "You know, it makes me worried about this world sometimes. The witch and wizarding world, I mean."

Tom tilted his head, curious. "What do you mean?" He asked, "You're concerned about how witch and wizarding politics might affect the witch and wizarding world?"

"Well, that, yes," Hermione confessed, "But also, how muggle politics will affect it."

This caught everyone's attention.

"Mione?" Astoria asked, confused, "What do you mean?"

Hermione hesitated, unsure if she should give voice to her worries. She didn't want any of her friends to think that she, a muggle-born was speaking ill of her own world, of the people she had come from, but she knew she needed to be honest. Or at least, as honest as she could be, with as many secrets as she was keeping.

"What I mean is, I'm not unaware of how muggles would treat witches and wizards. How they HAVE treated witches and wizards in the past," she said, trying not to shudder as she remembered what Percival Cromwell had done to her and the other kids at his labs, "Anyone remember the witch trials and the witch hunts?"

As soon as she said that, everyone in the room, including Tom, tensed up. Oh, they all knew THOSE stories. Who in the witch and wizarding world didn't? The burnings and the hangings. The pressings with stones. The drownings.

People here liked to say that if any real witches or wizards had been caught, they would have easily apparated away. But that wasn't the case.

If these were witches and wizards in muggle villages? It was unlikely they had been familiar with spells able to do that.

So, many genuine witches and wizards most likely had been burned, drowned, hanged and pressed to death.

And those that hadn't been genuine witches and wizards? Had been caught in the crossfire and had been victims too.

"I'm just wondering," Hermione said, staring at the fire roaring in the fireplace, memories of Percival Cromwell and his cronies running through her mind, remembering the carnage at the labs, before her mother had killed Cromwell's followers, "Who is the bigger threat? Witches and wizards? Or muggles? And who do the laws against us showing our magic to muggles protecting? Them, or us?"

She heard a sharp intake of breath all around her.

From where she sat, Daphne stared at Hermione, mouth dropping. She had never heard Hermione talk like this before. She wondered if the story of what had happened to Tom and his mate had caused Hermione to have such pessimistic thoughts.

Then Daphne noticed something. To the right of her. A look on Tom's face as he looked at Hermione.

Daphne turned to him, and looked, her heart almost catching in her throat at what she saw.

Tom was looking at Hermione as if he had never seen her before. As if he was looking at her in a new light and he looked intrigued. And for just a second, Daphne could have sworn she saw a smirk on his face as he looked at Hermione, and she could have sworn she saw a look of triumph in his eyes, before his face went blank and impassive again.

Daphne almost blanched. Had…she really just seen that right now?

Daphne's attention was pulled away from Tom, when she heard Millicent start to speak. "Hermione," Millicent said, "You're…starting to sound like Grindelwald. And not just Grindelwald. You're starting to sound like Him."

Daphne, Pansy and Astoria all snapped their heads to stare at Millicent. She was being too harsh.

Had Grindelwald believed that muggles were dangerous to magic users? Yes. But what he had done that Hermione would never do? Had been so twisted. Terrible experiments had been used by him on students and attempted genocide.

And Voldemort? He had been even worse.

Hermione winced, but shook her head. "I know," she confessed, "I know, Millicent. But I have to wonder, who would be in more danger? I mean, yes, there are cases like Grindelwald. And Voldemort and his followers. But haven't muggles always hurt those that have used magic? Ever since…," Hermione looked up at Tom, "Ever since Christianity began to spread throughout the world by European invaders?"

Tom nodded. "I've noticed that," he said, voice solemn, "Ever since Christianity? Witches and wizards have never known peace from muggles."

Daphne nodded, trying to ignore the unease at what she was sure she had seen on Tom's face.

What both Hermione and Tom had said was true. Before Christianity? There had been all kinds of religions allowed. Today, they were called "pagan religions," by the pious Christians. Celtic religions, Nordic religions, Indigenous religions, and so on. And Christians? They had caused so much damage to those cultures and those religions.

And had put all magic users in danger.

So, the question was, were muggles really to blame? Or just the Christian ones?

"You're saying," Tom said, looking at Hermione, "That you think that only Christian muggles are to blame."

Hermione nodded. "I might just be trying to simplify it," she confessed, "But it makes sense, doesn't it?"

Daphne nodded. It did. The timing fit. When had magic been more or less accepted? When there had been religions governing it before Christianity. Even one of the other two Abrahamic religions, Judaism had included magic. Creating creatures like Golems and bringing plagues against those that would enslave and kill Jews.

Christianity had magic in it too. Something about someone turning water into wine. But Christians? They were too bigoted to think about that too hard. So, they cut out what they didn't accept and crushed and killed anyone who didn't conform to their religion.

And after Christians began invading different lands, conquering and committing genocide wherever they touched? Magic had begun to be weeded out.

From all around Europe itself, to North America, to South America.

And then there was how misogynistic and homophobic Christians tended to be. Perhaps not all of them. But enough of them that it had caused a good amount of harm to women, Jews and anyone LGBTQ and so on.

Christianity was why so many countries had as strict gender roles as they did. And why women were so oppressed in many countries and why anyone so much as daring to go outside of heteronormativity tended to be punished severely.

If Christianity wasn't such a worldwide religion, it would be called what it was. Terrorism.

It fit. Hermione's theory fit.

Hermione stared into the fire, and again, she wondered-who was the bigger threat? Witches and wizards? Or muggles? Especially Christian muggles?

What then? What did they do then?

Hermione's mind flashed to Percival Cromwell, and all of those who had worked for him.

She remembered the three preachers that had occasionally shown up at Cromwell's labs and had told Cromwell that he had been doing "god's work."

What a crock of hogwash.

She was glad that those three preachers had been amongst the number that her mother had killed.

But it definitely made her wonder.

As far as she knew, none of the different sects of witches and wizards were Christian. Some of them worshipped no gods. Some of them worshipped gods that "pagans" would be familiar with and more Christians came into the witch and wizarding world, what would that mean?

Would the many different cultures of the witch and wizarding world be in danger of losing their culture?

How many cultures within the magical world would be in danger, should more muggles, especially Christian muggles, or muggles who followed other Abrahamic religions enter this world?

Hermione's troubled thoughts went to a very, very dark area.

She didn't want to think like this.

But a question popped up in her mind before she could help it.

Had there been a good reason for Salazar Slytherin not wanting muggle-borns and half-bloods here at Hogwarts?

If one was a wizard and responsible for the safety of over millions of students, young, naïve and vulnerable students-and other students, children or grandchildren of the witch hunters during the period Salazar Slytherin lived, tried to apply to the school that wizard was supposed to protect, what would that wizard do to protect their students?

Students that might be hunted by the parents or grandparents of the muggle-borns or half-bloods?

Hermione felt her throat go dry as she had contemplated that.

That was a truly disturbing thing for her to question.

Was Salazar Slytherin truly without grounds for his bigotry? Had it only been bigotry? Or understandable caution?

She pushed that thought away. Caution or not, there was no reason to take any wrongs that a muggle-born's family or a half-blood's family might have done on a child who simply had come to a school to learn.

She turned to her friends, pushing her dark thoughts away. "It's alright," she said, forcing out a small laugh, "I'm fine. I'm sorry. I got kind of dark there, I know."

"It's okay, Hermione," Pansy said, nodding, "We're all worried about things. And it's hard not to think about dark stuff when it comes to politics."

Daphne said quietly, unable to help but glance nervously at Tom and thankfully he hadn't seen her, "What time is it? I think maybe we should get to bed."

Millicent checked over her shoulder at the grandfather clock against the wall.

She turned back to her friends, "It's almost 12. Yeah, we should head off to bed."

Hermione nodded. She looked at Tom. "Okay, sorry, Tom," she said, "But I'm going to have to say goodnight."

Tom nodded, smiling. "It's quite alright," he said, "Goodnight, Hermione." He turned to the other girls and bid each of them goodnight and they did the same and Daphne tried very, very hard not to let her unease show as she told him goodnight. Then Hermione closed up the diary and Tom disappeared.

Only then did Daphne release the tight breath that she had been holding.

Hermione sighed and got up, obviously trying to shake the dark thoughts from her mind, Daphne suspected.

As they headed off to their room, it was only when Hermione stuffed the diary under her mattress and the other girls went to use the washroom to brush their teeth that she asked Hermione to come over to her.

Hermione frowned and did as she was asked, going back over to Daphne in the common room.

"Daphne?" She asked, "You okay?"

Daphne nodded. "Yeah," she said, "It's just…I don't know, I feel like I saw something weird about Tom when we were talking just now."

"Weird about him?" Hermione echoed, "What was weird?"

Daphne took a breath and said, looking right at Hermione's eyes, knowing she was about to take a very big risk with her friendship with Hermione here, "When you were asking who was a bigger threat? When you asked whether us witches and wizards were a bigger threat or the muggles were a bigger threat? Tom looked funny. He…he looked at you like he was really pleased. Like he had an advantage or something."

"And advantage?" Hermione asked, "Over what?"

Daphne shook her head, "I don't know," she confessed, "It just made me feel very uneasy."

Daphne didn't like suspecting Tom like this. He was her friend too, as well as Hermione's.

"I'm sorry," she said, earning a confused look from Hermione, "For talking about Tom like this. He's our friend, after all."

Hermione nodded. "I understand," she said, "But I'm sure it's nothing. He probably just felt a little vindicated because of what happened to his mate, you know?"

Daphne nodded. But something felt off about that.

Tom's reaction? It had felt too strong for it to just be that.

Still, Daphne decided not to push it.

"Let's get to bed," Hermione said, nodding to their room.

Daphne nodded. "By the way," she said, "Please don't tell Tom what I said? You know, if it's nothing, then it will be a big deal over nothing. But if it's not nothing? Then…"

Hermione nodded.

If it wasn't nothing, then it would be very, very bad if it got back to Tom.

"Don't worry," she said, "I won't mention it."

Daphne smiled and thanked Hermione.

They got ready for bed and got under the covers of their beds and as they rested, Hermione felt Crookshanks jump up onto her bed, meowing quietly as he curled up on Hermione's legs and as she rested against her pillow, Daphne's words drifted to the front of her mind. Had Tom's reaction really been nothing?

What if it really WAS something?

Hermione pushed that thought away. She couldn't think about that as a possibility. Not right now. She just needed sleep.

She closed her eyes and her mind eventually was lulled to sleep, thoughts of the muggle world, Tom and what Daphne had said beginning to be buried under a layer of sleep.

The next day, Hermione had grabbed her stuff, including her time turner and headed to her first couple of classes. They had gone smoothly, more or less.

Then the class with Severus Snape came.

Snape as usual, tormented Neville Longbottom. When Neville made a mistake, Snape threatened to poison Neville's toad, Trevor.

Hermione bristled. It was bad enough watching Malfoy milk all the attention and sympathy he was getting for his so-called injury, and getting Snape to make Weasley cut up his nettles into little pieces for Malfoy, but she could feel her blood boil at Snape threatening Neville's toad.

So, she had decided to help Neville. She sent him some notes, telling him exactly what ingredients to put in and what amount to use.

But because Neville got them exactly right? Snape had known that Hermione had helped Neville.

And oh, he couldn't let that go, could he?

Snape had then taken the potion and had dropped some of it onto Trevor the toad, and Hermione had whispered reassuringly to Neville as she watched the panicking boy tremble. She knew nothing bad would happen to Trevor, as it had been the right amount of ingredients, but it was still an incredibly cruel thing to do to Neville.

When Trevor had turned into a tad pole, all of the students of the Slytherin House, save for Hermione and her friends, burst out laughing.

Then when Snape gave Trevor the other potion, and Trevor went right back to normal, Hermione felt Neville breathe out in relief and she could detect the disappointment from the other Slytherins that were not her friends.

Her jaw tightened. She glared at Snape.

She was really, really beginning to hate him.

When poor Neville had gotten Trevor back, they had headed to the Great Hall. After that, would be Remus's class.

However, Hermione had planned to go to some other classes between then. She said to the others when they were halfway in the hallway, close to the Great Hall that Hermione made her excuse.

"I forgot something back at Snape's class," she lied and turned and quickly left her friends in the hall, running to a secluded part of the halls and pulled out the time turner.

When she had finished the two classes she had gone to, using the time turner, that was hours before Snape's class, she brought along her bag full of books and regrouped with her friends in the hall, only a few minutes after she had left them-a few minutes for them, anyway.

Pansy frowned, seeing Hermione's bulging bag.

"Why do you have so many books?" She asked.

Hermione smiled. "Because I wanted the right books for class," she answered, then her eyes went wide when she saw a split going down the bag. Crud. How had she missed that?

One of the books spilled out of the bag and Astoria leaned down, picking it up and looking at it, frowning. "Hermione?" She said, "You're not even taking this class. Why do you have a book for it?"

Hermione snatched the book quickly from Astoria.

"Never mind it," Hermione said, tired out from her last couple of classes, "Now, let's get some food, I'm starved." That wasn't a lie. The last two classes had felt incredibly long.

She walked off to the Great Hall, and caught Astoria saying to the others, "Um, is it just me or does it feel like she's hiding something from us?"

Hermione sighed, securing her bag and using her wand to repair the bag, hoping that her friends didn't question her further.

They had gotten food from the Great Hall, thankfully talking about other subjects.

They then had gone off to Remus's class and had met up with him there with the rest of the class.

Remus had done something quite impressive, which was got a piece of gum out from a keyhole of the door that the ghost, Peeves had stuck it into, and sent it magically flying into Peeves's throat.

Peeves had glowered at Lupin and had left.

Hermione was beginning to like Remus more and more.

Then Remus had done something strange. He had said that they would be getting a practical class today. Hermione and the others had looked at each other, startled. A practical class? Well, they all knew what the last practical class had led to multiple Cornish pixies flooding the room, but okay.

So, they reached a room with a wardrobe in it. Unfortunately, Snape was there.

Snape sneered that Remus should be careful of doing anything involving Neville, unless Hermione was helping him.

Hermione glared at Snape, disgusted. She was really, really beginning to hate him.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Harry was glaring at Snape too and couldn't help but feel relieved. Different houses or not, her and Harry seemed to be of the same mind as Snape.

Remus then had smiled and had informed Snape very calmly that he intended to have Neville help him and that he had no doubt that Neville would pull off the act with great skill.

Hermione couldn't hold back her smile at how red Neville got at the praise. And her smile turned into a grin when Snape scowled again and whirled around and left.

Hermione turned back to the middle of the room where Remus stood.

To the students' surprise, that wardrobe that was in the middle of the room, began knocking around wildly.

"What's in that?" Pansy asked cautiously, moving forward.

Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea," she confessed.

"Professor?" Neville asked Lupin, "What's in that wardrobe?"

"That," Lupin said, "Is a bogart."

Hermione's eyes widened. That would explain why it was kept away. Didn't want to scare all the students or startle them by watching the bogart try desperately to figure out what to turn into in order to scare off multiple humans.

"Today," Lupin continued, "We will be learning how to prevent a bogart from attacking you."

The class went on. There was a way of fending off a bogart. Hermione knew of both ways, as she had read of them. One of those ways was having more than one person with you when facing that bogart, and so the bogart would get confused and not know what to turn into. The other way was through a spell called, "riddikulus." To turn the thing that you were scared of, into something you found funny.

Hermione couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

Because what would a bogart facing off with her show of her fears?

Cromwell? The dead muggle-born kids from Cromwell's labs? Quirrell? Voldemort? Aragog, Hagrid's pet? The dementor that she and Daphne had seen on the train?

The dementor or Aragog would be frightening-but a good thing.

It would be better than if she saw Quirrell, Voldemort or Cromwell.

If it was Cromwell she saw? Or the dead bodies of the other muggle-born kids? Someone that no one but her knew the identity of? Then there would be questions. A lot of questions.

If it was Quirrell or Voldemort? There would be other questions. The more personal kind of questions.

Hermione half suspected that she would be better off abstaining from participating.

Thankfully there were a lot of other kids in front of her, going first.

The first three that went, were Gryffindors.

The next three were two Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw. The Patil sisters were in this set of three. One of them, Parvati being in Gryffindor and Padma being in Ravenclaw.

Different fears came popping up out of the woodwork. Neville's fear was Snape. And it ended with Snape being dressed up in Neville's grandmother's clothes. Other horrors appeared left and right as the students approached the bogart. Frightening clowns, giant snakes, giant spiders-Ronald Weasley's personal fear, sea serpents, krakens, giant centipedes, and each of them were spelled away with some new form of amusement.

Then Harry Potter's turn came along.

Things happened very quickly after that.

Remus jumped in front of Harry, as the bogart took the form of a dementor.

The bogart's form changed from a dementor, into…

Hermione frowned when she saw what was in front of Remus, after the bogart had changed.

A perfectly spherical, pale ball of light, surrounded by moving dark clouds. It occurred to Hermione immediately what she was seeing. If those shapes around the ball of light were clouds, then the sphere was the full moon.

But why would Remus Lupin be afraid of a moon?

Remus turned the bogart into a deflating balloon that let loose a farting noise as it was deflating and Remus sent it flying back into the wardrobe, closing the wardrobe up.

Hermione watched as Remus let out a relieved sigh and said that the class was dismissed early.

Hermione couldn't help but be grateful for that.

Phew.

However, she was left with a question.

Why was Remus Lupin scared of a full moon?

As she and her friends walked away from class, Millicent asked, "Hermione? What's wrong?"

Hermione said, "You all saw what was in front of Lupin, right? That moon?"

Astoria nodded. "We saw," she said, "Why?"

"Well," Hermione said, "Why would he be scared of a full moon? What's to be scared of?"

"Who knows?" Pansy said, shrugging, "People have all types of different fears. Who knows?"

Hermione nodded, but it itched at her for some reason. She then remembered what Lupin's patronus was.

She had seen it on the train, when he had gotten rid of the dementor. It had been a wolf.

Hermione tried not to look too deeply into that. But she couldn't help it.

There was a word forming in the back of her mind, but she didn't want to jump to conclusions, both because it was an extreme conclusion, and it could potentially be dangerous for Lupin if anyone found out.

But that word was there, nonetheless.

Werewolf.

She didn't want to think that that was a possibility. Because what if she was wrong? She could potentially be putting Lupin's job at risk if she pushed this line of logic.

And if it was true? So what? Lupin hadn't harmed anyone yet.

The prejudice that tended to be exhibited against werewolves was one of the many, many issues that Hermione had with the magical world. So, if Lupin was a werewolf and people found out, or if anyone suspected that he might be a werewolf, there would be no gentility offered to him. No one would give him a chance to prove that he wasn't a threat.

It would be decided before Lupin even got a chance to defend himself. No one would even bother offering him a chance. It would be decided before he got to do anything.

Remus would be demanded by the parents of students to be removed from Hogwarts before you could say, "riddikulus."

So, no, Hermione knew that she couldn't pursue this line of logic. Not without caution, she couldn't.

For his sake, she would let it go, for now.

As she would have to let go of what Daphne had told her about Tom last night.

But both those pieces of information would be something she'd need to keep in mind, if she saw other signs.

Chapter Text

During lunch, when Daphne had eaten with her friends, before Remus Lupin's class, she couldn't help but think about that look on Tom's face when he had heard the dark, misanthropic words that had come out of Hermione last night.

She didn't know why it bothered her so much.

It unsettled her, and she had no idea why.

That look on his face…

She tried to ignore why it made her uneasy. But the way that Tom had looked at Hermione, reminded her almost of the way a wolf would look at a wounded lamb. An almost predatory way.

Daphne didn't THINK it was sexual.

At least, she didn't think so.

She didn't believe it had been sexual. But she was positive that there had been something predatory there.

Why?

What was Tom after? If anything?

If Daphne really hadn't been imagining it.

Maybe Daphne had been imagining it. But if she hadn't been? What did it mean?

Maybe it really had been nothing. Still…

Daphne didn't like thinking about Tom like this. He was their friend. They might have known not that much about him, aside from that he was a half-blood, had graduated in the 1940s, his mother had died when he had been born, and his mother had been a witch, from the pureblood family, the Gaunt family, his father had been a muggle and had abandoned him and his mother and he had grown up in an orphanage and his soulmate, a muggle had been killed right in front of him.

And that was a lot, reasonably. But still, Daphne got the feeling that there was a lot that he had been keeping from them.

Still, Daphne didn't have long to consider that.

Eventually, time had come for students to go off to Hogsmeade.

It was freezing cold out, and there was snow all over the ground. So, Hermione and the others all dressed very warmly before they got ready to take off.

All students needed one thing to get to Hogsmeade. They required the signed form from their parents or guardians, and Daphne, like all of her friends, had sent off their forms to their parents and the forms got sent back, with signed names across them, or had been signed before arriving here at Hogwarts.

So, Daphne, Hermione, Astoria, Millicent, Pansy and the rest of the kids began to take off for Hogsmeade, with Snape leading them and as they passed one of the other courtyards, Daphne noticed Hermione looking through the stone archway, leading to one of the other entrances to the castle. The Gryffindors were following McGonagall away from the courtyard and both Daphne and Hermione noticed Harry Potter standing on the steps, watching the rest of the Gryffindors leaving.

Hermione frowned, looking at McGonagall.

"Professor?" She asked the Gryffindor House's head, "Why isn't Harry Potter coming with all of you to Hogsmeade?"

McGonagall sighed and said briskly, though softly, as despite Hermione being in Slytherin, it didn't change that she respected Hermione Granger's abilities, skills and intelligence, "As I'm sure you know, all students need a signed form to go to Hogsmeade from their parents or guardians. Mr. Potter does not have those forms. So, I'm afraid he can't go to Hogsmeade."

Hermione paused, then stared at McGonagall skeptically as she said, "So, let me see if I understand this-no one needs a signed form for playing one of the most dangerous sports ever, Quidditch? But going to a village that just happens to have booze and sweets, needs a signed form of consent from parents or guardians?"

McGonagall's aggravated look told all five Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy exactly what McGonagall thought of that rule.

The professor answered, "I assure you, I feel no joy at upholding that particular rule. But unfortunately I don't make the rules."

"No," Hermione agreed, "You just help enforce them."

At the startled look McGonagall gave Hermione, Hermione turned away and walked away from Snape and the rest of the Slytherins and away from McGonagall. Hermione asked Daphne and the others quietly, "Can you guys wait here? I'll be right back."

Daphne, Pansy, Astoria and Millicent all shared a confused look, but they all nodded.

Hermione made her way over to where Harry Potter stood, ignoring Ron Weasley's furious snap of, "The hell are you doing, Granger? You get away from him, you slithering murderer!"

Hermione glanced out of the corner of her eye, jaw clenching and worrying that her friends might attack Weasley, but thankfully, McGonagall snapped at Weasley and deducted over twenty points from Gryffindor. She smirked at Weasley's face paling. Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy all looked ready to murder him, but Ginny, Ron's sister, punched him in the shoulder, snapping at him, so he more or less had been cowed into submission, thankfully. No need for Hermione's friends to risk getting into trouble.

Hermione got to Harry and asked gently, "Harry, you can't go to Hogsmeade?" She let Harry search her face, allowing him to see that she was genuine and she wasn't mocking him in any way.

He nodded. "Yeah," he said, "Need a signed form. And…my guardians, they weren't exactly what you might call cooperative or helpful with me."

Hermione knew that Harry's extended family, his uncle, aunt and cousin, the "Dursleys," were unpleasant people. At least, that was the gossip that ran around Hogwarts. Muggles that disliked Harry, mistreated him and he hated them as much as they hated him.

She sighed, sympathetic, seeing his solemn expression, "Do you want me to bring you back a lot of sweets from Honeydukes? I can bring you back some, if you tell me what types of sweets you like."

Harry looked startled at this offer.

"No," he said, "But thank you. It's alright. I think I'm just going to stay around Hogwarts."

Hermione sighed. "Are you sure?" She asked.

Harry nodded. "Thank you," he said again.

Hermione nodded and went back to join her friends.

Snape and the rest of the Slytherins and McGonagall and the rest of the Gryffindors, as well as the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs went off to Hogsmeade village. So, Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent would have to head there themselves.

They began walking across the yard of the school and headed down to the village.

They got to the village, buying a good portion of sweets. They laughed together, ate, and talked.

It was fun.

Then, something odd happened-as was usually the case around here.

Pansy spotted something going across the snow and pointed it out to her friends. They all looked, holding their various treats in their hands as they did.

Footprints in the snow.

Footprints that kept appearing, but there was no one there.

Hermione, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne all looked at each other in confusion. The hell?

Ghosts didn't leave footprints. And they could see ghosts.

And Tom, whatever he was exactly, didn't leave footprints either and they had been able to see him now for a year.

So, what was this new thing?

The girls watched the footprints reappear over and over along the snow.

Daphne slowly turned to look at Hermione. "Lemme guess," she said, "You think we should follow it?"

Hermione shrugged, looking slightly worried. "Well, it's not like the teachers are real strict about any protection provided for us. And they're letting dementors run around here. So, I'm thinking maybe we have to look out for ourselves. It doesn't look like the teachers are trying to do it."

Daphne and Millicent groaned. Well, she wasn't wrong.

"Alright," Astoria agreed, "Let's go."

The four of them and Hermione walked after the departing footsteps, caused by the invisible force.

They followed the footprints, till they spotted minister Cornelius Fudge, Hagrid and some others-including McGonagall, gathering around a pub. They were talking about…Sirius Black, about how he was potentially around the area. The group of authority figures went into the Three Broomsticks-the pub of the village, and saw all of the authority figures filing away into the pub and were startled when the cause of those footprints in the snow followed after them. The pub door closed and the five girls stopped in front of the building.

"Should we go after…whatever that was?" Astoria asked, frowning.

"Maybe we should wait," Hermione said, looking up along the length of the building, troubled, "If we hear screams or crashing, then maybe we should do something. But until then…"

So, they waited, sitting down on a bench that was across from the pub, dusting some snow off it first.

"You know," Pansy said, frowning, "I think I might know what that was we were chasing. Ever hear of an invisibility cloak?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Oh.

"An invisibility cloak?" Daphne asked, startled, "Hell, really? That would explain it. But aren't those rare?"

Pansy and Hermione both nodded.

Invisibility cloaks WERE rare.

The original invisibility cloak, made from the cloak of Death itself-supposedly, if one believed the Tale of the Three Brothers, the Tale of the Deathly Hallows as truth, anyway.

No one knew where the original invisibility cloak was-if it even existed. And no one knew where the other two Deathly Hallows were. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, no one knew where they were. No one had seen them in centuries, either.

After almost a half hour, the door to the pub opened up, slammed open, really, and the footprints in the snow appeared again.

The footprints seemed to be going across the snow faster now, rapidly, really. Hermione and her friends watched with growing curiosity and growing apprehension.

They eventually reached a secluded area away from the village and they stopped in front of a large rock, hearing crying across from where they stopped.

Hermione looked at the others, confused.

"If that's an invisibility cloak," Millicent asked, "Then who is that?"

Hermione bit her lip. She had an idea. The crying sounded like it belonged to someone young, not older. Not like it belonged to a full-grown adult.

So, this wasn't Sirius Black, at least. And why would HE be crying, anyway?

So, who wasn't supposed to be here, and was young and would be upset after listening in on a conversation about Sirius Black?

Hermione slowly began to walk forward, approaching the figure seated on the rock. "Harry?" She asked gently.

She heard a few gasps behind her. "Harry?" Millicent asked, "Mione, are you sure?"

Hermione nodded and kneeled near the rock and reached her right hand up and slowly lowered her hand onto the area where she heard the sniffling coming from. She felt soft fabric under her hand and pulled gently. A cloak was pulled off of a crying young boy and yes, it WAS an invisibility cloak. And it WAS Harry.

Harry sobbed and cried, body shaking.

"Harry?" Hermione asked softly.

"He was their friend," he said, "And he betrayed them." He turned and looked up at Hermione, his usually gentle and calm face a mask of fury as he shouted, "He was their friend!"

Hermione shifted back, shocked.

Had…had Harry not known?

How had Harry not known? Everyone knew that Sirius Black had been James and Lily Potter's friend. And that he had betrayed them. Everyone knew that Sirius Black had been Harry Potter's godfather.

How…how had Harry not known?

Hermione felt a shard of disgust. How could any of the adults around Harry have thought that this was a good idea? Keeping something like this from Harry?

"I hope that he finds me," Harry said, still enraged, "I hope he does. Because when he does, I'm gonna be ready. When he does, I'm gonna kill him!"

Hermione shuddered. She knew he meant it. She could hear it. Could see it in his green eyes.

Harry meant every word.

Hermione recognized a fellow killer when she saw one. And this kid, he was someone ready to murder out of revenge.

And she couldn't blame him.

Hermione got up and walked back to her friends as Harry stewed in his rage.

Hermione looked to her friends who all looked shocked.

"He didn't know?!" Pansy hissed, "How the hell didn't he know?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't get it either," she said, "But he knows now. And he wants blood. I guess the most we can do is stay out of the way. He has every right to want to kill Black."

Astoria grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah," she agreed, "You're right. He does. But wow."

Millicent then looked at Harry. "How did you get out of the castle without anyone seeing your footprints? Even if you have an invisibility cloak, people would still see the footprints."

Still angry, Harry put his left hand on his left pocket of his robe, obviously hiding something.

Hermione sighed, "It's alright. We…no judgment. If you found a way out of the castle without anyone seeing your footprints, then goody for you. I AM curious about where you got that invisibility cloak from."

Harry looked at Hermione and he and Hermione shared a dangerous look.

Hermione didn't want to have to blackmail him. But if there was a threat here, they all had to be careful. They all had to know.

And Harry? He seemed to get that that was the only option she had here.

Harry glared and said, "From my father. I got a package from some anonymous person that said in the note with it that it belonged to my dad."

Hermione frowned. Interesting. Most invisibility cloaks lost their power after several years.

So, what type of invisibility cloak maintained its power to keep its bearer invisible for this long?

A whisper said in the back of Hermione's brain, (Like the original invisibility cloak? The one cut from Death's robes?)

Hermione stiffened. (You stop that!) She thought to herself.

She hated how wild her thoughts got. How she found herself jumping from one conclusion to the next.

Harry being in possession of the real, original invisibility cloak? That was insane.

That couldn't be.

"And how you got out of the castle without your footprints being seen?" Hermione asked.

Harry stared at Hermione, glared, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a parchment of some kind.

Hermione stepped closer, peering down at the parchment. Her eyes widened. It was a map of some sort.

"What is that?" She asked.

"Something the Weasley twins gave me," he said quietly.

He then added, taking out his maple wood wand and aiming it at the map, and said, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

The entirety of the map appeared on the parchment. All of Hogwarts and the Hogwarts grounds and several names across that map, right above multiple footprints appeared under each name on the parchment.

Harry said, "Those are the words that are used to see all of the map." He pulled his wand away from the map, "And to hide everything, you say, 'mischief managed.'"

Hermione nodded, eyeing the very obviously magically created map.

It was an entire map of the school grounds and all of the inhabitants in it.

"Did they make it?" She asked Harry, unable to help but ask the question, though she doubted that Fred and George had the skills necessary to make such a map.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said, "I don't think so. They said they found it."

Hermione nodded.

"What does it do?" Hermione asked.

Harry said, snorting weakly, "It can track the movements of every person in Hogwarts and on Hogwarts grounds."

Hermione's eyes widened. Okay, now she KNEW for sure that Fred and George couldn't have made this. This was a too complex type of magic.

"Why are you trusting us with this?" Daphne asked suspiciously.

Harry looked at Daphne, then looked back at Hermione and said, "I don't trust all of you. I trust Hermione." He grinned, despite the lingering anger on his face, "The way you chewed Malfoy out? That's enough reason for me. Besides, Neville trusts you."

Hermione nodded, smiling.

"So, you know nothing besides that it was found and Fred and George Weasley gave it to you?" She asked, "That's it?"

Harry nodded, still sniffling. "Yeah," he said, "That's all I know. I don't know where it came from."

Hermione sighed, "Alright. Harry, can I make a request?"

Harry looked at her, startled.

Hermione said, "If this map can keep track of people in the map, then can I borrow it? I'll return it, promise. But I want to keep a watch of the castle."

She had told herself that she would stop thinking about Remus Lupin and try to give him a chance to defend himself.

But IF he was what a part of her was beginning to think he was, then wouldn't he leave around the time of the full moon? On the day of when the full moon was to be in the air, and Hermione held the map out in front of her, would see Remus Lupin's footsteps leaving the castle, to hide somewhere so that he couldn't hurt anyone?

Harry looked at the map suspiciously, then slowly handed the map to Hermione.

"Alright," he said, "But give it back at some point, okay?"

Hermione nodded. As long as she was able to hold onto the map for a few months, if she saw the pattern? Then she'd know.

Also?

She really, really wanted to keep an eye on Snape.

He had been a death eater. That alone was reason enough.

But also, from what she had been able to see? He was vile to almost everyone he met. Which told her, what? That he was only working with Dumbledore because he benefitted from something Dumbledore offered him, or because he had to.

Which meant that Snape likely would side again with Voldemort, first chance he got.

So, yes, she wanted to keep an eye on that slimy creep. And she wanted to keep an eye on Malfoy and his group too, when they weren't sharing the common room and tables at the Great Hall, anyway.

Hermione took the map, nodding to Harry gratefully. "Thanks," she said to Harry.

Harry nodded, looking stressed and angry still.

Hermione added, "Hey? Don't tell Ron or any of the Weasleys or any of the other Gryffindors about this, okay?"

Harry looked at her hesitantly, then nodded. "Alright," he said, "But Promise me you won't tell Malfoy or any of the other Slytherins outside of your group."

Hermione nodded, smirking. "I think we can arrange that," she looked at the other girls and they nodded. She turned back to Harry, "Thanks for this, Harry." She said.

Harry nodded.

Then Hermione said, "Hey? I won't say a word about the fact that you know now about Sirius Black's connection to your parents. They shouldn't have kept that from you. I won't tell anyone that you intend to kill Black, okay? Promise. If you ask me, I think it's about time someone killed one of those fucking death eaters."

Harry sighed, nodding. "Right," he said, "You're a muggle-born, right? I guess you'd want them to be locked away for life."

Hermione nodded. "And YOU'RE a half-blood," she stated, "I still can't believe that Dumbledore let Snape work in a school near children."

At Harry's confused look, Hermione gawked. Wait, Harry didn't know about Snape either?!

Did this boy know anything?!

What were the teachers thinking, keeping all this from him?

"Harry," Hermione said, "Snape was a death eater. Before. But he had some information of some sort and gave it to Dumbledore, and in exchange, Snape wasn't imprisoned and got a job at Hogwarts."

Harry sat back on the rock, stunned.

"I know," Hermione said, "Fucked up, isn't it?"

In that moment, while it hadn't been said, an agreement had been formed between Hermione and her friends and Harry. They'd watch out for him, and he'd watch out for them. And they'd deliver any information they felt was important to each other.

They didn't need to say it. Hermione was positive that they all understood, without words.

Eventually, Hermione kept track of the days, made sure to know when the full moon was, and kept the map on hand, ready to look at it at any moment.

She had been looking at it every now and then during the night to inspect some of what the other residents of the castle and grounds were doing.

Then, one night, something happened.

Hermione was looking at the map as her friends, save for Daphne, slept, and she caught sight of something very, very strange.

A name on the map going through several Hogwarts halls.

The name attached to those footprints was the name "Peter Pettigrew."

Peter Pettigrew, the name of the friend of the Potters and Sirius Black, who had been killed by Sirius Black, before Sirius betrayed the Potters.

Hermione frowned.

The hell?

How was that possible?

Pettigrew was dead.

So, how-?

Hermione, before she could help herself, she swung herself out of bed and put on her shoes, grabbed her wand, grabbed the map and looked at Daphne and said, "I'll be back soon enough. Just stay here," and headed out of the room. She knew Crookshanks was running around the castle somewhere.

It was odd-Crookshanks hadn't been very present these past few months. He had been leaving her side every now and then. For what reason, she didn't know. But you know what? No judgment. He was part cat and part kneazle. He did what he wanted.

She walked out of the Slytherin common room and out from the portrait guarding it, then went down the hall, tracking Peter Pettigrew's footsteps.

Then when she was about to leave the dungeons, she heard footsteps behind her and jumped when she saw Daphne coming closer, her wand raised and light coming out of the tip of the wand.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Greengrass," she grumbled, "What-?"

Daphne shook her head, "Don't feed me that, Mione," she said, "I saw that look on your face before you took off. Something important has just happened. What is it?"

Hermione huffed out.

She had half thought about waking her and Daphne's friends up.

But if this was all just a mistake the map made? If it was all an error or something-because there were mistakes in magic too, then if they got in trouble, it would all be for nothing. Still, it seemed odd that they were seeing Peter Pettigrew's name, just when Sirius Black, the former friend of Peter Pettigrew and Pettigrew's murderer, was on the loose.

Hermione sighed, knowing Daphne wouldn't let it go. She showed Daphne the map. "Look at that corridor," she said, pressing her lit wand to where Peter Pettigrew's footprints were.

She heard Daphne gasp.

"What-?" She asked, "Merlin's beard…, that's not possible, is it?"

Hermione shrugged. "Don't' know," she confessed, "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Daphne nodded. "I'm coming with you," she said.

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. "Because of course you are," she chuckled, "Fine. Well, let's go."

The two girls headed away from the dungeons and went to the upper levels of the castle, following Pettigrew's trail.

The two girls reached the corridor just one hall away from where Pettigrew had been walking, and the two of them saw when the footsteps turned the corner and started heading right for the two of them. Daphne and Hermione both looked up ahead in the pitch blackness of the hall, using their bright wands to see as well as they could.

They didn't see anyone coming.

"You see anyone?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer, though the hall was dark and there wasn't much chance of anyone seeing anything.

"No," Daphne answered, "He should be getting close enough to be seen by now, right?"

"You'd think," Hermione said, looking down at the map, seeing the footsteps coming closer, then looked up at the hallway, still seeing no one coming, even though obviously if there was someone coming closer, it meant that someone logically was approaching, right?

But she saw no one, no matter how close the footprints were getting to her and Daphne on the map.

Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up on end, and she felt sweat accumulate on her back.

This was most likely a mistake of the magic that made the map-but nonetheless? This was getting pretty creepy.

Hermione looked down at the map again.

What? Wait, what?

Those footprints were right in front of her and Daphne now. Hermione looked up. There was no one in front of her. She looked at Daphne, seeing an equal amount of confusion on the other girl's face.

Hermione looked back down at the map, then saw that the footprints were beginning to circle around her and Daphne, to the left of them.

She then heard what sounded like…scuttling?

It sounded almost like little claw marks against wood.

Hermione whirled to the left of her and Daphne, waving her wand. She jumped back, seeing her reflection in a mirror, but then aimed her wand downwards, remembering the scuttling she had heard on the wooden floor.

Something flashed in the dark.

A tail.

Hairless. Wormlike.

Hermione's eyes widened. A rat? Why was there a rat here? And why would Pettigrew's name pop up when a rat went by her? Was that a thing? Did magic sometimes mistake animals for people?

"Um, Mione?" Daphne said, sounding worried.

Hermione looked at Daphne and saw Daphne pointing her wand at another set of footprints coming close to them, just coming around the next corridor. Hermione looked at those footprints.

Hermione's heart lodged in her throat at the sight. Severus Snape.

Hermione cursed quietly and she and Daphne quickly doused the light of their wands.

This, unfortunately, didn't last long.

Light spilled into the hallway, coming from Snape's wand, as he stood before them, his ever-present displeased sneer on his face.

"Ms. Granger," he said, "Ms. Greengrass. I wish I could say I was surprised. But I suppose that that it's natural the two of you are here, when you're supposed to be in bed."

"Professor," Daphne spoke up, something Hermione was immediately grateful for, since she knew she'd speak out of term, just out of pure anger against this man, "I'm sorry, but we thought we forgot something important. From class."

"Oh?" Snape said, eyebrows lifting, not even remotely buying Daphne's story, obviously, and he took the map from Hermione's hands in seconds, startling the muggle-born.

He looked down at the map. "And I suppose this odd thing is part of finding what you lost?" he asked mockingly and pointed his wand down at the map, and used a spell to reveal its secrets to him.

Hermione knew that it wouldn't work, but that didn't keep her from being tense.

Snape handed the map back to Hermione and she saw the words pop up on the map.

"Tell me what it says," he ordered and Hermione ignored her anger.

He could see the words, of course, but wasn't going to bother looking. He wanted her to obey him-she presumed as punishment for helping Neville as much as she did.

She read the words across the map and her eyes widened at the sentence. She said, "'Mr. Moony presents his compliments to professor Snape, and begs him to keep his ab…," her eyes widened when she read the rest of the sentence. Oh, boy.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" Snape asked, "Continue."

Hermione took a breath and finished the sentence, "'and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.'"

Snape's eyes narrowed as Daphne stifled a giggle.

Hermione noticed a new sentence forming on the map. "Um," She said, "I think a new sentence is forming. I don't think you want me to read it."

Snape grabbed the map and read it, "'Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that professor Snape is an ugly git.'"

Daphne's eyes got bigger and Hermione could see Snape's jaw tighten more.

A new sentence popped up. It said, 'Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.'

Hermione had to clench her teeth to stop herself from laughing. Wow. This thing was seriously roasting Snape.

A new sentence appeared. It said, 'Wormtail bids professor Snape a good day and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.'

Snape turned his anger on Hermione and Daphne. "The two of you-were the two of you not in Slytherin-"

"Severus," a familiar voice said, interrupting Snape's fury, causing Snape to turn around as Remus Lupin appeared from behind the same corridor Snape had appeared from, "what is all this? I'm sure Ms. Granger and Ms. Greengrass are not causing any harm. What is it that has you worked up?"

Snape scowled at Remus and showed the other man the map.

Remus chuckled, observing the map. "This is obviously a joke map," he said, "bought at some joke shop, and designed to insult whoever tries to decipher the map," Remus smiled at Snape, seeming far, far too calm and at ease, "Now, then, are you finished with Ms. Granger and Ms. Greengrass?"

Snape said, looking at the map, "I suppose so. You know that they are in my house? I am the head of the house so they are my responsibility. They should not be out and about right now."

Remus nodded. "You're not wrong," he agreed, "but what teenager doesn't occasionally do things they shouldn't?"

Snape smirked coldly at Remus and said in a voice that dripped acid, "You would know something about that, wouldn't you, Remus?"

Hermione looked between the two men and it struck her then that there was something personal going on here. She had no idea what, but there was obviously something very personal-some grudge maybe, between the two of them.

Over what, she had no idea.

Then something stuck out to her about one of those messages in the map.

Not exactly the message itself, but the name in that message.

"Wormtail."

Hermione's mind flashed to that hairless tail she had seen thrash through the darkness of the hallway, before Snape had appeared.

A rat.

Wormtail. Was there a connection?

She knew that that was odd at best. So, there was a rat in Hogwarts, big deal.

Still, it remained in her mind.

And that rat had shown up JUST when Peter Pettigrew's footprints had appeared?

"Well, then," Remus said, "Should you send them off? Or should I? I don't think anything will benefit from this ridiculous joke of a map." He said, waving the map, smirking.

Snape scoffed, glaring at Hermione and Daphne.

He then said, "A word of advice, Ms. Granger, Ms. Greengrass," he glared at Remus, "Be careful who it is you ally yourselves with. No reason to tie yourselves to incompetent miscreants who can't ever offer anything except stupidity and laziness."

Snape stared hatefully at Remus and Remus remained with a soft smile on his face as Snape stalked off through the hall.

Remus sighed, pulling out his wand and alighting it. "Follow me," he said to the two girls, and Hermione and Daphne looked at each other, before following the DADA teacher.

They reached Remus's classroom and Remus said, shaking his head, "You should know not to go wandering about in the castle." He turned around and faced the two girls, looking grave, "You know that Sirius Black is on the loose, don't you?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, nodding, "But why would he come after us?"

"Don't be so overconfident, Ms. Granger," Remus said, "Don't forget, you're a muggle-born. And Sirius Black was a follower of You-Know-Who. And don't forget either, from what I've heard, you caused Him quite a bit of grief during your first year, didn't you?"

Hermione grunted. Did everyone know about that?

Well, yes, she supposed that that was a dumb question.

Yes, everyone knew about that.

News of the altercation she had had with Voldemort and Quirrell had reached everyone's ears, including the ears of the Ministry of Magic, even though Fudge was deaf to the mentions of Voldemort.

So, yes, Remus knew about it.

"I'm not scared of Sirius Black," Daphne said, thankfully taking the attention off of Hermione.

"Well," Remus said, "That's your mistake. He escaped Azkaban. No one else has. And he got the Potters killed. And he murdered their friend, Peter Pettigrew. Only a finger was left of Pettigrew."

Hermione tensed, thinking about what she and Daphne had seen on the map.

"About that," Daphne started, before Hermione made a small hissing noise and when Daphne looked at her, Hermione shook her head.

Daphne's eyes widened, then shut her mouth.

Remus looked between them.

"Yes?" He asked.

Daphne shook her head, "Never mind," she said, "We just were wondering about the fact that you knew all of them."

Hermione breathed out with relief when she saw Remus nod. She was immensely grateful for Daphne's save.

Remus said, "Yes, unfortunately, I knew Sirius Black. It's not something I'd like to talk about. The both of you should go back to your dorm. And don't go back out of your dorm," he waved the map, "Or I'll know."

Hermione nodded and she and Daphne left his classroom. When they were close to the dungeons, Daphne asked, "Why did you stop me from telling him about Pettigrew's footprints?"

"Because we don't know if we can trust Remus Lupin yet," Hermione said, "Let's just keep it quiet. I mean, we should tell Astoria, Millicent and Pansy. But no one else."

Daphne nodded, looking troubled at this development.

The two of them entered the Slytherin common room and went to their room.

As Hermione got ready for bed, she was concerned.

Peter Pettigrew's footprints appeared on the map, and that same map had the name "Wormtail," on it. And Peter Pettigrew's name appeared just before Hermione had seen the tail of that rat.

She and Daphne had seen those footprints on the map, but they hadn't seen any person coming near them in the halls.

What did that mean?

Soon, a new word was forming inside Hermione's mind.

It wasn't "werewolf" this time.

It was another word.

Animagus.

If Peter Pettigrew had been fearing for his life, had he made it look like he was dead, hiding as a rat to escape from Voldemort's loyal follower, Sirius Black?

Was that what had happened?

Either way, something odd was going on here.

As always.

The next day, Hermione pulled Harry to the side, ignoring Ron's disgusted look cast her way and she apologetically informed him that Remus Lupin had confiscated the map.

Harry looked genuinely upset, obviously, but Hermione cautioned him that if Lupin had the map, then that invisibility cloak of Harry's wouldn't help him. Lupin would know if Harry was out and about, cloak or no.

Later on in the day, they started to head back to their dorms, when they heard commotion above.

Staircases and rooms above, people were crying out and yelling.

Hermione, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne all whirled, hearing yelling above.

"What?" Hermione asked.

She had been saying that a LOT lately, hadn't she?

One other Slytherin ran over, grinning. She said, "It's the Fat Lady. She's not in her portrait. There are a bunch of slash marks over her portrait. So, Dumbledore's sending a search party out for her."

Hermione and the others looked at each other and they could practically feel each other's shivers.

As Astoria, Millicent and Pansy reached the edge of the staircase leading up to the upper levels, Daphne looked at Hermione.

"Do we think this is a coincidence?" She asked.

"A coincidence?" Hermione asked.

Daphne nodded, "Pettigrew showed up on the map." She said, "Remus Lupin is here. Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban, and now this?"

Hermione grimaced. She didn't like it, but Daphne had a point. Three people, all them had been tied to the Potters in some way, one of them was a teacher here now, one of them, the one that had gotten the Potter parents killed, had escaped from Azkaban, and another one of them, or the shadow of one had appeared on a magical map.

Just what the HELL was going on here?

"No," Hermione confessed, "It's not a coincidence. I don't know how it's connected. But it can't be a coincidence."

Daphne nodded, looking tense.

Neither of them liked this.

Neither of them believed this to be a coincidence.

Hermione and Daphne followed their friends up the stairs and saw the madness in the upper levels.

Running around on the moving staircases, students and staff alike were going wild, looking at each portrait decked out all over the walls all around the staircases.

The many different portraits were going wild too. People were jumping from one painting to another, crying, screaming and searching for the Fat Lady.

Eventually, the Fat Lady was found. Hiding in a portrait with several pigs, hiding behind one black pig.

The Fat Lady lifted herself up and talked to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was with a bunch of Gryffindors, so, he was too far from Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy couldn't hear what was being said between the headmaster and the terrified Fat Lady.

However, whatever was said, obviously wasn't a good thing. Because only a second later, all of the Gryffindors were yelling and gasping.

"What do you think that's about?" Millicent asked.

"Have no idea," Astoria said, "But it can't be good."

Dumbledore made his way down the stairs and yelled, "All students get their belongings from your dorms and go back into the Great Hall! All students, stay in the Great Hall for tonight! All entrances to Hogwarts will be locked up!"

Hermione and her friends looked at each other, confused. The fuck?

They quickly went to get all their belongings and got everything, heading out.

Hermione stuffed Tom's diary into her bag, keeping it close. She whispered to the diary, unsure if Tom could hear her or not, "Tom, we're moving from the dorm, for some reason I don't understand. Don't worry, I'll keep you close so you don't get lost. Sorry if you can feel us moving." She quickly hid the diary close to her and trailed after her friends, carrying everything out. She didn't know where Crookshanks was. He was somewhere, running around. He'd sniff her out if he wanted to find her.

When they reached the Great Hall, Hermione caught Harry's eye.

"Harry," she whispered, "What happened? Why did the Fat Lady freak out?"

Harry grimaced, a disturbed look on his face.

"Sirius Black," He said, fire and conviction in his eyes, "He broke into Hogwarts. Slashed up the Fat Lady's portrait. Trying to get into Gryffindor Tower. Trying to get to me."

Hermione's eyes widened.

Oh.

Sirius Black had broken in.

Hermione looked at her friends as they walked into the Great Hall with their belongings.

She saw the fear all over their faces.

Sirius Black had gotten into Hogwarts.

Even with all the dementors around? He had managed to get in.

The five girls reached the Slytherin side of the Great Hall and got under their blankets, laying down next to each other. Daphne whispered to Hermione in the dark as everyone settled in, "This isn't a coincidence. Sirius Black getting in when his old friend, Remus Lupin is a teacher and able to open up some entrances of Hogwarts, when he wanted to?

No.

It wasn't a coincidence.

Daphne didn't have to say it, because Hermione was thinking it too.

Remus Lupin wasn't to be trusted.

He was helping Sirius Black.

Both girls went to sleep, aware of this now.

Chapter Text

The next morning came, and Hermione, as she always did, checked under her to make sure that the diary of Tom Riddle, was still there and was safe. It was. She stuck it into her robes and whispered to it as all the other students started packing everything up, “Tom, we’re moving again back to the student dorms. So, if you can feel us moving? It’s that. Sorry if it causes you any discomfort, brother.”

She stuffed the book into her robes and Daphne watched her as she packed up her things as well.

Daphne tried to tell herself that she was worried about nothing.

She had to be worrying about nothing.

It was Tom, for Merlin’s sake. He had been nothing but helpful to all of them, always.

Daphne chose not to comment about her suspicions, as she, Hermione and the other three walked after all the other Slytherins, off to the dungeons.

Hermione glanced at Harry, before she went down the corridor that would lead her away from the Gryffindors.

He was alright. He didn’t look hurt. Alright. So, Sirius hadn’t gotten to him.

Not that she had expected him to have, but Sirius escaped from Azkaban and got into Hogwarts, so, anything was possible, right?

Her mind went back to Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin, who she didn’t know if they could trust. Remus Lupin, who had the map. Remus Lupin, who probably was working with Sirius Black.

And who was probably a werewolf.

She didn’t know that for sure. But she needed proof.

She had been watching that map before Remus had snatched it up, but she had seen enough that fed her suspicions about him being a werewolf. It had been close to the full moon when he had begun disappearing from the castle.

She was sure that he was a werewolf.

She just needed conirmation.

She stayed close to her friends as she whispered, “Okay, so, we know for sure that Sirius Black is getting into the castle, somehow. And we know that Remus Lupin doesn’t look too good.”

“No,” Pansy agreed, “He doesn’t.”

When everyone had been escorted to their dorms, and Hermione and her friends were at their room, Hermione told her friends that they needed to talk. The other four nodded and all five of them went into the common room.

When they were sure no one was watching or listening, Hermione faced Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy and began telling them about her suspicions.

They agreed with all of them. And were curious about the whole “Wormtail” thing.

At some point, though, Astoria asked something that she was curious about, “If there’s a possible connection between that name, ‘Wormtail,’ and that rate, do you think there’s a connection between that name that you and Daphne said was on the map? ‘Mr. Moony?’ And Remus Lupin?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of that. But yeah. That was a thought.

She hadn’t thought of it, but Remus Lupin probably was a werewolf. And there was someone on that map that was referred to as “Mr. Moony?”

But then, that meant……….

“That means that Remus Lupin probably had something to do with the making of that map,” Hermione said, recalling how he had appeared to know about the map.

Daphne nodded. “That’s what I was thinking,” she said, “Which means if he’s Mr. Moony?”

“Then he knows who Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are,” Hermione said, realization hitting her.

“And Wormtail might just be Peter Pettigrew,” Millicent finished, thinking about Hermione’s suspicions.

Hermione nodded. “And possibly a rat,” she added, knowing how mad that sounded.

“And possibly a rat,” Pansy repeated, shaking her head, “This is all mental.”

“I know,” Hermione agreed, “But we live in the witch and wizarding world, remember? And the power to turn into animals exist.”

Pansy nodded, still not looking like she was wrapping around what she was hearing.

“Either way,” Hermione said, “We need to keep an eye on Remus.”

They all agreed on that.

They carried on throughout the next few days, pretending that they knew nothing about the matter.

Hermione learned from Harry at some point, that he had heard something from Malfoy in potions class months ago.

Malfoy had said, “If it were me, I’d have hunt down Black myself.” Meaning that Malfoy had known.

Which meant? That Malfoy must have known something. Because his father, Lucius Malfoy had to have known. Malfoy’s father had been in Voldemort’s inner circle.

Then again, didn’t basically, every witch and wizard, except Harry, know?

Still……….Hermione knew she’d have to dig deeper for more information.

“If Pettigrew is in fact a rat,” Daphne said, laughing at how that sounded, “Has he been hiding in the castle all these years?”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said, a castle full of well-trained witches and wizards, all teachers. I feel like he would have been caught ages ago. And besides? Remember Mrs. Norris?”

Daphne’s eyes widened. Oh, yeah, right.

“Good point,” she admitted, then unable to help herself, she joked, “Well, we’ll probably find out that the Weasley pet, Scabbers, is Pettigrew.” And she meant it entirely as a joke, however, when Daphne, Pansy and Millicent all chuckled at the thought and looked at Hermione and Astoria for more laughter, they were startled to see shock and comprehension on both other girls’ faces.

“Astoria?” Daphne asked, “Mione?”

“Oh, shit,” Hermione said, “Bloody hell, I hadn’t even thought of Scabbers.”

Daphne’s eyes went wide again. “Seriously?” She asked, “I meant it as a joke.”

“I know you did,” Hermione said, “But think. What would be a safe place, away from animals that tend to eat rats, and away from a castle full of witches and wizards, all teachers trained to look for things like that? In the house of a non-tyrannical witch and wizarding family.”

“Wait, honestly?” Millicent asked, stunned, “We’re going with the possibility that Peter Pettigrew became a rat and hid out as the Weasleys’ pet all these years?”

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Hermione confessed.

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” Pansy said, “It sounds mad.”

“No more mad than anything else I’ve seen in this world,” Hermione said, and avoided saying, ‘or in the muggle world, for that matter.’ As much as Hermione trusted her friends, she wasn’t sure still, how she was going to tell them about Cromwell and about the labs and about the other muggle-born children who had been abducted from their homes and abused, “If there’s even a chance that Pettigrew is the Weasley household pet? We need to find out. If it’s just a rat? Then it’s just a rat. If we use a spell on Scabbers, to make him turn back into a person and it turns out to be just a rat, nothing will happen to the rat, right?”

She received several nods. That was what she had been sure of. She had read about it and animaguses would only be affected by the spell that she was thinking of. A transfiguration spell, designed to make animaguses return to their human forms.

If the rat that Ron Weasley had brought to Hogwarts was simply a rat? Then the spell would not affect him in any way.

But if it actually was Peter Pettigrew? Then they’d have an animagus with them. One that they could potentially get information from. About Remus. About Sirius.

Astoria started, “Um, whatever people think-whether they think Pettigrew is Weasley’s rat or not? I think we’re forgetting one thing. How are we going to get Ron Weasley’s beloved pet away from him to use the spell on him?”

Hermione paused. Good question.

Because Hermione knew how it would look. Not just to Ron Weasley, but to all of the teachers.

A Slytherin trying to take a Gryffindor’s pet away?

That would most definitely not look good.

The next few hours passed, and the girls went about their studies, pretending that they hadn’t been, as usual, conspiring to do something unlawful-which Hermione realized, they’d been doing for a few years now.

It was then that Remus approached her. Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy, were all at one of the tables, eating, when Remus Lupin came into the Great Hall.

Pansy was the one that saw him first. She whispered to Hermione, looking down the Great Hall, tense, “Mione.”

Hermione looked over at where Pansy was looking, as did the other girls.

They all froze, seeing Remus approaching them.

Damn. Did he know?

Hermione told herself that that was foolishness. Because unless Lupin was experienced in legilimency, then how could he possibly know?

Remus stopped by the table and looked right at all five of the girls, smiling. “Hello, Ms. Granger. Ms. Parkinson. Ms. Bulstrode. Both Ms. Greengrasses.”

Hermione almost said, “spare us the pleasantries and tell us what you fucking want,” she almost said that, but knew better. Instead, she said, “Professor Lupin. How can we help you?”

Remus nodded to Hermione as he said, “I would like it if you would join me in the classroom where I conduct my class.”

Hermione felt tense again. Why? Remus didn’t strike her as the type to sexually abuse children, however, she also hadn’t thought he’d work with Sirius Black, so…………

Around her, she could tell that her friends were getting equally suspicious. Whether it was because they thought that Remus wanted to sexually harm Hermione in some way or because they thought that he was a Death Eater, she didn’t know, but she could practically sense their distrust of the possible werewolf.

“There is a certain spell that I wish to teach both you and Mr. Potter,” Remus said, smiling simply.

Hermione frowned, now more confused than suspicious. Harry? Why were both she and Harry being called to Lupin’s classroom?

“When exactly do you want the two of us there?” Hermione asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

“In two hours,” Remus said, “If you don’t mind.”

Hermione nodded. “Alright,” she said, “I’ll be there.”

Remus smiled and nodded and walked away from the Slytherin table and walked towards the Gryffindor table, to most likely ask Harry to do the same thing.

Hermione looked to the other girls and Pansy demanded, confused, “Okay, what the bloody hell was that all about?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted, troubled.

“Are you going to go?” Astoria asked, worried for her friend.

Hermione nodded. “Yes,” she answered, “Because regardless of the outcome? I’ll learn more about Remus. Whatever his intentions are. If he’s as bad as we think he is? Then I might learn more about what he wants.”

“If he hurts you-“ Daphne began, her voice a growl, but Hermione nodded to her reassuringly.

“Daphne,” Hermione said, “Do you think I can’t defend myself?”

This actually brought a small laugh from Daphne. Because yes, she most certainly knew better than to think that Hermione couldn’t defend herself. She knew Hermione could.

The things she’d seen Hermione defend herself and the others from in their first year alone? Had hit Daphne hard with disbelief. She was positive that she wouldn’t have had the strength to face off against Voldemort himself.

Even if Voldemort had been far from at his full power, at the time.

“I know you can,” Daphne assured Hermione, “It’s just………….I’m really worried.”

“So am I,” Millicent said, staring at Remus’s back with distrust in her eyes.

“We are too,” Astoria answered and Pansy nodded.

Hermione sighed, “Thank you for your concern,” she said, meaning it, “But we need answers. And we’re not going to get them by just sitting here and talking. We need to investigate. I will go visit Remus, and I’ll bring my wand. Promise. But in the meantime? Someone needs to see if they can grab Scabbers.”

Pansy huffed, “Great. Just what I wanted to do, catch a rat.”

Hermione chuckled at Pansy’s grumble.

“Alright,” Daphne said, “How about this? Two of us can track down Scabbers. The other two can follow you to Remus’s room and keep watch, in case Remus tries to do anything. We’ll stay out of sight.”

Hermione sighed, “Daphne.”

“Hermione,” Daphne said, eyebrows going up.

Hermione glanced at the others and saw similar expressions on their faces and she exhaled deeply.

They were far too protective of her, to just let her go see a possible Death Eater on her own.

“Alright,” she said, “But if we want to keep the two that follow me, out of sight? Then we need Harry’s invisibility cloak.”

Eight and a half years ago

The breakout

Jean Granger knew she needed to be careful. It wouldn’t be long before Cromwell figured out what she was up to, if she wasn’t cautious.

The halls of the lab were immaculate and gray. There were long stretches where Jean didn’t see any guards. She moved past several rooms, knowing that there was a lot of lab equipment there.

She turned the corner, seeking out Hermione’s room.

She almost gasped when she saw the guard by Hermione’s door.

She recognized him. Reginald. What was he doing here?

“Reginald?” Jean asked, approaching, causing the guard to turn and look at her, “I’m sorry, but what are you doing by Hermione’s door?”

Reginald looked at Jean, startled, before speaking respectfully, “Ms. Granger. Sorry if this is abrupt, but Mr. Cromwell wanted the girl to be guarded, till he brought her in to dissect her.

Horror filled Jean. She felt bile begin to stir up in her throat.

She nodded. “Okay,” she said, “I need to have a word with her, before anything else, alright? Can you unlock the door, just for that?”

Reginald nodded. “I don’t see why not,” he said, and he turned his back to Jean.

And that was when Jean made her move.

She looked down at the guard’s belt and reached out for his gun.

Now, in England? People, even guards and police officers didn’t often carry firearms. It was not common.

This was not America, after all. Every single person that you might run into, didn’t have access to a gun.

However, Cromwell had made it clear that all the guards were to carry firearms, in case the…………“subjects” got out of hand.

Which provided Jean with the opportunity she had now.

She grabbed the gun around the handle and pulled it out of the guard’s leather holster.

The guard clearly felt the movement and whirled around, but not in time, thankfully.

Jean stepped back, aiming the loaded gun at the guard, pulling the safety off of the gun, immediately.

With wide blue eyes, and holding his hands up, Reginald said softly, “Now, Ms. Granger, I don’t know what’s going on here, but-“

“Shut up,” Jean ordered, trying to ignore how her heart was pounding fiercely and how there was sweat running down the back of her neck, never having pulled a gun out on anyone before, “Listen, you’re going to unlock the door to Hermione’s room, understand? Then you’re going to step back from the room, got it?”

Jean somehow kept her voice from trembling when she gave those instructions.

Reginald swallowed and nodded. “A-alright,” he said, turning back to Hermione’s cell.

The keys were already in his hand and he worked to unlock the door. He unlocked the cell door and stepped back from the room, looking between the now opened up door to Jean, confused and frightened.

Hermione was there, sitting on her bed. When the door opened up, she looked through the opening of the door and she gasped, smiling when she saw Jean, then seeing the gun and she frowned.

“Ms. Granger?” She saked, confused.

“Hermione, listen to me, sweetie,” Jean said, trying to keep her voice calming for the girl, “I need you to come out of your room and come over to me, okay?”

Hermione looked nervously at the gun. Having practically been raised in these labs, she knew what a gun was. She had seen the guards handle the guns over the years. She knew they were dangerous.

But she trusted Jean Granger.

So, Hermione got up from the bed, grabbing her stuffed dragon and went through the door of her cell, noticing the terrified Reginald not moving from his spot and she went over to Jean, standing by the woman, looking up at her, confused.

“Ms. Granger?” She asked, “W-what are you doing?”

“I’ll explain later, sweetie,” Jean assured Hermione, keeping her eyes on Reginald and keeping the gun aimed at him, “Right now, we need to get out of here, alright?”

“Okay,” Hermione said, “What about the other kids?”

“We’ll come back for them later,” Jean said, “Promise.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. She wanted the other kids to get out, but her main concern right now was Hermione.

Jean hoped she could get the other kids out later. But if it meant keeping Hermione safe, then she’d forgo getting them out.

Jean said to Hermione, without tearing her eyes away from Reginald, “Follow me, sweetie,” and she backed away from Reginald, down the hall, towards an exit that was a few miles from here and Hermione followed, uncertain.

Reginald stayed where he was, his hands up, however, as Jean backed away, she didn’t see where she was going, and she backed up into a staff member, holding up a clipboard and reading something.

But Jean and the staff member gasped on impact and Jean glanced at the man holding the clipboard who also gasped, looking between Jean and the guard and cried out, running to a plaque that had a button and a speaker, quickly realizing what was happening and slammed his hand against the button, and as soon as he did, the alarms at the top of the walls, blared to life, red light filling the halls as the lights of the alarms flared.

Guards came running in, pulling out their weapons.

“Shit,” Jean hissed, whirling back around and aiming her gun at Reginald who was about to run, “Your keys!” She ordered, “Now!”

Reginald looked very pale and nodded, grabbing his keys and sliding them across the floor over to Jean, before running away.

Jean aimed the gun then at the man with the clipboard, leaning down and picking up the keys.

Hermione had backed up into the wall, her hands covering her ears from the sounds of the alarms, the child cringing and whimpering, cradling her beloved stuffed dragon in the crook of her right arm as she did.

Jean turned to the other cells.

She didn’t want to have to risk doing this. But it looked like she didn’t have a choice.

She grabbed the keys, keeping the gun on the man with the clipboard, as she heard the guards running, getting closer.

She shoved a key in the lock of the cell right by her, and opened it up, letting Harrison out.

She then moved on to the next few cells, letting Catherine and Noah out.

Several more cells were open and more of the children that had been captive here were out and looking around, confused at the bedlam that had just been unleashed.

The guards turned the corner and Jean yelled at the oldest of the kids, Noah, and some other kids, “We’re breaking out, children! If you are able to control your abilities, now is the time to use them!”

Thankfully, despite the confusion, one of the older girls, Chloe, got the hint and faced the guards, a wicked smirk on her face, and whatever she did to use her abilities, it worked.

There was a popping sound and suddenly, four of the guards were thrown back, hitting the wall hard.

One of the guards was slammed into the man with the clipboard, the both of them collapsing on the floor, in a heap.

Another guard yelled out, enraged, reached for his gun and pulled it out.

More children got at the ready, their powers subconsciously reacting to the danger.

More guards pulled out their guns and bullets began to be fired.

The moment the first bullet fired, Hermione screamed, shaking, her power, whatever it was, a power that Jean and none of the other scientists understood, began making her lift up off of the floor, levitating her up in the air.

That was when the bloodshed began.

Present day-after the breakout

The five girls headed to Gryffindor Tower, careful not to be spotted by any prefects or students that just might sell them out to the teachers.

Harry had returned to the tower with his friends.

Hermione spoke gently to the others to stay close as they watched Harry and his friends stand close to the portrait of the knight that had replaced the fat lady, and heard the password to get in.

Hermione knew she’d need to work fast.

She whispered to the others that they would need to rush in, as soon as the portrait was opened.

However, they hadn’t moved fast enough.

Harry and the others were through and the portrait closed, leaving the girls face to face with the knight. However, Hermione had a plan for this, ignoring her friends’ quiet cursing.

Hermione said to the knight, as he asked, shocked, why a bunch of “Slytherin ladies” were at the Gryffindor Tower, “Brave sir Cadogan, we mean no disrespect by being at your portrait, however, there’s a matter that we need to discuss with Harry Potter. It’s urgent. And it might just help find the threat that is Sirius Black,” Hermione fought a smile when she saw the knight raise his head, knowing she had his full attention, “With your brave and determined help, sir, we would find the threat to the castle and the students. But for that? We’d need to get through to the tower.”

It was a good thing that Sir Cadogan wasn’t all that bright, because he smiled happily and said, “It would be my honor to help protect the school and its students. Very well, dame Hermione, I shall let you in.”

Hermione fought a laugh. Seriously? ‘Dame Hermione?’ Where exactly did Dumbledore find this guy?

“Thank you, sir Cadogan,” Hermione said as the knight opened up the portrait and Hermione and the others slipped through. They quickly hid behind a pillar, when some Gryffindor students walked through the room, but Hermione saw Harry sitting down in the common room.

Thankfully, Ron wasn’t there.

“Harry,” Hermione said quietly, stepping out from behind the pillar, as the other Gryffindor kids walked away.

Harry turned to her, a startled expression on his face. “Hermione?” He asked, eyebrows narrowing, “How did you-?”

“Never mind that,” Hermione said urgently, “Listen, we need help. Is it possible that we could borrow the invisibility cloak for a while?”

Harry eyed Hermione with some suspicion and Hermione was sure he was wondering why he should trust a Slytherin, who had lost the Marauders’ map.

Hermione quickly followed with that, “I know I screwed up before. With the Marauders’ map, but we really need the invisibility cloak. It might help us find Sirius.” To be honest, she wasn’t sure if that was even a lie. Because if Remus had in fact let Sirius in? He might know where Sirius was.

What Hermione said about Sirius, got his attention and he stood up. “You better not be messing with me.”

“I’m not,” Hermione answered, “This might very well help us find your parents’ traitor.” Hermione felt like a lowlife for saying something like that. But she knew it would have the effect that she would need.

Harry nodded, fire in those green eyes as he turned and went up the stairs to his room. He came back down a few minutes later, carrying a bundled up invisibility cloak.

Harry extended his arms out and Hermione gratefully took the piece of magical clothing.

“Be careful with it,” Harry said, voice soft, “It belonged to my father.”

Hermione nodded, remembering what Harry had told her when she and her friends had first discovered him with the invisibility cloak.

“I’ll take care of it,” she assured Harry, holding the garment carefully in her hands, “I swear. Thank you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and the girls quickly left with the cloak in their clutches. Hermione thanked Sir Cadogan, as she and the others left and heard his gallant flowery talk of being comrades in arms and wishing them farewell as they left.

When they were far enough away from the tower, Pansy asked, laughing, looking at Hermione, stunned, “How did you know that thing with sir Cadogan would work?”

“I didn’t,” Hermione chuckled, “I just figured that he’d want to stop Sirius Black. He’s really noble in that ‘naïve’ way, so I figured.”

The girls chuckled and they made their way back to the dungeon.

They made the plan there. Hermione would meet with Remus, along with Harry. And Daphne and Astoria would follow close behind with the invisibility cloak.

In the meantime, Pansy and Millicent would try to get Scabbers away from Ron Weasley and see if Scabbers was just a rat, or an actual animagus.

The two hours were up then, and it was time for Hermione to go meet with Remus. She told all four of her friends to be careful, and she went up to the classroom of the Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione knew that Astoria and Daphne were close behind her, under the invisibility cloak.

She knocked on the door of Remus’s classroom and he opened the door, smiled and led her inside.

Harry had gotten here before she had, and saw him across the room from her, looking startled by her presence.

She heard the door closed and glanced over by the door, wondering if Daphne and Astoria were just outside the classroom, or if they had gotten in quick enough. However, she didn’t have long to consider that possibility, because Remus gestured for her and Harry to move closer to him. There was a chest on the floor. And it was moving around.

Hermione frowned. What the-?

“Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter,” Remus said, causing both students to look at him, “I’m very sorry to ask you to do this. However, I’ve noticed that you both had extreme reactions to the dementors when you saw them.”

Hermione would have laughed, but restrained herself. Extreme reactions? Who exactly wouldn’t have extreme reactions to those things? They were dementors! They ripped every happy thought and feeling you had from you.

“So,” Remus said, “To that end, I would like to help you both find a way of stopping a dementor,” he gestured to the trunk, “This, of course, does not have a dementor in it. It’s a bogart. However, it will have the appearance and somewhat of the abilities of a dementor. I wish to train you to stop them.”

“How?” Hermione asked, already seeing a flaw in this plan. Because hadn’t one of the fundamental lessons that Remus had given them about bogarts, been that bogarts could be stopped when trying to learn the fear of more than one person?

“The patronus charm,” Remus said, smiling at Hermione, as if he believed she already knew, “I recall you tried to use the patronus charm on the train, when there was a dementor approaching you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Oh. Remus was going to try to teach them that?

She remembered what had happened on the train. Remus had summoned a patronus, almost effortlessly.

But there was a problem with this plan, since bogarts sensed peoples’ fear, and if there was more than one person present, the bogart wouldn’t know what to turn into, because those two people could have very different fears.

However, Hermione wondered if she could work with that. Was she afraid of Voldemort? Yes. Was she afraid of Cromwell? Yes. However, was she also afraid of the dementors? You bet she was scared of them.

They were horrible.

So, if she could keep her mind focused only on the dementors and not think about Cromwell or Voldemort? Then she might be able to keep things a secret from Remus and Harry.

And the bogart would only focus on her fear of dementors.

She decided to go with that.

Hermione then asked Remus, curious, “Wait, if you want to teach people who had extreme reactions to dementors, how to summon a patronus, then why not also bring Daphne Greengrass in?”

Remus said sadly, “Because I saw your and Mr. Potter’s reactions, Ms. Granger. Ms. Greengrass didn’t react the same way.”

Hermione shifted. Unfortunately, she knew Remus was right. That dementor on the train had a far heavier impact on her than it had had on Daphne.

Why was that?

Well, she knew the answer, actually. People who suffered from severe trauma, were susceptible to triggers.

All the more reason for Hermione to focus on the dementors, and not on either Cromwell, Quirrell or on Voldemort from her first year.

Remus told Harry what the words were and that he needed to focus on his most happy memory. Harry nodded.

“Ready?” Remus asked, leaning down and beginning to unlock the trunk.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other, both wanting to gauge if the other was going to back down or not.

Hermione saw that Harry wouldn’t and she smirked, pulling her wand out and Harry smirked back, pulling his wand out and they both faced the trunk that Remus was opening, aiming those wands at the ready.

The trunk was opened, and what came out, was exactly what Hermione expected. Thankfully.

A cloaked figure, levitating up out of the trunk, a deep blowing sound in the air as Hermione felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She tried to keep her mind focused. On dementors only.

She heard Harry say the words, “Expecto patronum!!”

Hermione glanced at Harry’s wand, seeing no light coming out of it.

Hermione turned back to the approaching bogart and said the words too, “Expecto patronum!” She focused entirely on finding out she was a witch and that there was a whole world full of witches and wizards, and that there might just be a world for people like her, like the other kids at the lab who had been stolen from their families and were experimented on. She focused on the sheer happiness she felt then, as she said the words.

To her relief, white light began spilling from the tip of her wand.

But not enough light.

Light enough that it held the bogart back for a few seconds, but not that long. The bogart then closed in on her and Harry.

Hermione knew immediately, that Daphne and Astoria had made it into the room, because she heard footsteps right behind her and she hissed quietly, “Don’t! It’s just a bogart. Don’t interfere.”

Hermione almost felt Daphne and Astoria’s dismay, because she didn’t hear them rushing forward anymore and Hermione could feel the “placebo effects” of the bogart mimicking the dementors and all at once, memories of Cromwell, the lab and all the dead muggle-born children.

Hermione gasped, pain tearing through her, even if the bogart hadn’t even touched her.

The images of the dead muggle-born children ran through her mind. Peter. Donna. Andrew. Johnny. Basil. Evie. Harriet. And so many more.

She heard Harry gasping next to her.

Then Remus yelled, “Expecto patronum!!”

A flash of white-blue light blasted out all around them and the bogart and the bogart-dementor receded back into the trunk. Lupin closed the trunk fast, locking it.

Hermione almost collapsed, but had held herself up enough not to. Harry, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky.

He fell to the ground, on his rear, shaking.

Hermione would have felt for him, if she hadn’t felt her own unimaginable pain and agony.

Tears she knew now, were in her eyes.

Cromwell, being told by the guards at the lab that her biological mother and father had given her up, the dead muggle-born children, the fires at the lab………..

She shook as Remus brought some chocolate over to her and Harry. He handed small pieces to them and Hermione and Harry both shakily took the chocolate and ate it.

“What did you think about when you used the spell?” Remus asked them.

Hermione breathed out, wiping the back of her right hand against her face and wiping the tears away. “When I first got my letter from Hogwarts. When I realized there was a world of witches and wizards and that there was a place I might belong.”

Remus nodded and he looked at Harry. Harry said, still stuck where he had dropped, “When I first rode a broom.”

Remus chuckled, “Oh, you’ll need way better than that,” he looked at Hermione, “You were closer.”

Hermione nodded. “But not close enough,” she said.

Remus said, “What you need is painful happiness. The happiest moment you’ve ever been. So happy, that it hurts.”

Hermione could almost detect Harry’s confusion, but she understood, right away.

Painful happiness. Almost heartbreaking happiness.

She knew exactly what memory she’d use too.

“I’m ready,” Hermione said, without hesitation.

Remus nodded then looked to Harry. Harry got up, taking a breath. “I’m ready too,” he said, and whether it was because he didn’t want to look weak in front of the Slytherin or because he didn’t want to give up, he sounded like he meant it.

After a moment, Remus nodded and leaned down, unlocking the trunk again and opening it up.

The nightmare in the shape of a dementor, spilled out of the trunk.

Hermione readied her mind. She focused on one thing. One specific memory.

Eight and a half years ago-right after the breakout

It had been several days since she and Hermione had escaped from Cromwell’s lab. Jean had picked Hermione up and had carried her to the train, they’d gotten on and took the train further into England, going closer to the suburban communities.

Jean, between those days, had called up an old friend and asked if there were any houses available that she could buy instantly. Said friend answered that there was, and quickly gave the information. Jean called the person selling the house and gained the right to the house and was told where the house was. She thanked her friend and hung up, looking down at young Hermione, who stared up at her trustingly, her eyes soft and scared, sucking her right thumb.

Jean smiled sadly. This girl had seen so much. So much blood. So much carnage. So much death. At the age of only five. Jean said softly to the clearly traumatized child, “It will be alright, love. We’ll have a safe place of our own soon. Where Cromwell won’t find us. Where we can start over, alright?”

Hermione nodded, though she clung closer to her new guardian, almost biting her thumb.

Jean gently lowered hand and stroked Hermione’s messy brown hair.

They traveled like that for hours, eventually reaching their destination. They got off of the train and headed to where the address of the new house was.

When they got to the new house, Jean looked down at Hermione, smiling, gesturing to the house as she said, “This is our new home, honey. We’ll be safe here.”

At least, Jean wanted to believe that.

Jean took Hermione’s hand and led her to the house. The key had been left under a rock by the door. She pulled the key out, unlocked the door and opened it up.

She and Hermione stepped through, Hermione looking around curiously, which was certainly a step up from being stuck in a traumatized daze, though she had gone back to sucking her thumb.

“You’re going to stay with me from now on,” Jean said gently to Hermione, “No more experiments. No more labs. No more guards.” Hermione looked up at Jean, confused, as the woman switched on the lights in the main room.

Jean smiled at Hermione’s confused expression. She continued, “I’m going to adopt you, honey. Do you know what ‘adopt’ means?”

Hermione shook her head.

“It means, sweetie,” Jean said softly, “That you’re going to be my child now. My daughter. I’m your mother. Not by blood. But legally, and by choice. Understand?”

Hermione seemed to mull over what she heard. And Jean honestly wasn’t sure if the small girl understood all that.

Between her young age, how isolated she’d been from the rest of the world for years, and how traumatized Hermione was? How much did Hermione understand about family dynamics and choosing a family? Most likely not much.

“Does that mean that we’re going to be together?” Hermione asked, pulling her thumb out of her mouth, “That you’ll stay with me? Take care of me?”

“That’s right, love,” Jean assured Hermione, “I’m going to take care of you. Be your mommy.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself. She let out a cry of overwhelming happiness, tears falling from her eyes as she lunged for Jean, her mother and Jean leaned down, reaching out and scooping the child up into her arms, hugging Hermione close as Hermione pressed herself to the woman’s chest, crying in joy, shaking-a relief after all the horrors she had been through and seen.

Hermione gripped herself to her mother’s chest and cried out in relief and happiness.

She was loved. She was wanted. She had a home. A mother.

Eight years later-present day

Hermione let the memory, full of painful happiness tear through her and she cried out, feeling new tears just threatening to fall-these tears of joy, rather than loss, “Expecto patronum!!”

And this time, instead of just a trickle of white-blue light, a whole wave of white-blue light spilled out of her wand, taking form before the bogart.

Hermione gasped, smiling as she realized she was succeeding, and in surprise that the shape that her patronus had taken.

It wasn’t what she’d thought it would be. She figured it would be something like a dog or a wolf or something.

It wasn’t.

It was a tiger. An actual tiger. Big and striped with a roaring mouth and fangs and claws.

Hermione couldn’t be absolutely positive, however, she could have sworn she heard a couple of gasps behind her, and it hadn’t come from Harry or Remus.

Hermione smiled, glad that Daphne and Astoria were impressed.

The tiger stepped forward, fearless, roaring at the bogart, as it stepped closer. Harry didn’t even have time to fully form his stag patronus that was now walking out and about the room, as the bogart shrank back from Hermione’s tiger patronus.

Remus grinned and closed the trunk, locking it.

He looked at Hermione and Harry. “Excellent!” He cheered and Hermione more or less “shut her tiger patronus off,” making it go slowly fade, as did Harry and they both sheathed their wands.

Remus still gave them some chocolate. They both thanked him and ate their chocolate.

Remus asked, “What memory did you think of?”

Hermione noticed that he was looking at her with as much interest as he was looking at Harry.

Hermione simply stated coolly, “Now, why would I tell you something as intimate as that?”

Hermione might like him, and might trust him more than she did before she got into the room and was set to face off against a bogart, but she still didn’t trust him. And even if she had? She knew she wouldn’t tell him something as personal as the memory she had used against the bogart.

Remus’s eyebrows went up, but he nodded. “Understood,” he said.

Harry looked at Hermione, startled at her distrust. When Remus looked at him, Harry answered, “I pictured my parents. When I was really young. A baby. I just have that, that image of the two of them holding me and smiling at me. It’s not much. But it’s all I have.”

Hermione smiled sadly. Whatever Harry’s friend, Ron, might have thought of her, she and Harry had a lot more in common than Ron thought.

Hermione looked at Remus. “Is there anything else you need from us?”

Remus looked to her Hermione, curious and he shook his head.

“Thank you, then,” Hermione said, “If you’ll excuse me. And thank you for helping us learn how to summon our patronuses.”

Hermione walked to the door, opened up the door and walked out, making sure to hold the door open more, so, that Daphne and Astoria could go through. When she heard footsteps quietly shuffling by and felt a small burst of air passing her, she closed the door, then turned to where she heard the sound of their footsteps.

“You got all that,” Hermione said, smiling at her friends.

The invisibility cloak was pulled off and Daphne and Astoria looked at Hermione, the expressions on their faces, startling Hermione.

Daphne was staring at Hermione with a cross between admiration and sadness. Astoria looked impressed, but confused.

“Daphne, Astoria?” Hermione asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Hermione,” Daphne said, “I’ve been thinking about this as a possibility for a while. That you………you don’t talk a lot about the stuff that’s happened to you.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?” She asked, voice cautious.

Daphne sighed as she, Astoria and Hermione began to walk away from the door before Harry or Remus could emerge from it, “Look, Mione? We know about what happened years ago in our first year, we know about all that. We know that you’re a muggle-born. We know that you live with your adoptive muggle mother. But that’s it. Mione, can you tell me one thing about you that we don’t know? That’s really personal?”

Hermione stopped walking in the hallway, staring at Astoria and Daphne in confusion. “Where is all this coming from?” She asked.

“It’s just…………,” Daphne said, “We know so little about you emotionally. You know so much about us. About Pansy and Millicent. But you guard your secrets like that three-headed dog in our first year that we had to deal with.”

“Don’t compare me to Fluffy,” Hermione grumbled, “I wouldn’t try to bite anyone.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Astoria said, now that her sister had pointed out the elephant in the room, which was that Hermione kept so many secrets from her friends, “We’ve told you so much about our lives. You keep so much from us.”

“Look, it’s nothing to be worried about,” Hermione said, feeling her chest becoming tight, realizing that they were getting very, very close to some truths that she didn’t want them to find out about, “There’s just stuff I deal with, is all.”

Seeing Hermione’s closed off expression, Daphne asked the question that almost made Hermione gasp, “Hermione, what happened to you? What happened to make you so closed off?”

Hermione shook her head, her lips tight together.

“Let’s just find Pansy and Millicent,” She said, turning on her heel and walking past the other two girls.

She heard Daphne and Astoria sigh, and follow after her.

Hermione knew that finally, Daphne and Astoria were becoming aware of how much she was keeping from them and Pansy and Millicent.

And what exactly would she tell them? About Cromwell? The labs? The many dead muggle-borns? The things she had done in the lab during the breakout? How many people she was positive she had killed with her magic, albeit, unintentionally? The Sorcerer’s Stone? The wand that she had, that was the same as Voldemort’s wand, core, wood and all?

How was she to explain all that? Something that was like an open wound for her?

Not to mention that time turner that McGonagall had given her.

Absentmindedly, Hermione said, “We need to return the cloak to Harry at some point. But hold onto it until then.”

“Right,” Daphne said, not saying anything more than that.

Hermione knew that out of all of her friends, Daphne was the most observant. A thought then ran through Hermione’s brain fast. The thought was, if Daphne if was that observant about Hermione keeping secrets, did that mean that Daphne was onto something by not trusting Tom Riddle?

Hermione tried to ignore that thought.

Just because Daphne was right about her, didn’t mean she was right about Tom.

Another thought entered Hermione’s mind. The thought was, (then why do you feel some distrust for Tom? Why have you kept so much from him?)

Hermione didn’t speak of these thoughts. She didn’t like these troubled thoughts. Not at all.

While Hermione, Daphne and Astoria had investigated what exactly Remus had wanted, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode had gone to find Ron Weasley’s pet, Scabbers.

Ron and Harry were talking in the hallway, and guffawing about other “stupid students,” in their words.

And Millicent and Pansy turned the corridor, looking down the hallway. And they could see Scabbers, the rat, right on the bench next to Ron.

The thing was, Ron and Harry both had their backs turned to the rat. Which meant they might not see what Pansy and Millicent were about to do.

Pansy and Millicent looked at each other, and they both nodded.

Pansy pulled out her wand, aimed it at Scabbers and whispered, “Silencio.”

She watched as light pushed out of the wand and hit Scabbers, which would effectively silence him.

Millicent then aimed her wand and used a transportation spell, lifting Scabbers up into the air and magically moving him across the hallway towards herself and Pansy.

As Scabbers got closer, Millicent and Pansy could see that Scabbers was opening his mouth and trying to make noise, but Pansy had silenced him, so, Weasley and Potter would not hear him.

When Scabbers reached the two witches, Pansy reached out with her free hand, and with a disgusted look on her face, grabbed Scabbers’s long, pink tail.

Scabbers looked up at them, frightened.

Both witches turned the hallway, carrying the rat with them, away from Weasley and Potter, before the two boys could see them.

As Millicent and Panys went down the hall with Scabbers in their grasp, Millicent tried to soothe the rat. “Shh,” she said, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

They had no idea if Scabbers was just a rat, or a wizard that was trying to stay safe as a rat, but they’d find out soon enough.

And either way, if they were right about why Pettigrew had become a rat in the first place, if Scabbers was in fact, Pettigrew? Then he had nothing to fear from them. They’d protect him from Sirius Black.

Chapter Text

By the time Pansy and Millicent got back to the Slytherin dorms with the captive rat-possibly animagus, Hermione, Astoria and Daphne had returned the invisibility cloak to Harry at Gryffindor Tower, as Sir Cadogan had let them in again. The three girls left without being seen, thankfully, and went down to the Slytherin common room.

The three of them joined Pansy and Millicent at the common room, checked to make sure no one was nearby, and brought Scabbers over to one of the tables and Pansy placed the clearly very old animal down onto it.

"Hold him," Hermione instructed Pansy, to which the other girl nodded, keeping the rat against the table, lifting it up, not wanting to touch any other part of the rodent.

Hermione looked at Daphne and Astoria, they nodded and Hermione pulled out her wand and aimed it at the rat.

Hermione was about to say the spell, when there was a harsh meow sound, catching all five girls' attention.

Crookshanks suddenly came bounding out of the girls' dorm room, racing fast at them, murder in his eyes as he bared his fangs at Scabbers, who was losing it, desperately trying to get away now.

"What the-?" Hermione protested, eyes wide, "Crookshanks, no!"

Crookshanks didn't listen to Hermione and leapt at Scabbers. Only to be grabbed by Daphne, pulling the half kneazle back, her right arm around the animal's middle, her left hand grabbing at the scruff of Crookshanks's neck, restraining him.

"Stop, Crookshanks," Daphne said softly, "Stop. No more."

Crookshanks still didn't listen, hissing and snarling at the panicking Scabbers.

Hermione stared at her loyal and usually well-behaved pet.

What was all that about?

Normally, Crookshanks didn't get so worked up about rodents.

A thought occurred to Hermione as she looked back to Scabbers. Unless, that was, this wasn't a rodent.

Hermione aimed her wand at the rat again, and said the words, for the spell, the words that she had learned in the class that Snape had taught about animaguses.

There was a burst of light, a cracking sound, and suddenly, the shape of Scabbers stretched, became bigger.

Pansy gasped, unable to do anything, except let go. The girls backed away, shock covering their faces as they watched the form of Scabbers warp and in seconds, become a person. A man. In an ill fitted, dark suit that was threadbare.

The man was somewhat overweight, with scraggly, gray-brown hair and was balding. He made some almost rodent like gestures, his nostrils flaring like he was trying to smell something and was trying to make some noise, but the silencing charm had still been used on him, so he was silent.

Beyond shocked, the five Slytherin girls stared at the man. So, apparently? Scabbers in fact, was the man, Peter Pettigrew.

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and James Potter's long missing and supposedly dead friend.

In all the scenarios that Hermione had come up with? The possibility that Scabbers might actually be, in fact, Peter Pettigrew, had been so far from what she had believed, that it wasn't even funny. She honestly had thought that she was jumping and utterly mad possibilities, by thinking that maybe the Weasley pet was Pettigrew.

And yet…

Hermione fount the name coming out of her mouth, despite her shock, "Peter Pettigrew?"

The balding, admittedly, rodent looking man, turned scared eyes to her and the others, bringing gasps from Daphne and Astoria and a hiss from Crookshanks.

"Peter Pettigrew?" Hermione repeated, "May I see your hands?"

She half wondered for a moment, if Pettigrew might not understand her, but a second later, he stuck his shaky hands out for her to see them. Hermione looked down at his hands. And yes. There it was.

This man was Peter Pettigrew.

For on his right hand, this man was missing an index finger.

Hermione sighed, staring at this man, and she asked, "Do you understand me?"

This man had been a rat for twelve years. It was very possible that he had lost his human speech since then.

After a few seconds, the rat man nodded.

Hermione looked to the others and nodded to them. "Take the silencing charm off of him," she said, before looking back to Pettigrew, "Now, listen, Peter, we don't want you to cry out for help, okay? Don't call for help or anything. We won't hurt you. We just want to know if you know anything about Sirius Black."

At the name, Pettigrew shrank back, looking terrified, eyes wide.

"It's alright," Hermione said softly, "He's not here. Not right now, at least. He's not here. You're safe. We just want to know what you know about him. And Remus Lupin."

At the mention of Remus, Pettigrew sagged against the table, looking more calm now.

Pansy pulled out her wand and used the charm to take off the silencing spell.

As soon as she did, Pettigrew gasped, startled, his voice sounding nasally and strained, "Oh, thank you, dear girls." His voice and appearance all screamed, "pathetic."

He said weakly, "Sirius Black, the man that sold out my dear friends James and Lily Potter and their dear boy to the dark lord. He tore off one of my fingers. But I escaped." He looked away, appearing aggrieved. "I should have fought him. To bring justice for the Potters."

Hermione watched him, feeling great sympathy for this man. One thing stuck out in the back of her mind. "The dark lord," was what Voldemort's followers called him. Anyone who wasn't a follower of Voldemort, referred to him as "you know who," or "he shall not be named," or if one wasn't afraid, then just Voldemort.

Still, Hermione dismissed this thought and tried to focus on getting information from the rat man.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pettigrew," she said to him, "I really am. But you might be able to bring justice for them now. If you can tell us what you know about Sirius Black."

Pettigrew nodded as he said, "Black, he's an animagus. Like me. All of us were."

"All of you?" Hermione repeated, not understanding at first, till she asked, "You mean all five you, James, Sirius, Remus and Lily?"

"Not Lily, no," Pettigrew said, shaking his head, "Only the four of us. The Marauders." Pettigrew said the title as if it was a joke, and he sniffled with a small sound of laughter, "We created that map that you were using the other night, by the way, dear girl," he said, looking at Hermione, "The four of us. We made it."

Hermione's eyes widened. Oh.

That, she hadn't seen coming.

"You all were animaguses?" Astoria asked, sounding shocked and curious, "All four of you? What animal form were the others?"

Pettigrew chuckled again, and Hermione felt true pity for how haggard the slightly rotund man was.

Pettigrew continued, "James's form was a stag. That's why we called him, "Prongs." Sirius was a dog, that's why we called him, "Padfoot."

Hermione nodded. That made sense. "And you're Wormtail," Hermione said.

Pettigrew laughed again, real humor there this time. "Yes," he said, "I was Wormtail. And Remus? Well…," he shifted, looking nervous, like he was about to tell someone a piece of information he shouldn't tell anyone.

"Remus was just in his usual werewolf form, right?" Hermione asked, already suspecting this.

Pettigrew looked at her, startled.

"You know?" He asked, his slightly sniffly and shrill voice, sounding stunned.

"I suspected," Hermione said, "I didn't have proof. But I suspected."

Pettigrew nodded, chuckling, "You're very clever," he informed her.

"So I've been told," Hermione answered, smirking, "Now, Sirius? Why did he betray James and Lily Potter. Do you know?"

Pettigrew shook his head. "Betrayal would mean that Sirius was ever on James or Lily's side," Pettigrew said, "And Sirius was never on anyone's side, except his master's."

Hermione grimaced. Okay, that made sense.

Hermione then softened in her expression as asked, "Do you need anything? Water? Food? Maybe new clothes?" She suggested, unable to help the slight smile.

There was also the matter of a possible haircut and manicure, but she wasn't going to mention that just yet. He was already scraggly enough. He didn't need to feel that bad about his appearance.

Pettigrew nodded nervously, "Um, new clothes, please."

Hermione nodded. She looked at the others, "Think we could get some extra robes from the bigger students?"

Pansy nodded, and got up, going to the older students' dorms searching for some larger clothes.

Hermione asked Pettigrew, "Snape doesn't seem to like Remus. Do you know why that is?"

Hermione had read up on all the Death Eaters. To essentially, "know her enemy."

Snape, she knew, had been in Hogwarts around the exact same time as James and Lily Potter and as Remus, Peter and Sirius."

Pettigrew snorted then, snickering. "Oh, that slimy haired git?" He remarked, "He always hated us. Ever since Lily chose James over him. You know he used to fancy her? And when she got sorted into Gryffindor, he treated her bad. He joined the Death Eaters, because of that, I think."

Hermione stared, disturbed. Snape had joined the Death Eaters, because a girl had rejected him.

That was really troubling.

She had known that Snape was trash because he was a former Death Eater. But to do it because the girl he thought he was entitled to, wasn't with him?

Hermione then remembered how Snape treated Harry. Oh. This suddenly explained everything.

Because in Harry, Snape would have the chance to mistreat the child of his rival. And apparently, would completely disregard that that child was also the son of the woman he was in love with.

Clearly, Snape's hatred overrode his "love" for Lily.

But then, if Snape sided with Death Eaters just because Lily didn't choose him, people who hunted muggle-borns, which Lily absolutely had been, then quite clearly, Snape had never loved Lily in the first place.

And they most likely hadn't been soulmates. If Lily had been Snape's soulmate, even if she had chosen someone else over Snape, he never would have joined people that would hunt down and murder people like Lily.

And no, Lily not choosing Snape, didn't excuse him joining the Death Eaters. No person was entitled to another person. If Snape hadn't wanted to be seen as a monster, then maybe he shouldn't have joined a literal hate group that targeted muggle-borns like Lily.

Hermione had no sympathy for Snape.

None.

"Anything else? What about Sirius Black?" Hermione asked.

Pettigrew said, "Sirius tried to play a prank on Snape. Just to scare him. He got him worked up and brought him to where the four of us would stay during the full moon. At the Shrieking Shack. You know why it's called the Shrieking Shack, right? Because of all the sounds that people heard Remus make, when he would turn into a werewolf. And Remus almost killed Snape. James saved his life. Snape owed James his life."

Hermione snorted in disbelief. Sirius Black sounded like a shitty person even before he had joined the Death Eaters. But James had saved Snape's life? And still Snape had joined the Death Eaters?

Hermione had already hated Snape.

But she hated him far, far more now.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, "For what happened to you and your friends, the Potters. I'm sorry."

Pettigrew smiled. "Thank you," he said, "It hurt, knowing that they died. Sirius tried to kill me as well. That's why I turned into my rat form and ran. Stayed with the Weasley family." Pettigrew added, smiling grimly, "Sirius couldn't kill all the rats to find me. That would take him too long."

Hermione nodded. Grim as the story was, it all made sense.

"You've heard that Sirius broke out of Azkaban, right?" Millicent said.

"Yes," Pettigrew shuddered, "I have."

It was then, that something clicked in Hermione's mind.

Something wasn't right here.

Sirius had been locked away in Azkaban for twelve years. During that entire time, Pettigrew had been a rat?

Why?

If Sirius Black had been locked up for twelve years, why had Pettigrew secreted himself away for so long?

Why not come out of seclusion after Sirius Black and the rest of the Death Eaters were either locked away or forced to give up being a Death Eater?

It was then that some uneasy feeling spread through Hermione. Something wasn't right here.

"Pettigrew," Hermione said gently, "Why don't you just get settled here? My friends and I, we want to talk for a bit. Decide what to do next. If that's alright."

Peter said, smiling, "Of course, dear girl. And I don't really feel like moving for a while."

Hermione tried not to chuckle. She doubted he'd want to move after everything. He'd only had his tail pulled for the past several minutes, almost killed by a part cat, part kneazle, and turned back into a human against his will and interrogated.

Pettigrew hadn't had a fun day. Then again, he probably hadn't had a fun decade and two years.

Still, Hermione lifted herself up and gestured for her friends to follow.

Carrying Crookshanks, Daphne, with Astoria and Millicent, walked to the opposite side of the room after Hermione, and the four friends faced each other.

Keeping her voice very soft and quiet, Hermione said to her friends, "Okay, I'm sorry to say this, but something doesn't feel right. Pettigrew was a rat, all that time? After Sirius Black got caught twelve years ago? Why stay a rat that whole time? Almost all of the Death Eaters were either by that point caught or went back to normal life."

Listening to this and realizing that Hermione had a point, Daphne glanced Pettigrew's way. She frowned, troubled, before looking back to Hermione.

"You know," she said, "I hadn't thought of that. That's a really good point. Why stay a rat that whole time?"

Astoria's eyebrows furrowed. She whispered, "Maybe he was scared of 'you know who?' Or maybe he was grieving for his friends?"

"Maybe," Hermione said, furrowing her eyebrows, "But if he was still alive after Sirius tried to kill him, why not run to the authorities and warn them that his friends were going to be killed by Sirius and Voldemort?"

Astoria and Millicent flinched and Hermione added, "I know that Sirius was the secret keeper. But even if Pettigrew didn't know, surely," he would have gone to Dumbledore or someone and warned them. Something just doesn't feel right." Hermione glanced at Pettigrew, making sure he wasn't getting closer so that he couldn't listen in. Pettigrew stayed where he was, staring at his hands and his far too long nails.

Hermione added, turning back to her friends, "And when Pettigrew talked about Voldemort, he referred to the guy as 'the dark lord.'"

Daphne nodded, her lips pressing together in a hard line, as if she had just decided on something. "I noticed that too," she confessed, "That's what his followers called him."

"Wait, hold on," Astoria said, looking to Pettigrew, then back to her friends, "Are you saying that you think Pettigrew is a Death Eater?"

"Maybe not exactly a Death Eater," Hermione said, "But I think he might be connected to Voldemort. In some way. I don't know how. But I'm starting to think he is. And maybe, he and Sirius are working together."

Both Daphne and Millicent shivered and Astoria's eyes widened.

"Alright," Hermione said, "We also discussed the possibility that Remus might be working with Sirius. If that's the case? I want to ask Pettigrew if he wants to see Remus. At some point. Not right now. But eventually. Just to see how Pettigrew reacts to possibly seeing Remus again."

Daphne, Millicent and Astoria nodded.

Hermione added, "One last thing. Don't tell Pettigrew about the diary. Don't tell him about Tom, okay?"

Daphne and Millicent nodded and Astoria said, "Okay."

Hermione looked at the three of them with all seriousness, "Promise me."

All three girls promised Hermione.

Even if Hermione wasn't starting to have the feeling that Pettigrew might be working with Voldemort, she knew she would have made them promise.

Because Pettigrew had been a rat for twelve years, for Merlin's sake. His mind probably wasn't the most stable.

Which meant that should he ever find out about Tom being attached to a diary, he might just tell someone he wasn't supposed to, even if Hermione got him to swear to secrecy.

Hermione and her friends turned back to Pettigrew and Hermione sat down in front of him again as she said, speaking softly, showing no hint of what it was that she had just discussed with her friends, "Listen, according to the entirety of the witch and wizarding world? You're dead, okay? And as far as anyone knows, Sirius killed you. Which I'm sure was your intention if you stayed a rat so long. And if anyone finds out that you're still alive, or if Sirius finds out that you've turned back into a human, he'll know it'll be much easier to find you. So, you have to stay a secret, okay? Or else Sirius might find you."

Pettigrew nodded, looking frightened still.

"Now, do you have an idea of where we should keep you safe, till Sirius is caught?" Hermione asked, "I don't think the Shrieking Shack is a good idea. Sirius knows about that place."

Pettigrew nodded. "Most places I know around the castle," he said, "Sirius would know about."

Nodding, Hermione said, "Alright. How about this? We keep you here in the dorms. There are some places where other students won't go near the dorms. And we'll figure out what to do then, okay?"

Pettigrew nodded.

Pansy arrived with some large clothes for Pettigrew to wear. It was somewhat ridiculous, dressing Pettigrew up in overgrown robes, when he so clearly wasn't a student. But they were limited in the clothes they had access to that would fit Pettigrew.

After Pansy gave Pettigrew the clothes and they shuttered him off to a small room for him to change into those clothes, Hermione pulled Pansy aside and explained the situation, explained why she wanted Pansy not to say a word about Tom to Pettigrew, and what her suspicions about Pettigrew were.

Pansy paled a great deal at what Hermione implied, looking at the door where Pettigrew was changing his clothes, now nervous.

Hermione said, "I know this isn't right, but we should knock him out every now and then. We can't watch him every second."

"Right," Pansy said, "And where will we stick him until we come back for him, all these times we knock him out magically?"

Hermione frowned, unsure. Good question.

"I don't know," she confessed, "Give me some time to figure it out."

Hermione added, "It's getting late and I hate doing this to him, but I think we might want to get him some food and water and as soon as he's done eating? Knock him out and stick him in a closet for the night and for the morning classes."

Pansy and Millicent chuckled at the ridiculousness of it. Because after everything, after spending twelve years as a rat and finally being turned back into a human? He would now be a prisoner and locked up.

It was funny in a horrible way.

Astoria went off to get food from the Great Hall and grabbed some, bringing it back.

Hermione and the others showed Pettigrew the food Astoria had brought. Yorkshire pudding, chicken, slices of pumpkin pie and an apple.

Pettigrew ate everything with great zest, most likely having eaten only cheese and pieces of bread for years.

He downed everything in seconds, till he hiccupped, then burped.

He gulped down the water. And as soon as Hermione was sure that he was content, she pulled out her wand and used a sleeping spell on him.

A second later, Pettigrew fell unconscious against the floor with a "thump."

Hermione quietly apologized to him and she, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne, carried him off to one of the many abandoned broom closets.

They closed the door and Hermione used a particularly strong level locking charm on the door, effectively locking it, and they ran off to get food. No one, thankfully, had come through the common room during all that time. And Crookshanks had been stuffed away in the dorm, making sure he couldn't try to jump at Pettigrew again.

The girls grabbed food, and Hermione, trying not to feel bad about occasionally hearing Ron as he and Harry passed by, moaning about not finding Scabbers, gobbled up her food quickly, and she and the others ran back to their dorm.

That night, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne went off to sleep, granted, it took them a while. But Hermione decided she needed to talk to Tom.

She reached between her mattress and the frame of the bed and pulled out the diary from where she had stuck it.

She carried it to the empty common room, opened it up and said, "Tom, can we talk?"

Tom emerged from the diary, floating in midair. He smiled at Hermione, pleased to see her.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, "Glad to see you."

"Likewise," Hermione said, sitting down on a sofa chair, facing the fireplace, "Listen, something's happened. Remember, we told you about Remus? And Sirius?"

Tom nodded, his smile not leaving his face. "Yes, I remember," he said, "Why?"

Hermione hesitated before she answered, "Well, this is going to sound mad, but as it turns out, Peter Pettigrew, the man that everyone thought Sirius Black murdered, is still alive. He took the form of a rat for twelve years, staying as the Weasley household pet all that time. We managed to get the rat away from his owner. And we turned him back into a human. But the thing is? I don't know if we can trust Pettigrew."

Hermione looked to Tom, waiting for Tom's verdict.

Tom frowned and tilted his head and his eyes shifted.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at that. Tom's eyes had shifted. You know, she had never noticed that. But whenever she felt like Tom was less than truthful with her? His eyes tended to shift.

It was one of those "tell" things that people talked about.

Why would Tom be trying to lie about this, though?

Tom then said, "Why's that?"

Hermione hesitated, then said, "He says things like, 'the dark lord,' which is what Voldemort is called by his followers."

Tom winced and looked at Hermione as she continued, "And Sirius Black has been locked up for twelve years. Why stay as a rat all that time? And the rest of the Death Eaters, either were locked up or stopped being Death Eaters by that point. Why stay a rat?"

Tom nodded. "Those are all very good observations," he said, "And that is why you don't think you can trust him?"

Hermione nodded. "That's right," she said.

Tom asked, "Where is he now?"

Hermione, cautious, said, "He's locked away in a closet. We knocked him out for the time being. We wanted him unconscious. In case it turned out that he's working with Voldemort."

Tom nodded, tense as he said, "Alright. I have an idea. How much do you trust me, Hermione?"

Hermione hesitated. This was starting to sound unnerving. But she answered truthfully. "A lot," she said, meaning it, "I trust you a lot."

She might not have trusted him with everything. But she meant it when she said that she trusted Tom with a lot.

Tom smiled and said, "Alright. Tell me, what do you know about your gift?"

"My gift?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Being a parseltongue, of course," Tom said.

"Oh," Hermione said, eyes widening, "Not much. And I'd hardly see it as a gift."

Tom chuckled, "You shouldn't see it in such a terrible light, Hermione. An ability itself is not evil. It's how you use it. And I ask, because there's a place that I discovered when I was here. I don't want you to jump to the wrong conclusions, but I was studying the parseltongue language. Or parselmouth language. And I used the language every now and then, just offhandedly. At some point, I went by the girls' bathroom, and just happened to use it. And I heard something shift around inside the bathroom after I used it. It sounded like something large was being cracked open. I know I shouldn't have, but I stepped into the bathroom, curious, and saw that the sink was coming apart and elevating away from the floor. Revealing a large hole in the floor."

"A hole?" Hermione repeated, now confused. Tom knew the parselmouth language? And somehow that had opened up a hole in the girls' bathroom?

"Yes," Tom said, "And I went to the hole, curious. I decided, since this was after my darling Ella died?" Hermione winced at the name, watching the pain cover Tom's face as he spoke of his dead soulmate, "I figured I had nothing more to lose. So, out of curiosity, I jumped down the hole. As it turns out, it was much like a slide going down. It went on for a long time, but it was perfectly safe. I dropped down into a dirty cave-like area. And I found a large, round, metal door. It was clearly meant for a parseltongue. There were snakes all over it. So, I spoke some parseltongue and the door opened up for me."

Hermione stared at Tom, stunned. "What was it?" She asked, "What was behind that door?"

Tom said, "I saw the hall. With multiple snake heads sticking up along the hall. And the massive face of Salazar Slytherin up ahead. It took me a while to realize what I was looking at. This was the Chamber of Secrets."

"The what?" Hermione asked, frowning.

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. "Merlin," he said disapprovingly, "The teachers here really have told all of you students nothing. The Chamber of Secrets, Hermione is where many teachers believe the creature that was attacking students, came from. I thought it was Hagrid's pet, Aragog. But it may very well have been whatever came out of that chamber."

Hermione stared at Tom, stunned. Okay, this was beyond comprehension.

"But," Tom said, "I don't know about any monster that might be there. But there are secluded areas in that chamber, where you can stick Peter Pettigrew, knocking him out and keep him there. Until you figure out what to do with him."

Hermione contemplated this, then said, "So, let's see if I understand this. You think I should risk being killed by some great monster, and keep Pettigrew there that way?"

Tom chuckled again, "I see what you mean. Bad idea. Very well. The other option I came up with is legilimency."

Hermione might have been shocked by that suggestion, had Tom not just trounced any shock she might have over that, at hearing Tom suggest she go into some monster's lair.

And that he knew some parseltongue.

"Let's go with that instead," Hermione said, eyeing Tom in aggravation, her voice dry.

Tom laughed, not chuckled, but gave a full bellied laugh. "Alright," he said, "I understand."

Hermione then added, "Tom, why didn't you tell me about this 'Chamber of Secrets' before?"

Tom offered a sad smile. He said, "We had just met. You still weren't sure if you trusted me. If I'd told you then about the Chamber of Secrets, would you have trusted me? Or would you have thought that I was the one controlling the monster in the Chamber of Secrets?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Oh, that…made sense.

Yeah. If she had heard about this 'Chamber of Secrets' after first meeting Tom? She most likely would have jumped to the wrong conclusion about him.

Because now? Now, she was positive that Tom was to be trusted. Because it was Tom. He did nothing but help them.

But had she known about the 'Chamber of Secrets' before knowing him? She most likely wouldn't have given him the time of day.

"I see," Hermione said, nodding, "Okay. You know that legilimency is illegal to students who are underage, right?"

"I know," Tom said, "But this is a serious situation, isn't it? You may very well be dealing with someone who betrayed his friends to the darkest wizard who's ever lived. You might not want to do this. And it might be illegal to do this. But you might have to."

Hermione sighed, slumping back against the sofa chair. She mentally cursed. He was right.

As much as the thought of invading a person's mind without their permission disturbed her? They had to know if Pettigrew was working with Voldemort.

They had to know.

It most likely would make the difference between life and death.

Hermione added, "But there's still a question about where to stick Pettigrew until I figure out how to read his mind." She paused and looked at Tom again. "You said that there was a cave area outside of the door of the Chamber of Secrets?" She asked him.

Tom nodded. "That's right," he said.

"Okay," Hermione said, "Maybe we can keep Pettigrew there. Until we find out the truth."

"I think that would be doable," Tom said, "So, then what to do first?"

Hermione sighed, "Well, we won't be moving Pettigrew anywhere tonight. But I'll run it by the other girls tomorrow. But I just don't feel like I can go to sleep right now." She looked at Tom wryly, "I presume you know what books students aren't supposed to read, in order to find out how to do proper legilimency?"

Tom grinned. "You presume correctly," he said, nodding in the direction of the entrance to the common room, "Follow my lead."

Hermione got up from the chair and followed Tom as he floated towards the entrance to the room. He went literally through the entrance's door and Hermione opened up the portrait, leaving the common room.

Hermione followed after Tom, and they went through the castle, to the library. They needed to dodge Filch a few times, which made Hermione wish she had kept Harry's invisibility cloak, but followed after Tom.

They reached the library, and Tom brought Hermione to one very large, hefty book, in a shelf, deep in the restricted section.

"Here," he said, gesturing to the book, "Is where I learned most about legilimency."

Hermione reached out and grabbed the large book off of the shelf.

She carried it over to the table and opened it up.

She said, "Lumos ignit8

She used the spell and the end of her wand lit up, allowing her to read the words on the pages.

Tom said, as she kept the diary in her cloak and used her wand to read the words, "It's important to know who your enemy is. And legilimency? It's one of those ways you can do it."

Hermione nodded, but swallowed a dry lump in her throat as she read the words. She said, "It still doesn't feel right to go into someone else's head like that."

"I know," Tom said, "But it's necessary. You told me one time, that you had an encounter with…with Voldemort."

Pausing in her reading, Hermione slowly turned and looked up at Tom.

Tom said, nodding to her, "From what I've heard, Voldemort is experienced and talented in legilimency. When you encountered him in your first year, did he try to read your mind?"

Hermione bit her lower lip. She had told Tom after a few months of knowing him, about how she had run into Voldemort in her first year, and how he'd been attached to the back of Quirrell's head, of all things.

But she hadn't told Tom whether or not Voldemort had tried to invade her mind. She suspected that Voldemort hadn't been able to fully invade her mind, since he hadn't appeared to know much about her. Just suspect that in his words, she was a "survivor."

But apart from that? The only thing that he had seemed to take from her mind, was that she was holding the Sorcerer's Stone in her pocket.

She nodded. "He tried to," she said, "he wasn't able to entirely. I don't think."

"I see," Tom said, "Well, it's important to be able to give back the same weapons that are thrown at you."

Hermione sighed, looking up at him, "What about occlumency? Shouldn't I just try to keep myself closed off from anyone trying to read my mind?"

Tom nodded. "Being able to do that would help," he confessed, "But people would be less likely to try to use legilimency against you, if they knew that you could do the same to them. Do you know what Voldemort had a tendency of doing to the victims, whose minds he invaded?"

At Hermione's confused look, Tom grimaced and answered, "He would invade a person's mind and show them disturbing images. Drive his victims mad by showing them the worst possible things they could imagine."

Hermione shuddered. She had heard that. But she had figured that those were stories people came up with.

Embellishment after the fact.

She had hoped that that was the case. But if Tom thought it was true, then she was more inclined to believe that it was true.

"What you're saying is," Hermione said, "If I want to avoid getting my mind violated, I need to violate someone else's mind?"

Tom said wryly, "I would prefer it if we didn't phrase it like that. But sometimes to stop someone from doing something horrible to you, you have to do something horrible to them."

Hermione grimaced, looking away from the book. She didn't want to think like that.

She heard Tom sigh and ask, "Hermione, can I ask you something?"

Hermione turned back to him, curious.

Tom looked like he rather would ask her anything else, apart from what he was about to ask her, but still, his next question came out, "I'm not going to presume anything, but you've been through a lot, haven't you? I don't just mean running into Quirrell and Voldemort in your first year. I mean before them. You went through something bad, didn't you?"

Hermione clenched her lower jaw. She wasn't going to talk about that.

Tom saw the pain in Hermione's eyes and held up his hands gently, "I'm not going to assume anything. And I won't ask. But I can't help but ask if you have gone through a lot. When I talked about Ella and her parents? And when we talked before about who was the bigger threat, muggles or witches and wizards, I could see it all over your face. You know what horrors muggles are capable of."

Hermione tensed. He was right, naturally.

But she still didn't want to talk about it.

Tom went on, "Let me ask you this, Hermione. The people that hurt you, the muggles that hurt you, whoever they were, if you had the chance to hurt them horribly, to drive them made with images inside their heads, would you take it?"

Hermione froze, eyes widening at the question.

Her heart skipped a beat. Oh, she hadn't even thought of that as a possibility.

Hermione raised her head and stared at Tom. And Tom was smiling at her sadly, but also appeared knowingly.

He said, "Don't forget, I've been through some things too. I was raised in a muggle orphanage after my mother died and my father abandoned me. Do you think the people that raised me there or my peers were good to me? There, people took advantage of each other regularly. Stealing, hurting one another. And then later after Ella?" Tom shook his head. "I just wanted someone else to hurt," he said, grimacing, "I know that sounds wrong, but after everything you've gone through, Hermione, don't you want someone else to hurt?"

Hermione swallowed. She didn't even want to imagine what Tom had been through, and while she knew she should have been disgusted by his words, she wasn't.

Some part of her knew that she agreed with him. She wanted to hurt Cromwell and his lackeys. The guards. The other scientists at the labs.

She wanted them to suffer for what they had done to her. To the other kids at the labs. To her adoptive mother, Jean Granger.

She wanted them to pay.

But she couldn't, could she? Violating someone's mind like that…

Seeing Hermione's conflict, Tom pressed, "Alright, let me ask this instead, who would you be willing to commit such an act for?"

Hermione looked at Tom, startled.

Tom elaborated, "Your mother, your friends? Voldemort is going to try to come back eventually, and his Death Eaters most likely will join him, won't you have to protect your mother and friends? Not to mention whoever your soulmate is?"

Hermione stiffened. That was right. whether she liked it or not? Voldemort was still out there somewhere. Maybe leeching off other life forms to survive, but he was still out there, nonetheless.

Which meant he was still likely trying to come back into power.

And should that happen, with his Death Eaters behind him?

Everyone she knew and loved, would be in danger.

Her mother. Her friends. The teachers. The other students here. And her soulmate. Whoever that might be.

Hermione shuddered.

"Are you saying," she said quietly, hating that she could feel herself begin to agree with Tom's logic, "That I might need to destroy another person's mind in order to protect the people I love from that person?"

Tom shook his head. "I don't want you to have to do it," he said sadly, "But you know what the Death Eaters are capable of, don't you? You've done your research?"

Hermione nodded. Yes she had. She had told Tom that a few months ago. That she had researched every single Death Eater, so, as to identify and know everything about her enemies.

Tom went on at Hermione's hesitant nod, "So, then, you know what Death Eaters are capable of. When they rose up and began their reign of terror, I tried to stay out of their way, but when it came down to it? I at times had to use underhanded tactics to stop them from hurting me or the few friends I had at the time. One of those ways? Was legilimency. Death Eaters, as I'm sure you've read, are capable of anything. Invading peoples' homes, murder, rape, arson, torture. And destroying peoples' minds. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Hermione stiffened and looked up at Tom, horror etched across her face.

Had she heard of Bellatrix Lestrange?

One of the most infamous followers of Voldemort that had ever lived?

She said, voice heavy with restrained horror, "I can safely say, yes. I have. Why?"

She would try to happily forget that name having been mentioned to her by Tom after this. She just wanted to see why Tom was bringing that awful woman up.

Tom nodded. He said, "She, as I'm sure you've heard, destroyed the Longbottoms. She used her cruciatus on both Alice and Frank Longbottom, driving them insane, eventually. What do you think Alice and Frank might have been able to do, had they been experienced in legilimency?"

Hermione shifted in her seat. She didn't like thinking like that. But she suddenly saw his point.

Regardless of whether or not a person could use occlumency, the pain that Bellatrix Lestrange had unleashed upon Neville Longbottom's parents, had eventually numbed up everything. And even if they hadn't given up any information? At the end, they both had become shells of their former selves.

Which had left Neville almost alone in the world for years, before coming to Hogwarts, save for his grandmother.

If someone threatened a person she loved in that way, would she be able to use legilimency to stop them, by invading that attacker's mind and drive them to the point of trying to kill themselves?

Would she be able to do it?

Hermione thought back to Cromwell's labs. To the guards who had hit the other kids that she knew. To that night of the breakout, when guns had been drawn and bullets fired and kids shot and killed.

And many of those guns, had been aimed at her mother. It had only been because of Hermione's magic that they had been sent flying backwards before they could pull the trigger, that her adoptive mother was still alive.

Later? There would be no such reassurance. Voldemort was still out there and he was trying to get some physical form back, not to mention his power back. And if he came back? There would be swarms of Death Eaters like the Malfoy family, Snape and others ready to answer his beck and call.

And what they'd do, was hunt down muggle-borns, half-bloods, muggles and blood traitors.

And since Hermione most likely was very much on Voldemort's radar after her first year in Hogwarts, whose house would they go after?

And what would happen to her mother?

Hermione cringed. The very thought of any Death Eater aiming a wand at her mother or so much as laying a finger on her mother, made her blood run cold.

The question simply was, what would Hermione be willing to do for someone she loved?

And that was when she made up her mind.

She looked up at Tom, determined and even in the limited, pale white-blue light coming from her wand, she was positive that Tom could see what decision she was making. She said, staring at Tom, "Teach me legilimency, please."

And Hermione was positive that the smile on Tom's face was one of pride.

Chapter Text

Hermione had gone to bed very late that night. She had read and read through pages and pages of descriptions of how one would invade another’s mind.

It was disturbing to read. But she learned a lot. She knew that to be experienced in legilimency, it most likely would take years to master.

But this was a start.

When she decided that she should be done for the night, she had closed the book up, placed it back exactly where it had been before, to make sure no one had been here, and she and Tom had gone back to the Slytherin dorms.

Throughout all her reading, Tom would occasionally give her advice, explain in detail how something worked.

If at any time, Hermione felt hesitant to learn of a way of violating another person’s mind? She’d remind herself what the Death Eaters were capable of. And that her mother eventually could be in danger.

She got to bed, said goodnight to Tom, Tom went back into the diary, and Hermione went to bed, eventually getting to sleep. She had known when she climbed up into bed that she’d only get five hours of sleep, till her classes the next morning.

But it was better than nothing.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, one of her friends was awake around the time that she had come back to her bed.

Astoria had woken up in the middle of the night, and noticed Hermione going back to bed. She had half thought of asking where Hermione had gone, but had thought better of it, since Hermione had looked very, very tired.

So, after Hermione had begun softly snoring, Astoria decided to ask Daphne about it in the morning, if she should ask Hermione, and went to sleep, herself.

In the morning, everyone got up and went to classes. Astoria asked Daphne about Hermione getting up in the middle of the night and coming back late. Astoria had explained that she had fallen asleep, but had woken up in the middle of the night and had stayed awake for a while. Which meant, by the time Hermione had come back, Hermione had been gone for almost an hour, as far as Astoria knew.

And that amount of time definitely wasn’t as long as it should have taken to go to the bathroom.

Astoria explained this to Daphne and Daphne furrowed her eyebrows, deciding to ask Hermione about it later.

They got to their first class, potions, and Hermione barely was able to contain her death glares, thrown Snape’s way.

She might not have said anything out of turn against Snape, but practically the whole class could feel Hermione’s anger. Several student, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, gave Hermione a wide berth. Hermione’s friends all knew what the deal was, and Daphne and Pansy both tried to calm her.

“Easy, Mione,” Pansy whispered, “Easy.”

Hermione tried to hide her distaste for the man. She did. But it was difficult.

Snape had joined the Death Eaters, because a girl had rejected him. He had picked on that same girl’s son, because said son was the child of the boy that had bulled Snape in school, even though Harry had nothing to do with James’s actions.

She hated Snape. She knew she hated him. If she had the chance to kill him, she knew in her bones, she’d take it.

But she also knew she had to keep her rage under control.

So, she went about the assignment that the slimy haired git set the students to do.

After the class was over and it was time for the next one, Daphne took that time to ask Hermione why she had come back to bed late.

Hermione was startled that she’d been found out, but quickly said, shaking her head, “I just went off to the library. Tom told me about a possible way of defending myself against people like the Death Eaters.”

Curious, Daphne asked, “What way?”

Hermione shifted around, uncomfortable, till she finally said, “Legilimency.”

Daphne’s eyes widened. Oh. “Legilimency,” Daphne echoed, looking pale now, “Mione, that’s……………that’s really serious stuff.”

Hermione nodded. “I know, I know,” she said, “But Tom thinks that I should learn how to defend myself. And if I have to, use legilimency. I don’t want to. But I might have to. Voldemort is still out there, and let’s be honest. If he comes back, there will be swarms of Death Eaters that will join him again. And if that’s the case? We’ll all be in danger. I’m sorry, but I have to find a way of defending myself, all of you and my mom from the Death Eaters, if that happens.”

Daphne blinked at Hermione, startled.

She understood that Hermione had a point. She did. But to learn how to invade other peoples’ minds without their permission…………

Again, Daphne couldn’t escape the unshakable feeling that something was wrong about Tom’s hold on Hermione.

Again…………it almost felt like a corruption.

But if Tom was corrupting Hermione, what was he corrupting her to do? What would he possibly want her to do?

Seeing Daphne’s uncertainty, Hermione sighed, “Look, I know you don’t like it. But we have to find a way of defending ourselves, should he and the Death Eaters come back. Alright?” She shook her head, “I’m going to go to our next class. You do what you want.”

Hermione walked past Daphne and Daphne huffed, sharing a worried look with Pansy and Astoria.

Millicent looked after Hermione. She said, “You know, we might not like it, but Hermione just might have a point.”

Throughout the day, the girls avoided the touchy subject of legilimency. And tried to avoid being aware that the dementors were still flitting around the grounds of the school. Occasionally, while they were in class, they’d see a dark, floating shape go past the window, and their blood would run cold.

But so far, no incident.

They eventually, between classes, after getting lunch, got to the broom closet where they had stashed away Peter Pettigrew, pulled him out and gave him some food.

After he had eaten and the girls sent him to the bathroom, they knocked him out again while he was washing his hands and tossed him into the broom closet again.

When the other girls went off to their classes, which were separate from Hermione’s, Hermione was about to go off to her own class, when her curiosity, like always, just got the better of her.

Slowly, she turned around and looked down the hall, at the door of the girls’ bathroom. The bathroom where she was certain Tom had told her he found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

The bathroom where the ghost of Moaning Myrtle frequented. She was positive it was there.

Because if there was an entrance to a chamber where a monster lurked, where else would the entrance be, if it was in a girls’ bathroom, and that same bathroom had a ghost in it that had been killed by some creature with yellow eyes?

The words that Tom had spoken to her about a possible Chamber of Secrets, spurned her decision on.

And she made her plan. She would go to her class with McGonagall. Then after the class, she’d use the time turner.

She would go back in time, and she would, while her past self went to McGonagall’s class, the present her, would see if there actually was a Chamber of Secrets in the school.

Besides, there was a class that would be starting up after an hour would pass in McGonagall’s class. Which meant she’d need to time travel today, anyway.

But right now? She would have to get to class.

Hermione quickly rushed off to transfiguration class, sat down and for what was becoming an increasing amount of times, Hermione only half-heartedly listened to McGonagall’s instructions.

After the class, she made sure no one saw her, and went to the girls’ bathroom, where Moaning Myrtle tended to be.

And she went down the hall, to the lavatory, grabbing the handle of the door and cautiously opening the door up. She went through and closed the door behind her.

She doubted anyone else would come in here, but just to be sure, she checked the other stalls.

No one was there.

Hermione reached the sinks, which was where Tom had told her the entrance supposedly was.

She took a deep breath. She honestly didn’t know if she could speak parselmouth on command.

But she’d try.

She looked up at the towering sink and spoke the words, focusing on the thought of speaking to snakes. What she said essentially, was “Open up now.” Granted, she doubted that it really mattered what she said, that was if the language of parseltongue was the key to getting this entrance open. However, she felt it was fitting enough.

She hoped that what she had said had been in parseltongue, but she waited.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to wait long.

Because almost as soon as Hermione had said those words, things started happening. Metal and porcelain shifted and the sinks began to move, pulling apart, separating. The basins of the sinks flew upwards, away from the body of the sink. The sink pushed away from where it had stood and Hermione had to back away, to give the bodies of the sink where the basins had been affixed to, room to move.

When Hermione pulled out of the way, she saw between the growing space of the moving sinks, to see, to her shock, a big, wide, round hole.

She gaped. There it was. A massive hole. Round. Perfectly round. Big enough that a giant monster could get out of.

Hermione tried to ignore that unsettling thought, as she stepped between the shifted sinks, and reached the edge of the vast hole.

Cautious, and unable to help her curiosity, despite knowing that what she was about to do was pure foolishness, she pulled out her wand, and used a locking charm on the door, keeping it locked from anyone potentially getting in, and then turned back to the entrance of the chamber.

Sucking in a deep breath, Hermione waved her wand at herself, and used the levitation spell.

Soon she dropped slowly down the huge, dark shaft.

She wasn’t going to risk dropping down and potentially breaking every bone in her body. She wasn’t going to count on the possibility of a slide or something.

So, she magically made herself float downwards, through the darkness of the shaft.

It felt like she was using her magic to lower herself down, for ages.

Hermione huffed out, “If it takes me all day to get down to the chamber, I’m going to flip my lid.”

But thankfully, it didn’t take her the whole day to get to the bottom of the shaft.

It took a while, but not that long. She landed on the bottom of the shaft, finding herself in a series of caves and rocky pathways, just like Tom had told her he had found.

Hermione gasped, peering all around the different caves.

Tom had been right. There were a series of caves here.

A shiver ran down her spine at the implications of that. Because ultimately, she knew what it meant, if Tom was right and there were a bunch of caves down here. If there were a series of caves here, then that meant that there probably was in fact, a chamber of secrets down here. Containing a monster that most likely had hunted down muggle-borns.

Hermione shuddered. “Dammit,” she whispered, “Tom, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me killed.”

That immediate thought made her unsettled. She pushed it away. She wasn’t going to think like that. Like Tom would ever try to get her killed.

Ridiculous.

Still, she kept her wand at the ready and began walking through the different pathways of the caves.

Or, was about to, when her feet rammed into something. She gasped, looking down at what she had just walked into.

Skeletons. Bones. She stepped back, her eyes wide. Animal bones. At least, she hoped that was all they were.

Several of them. A whole sea of them in this first room alone.

“What the hell?” She asked, confused.

From what she could see, most of the skulls looked thankfully, like they were just animal skulls.

But what made her disconcerted, was the types of animals. Large animals. Like cow skulls.

What was so big, that it could drag an entire cow or two down here to eat them?

Hermione swallowed. She didn’t want to think about that. She forced herself to move past the skeletons and search more.

Clearly this was meant to be the sewer system of the castle. She saw the massive, long tunnels, which had grates and probably was the pipelines of the castle. In other words, the plumbing.

“Huh,” Hermione said, “And I thought Hogwarts didn’t originally have plumbing.”

Of course, Hogwarts certainly would have plumbing now, since there were toilets that flushed and everything.

But back before James, Lily Remus, Sirius, Peter and Snape’s time, and maybe even back before Tom’s time, she had thought that this place hadn’t had plumbing. Then again, she supposed that Hogwarts: a History, wasn’t entirely right about everything, right?

She eventually found a disconcerting sight.

A round, metal door. Covered in the shapes of snakes.

She stared at the door, cold spreading through her. The Chamber of Secrets.

Where a monster supposedly was held.

While Hermione knew that she shouldn’t, she just couldn’t stop her curiosity.

She said the words in parseltongue, and waited.

Almost as soon as she had finished talking, there was action again.

The forms of the metal snakes began to slither back, and loud, mechanical clicks resounded out.

Hermione watched as the snakes slithered back, and the door began to creak open.

Hermione let loose a deep, deep breath, and forced herself forth, pushing past the opened door and into the next vast room.

She found a metal ladder going down and climbed down it, and dropped to a stone floor, whirling around, to see what was before her.

As soon as Hermione was fully in the next room, while fear was still present, what mostly dominated her at the moment, was awe.

Intense awe.

Flanking both sides of the stone floor walkway, were the many stone, open mouthed heads of snakes, with the fangs out. Some had their forked tongues sticking out, some had those forked tongues laying against their lower jaws.

But snake heads were present on both sides of the floor. And far back across the room, on the opposite side of the room from Hermione, was a gigantic, stone face. The face of Salazar Slytherin.

Hermione gasped.

So, Tom had found this place.

And he’d said that there was no monster present.

She hoped that that was true.

And while every instinct in Hermione’s mind told her to turn and run, Hermione couldn’t help herself. Curious, she began to walk down the stone walkway, between the rows of snake heads, getting closer to the huge stone face of Salazar Slytherin, the founder of her house.

It felt like ages and Hermione couldn’t help but shiver as she went past the many hissing snake heads that flanked the floor, but eventually, she got close enough to the face of Salazar Slytherin, that she saw the part of the room where it was.

And saw the details.

There was a pool of water below the stone, bearded face of Salazar Slytherin, and looking down into that pool of water, Hermione had no idea how deep that water went.

She looked up, peering at the stone face, then looked to her right, then to her left, noting that there were passageways in each direction.

Curious, she began walking to the left-hand sided passageway.

She reached that passageway and peered down it. Nothing but more tunnels.

Hermione nodded and began to walk to the edge of the pool of water again, looking up at the stone face of the founder of her house.

What now?

What was she supposed to do now?

A thought then occurred to her. Everything in this chamber, had been enacted by the language of parselmouths.

Which meant if there was something else to be found here? Then it most likely would only be enacted by her using that very language.

Unsure of what she was doing, Hermione spoke the next words, focusing on imagining speaking to some snakes.

She simply said, “Whatever else is here, show yourself.”

And while nothing happened for a few seconds, Hermione almost jumped, her hand tightening around her wand, when she heard the groaning sound of almost tumbling stone.

Hermione looked in the direction of the noise and she gasped, watching as the stone mouth of Salazar Slytherin, began to slowly lower.

When the mouth was as open as it was going to be, darkness inside the stone maw, Hermione stared at the dark opening, waiting and then her heart stopped, when she saw something emerging from the mouth.

It looked like a reptile of some type.

A very, very large reptile.

Gasping, Hermione backed away, feeling her blood freeze. Oh, Merlin, what had she just unintentionally released?

Whatever was in that stone mouth, slithered out in seconds. It was huge, thick and long. It was a dark gray coloring with some dark green. There were ridges all over the top of its head.

It splashed down into the pool of water before Hermione as she backed up and the creature, whatever it was, looked right at her.

It was definitely a gigantic snake. Its eyes were piercing yellow. And its lips were curled back, revealing multiple knifelike teeth.

Hermione could feel her heart stop, when suddenly, to her shock, the huge snake did the unexpected.

It bowed its head to her.

“Wh-what?” Hermione asked, confused, shaking her head.

She then remembered something. This thing could kill people without touching them.

After all, that was what had happened to Moaning Myrtle, right?

Then, a piece of information that had been buried in Hermione’s brain, shook loose.

She remembered reading something about a beast that could kill someone just by looking someone in the eye.

A huge snake creature.

“Basilisk,” Hermione whispered, staring up at the beast.

But…………if that was the case? Then how was she still alive? She had just looked into the basilisk’s eyes………and lived.

Was this not a basilisk?

And…………why was it bowing to her?

But the huge snake, was indeed bowing its head to her.

And its eyes were closed.

The borderline submissive gesture was unmistakable.

Hermione shivered, backing away.

No, no, no, no, no. What…………what did this mean?

Hermione pushed the next words out, at first speaking in English, before realizing she wasn’t speaking snake language, when she focused on the snake again and spoke in parseltongue, “Go back into the mouth of Salazar Slytherin. And stay there. And DON’T kill or hurt anyone! Stay there! Don’t go near anyone!”

The large, possibly basilisk opened its eyes and tilted its gruesome head at her, before turning its large head and slithering back up into the stone mouth of Salazar Slytherin.

And slowly, after the long tail receded back into the tunnel of the stone head, the mouth slowly closed up.

Hermione breathed out, heart pounding.

Shock threw her for a loop.

What……………what, by Merlin’s beard, had just fucking happened?!

Hermione shook her head, hand going into her robes and pulling out Tom’s diary.

She needed to talk to him. Now.

She opened up the diary and waited.

To her relief, Tom emerged immediately.

Tom appeared in the chamber with her, then looked around, eyes wide.

“Oh,” he said, “You found the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Hermione said breathlessly, “Tom, I need answers, now. There is a giant snake in there,” she pointed at the face of Salazar Slytherin, “And I just met it. It looked at me. It has yellow eyes. I think it might be a basilisk. But it didn’t kill me when it met my eyes. I’ve heard that if you look a basilisk in the eyes, it kills you, instantly. But I didn’t die. Not like Myrtle did. And the giant snake? It bowed to me. And listened to me, when I told it to go back into the face’s mouth.”

That was a lot that she had just told Tom, and she was breathless after letting that all out.

Tom’s eyes became wide again. His eyebrows were up in his hair.

“It bowed to you?” He asked, “You’re sure of that?”

Hermione nodded. “Yeah,” she said, “And it listened to me. Why the hell would a basilisk bow to me?”

Tom eyed Hermione, then took a breath. “Hermione,” he said, “I’m afraid this just got a lot more complicated. The teachers at this school, they haven’t told you anything about the Chamber of Secrets. But back when I was here? People knew a lot more about it. And the stories, were that the creature in the Chamber of Secrets, could only be controlled, by the heir of Slytherin.”

Hermione gaped, staring at Tom.

The heir of…………no, this…………this just couldn’t be.

She shook her head. “No,” she said, “That’s impossible. I’m a muggle-born.”

“You are,” Tom said, nodding, “But you know that muggle-borns all got their magic from having an ancestor with magical blood. Don’t forget, you thought it was impossible for you to be a parselmouth, when you first started speaking that language. And you knew that for you to be naturally, a parseltongue, you had to have had an ancestor that was a parseltongue.”

Hermione shook her head. No, just no.

Her heart pounded at the implications.

Even if she had an ancestor that had been of magic blood, was able to speak parseltongue and may have been a descendant of Slytherin himself, she couldn’t handle this.

She, a muggle-born, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? The bigoted pureblood who had loathed muggle-borns?

No…………no, no, no, no.

Tom said softly, “Hermione, I don’t believe just any parselmouth could have survived an encounter with the basilisk. There’s a reason you didn’t die, when you met the basilisk’s eyes. If that was a basilisk you just saw, and you’re still alive, then it’s because you’re Slytherin’s heir.”

Hermione felt sick. She actually felt somewhat sick right now.

Her, the heir of Slytherin?

“I……………,” Hermione said numbly, “I need to sit down.”

She weakly moved over to one of the stone snake heads and lowered herself down, so that she was seated upon the pedestal where the snake head was, sitting on it, staring down at her pale hands.

Her right hand held onto the wand, and her left thumb rubbed against her right palm’s callouses, looking down at the pink marks. It was like she was trying to center herself by trying to grip onto anything-any sensory thing.

Anything to not focus on what she had just learned.

Her, the heir of Slytherin.

Hermione’s short, ragged breaths were slowed, however, when she realized something.

If she was the heir of Slytherin, or an heir, who had been the other heir? At Hogwarts, there had been someone who had opened up the Chamber of Secrets, and let the basilisk out, and had had it students. There had been another heir of Slytherin. But who? Who had opened up the Chamber of Secrets the first time?

Hermione husked out, lifting her head to look at Tom again. “Tom,” she said, her voice almost sounding broken, “Do you have any idea who the person was that opened up the Chamber of Secrets? Years ago? Back when you attended Hogwarts? Do you have any idea who that person might have been?”

Tom watched her and shook his head. “No,” he said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I thought at first that Hagrid was the one that had unleashed the monster. But knowing that the person that opened it, might be the heir of Slytherin, makes me severely doubt that Hagrid was the one to have let the creature out. I’ll admit, after Hagrid was kept out of Azkaban and after I was given that trophy, it was when I found the Chamber of Secrets. And after I found the Chamber of Secrets and I realized that the stories about the chamber, were true? I realized that it was very unlikely Hagrid.”

Hermione nodded. She admittedly, had been wondering about that. Wondering if Tom had found the chamber, then why he still had believed that Hagrid was responsible. Because who would ever think Hagrid to be the heir of Slytherin?

But if Tom found the chamber after Hagrid had been released and after Tom had gotten the trophy, then Tom probably could be excused for assuming that about Hagrid before then.

Still, dread began to spread throughout her chest.

If she was the heir of Slytherin, and there was another heir of Slytherin back during Tom’s time, what did that mean?

The person that had attacked students…………the boy that Myrtle had heard speaking to a yellow-eyed creature in the girls’ bathroom, had that boy been Hermione’s grandfather?

“I……………,” Hermione’s words were rough as she said, “I think I need to check my blood, to see if I’m really a muggle-born or what or something. There are people at the Ministry of Magic that can check, correct?”

Alarmed, Tom frowned, but nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I know, because Abraxas Malfoy, in his and my second year together, went to the Ministry to get his blood checked. It wasn’t that he doubted that he was a pureblood. He didn’t. It was just that he was hoping that he was descended from Salazar Slytherin.”

“Was he?” Hermione asked. Oh, Merlin, please tell her that she wasn’t Abraxas Malfoy’s granddaughter. Someone please tell her that she wasn’t Draco Malfoy’s cousin.

She’d take almost anything except that.

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. “No,” he said, “I was with him when he went. As I said, he felt like he was lowering himself to ‘take me under his wing,’ and when he went and checked his blood, as it turns out, he was in no way descended from Salazar.”

Hermione breathed out in relief. Oh, thank goodness.

“Did you get your blood checked?” Hermione asked Tom, unable to help her curiosity.

Tom scoffed. “Me?” He asked, “Hermione, I’m a half-blood.”

“Yeah,” Hermione grumbled, “And I’m a muggle-born. And yet, that basilisk obeyed me. Your father might have been a muggle. But your mother was a full-blooded witch, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” Tom said, nodding, “I know her name and her family and that’s it. But because her family abandoned me and tossed me into an orphanage as soon as I was born, I wanted nothing to do with them. So, I saw no reason to get my blood tested. In the very unlikely possibility that I might in any way be related to Salazar Slytherin, I certainly wouldn’t know about it.”

Hermione nodded again. “Okay,” she said, “I need to get my blood tested, is all I’m saying.”

“Alright,” Tom answered, “And what happens if it turns out that you are in fact, the heir of Slytherin?”

“I don’t know, alright?!” Hermione yelled, staring at Tom, “I don’t know. I’ll……………figure it out when I find out.”

Tom sighed, “Hermione, isn’t the basilisk’s reaction to you, proof enough that you are in fact, the heir of Slytherin? And what if you ask to have a blood test done? What will happen then? You think that’s something the Ministry will keep secret? You’re already in Slytherin. Think of what the Ministry will think, if they find a blood test proving that you are the heir of Slytherin.”

As ridiculous as this situation was? It was that reasoning that gave Hermione pause.

If people realized that she was descended from Salazar Slytherin, then what would happen?

How distrusting of her, would the rest of the students at Hogwarts, and teachers be of her, when word got out?

Her friends might even be distrusting.

The rest of Slytherin might just be impressed, but it didn’t change that it would cast a great deal of distrust her way.

Distrust that she just couldn’t afford, when she was trying to protect her mother, trying to keep it a secret that she had the Sorcerer’s Stone in her custody, and was trying to keep a low profile so that Voldemort and his followers, and Cromwell and his cronies, didn’t come after her and her mother.

Not to mention, it was bad enough that that wand seller, Mr. Garrick Ollivander, had told her that the wand she had in her possession, shared a core with the wand that Voldemort had bought all those years ago, when he had first attended Hogwarts.

If anyone found that out? Well, that already would cause a great deal of distrust against her.

And Merlin knew, the Gryffindors, save for Neville and possibly Harry, already disliked her enough as it was.

Hermione offered up a broken chuckle. Tom was right, of course. She couldn’t let this get out. Ever.

And should word get out, outside of herself and her friends, that she was a parselmouth? Well, that certainly would make things more difficult. Wouldn’t it?

And she might not like it, but she had to be quiet about this. For pragmatic reasons.

“You’re right,” Hermione sighed, looking at Tom, “I can’t let anyone know about this.”

That did bring Hermione to the question of her friends. Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy.

Should she tell them about this?

Despite her distrust, she knew the answer. They already knew about her being a parselmouth. And that she had killed. They knew about her encounter with Voldemort and Quirrell.

So, they already knew a bit. And besides, Hermione knew the truth. If Tom was right and she was the heir of Slytherin? She needed allies.

Because should anyone find out? There would be a lot of backlash against her.

She would need her friends. More than ever.

Hermione sighed, “Except for Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy. I need to tell them.”

Looking at Tom, she watched as he nodded.

“That probably would be a good idea,” he agreed, “The basilisk should stay where it is, if the stories are true, and it will only obey the heir of Slytherin.”

Hermione hoped that was true. That the big snake would stay exactly where it was.

“Okay,” Hermione said, looking at Tom, “I need to go back up to the school. I don’t want people wondering where I am. And now that I know what’s down here? There’s no way I’m going to stick Pettigrew down here. I’m not going to risk him getting eaten or killed just by being looked at by that gigantic snake.”

Tom nodded. “Alright,” he said, “Do you know how to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Hermione said, “I can levitate out of the entrance. What I’m interested in, is how do I close everything up?”

“Oh, that,” Tom said, “Just close the door of the chamber. It will lock automatically. The sink that will close up and cover the hole you jumped in to get here, you’ll have to use parseltongue to lock it all closed.”

Hermione huffed and nodded, getting up, trying to keep her dread in check. “Alright,” she said, “Let’s go.”

She went down the hall, to the ladder up to the doorway of the chamber. She climbed up the ladder, through the door and when she and Tom both were out of the chamber, Hermione grabbed the door and pushed it closed. As soon as the door closed, she heard a clicking noise, and the metal snakes slithered forward again, the locks going into place again.

Hermione moved through the tunnels again, and got to the bottom of the entrance she had come in through.

She looked at Tom as she said, “I need to close the diary up, to get up to the entrance.”

Tom nodded. “It’s alright,” he said, “Go ahead.”

Hermione closed the diary and Tom disappeared. As soon as he did, Hermione put the book back into her robes, and aimed her wand at her feet and used the levitation spell. She floated up off of the floor up away from the ground, in the direction of the entrance.

She reached the top of the entrance and dropped onto the floor of the entrance, and walked from it, between the sinks.

She whirled around and spoke parselmouth again.

She heard the loud, tumbling sound of stone, metal and porcelain again, and the sinks began to slide back together.

There was a harsh, cracking noise, indicating that the sink was all back together again, and the basins floated back into place and Hermione breathed out in relief, she then went to the door, unlocked it, then left, closing the door quickly, glad that no one had seen her. She hadn’t seen any sign of Moaning Myrtle.

She moved down the hall and quickly went to her next class.

She had avoided being late in her other class, thanks to the time turner, and now she would be on time for her other class. It just happened that there was a past version of her currently in McGonagall’s class.

She would need to wait till tonight to tell her friends what had happened. But she’d tell them.

Right now, she just needed to get to the next class. She passed by a window, then, glancing out, and stopping, walking backwards so that she could peer through the window again.

She saw Hagrid walking belong along the ground, dressed in a rather uncharacteristic attire.

It was a very broad, and borderline bursting suit he was wearing. And even from the distance that Hagrid was at, Hermione saw that the big man was raising his hand so that the back of his hand was rubbing away at tears on his face.

Hermione frowned.

While she didn’t doubt that Hagrid probably was an emotional person, Hagrid’s odd reaction and the garbs he was wearing, made her suspicious.

She knew that she’d get into trouble now, but decided on her next course of action, and went down the stairs, and out of the castle and ran into the yard, where Hagrid was, following him to the river.

When Hagrid stopped by the river, leaning down and picking up large stones and throwing them at the river, Hermione stopped a few feet behind him.

“Hagrid?” She asked, causing the large man to turn to her, “Are…………are you okay?”

Hagrid chuckled grimly, “Thank you, Ms. Granger. But now,” he shook his head sadly, picking up another stone, “I’m not. The worst happened. There was a meeting about what to do about what happened to Malfoy.”

Hermione’s stomach clenched. Right. In all this insanity, she’d forgotten about what Buckbeak had done when Malfoy had pissed the poor hippogriff off.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, even if she was sure that the best she could do was just let it go.

“Well,” Hagrid said, “I told Cornelius Fudge, that Buckbeak’s always been a good hippogriff. Always tame and good as long as people are respectful. But then Malfoy’s father showed up and started talking, and well, I’m sure you can imagine what he had to say.”

Hermione grimaced. Uh-oh. Yeah, she had a good idea of what some of the things were Lucius Malfoy would have to say about Hagrid and Buckbeak.

“Don’t tell me they sacked you, Hagrid,” Hermione said, though that probably was the least of the horrible possibilities.

“No,” Hagrid chuckled, “I’m not sacked.” He then threw the rock down at his feet sniffling as he said louder, pain in his voice, “Buckbeak’s been sentenced to death!”

Hermione winced. Shit. She had thought that that might be the case.

She had hoped it wouldn’t be.

But considering how harsh the Malfoy family was, how it was their way or no way, she couldn’t say that she hadn’t suspected that that might be the outcome.

“Hagrid,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”

She slowly left as Hagrid brooded, because what else could she do at that time?

Hermione stewed in her disgust for the Malfoys. She knew one thing for sure; she hated them.

She quickly rushed to class after that. Thankfully, Remus wasn’t annoyed, as she suspected he wouldn’t be.

Later on, when night came, Hermione knew she would need to speak to the others.

At dinner, she told them she needed to speak with them privately at the Slytherin common room. That the Great Hall was too public. She needed to speak with them privately.

Occasionally, she would look down the length of the table and stare with hatred at Draco Malfoy, who noticed her glares and would shrink back, confused by her rage.

Later on, that night, Hermione went to the Slytherin common room and waited for the other girls. As she did, she checked around her to make sure no one was nearby, pulled out the diary and opened it up.

Tom came emerging from the diary’s pages, floating there in front of her, next to the fireplace.

“Hermione,” he said, smiling, “How did things go? Did you tell your friends?”

Hermione shook her head, placing the diary down on the table next to her, “Not yet. I just………I just wanted to talk.”

“Of course,” Tom said, nodding, “What is it?”

Hermione breathed out slowly as she asked, “Just tell me, what does being the heir of Slytherin entail? I mean, you’ve heard the stories of the Chamber of Secrets, right? Back when you first went here. So, what would it mean?”

Tom looked at Hermione curiously, as he said, “Well, depends, I suppose, on what version of the story you believe. Some say being the heir of Slytherin, means you have vaults and vaults of gold. More accurate stories, I think, say that when one is the heir of Slytherin? They are the purest of the purebloods.”

Hermione chuckled. “Ironic, considering I’m a muggle-born,” she said.

Tom chuckled, “I suppose so.”

Hermione looked to the fire in the fireplace as she said, “Aside from the obvious, ‘this is really, really bad,’ should I worry about any Death Eaters finding out?”

“Unlikely,” Tom said, unless any of the family members of Death Eaters find out. But I’d like to point out that even if the Death Eaters actually do find out? It’s unlikely that they’d try to hurt you. If anything, even if they didn’t like it, I imagine that they would come to you and ask for you to become the next dark lord.”

Hermione guffawed, looking at Tom, expecting to find him smirking at the idea too, but she lost her grin when she saw he was not smiling. “Wait,” she said, “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tom asked, “The Death Eaters, they are from pureblood families. Pureblood families who are filled with hypocrites. I think if they knew that you were the descendant of Slytherin, they wouldn’t care that you were muggle-born. They wouldn’t like it, but I suspect that they might take exception, knowing about you being a descendant of Slytherin.”

Hermione shivered, looking back to the fire. She found that idea preposterous. But since it was Tom telling her this? Tom, who’s words she valued most, only after her mother and her four best friends’ words?

Would the Death Eaters really do that?

It sounded comical.

And of course, was unacceptable.

This, if anything, was even more of a reason to make sure this never got out.

“What would you do if you were in my position?” Hermione asked, still staring at the flickering flames.

Tom floated closer as he said, “What would I do? Most likely what you’re doing. Considering what the best course of action would be. And if it turned out that I had much to gain by controlling the Death Eaters? I just might do it. I wouldn’t like it, but perhaps it would feel good to have the fanatics that mistreat me and people like me, obeying my every whim.”

Hermione chuckled.

Well, yeah, that would be tempting.

Hermione lifted her head when she heard the portrait that was the entrance, moving. She glanced to Tom, worried.

Tom nodded to her as she closed up the diary and he disappeared.

Hermione turned to the entrance, breathing out in relief when she saw Pansy and Astoria coming through.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling, “Where are Millicent and Daphne?”

“They’re coming,” Pansy said, “Daphne and Millicent are just checking on Pettigrew, making sure he’s where we left him and applying more of the sleeping spell.”

Hermione nodded. That was good.

When the portrait closed up, Astoria and Pansy went to Hermione and sat down on the couch next to her.

Millicent and Daphne arrived soon afterwards and after they checked to make sure no one else was nearby, they sat down and faced Hermione.

“What did you want to talk about, Mione?” Daphne asked, her eyes jumping to the diary in Hermione’s hands and at the troubled look on Daphne’s face, Hermione quickly stuffed the diary back into her robes.

Hermione said hurriedly to all four other girls, “What I’m about to tell you, doesn’t leave this room, understand? No one outside of us is to know, alright?”

All four other girls nodded. “Alright,” Millicent said.

“Yeah, of course,” Astoria said.

“Got it, nothing gets out,” Pansy said.

“Nothing will leave this room,” Daphne said, at full attention, having the idea that she was about to hear something that Hermione normally wouldn’t allow other people to hear.

Hermione checked around the dorm one last time, before taking a deep breath and exhaling and beginning to tell her friends everything about the chamber of secrets. And about the basilisk’s reaction to her and about what Tom believed that that meant.

Chapter Text

After Hermione had made sure no one was around to notice them or hear them, she sat down, faced her friends and had, with a grim face, told them everything.

She watched as Daphne, Pansy and Millicent’s eyes grew huge and as Astoria’s mouth dropped wide open.

She saw the comprehension on their faces.

“You………….you are…………?” Pansy asked, stunned.

Hermione nodded, smiling sadly. “Yep,” she said, “If Tom’s theory is to be believed? Then I’m the Heir of Slytherin. And I’m a muggle-born. How much of an irony is that?”

“Wow,” Daphne said, shaking her head, looking pale. “Tom,” she said cautiously, “He’s sure of this?”

Hermione nodded. She knew she couldn’t any longer deny the most likely explanation for why she hadn’t died, as soon as she had looked into the eyes of the basilisk.

“I don’t think there’s any other explanation for why I’m not dead,” she said, “I looked into that basilisk’s eyes. And I’m still alive. If someone looks into the eyes of a basilisk, they die, immediately. Remember what happened to Moaning Myrtle?”

Again, Hermione watched as her friends’ eyes became large.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Pansy said, shivering, “So, there’s a huge creature in this Chamber of Secrets, that can kill someone just by looking at them.”

Hermione shrugged. “Apparently,” she said dryly, “I hope it’s going to stay where I told it to, but I don’t know.”

“Wow,” Astoria said, shuddering.

Daphne said, “Did Tom say anything about this? I mean, he says that he only found the Chamber of Secrets, because he was studying parseltongue, but that just seems very convenient.”

Hermione tried not to sigh. Daphne had clearly become suspicious of Tom for a while now.

Yes, Hermione had to admit that there were things about him that honestly just didn’t add up, but it was still Tom. He’d never done anything to harm them. The only thing that could be argued to be harmful, had been him telling Hermione about the Chamber of Secrets. And for that to have worked, he would have had to bet a lot on her finding the Chamber of Secrets and risking running into the creature there.

Now, how would he be sure she’d do that?

Sure, Tom struck Hermione as very sly.

But assuming that she’d find the Chamber of Secrets and would risk meeting the creature that killed Moaning Myrtle? That was still betting on a lot.

So, even then, Hermione hardly saw reason to think of Tom as a threat.

It wasn’t that Hermione didn’t think that there were things about Tom that didn’t add up, she did.

Like how Tom got stuck in the diary in the first place, which he still was neglecting to mention.

That was assuming that he even remembered.

And like how easy it had been for him to get into the Chamber of Secrets.

But aside from all that, was there any real reason to distrust him? He’d been nothing but helpful for the past almost two years.

He was someone they knew, someone they cared about.

He cared about them.

“It might be too convenient,” Hermione said, “But come on, trying to bet that I would go all the way into the Chamber of Secrets and get myself killed? Come on, Daphne, that’s betting a lot. If Tom had known that there was something in the chamber that could kill me just by looking at me? He’d never have sent me down there.”

Daphne nodded, but still looked troubled.

Hermione wished she could help dissuade Daphne of the older girl’s suspicions.

She knew that Daphne cared about Tom too. Daphne was just worried.

“Look,” Hermione said, “All that aside? We now know something really important. That the Chamber of Secrets exists. And we know what the creature is now that killed Myrtle. And we know that I’m not just a parselmouth. I’m very possibly the Heir of Slytherin.” Hermione shook her head. This was still so much for her to take in.

Pansy said, “We might be able to prove it.”

“How?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“Well,” Pansy said, hesitating, “There was this book that I heard of a few years back from my father. He said that it tracked the bloodline of witches and wizards. So that they will know if the person whose blood is being tracked, is from one of the sacred families.”

Hermione chuckled, “Pans, I’m a muggle-born, remember?”

“Yes,” Pansy said, nodding, “And you’re the heir of Slytherin, most likely. Which means you had a pureblood family member as your ancestor many centuries back. And this book might help us find out who.”

“Okay,” Hermione sighed, smirking, “And let’s say I try to find this book. What’s it called? Where is it?”

Pansy’s face became sheepish. “Uh, that’s harder to answer,” she said, “It’s called ‘The History of Pure Lineage,’ and unfortunately, I don’t know where it is.”

Hermione nodded. She’d been afraid of that.

At Hermione’s acceptance at there being no answers, Pansy added, hoping to help, “Last time it was seen, my father said it was at the Ministry of Magic. But apparently, You-know-who grabbed it and kept it somewhere. I don’t know where.”

Hermione tried not to snort in laughter. And Voldemort had kept the book somewhere? Well, now it was going to be almost impossible to find. Great.

“Well,” she said, “There’s that. But I need to ask that none of you share what you found out today. Please.”

Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent all nodded.

“Of course not,” Daphne said.

“We won’t say anything, okay? Promise,” Millicent said.

Pansy nodded, before adding, smirking, “But just imagine the Malfoys’ reactions if they ever found out that you are the heir of Slytherin.”

“Pansy,” Hermione grumbled, but she smirked.

Astoria snorted and lightly pushed Pansy jokingly, who grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Well, it was a good thing her friends were all taking this in stride.

She hoped Daphne could cool it about Tom. And that they might get more answers about Pettigrew and the Chamber of Secrets, and maybe Sirius and Remus too.

But in the meantime, they had to keep all this in consideration.

Later on that night, while the others slept, Hermione got up out of bed, went out of the dorm and went to the broom closet where she and the others kept Pettigrew.

She woke him up to see if she could get some more information, because well, they really had very few bits of information, didn’t they?

She got not that much from Pettigrew, just one more interesting thing.

And that was that the Whomping Willow on the school grounds, had a tunnel underground, that was connected to the Shrieking Shack.

Hermione had to confess, that was interesting to know.

She then knocked Pettigrew out again, apologizing to him, then went out, closed the broom closet up and went to the library.

She figured that even if the book Pansy had talked about wasn’t here in the library, then there still had to be several books on pureblood families. She might just find something.

She got to the library, having avoided Filch and Mrs. Norris, and searched the sections on pureblood families.

Before she read anything on the pureblood families, she read some more about legilimency.

And not for the first time, Hermione would admit, being able to invade someone’s mind, someone like Cromwell and the guards, that had hurt her and her mother and so many muggle-born children, would be nice.

After reading more about legilimency, she closed that book up and started looking for any source on pureblood families.

She eventually found what she felt to be a reliable and educational source, grabbed it, pulled it out, opened it and used the light from her wand to inspect its pages.

Nothing but the usual information. The Sacred Twenty-eight; the Abbotts, the Averys, the Blacks, the Bulstrodes, the Burkes, the Carrows, the Crouches, the Fawleys, the Flints, the Gaunts, the Greengrasses, the Lestranges, the Longbottoms, the Macmillans, the Malfoys, the Notts, the Ollivanders, the Parkinsons, the Prewetts, the Rosiers, the Rowles, the Selwyns, the Shacklebolts, the Slughorns, the Traverses, the Weasleys and the Yaxleys.

Nothing new here, as far as she could see.

There was some talk in this book about how some of the pureblood houses were descended from the founders of Hogwarts, including descended from Salazar Slytherin.

Hermione read the names of those known to be descended from Salazar Slytherin.

The Blacks and the Malfoys. No surprise there.

The Potters and the Weasleys. Okay, that was somewhat of a surprise, because, well, Harry and Ron would be the last people you’d imagine being in any way related to Salazar Slytherin, even more so than she herself.

Then Hermione read a few more names.

One of those names? Gaunt.

Hermione paused.

The Gaunt family had some of Slytherin’s blood in them?

Had Tom known?

No, Hermione reasoned. He couldn’t have known. He would have told her if he had.

Besides, being related to Salazar Slytherin, meant nothing. There were probably a lot of pureblood families that had Slytherin blood in them.

Hell, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy probably had Slytherin blood in them.

Hermione chuckled.

She looked at the different lines of the Gaunt family, when flipping the page with the Gaunt’s family tree.

The Gaunt family appeared to be “extinct” now.

Both lines had ended. On the female line, it lasted a bit longer. The father, Marvolo Gaunt, and his son, Morfin Gaunt, were both dead. So was the daughter, Merope.

Hermione realized that Merope must have been Tom’s mother.

She checked the descriptions of the deaths under the names. Yes, Merope had died in childbirth.

She was Tom’s mother.

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling for Tom.

She then read up on Morfin and Marvolo. Marvolo was said to die soon after Merope had died in childbirth.

Morfin, however, was different.

Morfin was arrested and only released after years and years, after a claim that he wasn’t responsible for multiple murders, however, there was too much evidence to show that he might actually have committed those murders.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she read that. The hell?

She doubted that most pureblood families were all as friendly as Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy.

But multiple murders?

Hermione bit her lower lip and decided she needed to question Tom.

She got up, closing the book up and putting it away, she grabbed her wand and headed back to the dorm and to the common room.

She made sure no one was around, pulled out the diary, opened it up and watched as Tom emerged.

Hermione saw the visage of the young man appear and saw him smile at her. “Hermione? Is there something wrong?”

Hermione sighed as she regarded her friend. “When were you going to tell me your uncle was most likely a murderer?” She asked, unable to help her tone.

Tom paused, his eyes widening, then he sighed, spectral body sagging.

“I’m sorry,” he said, nodding, “I should have told you a long time ago. It’s a shame that I carry with me, I’m afraid. My mother’s brother, Morfin, was a monster. I learned a great deal about him and I have been hoping to expunge any tie I have to him. He abused my sister. My uncle and my grandfather both. He terrorized and attacked muggles. They brutally abused my mother. And after her death and after my grandfather’s death? Morfin became a recluse.”

Tom took a breath, then said, “Later on, he tracked my muggle father down. Murdered him. Murdered my muggle father’s father, and my muggle father’s mother.”

Hermione shuddered, disturbed.

Tom added, looking saddened, “I’m sorry, but the reason why I kept it from you………because I may have caused it.”

Hermione was alarmed.

What?

She stared at Tom, waiting for an explanation.

Tom took a breath, appearing clearly remorseful and aggrieved to tell her what he was about to tell her, his eyes downcast, solemn.

He said, “I sought out Morfin, my uncle. After I found out which wizarding family I was from, because I wanted a connection with my family. I told him who I was, I told him my last name, and he went in a rage and he tried to kill me. I had my wand and I escaped. But he knew my last name. And he tracked my father’s family down. Murdered them.”

Hermione shivered almost felt sick.

“When,” she said quietly, “When did that happen?”

“After Ella Taylor’s death,” Tom said mournfully, pain in his eyes, thinking about his soulmate, “A year afterwards. I…………I’m not proud of this either, but I just desperate of some sort of connection to my mother’s family. So, I stole Morfin’s ring. It was the Gaunt family ring. I just wanted it as a reminder of my mother,” he practically winced, “And I kept it for myself.”

Hermione sighed, feeling for Tom.

Tom’s entire life sounded like a horror story. His mother died from giving birth. His father had abandoned him. His mother’s father abused his mother and died. His mother’s brother abused his mother too, rejected Tom completely, then murdered his father and his father’s parents and was released, apparently.

And his soulmate was murdered. And his soulmate’s murderers were never held accountable.

No wonder Tom had stolen the ring. He’d just wanted a momento, to remember his mother by.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s alright,” Tom assured Hermione, then added, looking fed up, “Dumbledore got Morfin released from prison. But that just proved more and more in my eyes that the headmaster couldn’t be trusted. Because I know Morfin was capable of it. But Dumbledore always protects those that cause harm. Just look at Snape.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, startled that Tom knew about Snape.

But he was right. Snape had made a deal with Dumbledore and despite all the horrors Snape had committed?

Dumbledore had allowed the slimy shithead a place to stay.

So, it wasn’t too hard to imagine that Morfin would have committed a bunch of atrocities, but was allowed a second chance by Dumbledore.

Hermione in that moment, distrusted Dumbledore even more and felt real anger and revulsion for him.

“I’m sorry for poking at this wound, Tom,” she said, “I was just trying to track the different families that might have had Slytherin blood on them and found some information on the Gaunt family.”

“It’s alright,” Tom said, smiling sadly, “I should have told you before. If it’s any consolation, Morfin, after being released from prison was elderly and decrepit and barely had any network to look after him, and he died alone. His body buried in some place I fail to care about. It’s essentially what he deserved for how he treated my mother and what he did to the muggles.”

Hermione nodded, agreeing fully.

Eventually, Tom assured her he was fine and told her that she should get to sleep. So, Hermione hesitantly closed up the diary, Tom disappeared, Hermione put the diary away and went to bed.

The next day, the girls went to class, per usual. Hermione kept Tom’s diary under the floorboards under her bed this time, just to be sure he was safe. She then went out to class. She passed by one archway, shivering when she saw a dementor floating by, its black cloak waving in the wind. Hermione, by instinct, reached to her pocket and wrapped her hand around the handle of her wand.

She was very, very glad that she could summon a patronus. She would use her tiger patronus, if she had to.

She got to her next few classes. She had restrained her sneering at Snape, during potions, disgusted by his choices. Then went to the other classes.

When she saw Remus, she asked if she could speak with him, after class. He said ‘alright.’

When she and Remus were alone, Hermione kept her hand on her wand, which was in her pocket and asked gently, “Professor, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you something. As you know, Sirius Black was in Hogwarts not long ago. He might still be here, for all we know. But you knew him before he betrayed the Potters. I feel like it’s important that we know what we can about him. Tell me what you can about him. And about Pettigrew.”

Hermione stared at Remus, hoping he understood that she wasn’t playing around.

Remus’s eyebrows lifted, but he then nodded.

“Alright,” he said, “I’ll tell you,” he nodded.

He began to give Hermione as much information as he could.

About how he and Sirius, James and Peter were all friends before. About how they had all stayed together and taken care of each other. But he didn’t mention anything about the Marauders’ map.

Hermione then asked why Snape didn’t seem to like Remus.

Remus had smiled sadly and had told Hermione what Peter had told Hermione about James and Lily. And that Snape had been in love with Lily.

But he neglected to mention anything about being a werewolf.

But the things that he told Hermione about Snape apparently added up with what Peter had told Hermione and the others about Snape, Lily and James.

So, Snape definitely sided with the Death Eaters and Voldemort because he was rejected.

Disgusting.

Hermione then learned from Remus that Sirius was the “secret keeper” of James and Lily’s location when they went and took their son, Harry into hiding.

Hermione knew that that hadn’t ended too well for them.

But sadly, Hermione hadn’t learned much more from Remus about Sirius or Peter.

Just that Peter had been a timid and unassuming boy who always followed his friends. And Sirius had always been a prankster. Always a bit too much. Sometimes, if not often, his pranks went way, way too far.

It sounded like everything tracked with what Peter had told Hermione and her friends.

She then learned from Remus, a shocking thing. Apparently, James and Lily Potter? They hadn’t been soulmates.

Hermione honestly was shocked by this. Sure, she knew that often in both the witch and wizarding world and in the muggle world, soulmates didn’t end up married. Either for financial reasons or for political reasons. Or the simpler answer, because one of the soulmates died before they and their mate could get married.

But James and Lily hadn’t been soulmates?

Okay, Hermione had to admit, that was a shock.

Hermione asked, unable to help the question, “Then who were their soulmates?”

Hermione watched Remus as she asked this question.

Remus looked away, almost as if in pain, but said nothing and Hermione realized that she wasn’t going to get any more answers.

She just hoped that Snape hadn’t been Lily’s soulmate, because if he had been? Well, that was just depressing, to think that someone’s soulmate could treat them, the way Snape had treated Lily.

A thought then occurred to Hermione. She was about to do a gamble and she knew it. She looked at Remus and said, knowing that Remus had the Marauder’s map anyway, “Listen, about the map? I don’t think you’d be able to use it anyway. Because I saw someone on it that I know is dead.”

Remus frowned. “Who?” he asked, suspicious.

“Peter Pettigrew,” Hermione answered, unsure whether or not this was a good idea.

To Hermione’s surprise, Remus looked not just shocked and in denial, but afraid. He shook his head as he almost mumbled, “That’s impossible.”

“It’s what I saw, sir,” she said, “The night you confiscated the map. I saw Peter Pettigrew’s footsteps. So, I know that map’s probably no good, anyway.”

Hermione turned and left, deciding that she was going to take that to chance. She’d find out later whether or not she had royally fucked up by telling Remus that piece of information.

Hermione left soon after and joined her friends at the great hall.

While Hermione and her friends ate away, Hermione eating a drumstick, she heard from some other Slytherins, they were gossiping and she paused, hearing them say that there was a scheduled time for the hippogriff’s execution.

Hermione tightened her hold on the drumstick.

She dropped the piece of food and looked to the student who had spoken. She asked, voice hard, “Flint.”

Marcus Flint looked at Hermione, startled and as soon as he saw Hermione’s harsh expression, he lost his sneer.

Hermione said, “When is the hippogriff being executed?”

Hermione’s tone left no room for any remarks and Flint answered quickly, all bravado lost, “Um, today, I think.”

Hermione huffed out. Shit.

Hermione looked away and noticed Daphne and the others, watching her, all looking sad.

“You heard that?” she said.

Pansy nodded. “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head, “Malfoy.”

“Malfoy,” Hermione agreed, no patience in her voice.

As they ate, Hermione glowered at the table at the head of the hall, glaring at the lack of absence of Dumbledore’s presence. She wondered just how much he had tried to help with Buckbeak. Considering how easily he bent over for people like Morfin Gaunt, she had to really wonder if the old wizard had actually tried to help Hagrid save Buckbeak.

She decided to push that aside. For now. A thought then entered her mind.

Maybe there was a way they could save Buckbeak.

But how?

Hermione’s mind then went to the time turner that McGonagall had given her.

Could time travel save the hippogriff?

She would talk with Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent later.

But right now, she needed to eat.

As she and her friends exited the great hall and Millicent, Astoria and Daphne went to their class and Pansy and Hermione went down the hall to their next class, something caught their attention.

Two Ravenclaws, two girls were snickering and laughing as they ran off with what looked like……….shoes?

The two Ravenclaw girls ran past Hermione and Pansy and Hermione and Pansy watched the girls leave, then looked at each other, honestly confused, and Hermione shrugged.

They were about to start walking again, when a small girl with a Ravenclaw scarf, skipped, literally skipped along past Hermione and Pansy. The girl had long, wavy white-blonde hair and an almost dreamy look on her face.

Hermione watched this girl. A girl who most likely was in her first year. And she was barefoot.

“Um, you know those girls that ran by have your shoes, right?” Pansy said to the girl.

The girl stopped hopping by, and looked to Hermione and Pansy, showing off a small smile. She said, “Oh, my shoes leave a lot. Might be the nargles.”

Hermione frowned. What the hell were “nargles?”

Hermione said, “Well, you know that the girls have your shoes, right?”

“It’s alright,” the strange girl said softly, “It happens a lot.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Does it?” She asked, having an idea of where this was going.

The girl nodded. She said, “My shoes went missing my first day here.”

Hermione almost growled. She said, looking at Pansy, “Pans, could you stay with her?” Hermione gestured to the girl and Pansy nodded.

“Sure,” Pansy said, looking at the blonde girl, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Luna Lovegood,” the girl answered and Hermione felt like she had heard that name gossiped about before this year. A first year who according to the rumors, “wasn’t right in the head.”

Hermione had no idea if that was true or not.

However, right in the head or not?

Nothing excused bullying.

Hermione smiled at Luna and said softly, “Okay, Luna. Stay with Pansy. I’ll be right back with your shoes.”

Luna looked at Hermione curiously as Hermione turned and ran down the hall after those first two Ravenclaw girls she had seen go by with the shoes.

Hermione pulled her wand out as she got closer to where the girls were running and aimed the wand at them, speaking the words, “Accio, Luna Lovegood’s shoes!”

The shoes disappeared from the giggling girls’ grasp and dropped into Hermione’s hands.

Startled, both girls looked around, then turned, looking at Hermione, confused.

“Hey!” One of the girls protested.

“Shut up,” Hermione ordered, her voice low and dark, making both girls stiffen, and she aimed her wand at both girls and said, “Stay away from Luna Lovegood from now on, or I’ll send you flying out of Hogwarts and into the lake with the kraken.”

At both girls’ shocked expressions, Hermione added, a cold smirk on her face, “In case either of you are wondering who I am? The name’s Hermione Granger. I’m sure you heard about what I did in my first year. To professor Quirrell and Voldemort.” She watched with satisfaction at the girls’ eyes widened and they paled at the mention of Voldemort.

They understood clearly, that they were in the presence of someone who had killed another person and Hermione watched as one of the girls swallowed hard.

Hermione added, voice dark and vicious, “So, just stay the fuck away from her, understand?”

Hermione then turned and ran back down the hall, carrying the shoes with her.

She reached where Luna and Pansy were and she reached out, handing the shoes back to Luna.

Luna took the shoes back, smiling at Hermione.

“Thank you, Hermione,” she said and Hermione nodded back to the blonde, assuming that Pansy had told Luna what their names were.

“You’re welcome,” she said, “Do you want us to walk you anywhere?”

Luna smiled still as she said, “You’re welcome to do that, if you’d like.”

Hermione almost chuckled. An odd girl, but nice. Hermione and Pansy walked Luna to the younger girl’s class and said goodbye to her there. Luna thanked them a few more times happily, before going off to her class.

When Luna was behind the door of her classroom, Hermione and Pansy turned to each other as they went down the hall to their class, and Pansy said, “That was one weird girl.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, nodding, “But good thing I got her shoes back.”

Pansy nodded as they went to their class.

Hermione said, grimacing, “You know that Buckbeak’s execution is coming up today.”

Pansy winced as she said, “Yeah. Think there’s something we can do?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione confessed, “But we shouldn’t leave Hagrid alone right now. After class, I think we should go check on him.”

Pansy answered “alright” quietly, and they went to class.

After class, they met up with Daphne, Astoria and Millicent and they went out into the courtyard, passing by the leering executioner, who was sharpening his very threatening looking ax.

Hermione glared at him as she and the other girls passed by, seeing his nasty grin thrown at them.

They got out of the courtyard and reached the area just above the steps leading down to Hagrid’s hut.

And they saw a most unpleasant sight there.

Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was there, with his cronies.

Malfoy was giggling with his friends, and to Hermione’s disgust and growing rage, had a pair of binoculars on him.

They were going to watch Buckbeak get executed and were going to laugh about it!

Hermione went into action before she could tell herself not to, storming over.

Malfoy and the others caught notice of her and Malfoy asked, smirking, “Come to watch the show?”

Rage was the entirety of Hermione’s emotions right now and she stormed right over to Malfoy and the others, pulling out her wand without hesitation and snarled, “You, foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!” She felt a thrill of pleasure at the fear growing on Malfoy’s face as he saw her coming at him with the wand and with the mask of rage all over her face and she aimed the tip of her wand right at Malfoy’s face as he backed up into a large stone behind him, looking terrified.

“Hermione, easy,” Daphne said, “He’s not worth getting into trouble over.”

“Mione,” Astoria said, sounding nervous.

Hermione felt Pansy and Millicent staring at her, shocked.

Hermione noticed both Crabbe and Goyle watching, and she could feel their fear, and she wasn’t going to lie, it was a satisfying feeling.

Hermione watched Malfoy whimper and shake. He clearly was terrified.

And she supposed she understood that.

After all, everyone in the entire school, knew what Hermione was capable of.

They had all heard of what Hermione had done at the end of her first year. What she had done to Quirrell and Voldemort.

They knew that she was capable of using the killing curse.

Hermione decided it was time Malfoy learned some respect for muggle culture.

And she knew one way of doing it.

Showing him that muggles were not helpless.

She lowered her wand away from Malfoy’s face and as soon as Malfoy started to look relieved, Hermione whirled around, balling up her fist and rammed it right into Malfoy’s face.

She heard the enjoyable sound of something breaking and he yelped in pain, falling back against the stone she’d pinned him up to.

Crabbe and Goyle both gasped, shocked.

They bent down to help Malfoy up, but Hermione wasn’t going to let it end just with that.

She leaned down and put the tip of her wand under Malfoy’s chin, just at his neck, and she saw his eyes become huge with fear again.

She said coldly to him, as she felt him tremble, “Let this be a lesson, Malfoy. Muggles are not helpless. That was just a taste of some of the ways a muggle could hurt you. And I’m sure it’s more than a coward like you would ever learn on your own. We don’t need wands to hurt people. Now, run away, scared little boy.”

Hermione stepped back, after sneering those last words out and only then did she allow Crabbe and Goyle to help Malfoy run away. The three of them ran, Malfoy gripping his nose and looking back at Hermione, terrified and shocked.

When all three boys disappeared, Hermione looked to her friends, suddenly feeling sheepish about what they’d just witnessed.

“Wow,” Pansy said, both shocked and smiling.

Astoria’s mouth had dropped.

Millicent and Daphne were both looking at Hermione in awe.

“That felt good,” Hermione confessed, knowing she probably shouldn’t have enjoyed that.

“Can’t say I blame you,” Daphne said, clearly amazed.

“Right,” Hermione said awkwardly, “We should go.”

The other girls nodded, but still looking at Hermione as if she had just done the most awesome thing every, and the five of them went down the steps outside in the yard, to Hagrid’s hut.

To their surprise, they weren’t the only students that had the thought of checking on Hagrid.

Harry was there too.

Laying between the many pumpkins, was a lounging and oblivious Buckbeak, watching the group of five girls go by and Hermione and the others reached Hagrid’s hut, and Harry was there, at the door of the hut.

“Harry,” Hermione said, startled, though she wasn’t sure why she was startled. After all, weren’t Harry and Hagrid friends?

Harry looked just as startled to see Hermione and the other girls.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, “What are you doing here?”

Hermione sighed, “I just felt like Hagrid didn’t need to be alone right now, you know?”

Harry smiled sadly and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “Exactly why I’m here.”

“Do you want us all to see Hagrid?” Daphne asked, “Or do you want to speak with him privately?”

“It’s alright,” Harry said, “We can all go inside.”

Hermione nodded. She then asked, “Where’s Ronald Weasley?”

Harry said wryly, “Looking for Scabbers, his pet rat. He says he doesn’t know where Scabbers is.”

Hermione glanced at the others, worried that any of them, including herself, might give something away.

But thankfully, all Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent did, was tense up, and that was it.

Hermione, however, was slightly disgusted by Ron.

To ignore that a friend needed you?

Hermione ignored her anger at Ron, and the six of them went into the hut together.

Hagrid looked understandably distressed and upset, wiping his eyes every now and then with a large tissue.

Hagrid said that the six of them should leave before Cornelius Fudge arrived with the executioner.

Astoria asked if maybe they could release Buckbeak, but Hermione reminded Astoria that if they did that, then Hagrid would get into trouble.

As they tried to comfort Hagrid, something odd happened, for lack of better terms.

The window of Hagrid’s hut was opened, and something flew in and cracked a flowerpot on Hagrid’s table.

All six teenagers gasped, jumping up, looking at the wreckage of the flowerpot. Hermione leaned in close, seeing what had destroyed the pot. A small black stone. With an almost seashell shape on it.

Hermione frowned, looking out the window. Where had that come from?

Hermione picked up the stone, curious.

Another stone must have been thrown in from out of nowhere, because Harry suddenly yelped, his hands going to the back of his head.

Daphne and Millicent gasped, looking out the window, but trying to avoid being hit by whoever or whatever was out there.

“Someone’s throwing rocks at us?!” Millicent demanded.

Pansy looked out the other window and gasped, “Um, everyone? Fudge, Dumbledore and the executioner are coming.”

The kids all realized that they needed to get out, but honestly, none of them felt good about leaving Hagrid to witness Buckbeak’s death alone.

When Hermione said that they should stay with him during the execution, Hagrid was incredibly vocal. He said, “You think I’d want any of you to see somethin’ like that?! No, the six of you are leaving. And if anyone sees you out of the castle at this time of night, you’ll all be in trouble, particularly you, Harry.”

Hermione didn’t want to, but she knew that Hagrid would never forgive himself if they saw the execution, so she and the others all left the hut, going out the back, under Hagrid’s orders.

The six of them ran to hide behind a large patch of big pumpkins.

The six of them hid and watched as several crows flew around and some landed on the pumpkins and Dumbledore and Fudge entered Hagrid’s hut.

As the six teenagers waited, a snapping noise caught Hermione’s attention from the woods.

Hermione whirled around, recognizing the sound of a stick or twig snapping, and she looked into the dark patch of forest, pulling her wand out at the ready.

Her eyes widened when she thought she caught a flash of…………..

But no, it couldn’t be, right?

“What is it, Hermione?” Daphne asked, as she, Harry, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy all looked at her and into the dark patch where Hermione was looking.

The figures that Hermione thought she saw for a moment, had gone behind a bunch of trees. And if she was right about what she had seen? She had better stay quiet about it.

“I thought I just saw……….,” she said, “Never mind,” she shook her head and said, nodding to the steps away from Hagrid’s hut, “Let’s go.”

As the six teenagers fled the scene, Hermione occasionally looked back at Buckbeak, feeling sad for him, watching as the hippogriff looked at them, before laying his head down on the ground to rest.

She so badly wanted to help him get away.

But if she had seen what she thought she had seen in the woods? Then maybe there was still a chance for the hippogriff.

At least, she hoped there was.

Hermione wanted to punch Malfoy all over again.

That magnificent, beautiful, and so unaware creature, was the creature that Malfoy had been planning enjoying watching the death of.

For a moment, Hermione almost wished that she had used the killing curse on Malfoy.

The six teenagers got all the way up the steps back to the green overlook, and stood there, looking down at the seemingly now far off pumpkin patch.

Hermione looked at her friends. Both Astoria and Millicent looked like they were about to burst into tears at any moment.

Hermione looked back to the scene, seeing the executioner and Fudge emerge.

The executioner raised his ax, and swung it down.

A horrid sound of something being sliced filled the air.

Hermione closed her eyes, pain bursting in her.

She felt herself being hugged then.

She opened her eyes, seeing Millicent hugging her side, the other brunette crying against Hermione’s shoulder.

Daphne and Astoria had hugged and Daphne was letting Astoria cry against her.

Pansy was trying to wipe her tears away with the back of her hands, not wanting anyone to notice.

Harry looked like he was in pain as well and Hermione held her free arm out to him and he nodded to her, grateful, hugging himself to her arm, something she doubted he’d do if they hadn’t just witnessed what they’d witnessed together.

Not for the first time, Hermione condemned Ron Weasley. He should have been here. He should have been the one reassuring Harry, not her and the others.

“We should probably go back inside before someone notices we’re missing,” Pansy sniffled.

“Yeah,” Hermione said, feeling hollow.

If what she had seen in the woods hadn’t been there to make a difference about whether or not Buckbeak was killed, then why had she seen what she had seen? Had she just imagined it?

If so, then who threw the rocks? She certainly hadn’t imagined those.

Hermione decided to ignore it and helped Harry and Millicent across the patchy overlook and they, Pansy, Daphne and Astoria, began walking back to the school, when Harry suddenly froze.

Hermione looked back at him, curious. She saw him staring as if in horror at something.

Hermione followed his gaze and looked at where he was staring.

As soon as she did, she felt her heart stop.

A dog. A big, black, shaggy, vicious looking dog.

Looking right at them.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, glancing at Harry nervously.

“I’ve seen that dog before,” Harry said quietly.

“You have?” Daphne asked, looking at the dog, worried, stepping protectively in front of Astoria and Hermione as the dog began to move closer.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “Before I was picked up by the Knight bus. I saw it right near my home. By a playground.”

Hermione shivered. This dog had been stalking Harry?

And Sirius Black’s animagus form was a dog?

Sirius, who had escaped Azkaban, and had gotten into Hogwarts one time, already, and had scratched up the portrait with the fat lady on it.

“Harry,” Hermione said, glad she already had her wand out, “Get behind me.”

Harry looked at her, confused, but he did as she said.

Hermione aimed her wand at the dog. “Hello,” she said, “Sirius Black.”

Remus Lupin, at his office, held the map open in front of him. He knew how this map worked, better than anyone in the castle.

Well, that was yet to be seen.

That was only if Sirius Black wasn’t in the castle. And only if it turned out that Peter Pettigrew wasn’t also in the castle, somehow.

Remus’s eyes caught movement, with the name, “Peter Pettigrew,” under it.

In a broom closet not far away.

Remus moved quickly, pulling out his wand, anger motivating him.

Peter Pettigrew was alive.

And he knew ultimately what that added up to.

If Pettigrew was alive all this time, why stay as a rat for years and years, even after Sirius Black was locked up?

Remus understood what it meant and went off to the broom closet to fetch Pettigrew and hold him at wand-point.

He just hoped Sirius could forgive him for believing what everyone said about the convict. And that no one had caught Sirius yet.

Chapter Text

Hermione aimed her wand at the large black dog, which most likely was an animagus. Which most likely was Sirius Black.

Hermione kept Harry, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy behind her, but when Harry heard Hermione refer to the dog as “Sirius Black,” she heard him give an outraged exclaim of, “What?!”

Hermione cursed herself quietly. She shouldn’t have said the name of the person she suspected this dog to be.

It would get Harry worked up and react rashly.

But too late now.

The dog growled at Hermione and she kept her wand trained on the dog. If the dog so much as made one more move, she’d use a curse.

She had no idea if this dog was actually Sirius Black, and while she was far from using violence to defend herself, she still didn’t want to hurt an animal. If this in fact, was not Sirius Black and just some strange stray dog that was following Harry for some reason, she’d just disable it temporarily.

“What do you mean, ‘Sirius Black?’” Harry demanded, voice raising.

“Harry, calm down,” Hermione said, then saw the dog lift its head up, the dog’s eyes going huge, the dog’s ears pricking back in fear and the dog’s fur on its back spiking up.

Frowning, Hermione looked up at where the dog was looking.

Her heart stopped when she saw what was floating above her, her friends, Harry and the dog.

The dementors.

“Shit,” Pansy whispered, looking up and seeing the wraithlike abominations.

Suddenly, something happened that no one expected. The dog made a lunge. Specifically, for Harry.

Hermione gasped, and though she and the others had their wands out, it hadn’t mattered, since their attention had been on the dementors, by the time the dog moved and opened its mouth and wrapped its mouth around the pants of Harry’s right leg, pulling and dragging Harry down to the ground, along in the direction of the Whomping Willow.

“What the-?” Hermione yelled, running after Harry and the dog. She heard the soft padding of feet hitting the mossy ground behind her, telling her that her friends were following after her.

Hermione saw the dog pulling Harry to the Whomping Willow, wincing at the sounds of Harry’s cries of distress and when she saw the dog, getting Harry to the very bottom of the Whomping Willow, then disappearing under the Whomping Willow and pulling Harry with it, Hermione’s blood froze.

No one could know about that. About there being a tunnel under the tree.

Except one of the Marauders.

That dog just had to be Sirius. And it had Harry!

“Come on!” Millicent yelled, running after the disappeared dog and boy.

Hermione was startled at Millicent’s readiness, but nodded and followed after her friend.

Pansy, Astoria and Daphne chased after them.

“Everyone duck!” Hermione cried out as she, Millicent and the others ran for the small hole under the violent, moody tree.

Dodging out of the way of several swinging branches and jumping out of the way of a few clublike branches swinging down and trying to crush them.

They each jumped into the hole.

When all five of them got through the hole and dropped down at the bottom, crashing into each other as they did, wincing at the impact, they looked at their surroundings, seeing a dirt and leaf-covered path, leading to a darkened hall, and leading to stairs.

Hermione swallowed. She knew where this all went.

“Is everyone alright?” Hermione asked, getting up and checking with the others.

They all said they were fine and they kept moving.

They went through the hall, getting to the stairs, went up them, went down another hall, then found some more stairs. They went up them, and Pansy asked, “Where the hell does this lead.”

“I think I know,” Hermione said, “The Shrieking Shack.”

“You’re serious?” Astoria asked, startled.

“Yeah,” Hermione said, “Remus told me that there was a hole under the Whomping Willow that led right to the Shrieking Shack.”

She and the other girls had always heard of the Shrieking Shack, of course. They’d heard about it from other kids. Clearly a story that was passed on over the years. But they’d never suspected that the origins of those rumors, had come from a werewolf staying there three days every month for seven years.

Well, they hadn’t suspected it till now, anyway.

The five girls reached the top of the stairs and entered an old, decaying room, covered in dust.

There Harry. On the floor. And he was on top of someone, aiming his wand at them.

This person he was aiming the wand at, was chuckling madly.

Hermione and the others went in and Hermione looked at the face of the person under Harry.

Her eyes widened.

It was him, alright.

Sirius Black.

With an ugly grin full of ugly teeth.

“Are you going to kill me, Harry?” Sirius laughed, as if the very idea of that was hilarious to him.

Hermione was at a loss, and judging by how her friends were gasping at what they were seeing, they probably felt the same way.

But Hermione was also confused. Only a few minutes ago, Harry was completely at Sirius’s mercy.

Sirius had been in dog form, had grabbed Harry and had dragged him off.

Unless Harry actually was able to pull his wand out get Sirius to let him go, then have skill enough to change someone back from an animal form to human form? Then Hermione didn’t know how Harry had managed to get the upper hand over Sirius.

Hermione had seen Harry in McGonagall’s transfiguration class.

She knew that Harry didn’t have the talent required to change an animagus back from an animal form to a human form.

He was skilled in other magical ways, she knew that. But transfiguration, was not one of his strong points.

He barely had the ability to change a mug into a goblet.

So, how had he gotten Sirius to change back into his human form? Unless Sirius had changed into his human form because he wanted to kill Harry with his hands, maybe.

But still, even if Sirius was a madman, wouldn’t changing into a human form be too risky? Hermione was looking at Sirius’s human form. And it was so skinny. He looked honestly, like a skeleton.

And as Hermione and her friends could see, a young boy of only thirteen was able to overpower Sirius.

Which meant that Sirius would. Have been better off, remaining as a dog, trying to tear Harry’s throat out that way.

But he hadn’t. Why?

“Harry,” Hermione said, “Why don’t you ask him why he changed back into his human form?”

Harry glanced at Hermione, even if he kept his wand aimed at Sirius. “What does that have to do with anything?” He asked.

“It might have to do with a lot,” Hermione said, “He would have been able to kill you more easily as a dog than as a man. Why not stay in his dog form to kill you?”

“I don’t,” Harry said, shaking his head, his eyebrows narrowing, appearing to understand Hermione’s question.

Sirius chuckled, “You should listen to the girl, Harry. I’m not the enemy.”

“Oh, hey,” Pansy said, looking down the hall, her eyes wide, “We have company.”

Hermione and the others looked at Pansy and Pansy backed away, moving out of the doorway, as to everyone’s surprise, Peter Pettigrew suddenly was tossed through the doorway, into the room, the rodentlike, rotund man dropping onto the floor, still unconscious.

Harry gasped, frozen on top of Sirius, looking stunned and confused.

Hermione looked at who had thrown Peter Pettigrew into the room with them, and her eyes widened, seeing Remus Lupin step through the doorway.

The group of girls backed away.

“Harry,” Hermione said to the boy, “Get up.”

Sirius’s eyes went to Pettigrew, and his face suddenly was filled with rage.

Only now, did he struggle to get out from under Harry, and Harry, being so confused and surprised, allowed Sirius to get out from under him and Sirius got up, about to leap upon Pettigrew, when Remus said, “Sirius! Stop, the children need to know why this is happening.”

“Who is that?” Harry asked, looking at where Pettigrew had been thrown.

“Peter Pettigrew,” Hermione said, “One of your father’s friends, besides Sirius and Remus.”

“You discovered where he was?” Remus asked, looking at Hermione, amused.

“I did,” Hermione said, keeping her eyes on Remus’s wand, “Why did you bring him here? Are you going to kill all of us? Are you working with Sirius to kill Harry?”

Something wasn’t adding up here, and Hermione was positive that Remus knew what the last piece was.

If Remus had been working with Sirius from the beginning, then hadn’t Remus had the chance to kill Harry for ages now?

How many times had Remus and Harry talked alone?

“Not you or your friends or Harry, dear girl,” Remus chuckled, nodding to Pettigrew, “We’re going to kill him.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, distrusting but feeling they were getting somewhere.

“Because he’s a traitor!” Sirius snarled, looking at Pettigrew like he wanted to strangle the life right out of the unconscious man, “He was the one that told Voldemort about where James and Lily and Harry were!”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Oh. If that was true? Then that would explain a lot.

“But weren’t you the secret keeper?” Pansy asked, staring at Sirius, her face totally befuddled.

“I was,” Sirius grumbled impatiently, “But James and Lily changed who was the secret keeper, because they thought no one would believe an unassuming coward like him,” he sneered the word out, nodding to Pettigrew, “Would be trusted with something like that. That was why they switched who would be the secret keeper. And he betrayed them.”

Hermione looked at Harry, wanting to see what he thought of this.

Harry was looking at Sirius, then down at Pettigrew.

He looked like he honestly just didn’t know what to think.

Hermione couldn’t entirely blame him.

Here he was, being told that the story that everyone had been told over the years, was wrong.

That Pettigrew was the one that had sold his parents out, not Black.

Sirius went on, “And when I went after him, the coward cut his finger off to make it look like he was dead. Then he disguised himself for years as a rat.”

Hermione almost snorted. So, Sirius knew that part.

Harry looked confused.

“A rat?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hermione said, “You know how Ron has been looking for Scabbers? Well, there’s a reason why he hasn’t found Scabbers yet,” she nodded to Pettigrew, “Harry, meet Scabbers.”

Harry looked at Hermione, then at Pettigrew, mouth agape.

He clearly was trying to wrap his head around all this, but was struggling with it.

“How did you find out?” Remus asked curiously.

“I didn’t,” Hermione said, gesturing to Daphne, “Daphne did.”

“I meant it as a joke,” Daphne said, half laughing as she stared at the scene before her, still stunned by everything that was happening.

“Yes, you did,” Hermione said, “But it was insightful.”

Daphne didn’t respond, just looking between Sirius and Remus, nervous.

Hermione went on, “After I saw the name on the Marauders’ map? We tried to figure out how Pettigrew was still alive and no one knew about it. And we saw the names on the map. One of them being ‘Wormtail.’ So, we just put the pieces together.”

Hermione nodded to Sirius, “And that would make you ‘Padfoot,’” she then looked to Remus, “And you, ‘Moony.’”

“Oh?” Remus asked, a smirk growing on his face as he realized Hermione had figured something important out.

Hermione nodded. “You’re a werewolf,” she said, “That’s why you’ve been missing classes.”

Harry was now looking at Hermione and then at Remus, as if his head was about to explode.

“Very good, Ms. Granger,” Remus said, “You really are the brightest witch of your age.”

“Spare me,” Hermione ordered, “What proof do you have that Pettigrew is the one Harry wants?”

“No proof,” Remus said, “But I’m sure you’ve thought of this question about Pettigrew, about his time as a rat. The only question that matters.”

Hermione nodded. “Why stay a rat for so long,” she said, “Unless you were afraid of someone using legilimency or a truth potion, and pulling the truth out of you, revealing that you were the one that betrayed your friends, and not someone else.”

Remus nodded, smiling. “Correct,” he said.

Hermione sighed, “And if you weren’t scared of that happening, if you were actually innocent, why stay a rat so long, after the supposed threat,” she nodded to Sirius, “Was locked up in Azkaban?”

“Precisely,” Remus said, sounding pleased at Hermione’s deduction.

Hermione nodded as she said to her friends and Harry, though she kept her eyes warily on Remus and Sirius, “I think Pettigrew might actually be the traitor, guys.”

“Well, okay,” Pansy said, “So, what now? I mean, I guess the obvious answer would be to kill him, but won’t the truth die with him? Won’t Sirius still be a wanted criminal if that happens?”

Hermione saw the realization on Remus’s face and he sighed, looking at Sirius, “She’s right, Sirius, if Pettigrew dies, the truth dies with him.”

Sirius growled, looking like he wanted to protest but moved back, at Remus’s urging.

Hermione looked between the men cautiously.

“Alright,” she said, “I can’t say I trust you two either,” she nodded to Sirius and Remus, “But how about this? The two of you carry Pettigrew out, and you stay in front of us, and we’ll follow you out, alright?”

Remus nodded. “That sounds alright,” he said, and he gestured for Sirius to help him.

Sirius scoffed down at Pettigrew, but he leaned down and helped Remus lift Pettigrew up off of the floor and carried the round man out of the shack and down the tunnel, in the direction of the hole under the Whomping Willow.

Hermione, exchanged perturbed looks with Daphne, Astoria, Pansy, Millicent and Harry, and the six of them went out of the doorway, and down the tunnel, their wands aiming at the backs of all three Pettigrew, Remus and Sirius.

When all of them got out from under the tree and out of the tunnel, it was night out, all dark in the sky above them. And they dropped Pettigrew on the ground.

As Remus and Hermione kept an eye on Pettigrew, and Hermione and Daphne and the others kept an eye on Remus and Sirius, Sirius tried to get Harry’s attention. Harry looked to Sirius.

Sirius said quietly, “You know that I am your godfather? I don’t know if you’d want to, but after this, after my name is cleared, you can always live with me, if you’d want to.”

Hermione sighed. So far, everything was starting to pile up to suggest that everything Remus and Sirius had said was true. And if it was, Hermione couldn’t help but feel for Sirius, even if she didn’t trust him. Locked up in Azkaban for twelve years, for a crime he didn’t commit, after losing his best friends.

Even Remus had believed Sirius to be responsible.

The moment was ruined-of course, by a self-important, snide voice from behind them.

“Ah, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, back together again,” Snape’s voice sneered from behind the group.

Hermione whirled around, startled.

Shit, where the hell had he come from?

Snape approached, aiming his wand at Sirius and Remus, and even in the limited light, Hermione could make out the hatred from years of pent up anger and resentment, all over the git’s face.

Hermione stepped back, getting her wand ready, in case. Right now, Snape clearly wasn’t paying attention to anything else. Just to the people that he hated because of childhood bullying.

Which meant right now, Snape wouldn’t be watching Hermione or the other kids in the group.

“Oh, Severus,” Sirius sneered, “Always sticking your big nose into other peoples’ business.”

Snape pressed his wand to Sirius’s throat, a cruel smirk on his face as he said, “I’d watch those next words, if I were you. Not that it will matter. I’ll send you off soon to the Aurors. And perhaps the dementors will give you their kiss. It will be hard to watch, but I’ll try to force myself to.” Hermione could just feel the spite coming off of Snape.

Hermione kept her eyes on Snape and the others, but her attention was grabbed then by something else.

Light. Light coming from behind Remus.

Light of a full moon, beginning to emerge from behind the clouds.

“Oh, hell,” Hermione whispered, her eyes jumping to Remus.

She then looked at Snape and snapped, “Hey, Death Eater filth!”

Snape froze and slowly turned to look at her, stunned by her words.

Hermione? She didn’t have time to be concerned about Snape telling her that she needed to be expelled for what she said. She said, pointing behind Remus, “Now might not be the time for that. Look behind Remus. You know, the werewolf?”

Snape turned to look at where Hermione was pointing and she saw his eyes grow large as he saw the slowly emerging moon from behind the clouds.

A full moon.

Suddenly, Snape seemed to realize the danger they were now in.

Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy all saw the moon and with panicked expressions, looked at Remus.

Hermione watched, horror growing inside her, as Remus began to change.

Fangs began to emerge from his mouth, his face began to stretch, becoming more lupine, and Hermione almost laughed in horror at the irony, knowing that Remus’s last name was “Lupin.” His chest began to stretch out, his limbs became longer. His body began to stretch.

His clothes tore completely.

Hermione, she had never known werewolves even existed, before she had learned she was a witch and had read up on everything in the witch and wizarding world, and had read about werewolves too.

But even after all the years of reading what she had read, nothing had prepared her for what she was seeing.

Still, it took her mind a while to process what it was she was watching.

She was watching an actual person, turn into an actual werewolf.

Hermione felt her stomach turn at the transformation.

However, when she heard Sirius’s panicked yelling and saw the horror Snape’s face, most likely remembering his near death experience, involving Remus’s werewolf form, Hermione snapped out of it, remembering several spells that were strong enough to knock a werewolf out.

Nodding, Hermione mumbled, looking at the transforming werewolf, “I’m sorry about this, professor,” she aimed the wand at the werewolf and said the spell that was needed, a blast flying out of the wand and hitting Remus.

The werewolf whined loudly and dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Snape and Sirius both snapped their heads around to stare at Hermione, shocked.

Hermione shrugged. “Well,” she said, “He was going to lose control, so I did something. But please, continue the pissing contest.”

Hermione went over to Remus and leaned down, picking Remus’s wand up, keeping it safe for the time being.

Pansy and Daphne, looked at Hermione, stunned.

Pettigrew suddenly came to, gasping awake.

“You,” Sirius growled, but Snape kept the end of his wand against Snape’s throat.

“Oh, Snape, get over it,” Hermione groaned, “He’s not your man. This guy is,” Hermione aimed her wand at Pettigrew, watching as the unpleasant looking rat man’s eyes bulged up at Hermione at her threatening posture.

“Peter Pettigrew,” Hermione said to the rat man, “We’re going to bring you to Dumbledore now.” She knocked him out again and turned to Snape, who was looking at her, shocked and she said coldly, “You can get angry all you want. But nothing you do in the world will ever make Sirius Black the man that the authorities should really be after,” she nodded to Pettigrew, “He is. Think you can handle that, Death Eater?”

She sneered the words, “Death Eater” out and she watched Snape’s eyes grow large.

Just when Hermione was about to look at the others and ask how they should go about getting Pettigrew and Sirius to the castle, an icy cold wind hit them suddenly.

Hermione, Millicent, Pansy, Daphne, Astoria, Harry and Snape all shuddered.

But Sirius, he screamed, his eyes staring up at the sky at the oncoming specters approaching.

Hermione whirled around, and her eyes widened when she saw what Sirius saw.

The dementors were coming.

They sensed Black.

And they were arriving to……….help.

Hermione looked at Snape and snapped, “If you give Black to the dementors before we talk to Dumbledore with Pettigrew with us, I don’t care if you’re the head of our house or not, I’ll hex you into next week! And you know the worst part of that? You won’t even get to see Lily again, because she wouldn’t even want to be around you in death.”

You know, Hermione wasn’t even sure she had meant to say those last parts. But the sneer came out anyway.

And the horror that filled Snape’s face as he realized what she’d been told by clearly one Marauder or another, filled Hermione with a joy she knew she should never feel. But did anyway.

Hermione looked at the terrified and shocked other teenagers and said, “Get behind me and Harry.”

She looked at the confused Harry, “We know how to summon patronuses, Harry.” She nodded to Sirius, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy, “We have to protect them. And they’re after your godfather.”

Those last words got Harry into motivation. He nodded and brought his wand up, standing next to Hermione protectively in front of the others.

As the gruesome specters floated ever-closer, the air around Hermione and Harry, growing colder and colder, Hermione focused with everything she had on her happiest memories. Her painfully happy memories.

She imagined Harry was doing the same, because when both Hermione and Harry said the words, “Expecto patronum!” both their wands lit up at the end and white poured out of both wands, taking shape and the light pushing at the dementors, glowing, besieging the dementors, and tearing each wretched dementor to shred as the two glowing, powerful patronuses, one a mighty and ferocious tiger and one an elegant and noble stag, evaporating each dementor they crossed.

What dementors that were left? Fled the scene, flying away fast.

The tiger and the stag walked out on air proudly, and glowed one last time, and when there were no longer any dementors to speak of, the light died down and disappeared slowly.

Hermione breathed out, smiling, glad that she could actually summon a real patronus against real dementors.

She turned to Harry, and he had an equally shocked and euphoric look on his face, like they both had just succeeded in scaling the most dangerous mountain in the world and survived.

“You alright, Harry?” She asked.

Harry smiled, “I’m alright. Are you alright, Hermione?”

Hermione grinned, “Never been better.”

That was probably a lie, but she’d be damned if that didn’t feel good to do.

The witch and wizard turned to the rest of their companions, and even in the dark, they could see Daphne, Astoria, Pansy, Millicent and Sirius’s shocked faces.

Snape looked equally as shocked, and he stared at both children as if he didn’t recognize them.

Hermione smirked at Snape smugly as she and Harry went to the others.

“Now, come on,” Hermione said, nodding to Pettigrew and she glared at Snape, “Since you put us in more danger, you’re the one carrying rat boy. Otherwise? You can explain that you were the one that let the real traitor of the Potters go and that you let Lily’s murderer get away.”

The way Snape flinched, like Hermione had actually hit him, made Hermione feel more satisfied than it should have.

And Snape just leaned down and picked Pettigrew off of the floor, still glaring daggers at Sirius.

“Come on Sirius,” Harry said, taking Sirius’s hand and leading him towards the castle, “Let’s go.”

Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy walked over to Hermione staring and grinning. “That was just amazing, Mione,” Astoria said.

Hermione smiled and said, “Yeah, well, it wasn’t just me. It was Harry too.”

Hermione smiled over at Harry and he smiled back.

When they reached the castle, they got through the entrance, getting through the halls, earning a shocked look from Filch, who didn’t even try to reprimand them, when he saw Snape.

They reached Dumbledore’s office, thanks to Snape knowing the password up to Dumbledore’s office and Hermione all but kicked open Dumbledore’s doors as they entered.

A very, very curious Dumbledore looked at all of them, both confused and intrigued when saw the cast of characters before him; a proud and confident Hermione and Harry, a bedraggled and weak Sirius, tired and shocked Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy, an unconscious Pettigrew, and an absolutely fucking done Snape.

“Dumbledore,” Hermione said, her voice brooking no room for argument, “We have something to tell you. Also, there’s an unconscious werewolf on the school grounds. You might want to go and make sure he’s okay and doesn’t run off and hurt himself or someone else.”

Hermione quickly explained everything and that Peter Pettigrew was the true traitor of the Potters.

And that Remus needed aid, now.

And that Sirius was innocent.

Dumbledore nodded at each of these facts, very interested and his eyes lit up slightly at Astoria, who announced excitedly, looking from Hermione to Harry, “And they can summon patronuses! They destroyed a load of dementors.”

Dumbledore smiled, as if pleased and got up from his chair, and told them he would send word out to the rest of the teachers. He went to the various portraits and told them to seek out the other portraits, to wake the rest of the teachers, so that Remus would be contained and kept safe.

As the portraits left, Dumbledore turned back to Hermione and the others. He said, looking at Sirius, “You will be seen innocent in the eyes of the law soon, Sirius. And you will walk a free man.”

Harry grinned at Sirius, who looked like he just might faint in relief.

Hermione eyed Snape, watching him.

He looked put out, but said nothing.

As Dumbledore set out to summon the Aurors, Hermione whispered to Snape, “Look, let’s just see it this way. You get to see at least one of your bullies suffer,” she nodded to Pettigrew.

Snape glared at her. He said, “Don’t act like you understand what’s happening here, Granger.”

“And don’t act like I don’t know what’s happening here,” Hermione snapped, glaring at Snape, feeling Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy watching, “Your angry because Lily ended up with someone else. Well, grow up. That happens a lot. Guess what, Death Eater? You’re not entitled to anyone. No one is entitled to another person. And here’s an idea? Maybe don’t blame Harry, a child for what happened to you. Maybe if you were less of an asshole, then just maybe you’d be liked more. Oh, and don’t get in the way of us getting answers from Pettigrew. Or I might just remind the Aurors of your time as a Death Eater.”

Hermione glared at Snape with such acid, that Snape didn’t say anything else, just looked cowed and stricken, like Hermione had just told him he couldn’t run small, cute animals over with a car anymore.

Dumbledore caught their attention, and said that the Aurors were coming and they were coming to hear Sirius and the children’s statements. And to get the truth out of Pettigrew.

When the Aurors arrived, Hermione eyed them, but did as they said.

Each of the teenagers were questioned. They told the Aurors what bits they could. It was silently agreed between Hermione, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne, that they would not speak a word of the Marauders’ map, or of anything they knew about the Chamber of Secrets, amongst other things. And certainly not about Tom.

But they gave a very edited version. Edited enough that the Aurors got the point and that they understood that Pettigrew was to be questioned heavily. And perhaps the case with Sirius Black needed to be looked at with fresh eyes.

The Aurors, took Pettigrew with them and led Harry and Sirius away for new questioning.

Harry looked back at Hermione. She smiled at him. “Good luck,” she said.

He nodded to her, smiling back and walked after his godfather and the Aurors.

When the doors closed, Dumbledore dismissed Snape and Hermione said to Snape as he was about to exit, “Let’s make something clear, Snape, you want me to forget about what I know? Then you know what? You had better lay off Harry. Leave him alone. Don’t pick on him. Don’t treat him differently. Just treat him like any other student, or I might just start spreading around the school, how you joined the Death Eaters, all because a girl wouldn’t fuck you.”

Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy all gasped, staring at Hermione, shocked.

Hermione felt Dumbledore’s eyes on her. If he was troubled by Hermione’s threats, he wasn’t mentioning it.

Snape said nothing, just sagged and walked out of the room. The doors closed behind him.

Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent looked at Hermione still like she was the most badass person in the world.

Hermione smiled grimly. She didn’t like using gossip to threaten someone. It wasn’t a nice feeling. It made her feel a bit icky.

But she wasn’t going to let Snape treat Harry like he was dirt any longer. And since Snape hardly had any ground to stand on and say that someone else was garbage, she had just decided to take him down a peg.

She turned to Dumbledore. “What happens to Pettigrew and Sirius now?” She asked.

Dumbledore, who had watched Hermione with intrigue, said, “If Sirius and Harry’s statements are satisfactory and Pettigrew is deemed false, Pettigrew will be arrested and brought to trial. And Sirius will be seen an innocent man, and Harry will be able to live with his godfather, if he likes.”

Hermione smiled. Well, hopefully some good news.

Hermione had heard about the awful muggles that Harry lived with. The Dursleys. They sounded like the worst type of family members to live with. She hoped Harry got to live with Sirius.

Dumbledore then said, “It’s good you saved an innocent life. You might still be able to save another.”

Frowning, Hermione looked at Dumbledore, confused. What did he mean by that?

Dumbledore looked at the massive clock in his room and then looked back at Hermione. He said, “A mysterious thing, time. Powerful, but when meddled with, dangerous.”

Hermione froze, suddenly realizing where this might be going.

Dumbledore continued, “You know the laws, Ms. Granger. You must not be seen.” As the bell toll when the end of the hour arrived, he said, “It would be best you arrived back at the last chime, or the consequences could be too ghastly for me to describe. You can still save the innocent soul you saw executed. Three turns should do the trick,” he gave Hermione a small wink, before turning and leaving the room.

“Oh,” Dumbledore said, before closing the doors, “When I doubt, I find that the best course is to retrace my steps. Good luck.” He closed the doors then.

Hermione sighed as she heard Pansy demand, “What the bloody hell was that about?”

Hermione knew what Dumbledore was talking about, alright.

He knew about it, because he told McGonagall to give Hermione the time turner.

Hell, for all Hermione knew, maybe Dumbledore had told McGonagall to give her the time turner, exactly for this reason, in the first place.

Hermione said, looking at her friends, asking the question that Tom had asked her not that long ago, “How much do all of you trust me?”

This earned her startled looks.

“Mione,” Daphne said, “We trust you possibly more than we trust our parents.”

Astoria nodded, looking absolutely like she meant it.

Pansy snorted, “Hermione, I think we’ve made it clear that we trust you way more than we’d trust almost anyone.”

Millicent looked aggravated. “You’d actually ask that?” She said in disbelief, smiling.

Hermione smiled back, relieved.

“Alright,” she said, “Then come here please.”

The four other girls walked over and Hermione reached under her hoodie, pulled out the time turner and began wrapping its thin chain over the other girls’ heads, making them become weaved in the time turner as well.

The other girls looked at what Hermione was fiddling with and Pansy’s eyes grew huge.

“Is that a-“ She began as Hermione started to turn the time turner.

Pansy and the others got their answer only a second later, when figures went by almost like being rewound on one of those VHS tapes that Hermione’s mother had. That was how Hermione compared it, whenever she used the time turner. It was like rewinding something on VHS.

When Hermione was finished, she pulled the long chain off of her friends and tucked the time turner back under her jacket.

She watched as comprehension filled her friends’ faces.

“We just……..,” Daphne said in realization, “Time travel?”

“That would be it, yes,” Hermione said, “Now, where were we at 7:30?”

“At Hagrid’s, I think,” Pansy said.

Hermione nodded, “Right. Let’s go. And we can’t be seen. We better try to find a way around the courtyard. We don’t want the executioner to see us a second time.”

Daphne and the others’ eyes widened, recalling the executioner being there in the courtyard a few hours ago, leering at them.

Yes, of everyone, the executioner was one of the last people that they’d want to know about them time traveling.

So, they ran out of Dumbledore’s room and bolted down the different corridors, making sure to duck behind several pillars whenever anyone went by, they quickly went out one of the ground level windows, getting to the ground and creeping around the outside of the castle, going past the courtyard and going beneath the executioner’s notice.

They reached the overlook where the “other them,” had run into Malfoy and Malfoy’s friends.

The “other Hermione,” just pulled out her wand and aimed it at Malfoy.

Hermione whispered as they came to a stop and watched, “The time turner is how I’ve been covering all the classes. McGonagall gave it to me. Dumbledore must think we can save Buckbeak by doing this.”

The “other Hermione” swung around and punched Malfoy right in the face.

And as Malfoy and his friends fled, Hermione and her friends jumped out the ground level window and got to the ground, ducking behind the stone, hearing Malfoy and his friends coming.

Malfoy was naturally, licking his wounds as he whined, saying that his friends had better not say a word of this to anyone.

And he snapped, “I’ll get that jumped up-mudblood! Mark my words.”

Hermione smirked. (Thanks for the warning, Malfoy), she thought to herself.

When Malfoy and his friends were gone and the “other Hermione, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent went down the steps in the direction of Hagrid’s hut, only then did the Hermione, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent from the future, emerge out from behind the stone barrier and went to the overlook, peering down the steps, seeing Buckbeak. For now, very much alive.

Hermione looked at her friends, seeing their amazement at all this and at what she’d kept from them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the time turner,” she said, and there was so much more she hadn’t told them, but that she’d figure out how to tell them about, later, “But if we try, we might just be able to save Buckbeak.”

The others nodded.

“Let’s go, then,” Pansy said, smiling and she, Hermione and the others went down the steps, going to the large pumpkin patch that they and Harry had stayed behind hours ago-or rather, the large pumpkin patch the “other them” were going to stay behind in a few minutes, actually, and they waited.

They saw Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge and the executioner beginning to climb down the long, winding steps.

“Shit,” Daphne said, “Dumbledore and Fudge are coming.”

Hermione looked at the window and looked at where the “other them” stood inside. “And we’re not leaving,” Hermione said, frowning, “Why aren’t we leaving?”

Hermione tried to think of why they wouldn’t be leaving, when she suddenly caught sight of something on top of the pumpkin she was next to.

A black stone. With a shell shape on it.

Hermione picked it up, staring at it. It struck her then, why the “other them,” weren’t leaving. It was because they hadn’t seen Dumbledore and Fudge coming yet, and the only reason they hadn’t seen Dumbledore and Fudge coming, was because they hadn’t been alarmed by anything and so hadn’t looked out the window to spot the Dumbledore, Fudge and the executioner coming.

Which meant, it was time to alert them.

Hermione swung her arm back and threw the stone with all her might at the window of Hagrid’s hut.

The stone hit a flowerpot and cracked it open on impact, scaring the “other Hermione.”

“What are you doing?!” Millicent hissed, “We’re not supposed to be seen!”

“I know, I know,” Hermione said, but she knew it was too late for that-she had already seen herself, multiple times, not just in a few minutes when the “other her” looked into the forest and saw a flash of herself and another Pansy and another Millicent and another Astoria and another Daphne, ducking behind the trees, but she had seen herself running around Hogwarts before, using the time turner for classes. So, a bit too late for that.

She then grabbed another stone and chucked it at the window, this one hitting Harry square in the back of his head.

She watched as Harry gripped the back of his head, wincing.

“Sorry, Harry,” she said quietly.

Finally, the “other them,” was alerted to Dumbledore and Fudge coming and started coming out of the back of the hut.

“We’re coming,” the future Hermione whispered, and she, and the future Millicent, Pansy, Astoria and Daphne, left the pumpkin patch and went into the forest, going behind several trees.

The “other them,” and Harry, went behind the pumpkin patch, the “other Hermione,” holding her wand protectively.

Hermione peered out, watchful.

She glanced to the left, seeing Pansy step out, slightly and while Hermione should have known this was going to happen, Pansy stepped the wrong way and a twig snapped under her foot.

Thankfully, Pansy knew to duck behind the tree again, as soon as the twig snapped.

She, Hermione and the others went right back behind the trees as the “other them,” whirled around, looking into the dark patch of the woods and the future Hermione, she knew she and the others had just been seen.

“What is it, Hermione?” The “other Daphne” asked the “other Hermione.”

“I thought I just saw……….never mind,” the “other Hermione” said, “Let’s go.”

The group behind the pumpkin patch slid out from behind the pumpkins and ran to the steps back up away from the hut and away from Buckbeak. Only then did the future Hermione and the others walk out of the woods, and started approaching the bound hippogriff, clearly appearing so unaware of what was planned for it.

The hippogriff eyed them as they got closer, but Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy all bowed, waiting. And Buckbeak soon bowed afterwards.

Pansy grabbed the chain off of the wooden stake and started pulling, but the stubborn Buckbeak wasn’t moving.

Hermione looked to where there were several dead ferrets hanging from another stake and went to them, grabbing a bunch.

Hermione brought one out and waved the dead ferret at the hippogriff. That did the trick. The hippogriff lifted himself right off of the ground and followed Hermione happily, staring at the ferrets.

“Come on,” she cooed, and Buckbeak happily followed Hermione and the other girls into the forest.

As they stayed behind more trees and Buckbeak obnoxiously tried to get more of the ferrets from Hermione, earning a sigh from her, Dumbledore, Fudge and Hagrid came upon Buckbeak missing. Dumbledore assured Fudge that Buckbeak couldn’t have been released by Hagrid, since they had been with Hagrid the whole time, and Fudge said that Buckbeak needed to be searched for.

And the executioner, his services no longer needed, clearly not liking having the chance to cut something’s head off, raised his ax and sliced it down into a pumpkin.

Hermione tried not to snort as she and the others ran further into the forest, leading Buckbeak away with more ferrets. Had Dumbledore known this was going to bloody happen?!

“So, where are we supposed to take Buckbeak now that we freed him?” Daphne asked, looking at the hippogriff with uncertainty.

“I have no idea,” Hermione confessed.

Because could they just let Buckbeak go? He had been more or less a pet for a long time for a while now.

Would he survive in the wild on his own, without anyone feeding him?

Hermione sighed, looking at Buckbeak. She knew that to a certain extent, hippogriffs understood what people said.

They certainly knew when they were being disrespected.

Malfoy was a testament to that.

But she knew that they couldn’t let Buckbeak go. Intelligent or not? Buckbeak was still an animal. And he would go back to Hagrid as soon as he could, knowing he could get food there.

And as soon as he returned to Hagrid, Buckbeak would be executed for real.

They couldn’t let Buckbeak roam free. They had to give him to someone who could be trusted and who wouldn’t immediately have Cornelius Fudge descend upon them.

But who?

Chapter Text

After about an hour, they knew they would have to bring Buckbeak somewhere safe, but they also knew that they couldn’t release him, so they came up with a plan. Hermione had snuck back to Hagrid’s place and grabbed several more dead ferrets and brought them to Buckbeak, allowing him to be distracted with a few more ferrets as Pansy chained him by the neck to a tree.

They knew Buckbeak needed to stay with someone who wouldn’t give the hippogriff up to the authorities.

And that was when Pansy did something unexpected. She said that she could have her parents take Buckbeak in and rename him, to make it seem like it was a different hippogriff.

Pansy argued that she could make it look like her father had bought the hippogriff in order to mock the Malfoys.

And Hermione wasn’t going to pretend that that didn’t sound like it would work.

But first? They’d need for someone to make the arrangements and keep Buckbeak safe in the meantime.

Which was where the next part of their plan came in.

Pansy, Astoria and Millicent would stay with Buckbeak, while Hermione and Daphne ran back to Hogwarts, just as Dumbledore exited his office, leaving the “past Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent” to use the time turner.

Daphne and Hermione ran to Dumbledore’s office, going behind a pillar when they saw Aurors emerge from the office, carrying Pettigrew out and with Sirius and Harry following them. Then watched as Snape left the office.

Then eventually? Dumbledore emerged from the office, closing the doors.

Hermione and Daphne darted out, going over to the old wizard.

“Dumbledore,” Hermione said urgently, speaking quietly, “We need someone to take Buckbeak in, before trying to give him to someone else, to make him look like a different hippogriff. We need you to look after him, before one of the others takes him in. So that Cornelius Fudge doesn’t find him.”

Dumbledore lifted his gray bushy eyebrows at Hermione. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said innocently, “But if you want to bring me anything…………important? Bring it to me a day before the feast before the end of the year.”

Hermione nodded, understanding.

She said, “Pansy, Millicent and Astoria are with Buckbeak now. Should we bring him to you now?”

“Yes, Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore answered, “The five of you can bring him to me now. The Aurors will be busy questioning Mr. Potter and Sirius and Pettigrew.”

Hermione nodded and Dumbledore waited as Hermione and Daphne ran back to that place in the woods, where Pansy, Millicent and Astoria were with Buckbeak. The five of them unchained Buckbeak and used the ferrets to lure him to Dumbledore’s office.

They brought him to the window, and while Daphne, Astoria and Pansy rode Buckbeak up to Dumbledore’s office, Hermione and Millicent levitated up to the window.

Dumbledore allowed the hippogriff to come through the window and Pansy, Astoria and Daphne hopped off of him.

Hermione and Millicent got back into the office, Pansy told Dumbledore to send Buckbeak to her family’s property after she got back from Hogwarts, and Dumbledore used a spell, transporting Buckbeak and himself out of the office in a flash of light.

Hermione, Daphne, Millicent, Pansy and Astoria winced and watched Dumbledore and Buckbeak disappear.

When both wizard and hippogriff were gone, Daphne grumbled, “Well, that’s efficient, I guess. Wonder where he took Buckbeak.”

Hermione nodded. There would be no point in Dumbledore letting them get away with Buckbeak, and then give Buckbeak up to Fudge.

So, the five girls just waited.

Eventually, Dumbledore returned, with a blast of light and appeared, nodding to them, smiling. “The five of you did very well,” he said, “No one is to know anything about this, I’m sure you know.”

Hermione and the others nodded in agreement.

They went down to the great hall, startled to see the Aurors emerging from a room, with a struggling and whimpering Peter Pettigrew in chains with them.

Sirius stood by Harry as Harry glared at Pettigrew, watching him get taken away.

Sirius looked at Harry.

Harry smiled up at his new guardian, nodding to him, “I can move in with you soon?”

“Of course,” Sirius said, “You will have to deal with Kreacher, unfortunately, if he’s still alive. He’d a very unpleasant house elf. But I’ll be happy to have you there.”

Hermione smiled at how happy Harry looked.

Good for him.

Moving in with someone who could be his real family. Someone who would care about him, rather than those awful muggles that treated him badly for years.

Hermione heard that Remus still worked at Hogwarts, so, Snape was keeping his mouth shut. Sounded like Hermione’s threat had gotten to him.

But Remus was staying with Sirius and Harry, to look after Harry. Or so they said.

It made Hermione wonder about Remus and Sirius’s relationship a bit. Were they mates?

Then again, if they were, that was depressing, since Remus had honestly believed that Sirius could sell out the Potters.

But since Remus was going to for the time being, taking a timeout from working at Hogwarts, with a sort of “paid leave,” from Dumbledore, that meant that there was now an opening in the Defense against the Dark Arts class, for a new professor.

Who would it be? Hermione and her friends and the other students would find out next year.

Hermione noticed that when it was mentioned that Harry was going to be living with Sirius and Remus, that Dumbledore didn’t look too pleased. And she had to wonder what that was about.

She knew it couldn’t be homophobia, after all, Dumbledore’s own soulmate had been a man.

But for now, Hermione decided to ignore it.

Hermione and the other girls went to the great hall and Hermione scanned the room, just to look out for what people knew.

People, of course, were buzzing, talking about what they heard.

Several people from all four tables, were staring at Hermione in shock and admiration.

Hermione shifted, not liking the attention.

Daphne chuckled, seeing where many of the stares were directed and wrapped her left arm around Hermione’s shoulders as she said, “Making a habit of being a star every year, huh, Mione?”

“Shut up, Greengrass,” Hermione threw back, smirking as Daphne grinned and she, Pansy, Astoria and Millicent made their way over to the Slytherin table.

Malfoy was watching her nervously and Crabbe and Goyle were as well.

Hermione just happened to glance at the Ravenclaw table and noticed a lot of the Ravenclaw girls eyeing her and she glared at them, making many of them look away.

Luna Lovegood, who saw this, smiled and seemed to take this as an invitation. She happily got up from the Ravenclaw table and bounded over to the Slytherin table.

When Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent sat down, Luna came over and sat down next to Hermione.

Hermione looked at the small Ravenclaw, and at Luna’s pleasant smile, she sighed, and looked at her four friends.

They looked at Luna, then casually each shrugged and nodded in a silent agreement.

That night, everyone went to their dorms. Later, when Hermione, Daphne, Millicent, Pansy and Astoria were sure that everyone in the Slytherin dorms were asleep, Hermione brought out Tom’s diary, brought it to the common room, opened it up and let Tom out.

Tom floated up before them and smiled at them.

“Hi, Tom,” Hermione said, smiling at the wizard, “We have a lot of news for you.”

They told Tom about how they discovered the truth about who Pettigrew, and what he had done and that Pettigrew was the one that sold out the Potters. And that Harry was now going to live with Sirius.

Hermione didn’t say it, but Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent, went happily on, praising Hermione and telling Tom about how she had knocked out both Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, then put Snape in his place and used a patronus to destroy multiple dementors.

Tom’s eyes widened and he looked at Hermione with praise.

The look on his face could only be called, “pride.”

He smiled. “Hermione,” he said, “That’s amazing. You are a very talented witch, Hermione.”

Hermione felt heat spread over her cheeks. “T-thank you, Tom. That means a lot to me.”

It was a lot for her, to be looked at with such respect that Tom, Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent were showing her.

When the time came, Hermione closed the diary up and planned to take the diary with her back home again.

The next day, when it was time for the feast, before the end of the year, everyone got to their respective tables, everyone aware now that Sirius Black was an innocent man and aware that Peter Pettigrew was being sent to Azkaban. He wasn’t going to have the dementor’s kiss, but he was going to be thrown into Azkaban.

Hermione felt her stomach turn, hearing that last part.

Sure, Pettigrew probably deserved it. But to have be in such a vile prison?

That was…………that was a particularly harsh thing.

Luna sat at the Slytherin table again, right next to Hermione and Hermione and her friends just nodded in acceptance.

The confused looks they got from the other Slytherins, were met with glares from Hermione and her friends, and the questioning looks stopped.

Dumbledore awarded the house cup to Slytherin, again, for the second time. The first time, of course, had been in Hermione and the others’ first year. In Hermione’s second year, the Gryffindors had won. Because Merlin forbid anyone that wasn’t the Gryffindors won the cup.

Now the Slytherins had the cup again.

The Slytherin table cheered happily and Luna smiled at Hermione and the others.

When it came time, they packed everyone up, including the animals and headed to the train.

Before Hermione and her friends loaded onto the train, Harry came running over to Hermione, ignoring Ron yelling after him.

Harry smiled with Ron and Sirius behind him, Sirius holding onto the top of the cage that held Hedwig close.

Harry asked, looking at Hermione, “Listen, I know this is probably a weird, but is it okay if I write to you over the summer?”

Hermione smiled, startled by happy she was with that prospect.

She and Harry exchanged information and Hermione smirked at how Ron glared at her. Then she and her friends went to the train, earning chuckles from her friends about the most dangerous Slytherin and the “boy that lived” being friends now.

They got onboard the train and Pansy promised Hermione, that she would have her family take in Buckbeak.

Luna soon joined them, wanting to ride with them.

Hermione and her friends allowed it, but didn’t say a word about Tom or the diary.

They talked with Luna, and Luna asked hopefully if she could exchange information with them.

Hermione half thought of not doing it, but Luna? She seemed nice enough and someone needed to look out for her. Merlin knew that Luna’s own house wasn’t looking out for her.

So, Hermione and the others exchanged information with Luna.

After they reached the station and separated, Luna went and met her dad, and the left, and Hermione and her friends separated and Hermione met up with her mother, hugging her tightly.

They went back to their house, and Hermione got settled in, letting Crookshanks run around the house.

Over the weeks, Hermione exchanged letters with her friends, and with Luna Lovegood and Harry Potter.

Harry moved in with Sirius, living in the Black manor. Hermione giggled when she read a letter from Harry, telling her how Kreacher, the Black family house elf, constantly complained about having to live with a “dirty half-blood, and a blood traitor.”

Hermione supposed that it was just plain old justice that that was who Kreacher now had to live with.

Hermione often didn’t know what Luna Lovegood was talking about in her letters, but she could tell that Luna was happy and she wrote Luna back always.

Hermione got a letter from Pansy, the letter telling her that everything was alright with her family and that they had a new pet, named “Witherwings,” a hippogriff and that she wanted to mock Malfoy about it. A feather was sent to Hermione with the letter.

Hermione smiled.

Buckbeak was safe.

The next few days passed and she knew her fourteenth birthday would be at the end of this month. But she knew that the birthday had already passed.

She had spent so much time using the time turner, that her fourteenth birthday had passed months ago.

She was already older than a lot of the other kids in her year, but she was now much older than that now.

By the time most of the kids in her year turned fourteen, she would be close to fifteen.

One night, as Hermione and her mother had dinner together, Hermione noticed her mother looking at her, worried.

“Mom?” Hermione asked gently, “You okay?”

Jean Granger nodded. “I’m fine, sweetie,” she said, “But the dreams…………have they started yet?”

Hermione froze, then nodded, sighing.

The dreams. That was a subject that Hermione didn’t want to think about.

Whenever a person reached a certain age?

They got dreams about the person who was their soulmate.

Sometimes it varied on the person. Sometimes it was the age of fourteen, sometimes it was fifteen, or sixteen. Sometimes it could be as old as seventeen.

But one thing was for sure, when each person in the world reached a certain age, they always dreamed of their soulmate.

And their soulmate dreamed of them.

Hermione knew that if her soulmate was older than her, then they had been dreaming of her for a while.

Which mean that they’d know about a lot.

And Hermione, she didn’t know if she wanted to have dreams about her soulmate.

What would that mean for her?

That someone was so intimately tied to her, that she would know everything about them and they would know everything about her?

That they might have some control over her?

Hermione had to admit, she had never really given much thought to soulmates.

She’d always felt a certain dread about meeting her mate.

And the things she’d heard had happened between mates sometimes over the years, hadn’t helped.

Albus Dumbledore’s mate, Gellert Grindelwald, had committed multiple murders by experimenting on people and had to be locked away-who knew where he was now?

Muggles and witches and wizards alike were separated from their mates or never married their mates.

Even Tom’s soulmate, Ella, was killed and Tom was left alone and her parents got away with it.

It was something she never wanted to think about too deeply. If anything happened to her mother? It would destroy her.

Hermione could just imagine how badly it would hurt her if anything happened to her mate.

Hermione shook her head and said to her mother, “I’m not having the dreams mom. And I hope I don’t.”

Jean sighed sadly. “Hermione,” she said, “It’s important that you meet your mate. That you form a relationship with them, whoever they are.”

Hermione gave a similar sad smile as she said, “And have you met your mate yet?”

She knew that was a low blow. Because she knew the answer. No, her mother had not met her mate yet.

Hermione would have heard about that ages ago.

Jean looked even sadder now, if that was possible and it broke Hermione’s heart. Jean said, “I have not. But I know who they are. Because of the dreams. And Hermione?” Jean said, sitting back in her chair, “They’re two of them. A man and a woman. And they’re a witch and a wizard.”

Hermione gaped at her mother. That floored her.

Her mother’s soulmates-two of them as it turned out, were a witch and wizard?

Hermione stared at her mother.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” She whispered.

Jean sighed, “Because I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how to get to this witch and wizarding world. As you know, I started working for Cromwell for a long time. But even before that? I was part of the society that he grew up in, and I took Vakamul for years, since I turned fifteen.”

Hermione shuddered. Vakamul. She knew about that.

Vakamul was a type of drug that was developed almost three decades ago, by a fanatic Christian group, who considered the dreams people had of their soulmates, to be abominable, when it came out that some women had soulmate dreams of other women and men had soulmate dreams of other men.

Vakamul, a drug that contained multiple chemicals, suppressed those dreams. It couldn’t destroy those dreams, but it could suppress them.

Vakamul, that drug sold all over the place in many countries, including in England.

Yes, Hermione had known for a while that her mother had taken that drug. She had happily put it out of her mind, but she knew.

Jean continued, “I’m not proud of the fact that I took the drug for years, but I did. That’s part of the reason why I didn’t tell you. Because I literally didn’t know. I stopped taking it after you got your Hogwarts letter, because I wanted you to be the main focus of my life. After I took it, then I had the dreams. But as I’m sure you know? Vakamul takes a while for the effects to wear off.”

Hermione nodded. That part she knew. Vakamul, it could from a year, even two to fully wear off.

But knowing that her mother had chosen not to take Vakamul, and ignore any possibility of having her soulmate dreams, all to devote all her time to Hermione? For years, before Hermione got her Hogwarts letter and ended up having a support system outside of her mother?

Just hearing those words almost destroyed Hermione.

“Mama,” Hermione said, feeling tears start to fall from her eyes, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you kept taking that awful drug because of me.”

Jean shook her head, getting up from her seat and going around the table, going to Hermione and hugging the girl, hugging her daughter to her chest. “It’s alright, my love,” Jean said to the girl, “It’s alright. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, sweetie.”

Hermione spent the next few minutes crying against her mother’s shoulder. After she parted from her mother, she looked up tearfully at the woman. “The witch and wizard……….you know who they are?”

Jean nodded. “The effects from the Vakamul were still wearing off when you told me that Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban,” she said, “So, I didn’t know then. But I know now. They’re names are ‘Tonks.’ Andromeda and Ted Tonks. Andromeda, who is Sirius’s cousin, if what you’ve told me is correct.”

Hermione gasped, hearing this.

Andromeda Black-now Andromeda Tonks, was one of Hermione’s mother’s soulmates? And so was her husband?”

“Mama,” Hermione whispered, “Why……………why didn’t you tell me about this in our letters to each other?”

Jean smiled sadly again, “And tell you that I was connected to the woman who was related to the man who was accused of getting his friends killed? When you already had so much you were dealing with? I wasn’t going to put you through that.”

Hermione shook her head. Her mother had kept that from her to protect her.

She hated that.

“I love you, mama,” she said.

“I love you too, baby,” Jean said to her daughter.

Jean held her daughter for several minutes.

Eventually, they parted and Jean kissed her daughter’s forehead.

It was difficult for Hermione to get to bed that night, not wanting to be away from her mother long, btu she managed.

Hermione finally went to bed one night, got under the covers and felt Crookshanks jump on her legs, getting ready to sleep.

Tom’s diary was in a drawer in her bedside table.

And she felt herself drift off to sleep.

It was that night, that changed everything.

She fell asleep, and she dreamed.

But not her usual dreams.

Everyone dreamed. But everyone could tell the difference between usual dreams, and dreams of their soulmate.

Everyone was always able to tell.

The soulmate dreams just felt different.

And this dream that she had, it just felt different.

This dream was so vivid, like she was actually there.

The first thing she noticed, was the cold. Then she noticed the dark. She almost stumbled into the small, dark, cold room, peering up at the wall across from her, her eyes widening when she saw the metal bars on the window across from her.

Hermione, alarmed looked to her right, just seeing a plain, black, slab of stone to her right.

She looked to her left.

She gasped, her heart wrenching in her chest when she saw what was crouched down on the floor to her left.

A woman. With long, extremely messy, black hair, so messy it made Hermione’s mess of hair look pristine.

The woman wore a gray prison suit with black stripes. The woman’s head was bent, her face was obscured by this action. Her left arm was kept secured under her body, under her stomach, as if in pain.

Now, given only a few hours ago, Hermione had spoken with her mother about soulmate dreams, so, it should have been an indication to Hermione what it was she was seeing.

But it still didn’t click.

Hermione watched this woman and asked softly, “Are you alright?”

Even before the words came out of her mouth, she knew how ridiculous that question was.

Because of course, this woman wasn’t alright.

She was in a prison cell, cold and alone, most likely had been here for years.

She heard cries and sobbing all around her. Hermione had no idea where the sounds were coming from-probably from other jail cells, if this was a prison.

Hermione was certain it was just a dream, still, she found herself reaching her right hand out and gently tried to thread her fingers through that dark, black or almost black hair, trying to soothe the woman’s shaking.

But her hand wouldn’t make contact. It was like it was a fuzzy feeling on the other side of her hand.

Hmm, so it appeared that soulmates could see and hear each other in their dreams, but not touch.

Hermione’s heart clenched when she saw the scars all along the woman’s arms. Bite marks. Most likely from rats.

Hermione felt tears begin to start in her eyes.

This poor woman.

And Hermione could feel it. Some strong tug to this woman. Some deep primal part of her wanted to hold this woman. It wasn’t just out of sympathy or pity. It was something much stronger than that.

Hermione couldn’t stroke the woman’s hair, but she began speaking softly, “I’m here. I’m here.”

Almost as soon as the dream began, Hermione was snapped out of it-she opened her eyes, gasping and woke up to her room around her, sitting up and looking around her.

She was back in her familiar and safe and comfortable room. No bars on the window, just curtains, a soft bed and a part cat, part kneazle, looking up at her curiously.

Hermione saw some sun coming in through the small crack of the curtains.

Hermione pushed the blankets back, getting out of bed, dropping her feet onto the floor, getting up off of the bed, heading to the bathroom.

It was only after she’d gone to the bathroom and washed her hands, that she thought of the possibility that what she had just dreamt of was her soulmate.

But she dismissed that.

She’d had disturbing dreams before. And some very realistic ones, at that.

But none of her disturbing dreams had ever felt like this.

Nor had she felt during those dreams, what she felt looking down at that woman. She hadn’t just felt disturbed.

She had felt longing. Great, painful longing for that woman.

Hermione frowned as she contemplated all this. She had gotten a good look at that woman’s arms. There hadn’t just been bite marks on it. There’d been wrinkles.

The woman was older than Hermione. By a lot.

Possibly in her very late forties or even her early or late fifties.

So, her mate was older than her. Which meant ultimately, that yes, this woman, if she was in fact Hermione’s soulmate, then she had seen Hermione before. In her dreams.

Which meant that the woman likely knew a lot already about Hermione.

Which meant it was very likely that the woman knew about Cromwell, the labs, the Sorcerer’s Stone.

And about Hermione killing Quirrell in her first year and dispatching Voldemort from Quirrell’s head.

And it also probably meant that the woman knew the rest of what had happened at Cromwell’s lab.

Hermione grimaced. She wasn’t sure even she wanted to know that.

She had some shreds of memory of what happened there. Her mother aiming a gun at a guard and a staff member, her mother letting other muggle-born children out of their rooms, the guards attacking, Chloe using her magic on the guards, the guards beginning to shoot and Hermione screaming, lifting herself up off the floor, panicking.

Then she remembered her mother beginning to fire bullets, then she remembered seeing several other kids being shot to death and seeing their bodies fall to the floor…………and then nothing after.

The last thing Hermione remembered after that, within the confines of the lab, was being carried out over her mother’s shoulder and seeing several of the other kids that were still alive, running out of various exits, either by blasting a hole in the walls or by killing guards and taking the keys and opening up the doors manually, and felt herself being carried through the door, her mother running with her out of the lab and running fast for a car, that she had stolen the keys off of a guard for.

All she knew was that something horrible had happened in the labs, besides a bunch of the kids dying, and she had a very uncomfortable feeling that she’d had a part in it.

But she just couldn’t remember what that part in it was.

Afterwards, her mother’s reassurances to Hermione that Hermione didn’t hurt anyone in the lab, didn’t help.

Again, Hermione wasn’t sure why she felt this way, but she had a distinct feeling that she’d done something horrible in the labs.

But she just didn’t know what that horrible thing was.

And her mother wasn’t talking.

Hermione tried not to think about the possibility of her mate knowing about whatever it was she’d done at the lab, if anything.

Then again, if that woman in the prison really was her mate? Then Hermione had more things to worry about than just the woman knowing about Hermione’s time in Cromwell’s lab.

Hermione couldn’t believe that that was her mate.

Why would her mate be in a prison?

That made no sense.

And Hermione had no idea if her mate was a muggle or not. If what her mother had said was true? Then being a muggle didn’t matter. One could be the soulmate of a witch or wizard, regardless of being a muggle.

That was probably how a lot of half-bloods were born.

For all Hermione knew, the woman who she had seen in her dream, assuming that that was a soulmate dream at all, could have been a muggle in a muggle prison.

For now, Hermione had to assume that that dream was a fluke.

Just a very strange dream, even more strange than usual for her.

She would have to wait and see if she had any more dreams.

For now, she needed to get ready for the day.

She neglected to mention this dream to her mother, but she asked her mother more about the dreams the woman had of Andromeda and Ted Tonks.

Apparently, they had a daughter. A young woman now who was an Auror, and who was a metamorphmagus, and was named “Nymphadora Tonks,” but who hated being called “Nymphadora,” and preferred the name “Tonks.”

Andromeda didn’t like talking about her sisters. But Jean could tell that Andromeda missed them.

She missed them dearly, Jean said.

Hermione then thought about the implications. Andromeda and Ted were her adoptive mother’s soulmates. Which meant that the son of Andromeda’s younger sister, was technically going to be Hermione’s cousin, should Jean ever meet Andromeda and Ted and marry them.

Hermione almost facepalmed at that. When she told her mother this, Jean actually laughed as she said, “Well, it might do good to teach that brat some things about muggles.”

Hermione smiled at her mother, not believing how easily her mother was adapting to having a witch and a wizard as her mates. Even after realizing that her adoptive daughter was in fact, a witch, and not some sort of mutant freak like Cromwell and his goons thought her to be, Hermione had figured her mother wouldn’t be able to deal with a lot of this.

But she had.

And it turned out that Jean Granger had two soulmates in the witch and wizarding world, Andromeda and Ted Tonks?

Wow.

Hermione asked Jean more about Andromeda and Ted, asked how long her mother had dreamt of the two of them.

Jean said that it hadn’t been for long. Just since Hermione had left for her third year in Hogwarts.

She’d stopped taking the Vakamul, a few weeks after Hermione had started her first year in Hogwarts. And the effects of the Vakamul finally wore off by the time Hermione had headed off to Hogwarts for her third year.

Jean had said, smiling sadly, that the Vakamul dulled someone’s ability to have dreams of their soulmate or soulmates, but it didn’t keep their soulmate or soulmates, from having dreams about the person taking the Vakamul.

Which meant that Andromeda and Ted likely knew about Jean and about Hermione. Had known about them now for years.

Again, Hermione felt nervous. Because if Andromeda and Ted knew about Hermione Jean, then they likely knew about Cromwell and the labs. And about the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Thankfully, they didn’t know about the diary with Tom inside.

Hermione hadn’t told her mother about that yet.

Good thing too. As much as Hermione wanted to tell her mother about Tom, and had actually contemplated telling her about Tom this summer, she now realized in hindsight, that that was a bad idea.

Because what if Andromeda and Ted Tonks decided that whatever it was that connected Tom to the diary was dark magic and destroyed it? Destroyed her brother?

She couldn’t risk that.

Hermione asked Jean if she’d ever want to meet Andromeda and Ted. Hermione hadn’t been able to help the hope in her voice when she’d asked this question. Because she wanted her mother to be happy.

It was bad enough that her mother had sacrificed a lot of her happiness for her daughter.

Jean smiled at her daughter and said, “Maybe one day, sweetie, but what I care about most is you finishing your Hogwarts education and getting a stable job in the magical world. I can think about that later.”

Hermione sighed. Why did her mother have to be so selfless?

The time for Hermione go off to her fourth year of Hogwarts drew closer and Hermione, over time, had more dreams, similar to the one of that woman in the prison cell.

A woman trapped in a dark prison cell, always averting her face and hiding her arms, clearly broken and miserable.

Hermione’s other dreams were of another woman or girl. This person was the opposite of the first dark-haired woman in the prison cell.

This woman or girl, was tall, healthy, had long, blonde hair and blue eyes. Was the picture of all sunshine and confidence. In those dreams that she felt, the longing for these two people, she learned a lot more about the blonde woman or girl than she did the dark-haired woman who wouldn’t show Hermione her face.

She knew from the dreams she had of the blonde girl or woman, that the blonde was named Fleur. And that she had a younger sister named Gabrielle. They were French, they were magical, and they weren’t entirely human.

It took Hermione a few dreams to realize what Fleur and her family were.

But she figured it out.

The thrall they had over most people, was very telling.

They were Veelas.

It was this, that made Hermione deeply hope that she was just having strange dreams.

Because a Veela having control over Hermione? That made her heart stop.

Because Fleur potentially knowing about Hermione’s past was the least of that part that made Hermione worried.

Veelas were very strong. Dangerous.

Predators.

They were extremely possessive of their mates.

Knowing there was a possibility that Hermione might be bound to one of these beings, made her rather nervous.

And one thing was clear to her, whenever she had dreams of these people, the much older woman with dark hair in the prison cell, and the blonde woman with blue eyes in sunny France, Hermione felt an endless pull to them, a need to be with them.

Which made her realize that there was nothing she could do to convince herself. These two people she was continuing to have dreams about, were her mates.

She had two mates. Both women.

One of them was a Veela, another was a woman locked up in some prison.

It hurt Hermione to know, but she realized at some point that these people could hear her. And see her.

One time she’d dreamt of Fleur, falling asleep in the middle of the day on the couch, Fleur was with her sister in a dress store, when Fleur suddenly turned and looked in Hermione’s direction, and as soon as the blonde had seen Hermione, Fleur had smiled at her widely, so happy.

Hermione might have misgivings about her possible mates.

But clearly, at least one of them very much wanted to be with her.

Hermione hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d asked the question, as she felt her heart clench with yearning as she looked at Fleur, “Are you my mate?”

And Hermione, to her pain and to her absolute horror, Fleur, smiling still, beaming, had said, “Yes, my love, I am.”

And Hermione knew she should have been happy, knew she should have been.

But all she could feel was pain.

Pain over the realization, that her life wasn’t only hers anymore.

Over the next few days, she’d come to dread those dreams. She would smile and nod to Fleur whenever Fleur would see her, but she was sure the blonde could tell there was something wrong.

And Fleur’s concern always hurt Hermione.

But finally, after having many dreams of that other person, the woman with black or almost black hair in the cell? Hermione knew that she needed to do something. At least, for the woman in the cell.

So, one night, when she had a dream about that woman in the cell, she was there, in the cold, cold, heartless room, full of pain and misery and she heard the cries, sobs and screams from all the other cells, she looked down at where the woman sat, again, averting her face from Hermione, hiding her arms, and Hermione felt her heart hurt for the woman, as well as the strong pull to the woman.

Was the woman afraid of Hermione seeing her scarred arms and seeing her face? Did she fear that Hermione would think her ugly?

Hermione watched this woman shake and she heard quiet whimpering sounds from this woman and she almost cried, realizing that the woman was crying.

Hermione couldn’t bear it. She knew she couldn’t touch this woman. The soulmate drams were limited to sight and sound.

But she knew that the woman could hear her.

So, Hermione did the thing that her mother always had done whenever Hermione had been scared or had a nightmare or believed that she was a bad person and would never have friends, and was crying.

Hermione started to sing to the woman.

It was a lullaby that Jean Granger’s mother had used to sing to her, and Jean Granger sang it to Hermione a lot.

Hermione sang to the woman softly, watching as the woman slowly stopped shaking and sniffled a bit, calming down somewhat.

After Hermione finished singing, positive that her voice was the worst singing voice, and after she was sure that the woman was calmer now, Hermione asked, her voice hard, “Where are you right now? Is this Azkaban? Or some other prison?” Hermione knew that if this woman was a muggle, then the prison the woman was in was a muggle prison. Hermione said quickly, “What prison are you in? Tell me. I swear, I’ll get you out.”

Even as Hermione said it, she knew that she shouldn’t make promises she might not be able to keep.

Besides, as much as she’d like to think that her mates might both be good people, she didn’t know anything about this woman. She barely knew anything about Fleur. For all Hermione knew, this woman could have done something horrible to land her in prison.

Still, even knowing that possibility, Hermione knew that she had to get this woman out.

The woman wasn’t answering her, though.

Hermione winced. “Where are you?” She demanded.

Again, no answer, the woman just hugged herself tighter.

Hermione tried to ignore the pain she was feeling for this woman. Her heart stopped when she felt herself beginning to be dragged out. She could feel it, like she was going to be propelled out of her dream.

She was going to wake up soon.

She looked at the woman and all but yelled, “I’m going to get you out! Wherever you are, I promise I’ll get you out!”

She slammed out of her dream and gasped, waking up on her bed, finding tears in her eyes.

Regardless of what that woman in her dreams did, she knew she had to get the woman out.

She had to find out who the woman was, where she was and get her out.

Hermione, a few hours before dawn arrived, pulled out Tom’s diary and opened it.

Crookshanks meowed in quiet alarm, when Tom appeared above the diary.

“Hermione?” He said, “It’s good to see you. Is anything wrong?”

Hermione hesitated and tossed her legs over the side of the bed, but didn’t get up as she looked at Tom. She took a breath and began speaking, glad that her mother was asleep and so, would be unaware of Tom or her speaking to him.

She told him as much as she could. What little she knew about her two mates.

Tom, for starters, appeared overjoyed on Hermione’s behalf.

But then he noticed Hermione’s hesitation, her unease.

Tom frowned then. “This makes you unhappy?” He asked.

Hermione shifted, then said, feeling uncomfortable, “It’s hard to explain. I knew it had to happen one day. But it’s sort of…………like I don’t want anyone else to have a say about my life. I don’t want someone to interfere with my agency. To have power over me like that.”

“I see, I see,” Tom said, nodding, “I think I understand that. If I had never met Ella, for example? Would I have ever felt as much pain as I’ve felt over the years? Would my heart ache as much as it has? Most likely not.” Tom’s smile became somber, “I wouldn’t trade the time I knew my darling Ella Taylor, not for anything. But I know I wouldn’t be in as much pain as I am now, if I had never met her.”

Hermione sighed. She supposed that was the gist of it. Whether or not she was willing to risk a great deal of pain for possibly just a few moments of utter joy.

She didn’t know.

Almost as if he could sense what she was feeling, Tom asked, “Alright, you are worried about yourself here, I understand that. But do you also want your two mates to suffer as a result?”

Hermione winced. No. She didn’t. Even if it didn’t have to do with her life not being her own anymore, even if these two people weren’t here mates? She couldn’t just do that to two people, cause them pain when they had never done anything to her.

She said quietly, shaking her head, “No.”

“Then talk to them,” Tom said, “Especially the one who’s in a prison cell. I’m sad to say, but she really sounds like she needs someone there for her.”

Hermione nodded, her heart hurting for the woman who she had seen, crouched in that cold and desolate cell, surrounded only by rats and screams from other cells.

Hermione chose then, that every time she had soulmate dream about that woman in the cell, she would sing to the woman, and speak comfortingly to her.

The next day, she received a letter from Daphne and Astoria, telling her about a Quidditch tournament that was happening right before Hogwarts started. It was the World Cup, in fact.

And it featured some of the greatest and most popular Quidditch players. It was an international tournament. The World Cup, after all.

Daphne and Astoria were going and it was likely Millicent and Pansy were going as well.

Hermione mentioned the tournament and Jean instantly just smiled and said without hesitation, “You’re going.”

Hermione said that she didn’t want to leave her mother alone this soon, but her mother insisted, so, Hermione had sent the letters to her friends, telling them that she’d meet with them to see the World Cup.

Chapter Text

The news was playing, and Jean was about to switch the news off, as Hermione got all her things together, tucked Tom’s diary into her robes, got her wand and her carrier with Crookshanks in it, and started heading out, when an old news story started playing.

The man on the screen announced, “This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the murders of the couple found hanging under the Westminster Bridge,” the man kept droning on, Hermione grimacing at the screen at the reminder of the horrid event that had happened all those years ago.

A couple of bodies tortured and found dangling below the bridge. A man and a woman. It was one of those stories that everyone grew up with around here. One of those things that were so horrible, that you just didn’t want to talk about them.

Hermione didn’t even know what the couple’s names were.

Hermione’s mother’s attention went to the TV, seeing where her daughter was looking.

“Oh, that story,” she said grimly, “Such a terrible thing.”

Hermione nodded. It wasn’t like that incident involving the bridge, was the only violent thing involving a murderer that had happened within London, that had nothing to do with witches or wizards.

You didn’t need magic users to have a situation where people were murdered in absolutely inhumane manners.

Sometimes you just needed an average human being. After all, hadn’t that been what Hermione and her friends had talked about that night a year ago, when they’d wondered who the bigger threat was, muggles or witches and wizards?

And odd as it was, Hermione, in that moment, wondered what the last name of the couple was.

It was one of those things that she didn’t want to think about, but her curiosity, as always, got the better of her. And you know, maybe it was just because she was older now and accepting the horrors in life much more now, rather than crying about them or wanting to duck under her blankets, like she had wanted to whenever she was a kid and had nightmares about Cromwell’s labs, but she felt herself ask the question to her mother.

She asked, “What was their last name again?”

Jean furrowed her eyebrows. “You know,” she said, “I don’t remember. I know that the husband’s name was ‘Frederick.’ And I think the wife’s name was ‘Catherine.’ That’s the most I know.”

Hermione nodded, something touching the back of her brain, a feeling like she knew something.

Like she had heard about these names before, but couldn’t recall from where.

Then again, she probably had heard the names of these two victims before and just hadn’t wanted to think about it again.

Hermione nodded to her mother.

“Well,” she said, “I’d love to leave you on a better subject, mama, but-“

“It’s alright, love,” Jean said, smiling at her daughter, “Go. Have fun.”

Hermione smiled and hugged her mother tightly. She stepped back and looked up at her mother and said, “Mama? I can…………I could try to contact Andromeda and Ted Tonks, if you’d like? Sirius Black might be in contact with them again, now that his name’s been cleared.”

Hermione had told her mom everything about last year-well, not everything. Not about Tom Riddle and the diary. And not about the time turner. The time turner she was planning on telling her mother about. But not yet.

Jean regarded her daughter and shook her head. “No, Hermione,” she said softly.

At that, Hermione stared at the woman, startled. “Why not?” she asked, honestly confused.

Jean took a breath. She said, “Think about it. What exactly did I used to do, before I rescued you and brought you here? What types of people did I help lock up and experiment on before this?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Oh, that was why.

“But it’s different now,” Hermione said, “You got me out. You’re the reason a bunch of us got out, remember? You let all of the other kids out.”

Jean tried not to flinch. (Oh, Hermione,) she thought to herself sadly, (You have no idea. You really have no idea. I only did all of that, to protect you. I only let all the other kids out, so that they would be a diversion. They were bait, so you could be free. I wonder how you would look at me, if you knew that part about me, my love.)

And it was the truth. Jean had only let the rest of the magic using children out of the prisons in the lab, so, as to use them as a distraction for the guards to shoot at, while Jean intended to get Hermione out and keep Hermione safe.

None of the other kids had mattered to her.

She hadn’t wanted the other kids to suffer or be killed, but she hadn’t cared about whether or not they had gotten out, not as much as she had about Hermione getting out.

“I know you think that, sweetie,” Jean said, deciding not to voice the rest of what she was thinking, “But a lot of other witches and wizards might not be so forgiving. From what you’ve told me about the Black family? They don’t sound like a forgiving bunch.”

Hermione’s lips tightened. Well, that was true. Even the “better members of the Black family,” like Sirius? Was unforgiving when it came to those he considered disloyal. While Hermione agreed that Pettigrew deserved to be punished for betraying his friends, she had to wonder what the circumstances were when Pettigrew had sold out the Potters. Had it just been out of spite and greed?

Or had he been tortured into it?

And then there was how Sirius had treated Snape.

Even the supposedly good members of that family, seemed to be at best, ornery and malicious.

That was troubling, admittedly.

But then, look at the family’s track record. The parents, Cygnus and Druella. And Walburga and Orion. Then the children, Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa. And Sirius and Regulus. Three of those five children were Death Eaters or had married a Death Eater, or in Bellatrix Lestrange’s case, both.

And one of those five children, was a vindictive and even malicious self-righteous git that didn’t seem to have empathy for others, even after all he’d gone through in Azkaban.

Then, there was of course, Draco Malfoy, who was a Malfoy, but who had Black family blood in his veins.

Was lack of empathy just a Black family trait?

She hoped not.

She hugged her mother again, quietly pleading with her mother to think about it and Jean nodded, kissing her daughter’s forehead.

They parted and Hermione went to join her friends at the Leaky Cauldron.

The five friends hugged and laughed as they made small talk at the pub, ignoring the various witches and wizards who saw them and gossiped, talking about how they recognized the girls and that one of them knew the “boy who lived” and like the Boy Who Lived, could summon a patronus. And that Hermione had faced off with “you know who” in her first year and survived and what was more, triumphed against You Know Who.

Despite the stares Hermione was getting, she ignored them.

Eventually, Hermione asked Pansy how “Witherwinds,” was doing.

Pansy, grinning said that he was doing well, and that her mother and father were actually very happy to have such a “beautiful and proud creature” on their property, to be looked after.

Hermione smiled, glad for Buckbeak.

Soon, Hermione, Pansy, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent took their things and their animals, and went off to the World Cup.

They found a portkey, which was a small, curved hook sticking out of the wall in an alleyway, which Pansy grabbed and everyone else grabbed-apparently, Millicent’s family had learned of it and the portkey blasted them through in a whirlwind. The animals snarled and went crazy and Hermione gave the carrier a sympathetic smile as she spun around, trying not to get sick.

“Ready, Mione?” Pansy called to her.

Hermione laughed, “I have to be!” She had to be, otherwise, she’d wager she’d be spinning around for a while, and no one wanted that.

She released the hook, bracing her body, as did the others and they all went flying.

They were blasted out-all but vomited out of the sky, onto the grass below.

“Umpf,” Hermione grunted as she landed. She heard Crookshanks snarling loudly.

The others landed harshly, but got up easily.

As they got up and made sure they were alright, they grabbed everything and started making their way to the outpost where the games were taking place.

As they approached the area, Hermione grinned, seeing all the huts and tents spanning across the landscape.

She saw where the games were going to be taking place to. A vast building, an arena, not far from all the tents and huts.

Hermione and her friends walked on, carrying their pets with them.

They went past several tents, and Hermione recognized a few people, but also didn’t recognize that many people.

The World Cup, it clearly attracted people from all over.

Hermione smiled when she saw one person she recognized, following a family full of redheads.

Harry Potter.

“Harry!” Hermione yelled.

Harry looked at her, startled at first, then when he saw her, he grinned and waved to her and she waved back. She didn’t see Sirius. She had figured that Sirius would want to spend as much time with his godson as possible. But she supposed Sirius had wanted to do the same for Harry that Hermione’s mother had wanted to do for her, and give him some space. Remus probably had as well. Besides, they’d most likely had as much time to spend with him, since he now lived with Sirius and Sirius and Remus had reconciled. Not for the first time, Hermione wondered if Sirius and Remus were mates. As Harry waved to her, Ron caught sight of her and glared at her with disgust. Hermione ignored him.

She then noticed his glare turning elsewhere and saw his glare hardening.

Frowning, Hermione looked next to her, and she almost groaned, seeing Pansy smirking at Ron and mockingly blowing a kiss to him, almost crudely.

“Pansy,” Hermione grumbled, lowering her arm, “Why are you provoking Weasley?”

“Oh, please,” Pansy said, “The Weasleys are so easy to provoke. They’d be provoked just by having a Slytherin in the same vicinity.”

Hermione sighed, glancing to Harry and the Weasley family as the group went into their tent. Well, that was probably true.

The Weasleys were famous for being biased against the Slytherin house.

They believed the common myth, that all Slytherins were bad. Any witch or wizard that entered Slytherin would end up dark.

Hermione and her friends went to a spot that had no tent or hut there and Daphne and Astoria set up the tent, telling Hermione that it was fine, in this particular are at this time, underage witches and wizards could use magic, as long as it was just setting up camp.

As the tent was fully up, everyone went inside.

Hermione smiled at the massive tent, which was so much bigger on the inside than on the outside.

Daphne and Astoria’s parents arrived soon afterwards, entering the tent, greeting everyone. They were to be the chaperones for their trip.

They helped the animals get settled in, until it would be time for the witches to get their animals and bring them to Hogwarts.

That night, they went off to the arena, going up along the rows, seeing dozens and dozens of people sitting already. Cannons were being fired off and fireworks were being shot out, making shapes that moved around, as all magical things did.

Many names were being thrown around; Quidditch champions who were the best and respected by many, many fans.

One Bulgarian wizard’s name got yelled a lot. Viktor Krum.

As Hermione and her friends went up along one row, finding seats, a very familiar, obnoxious voice sneered up from below, “Ah, Granger! I see if even you were invited here, then clearly the standards of who can attend this tournament has lowered.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Malfoy.

She looked down, staring coldly at where Draco and his father stood a row down.

“Hello, Malfoy,” Hermione said dryly, “Malfoy Senior.”

“Ms. Granger,” Lucius greeted arrogantly, “I see you are doing well.”

Was it just Hermione’s imagination, or had Lucius sounded surprised to see her alive and alright?

Not for the first time, Hermione’s mind went to the diary that she had, that Lucius had given to her in the first place, most likely hoping that it would end with Hermione being killed in some way.

Hermione forced a smile at him as she said, “Thank you for noticing, Malfoy Senior. I suppose I should say the same about you, but I’m afraid all I’ve seen of you, has been snooty and acting self-obsessed, so, I can’t say I know the difference between you being ‘well’ and how you normally act.”

The vicious glare Hermione got from Lucius, actually made Hermione smirk.

Pansy glared at the two Malfoys and she led the rest of them away.

Hermione glanced down at the Malfoys, glad that she and her friends were moving away.

As they got settled into some seats, the games started. More and more fireworks were shot out above the arena.

Quidditch players of dozens and dozens of nationalities soared high above the arena on their brooms.

Amongst them, Hermione recognized the name, “Krum,” who was being shouted by many a fan.

Hermione chuckled, watching the figure in red on his broom, parading around and proudly being praised.

Viktor Krum. The Bulgarian champion.

He went to the school Durmstrang.

Hermione heard crowds all over the arena going absolutely wild.

Cheering and screaming was all over the place.

Pansy, Millicent, Daphne, Astoria and Hermione all decided to give their own cheers, enjoying the merriment.

Hours later, when Hermione and her friends returned to the tent, laughing and chuckling, happy to have gone to see the games, and hearing other equally as jocular groups of people around the camp area.

Astoria joked with Millicent, when she said that she loved watching some of the beaters fly, “I’m sure you do, Millicent. Which of them do you fancy the most, eh?”

“Oh, come off it,” Millicent snorted, grabbing some of the butterbeer that Daphne and Astoria’s parents had brought, bringing some of it to her lips and drinking, “What about all of you,” she raised her eyebrows, “Any of you fancy some of the champions?”

There was more giggling, when a loud explosion, caused all of them to gasp, whirling.

“What the bloody hell?” Pansy asked.

Hermione peered through the opening of the tent door, seeing fire being blasted out several yards away.

She gasped, stepping back, as she heard Daphne say that it was probably some celebration.

“It’s not a celebration,” Hermione said, shaking her head, “Someone’s starting fires. We have to get out of here.”

She turned to the others and they nodded. Daphne and Astoria’s parents grabbed their things, Hermione and the others, grabbed their animals and started running out, running for it.

And they weren’t the only ones with that idea, apparently.

During all the din breaking out, hundreds of people were running all over the place, yelling and screaming.

Hermione looked between the crowds, trying to figure out what the source of the calamity was coming from.

When her eyes adjusted both to the dark and to the figures between the many groups of fleeing people, her heart turned to ice.

Figures dressed in dark robes, with hoods, those figures wore masks.

Hermione felt her throat tighten.

She knew who these people were. She didn’t need to get closer to get a look at them.

She knew exactly who these people were.

These were people who would rape and murder her, as soon as they knew what her blood status was.

Death Eaters.

Hermione gasped out as she turned on her heel. “Run,” she yelled at her friends, “We have to run, now!”

Her friends, who trusted her completely, didn’t need to be told twice. They turned and tried running through the jumbled crowd. Daphne and Astoria’s parents made sure that their daughters were ahead of the group, but Hermione got clustered around by the different groups, congesting the space she was in, making it impossible for her to move quickly.

Realizing she was going to be cut off from her friends, Hermione shoved the carrier with Crookshanks inside, to Millicent.

Millicent looked at her, startled, the carrier which held Millicent’s own cat, Amelia, in her other hand.

Hermione could feel herself being pulled back from her friends with the wave of the crowd and yelled at Millicent, “Get Crookshanks and get out of here! I’ll try to rejoin you later!”

“Hermione!” Millicent yelled as she was being dragged backwards from her friend by the crowd.

Hermione was pushed backwards by the mass of moving people, running panicking and screaming.

Hermione, desperate, looked over her shoulder at where she had last seen the Death Eaters, her terrified heart pounding.

If the Death Eaters caught her……………

Hermione reached into her pocket, when she had room enough to do so, and grabbed her wand, pulling it out.

If they were planning on doing anything to her? She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Hermione heard several more blasts and heard several more screams and hundreds of people shot by her, finally relinquishing her from their hold, and she stumbled backwards in an open space, the people running and fires dying down, the landscape before her appearing dark and desolate.

Hermione gasped, looking about. Her eyebrows narrowed, when she saw a figure about her size, up ahead, stumbling around.

Hermione cautiously walked over, keeping her wand at the ready. When she got close enough to see the other figure, her eyes widened.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, startled.

The dark-haired, bespectacled boy, whirled around and looked at her, a shocked look on his face.

“Hermione,” he said, frantic breaths coming out slower now, in what Hermione presumed was relief, “You saw what those figures before?”

“Yeah, I did,” Hermione said, “Death Eaters.”

Harry’s eyes widened even more.

“Really?” He asked, shock and fear in his voice.

“Really,” Hermione said, “We should get the hell out of here, if any of them are still here. We don’t want to be caught by him. Neither a muggle-born like me, nor a half-blood like you, much less the ‘Boy who lived,’ will want to be caught by them.”

Harry nodded.

“Let’s go,” Hermione said, as they both began running through the dark landscape, trying to find their friends.

They didn’t make it far, though, when they stopped across the camp ground, seeing another dark figure up ahead. A dark figure that looked bigger than a teenager like them.

The figure was tall and lanky, and looked to be wearing a large coat of some sort. And was aiming their wand up at the sky.

Both Hermione and Harry heard a yell in a gruff voice and bright, eerie green light shot out of the wand, right at the sky.

That green light hit the sky and a shape began to form in the sky, becoming huge across the sky.

Hermione and Harry watched the shape change and Hermione felt her heart fall, recognizing that mark.

It was the Dark Mark.

The mark of a snake entwined with a skull.

Hermione tried not to feel sick.

That was HIS mark.

Voldemort’s mark.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. They then looked at where the figure was lowering their wand…………and beginning to walk toward them.

“Shit,” Hermione whispered.

“We run, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Hermione said, as they began to move. They both started running from where the figure was beginning to get closer.

Just as they were about to bolt to where it was away from the camp, some new figures emerged.

It was man in a suit, with a bowler hat who looked tired and disgruntled.

There were Aurors and Arthur Weasley with them.

“What the-?” Harry asked.

They all gasped as they almost hit each other, and the man in the bowler hat demanded, aiming his wand at Hermione and Harry, “What is all this?!”

“That’s my son’s friend, Harry!” Arthur Weasley explained, “What are you thinking, Crouch?!”

Hermione blinked, startled at the man with the bowler hat. Crouch? Barty Crouch? This was him?

The influential figure in the Ministry of Magic?

He had sent many Death Eaters off to Azkaban.

Including his own son, Barty Crouch Junior.

Barty Crouch Junior, had been one of the Death Eaters involved in the attack on the Longbottoms. And had either helped or had stood back and did nothing while Alice and Frank Longbottom had been tortured to insanity.

“There was someone following us,” Harry said, turning to look behind him and Hermione.

Hermione looked at where Harry was looking at.

The man that had followed them? He wasn’t there anymore.

That caused Hermione to feel even more alarmed. Where was that guy?

“Who did that?” Barty Crouch Senior demanded, looking at the Dark Mark in the sky, “Did one of you do it?” He glared at Hermione and Harry as he asked this.

“No, we didn’t,” Hermione snapped, glaring right back at him, “Try to actually hear what we’re saying. We were being chased by the person that did use the Dark Mark.”

“Who?” Arthur Weasley asked, and the Aurors looked past Hermione and Harry, their wands pulled out.

“It’s his mark, isn’t it?” Hermione said, looking back at the Dark Mark, and of course, already knowing the answer.

“We should get the children out of here,” one of the Aurors said, “We can search for whoever did the mark with them taken somewhere safe.”

Hermione and Harry were herded away from the area and brought to where the rest of the families were, Hermione’s friends racing over and crying out their friend’s name and Ron spotted Harry and yelled to him, running over, giving Hermione a dirty look as he passed her.

Hermione hugged all of her friends. Overwhelmed, Hermione told them what had happened, as best as she could. About the man that she and Harry had seen make the Dark Mark, and about the man following them, then disappearing.

Pansy asked if Hermione or Harry had any idea who the person was. Hermione shook her head and told them no, she had no idea who that person was and she doubted that Harry knew either.

But the important thing, there were Death Eaters out and about who felt confident enough to show their hatred of muggles and half-bloods, in public, and someone who was willing to use the Dark Mark in public.

Hermione shivered. Most likely guessing the direction of Hermione’s thought process, Daphne said, “Are you alright, Mione?”

Hermione smiled sadly as she gratefully took Crookshanks from Millicent. She wasn’t sure she was.

Death Eaters. The Dark Mark.

Hermione’s experiences, dreaming about her soulmates, had become the least of what she was panicked about now.

Oh, and there was a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

She still would need to figure out what to do about that.

As Hermione and her friends began walking, Hermione checked her robes and was relieved to find that the diary was still there. It hadn’t slipped out or anything. The diary was safe.

Tom was safe. Or as safe as whatever he was, could be.

Finally, they were brought to the train to Hogwarts.

Daphne and Astoria’s parents were hesitant to leave their daughters after what had happened. Their reaction made Hermione hopeful that they weren’t planning on joining the Death Eaters or anything like that.

Hermione and the others loaded up onto the train, with their animals.

Hermione’s friends refused to not keep Hermione within their sights.

Hermione sighed, smiling sadly at them. They were so protective. She appreciated it. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was coming.

And she didn’t think they could protect her or she could protect them from what was coming.

Halfway through the journey to Hogwarts, there was a knock on the door to Hermione and her friends’ compartment, making them turn their heads to the knocking sound.

Harry was on the other side of the compartment door.

Daphne frowned, opening up the door.

Harry smiled and asked politely, “I’m sorry to bother you, but may I speak with Hermione for a few moments?”

Hermione got up, confused and she looked to her very cautious friends and mouthed to them wordlessly, “It’s alright.”

She went over to Harry and closed the compartment door, as she faced Harry. “What is it?” She asked, feeling her friends watching the two of them.

Harry looked nervous and after a deep breath, he said, “Hermione, I’m sorry to ask this, but is there something going on?”

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

Harry gave a small laugh as he said, “There’s no not awkward way for me to say this. But I’ve been having dreams about you.”

Hermione loosened up her tightness and snorted, having an idea of where this was going. Harry was a teenager, it was natural.

Harry seemed to realize what conclusion Hermione had drawn and he quickly corrected, “Oh, no, sorry, it’s not like that. I mean……………it’s hard to explain. But I’ve been seeing you. In my dreams.”

Hermione chuckled, “Harry, we’re not soulmates. I haven’t seen you in my dreams.”

Harry said quickly, blood rushing to his cheeks, “Again, it’s not like that. How do I explain it? It’s like when I’m talking to you in my dreams? It’s not me. It’s like I’m seeing you through someone else’s eyes.”

Hermione frowned. Okay, that was odd.

“Who do you think you’re seeing through the eyes of?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, “But whenever I dream of you, and see through this other person’s eyes? It’s while you’re sitting down in the Slytherin common room, I’m guessing, and sometimes it’s with your friends. I’ve had this dream both when you’re in the common room and when I think you’re at your home.”

Hermione paused, unsettled. What?

“Can you give me other details?” She asked him.

“I think at least one,” Harry said, “The sound is strange in the dreams. But I remember you calling the person who I saw through the eyes of, a name. ‘Tom.’”

Hermione stayed glued to the spot, her stomach dropping. Why would Harry dream of her speaking with Tom? Why would Harry see through Tom’s eyes, whenever she’d open up the diary and let Tom out?

“You can’t tell me anything else?” Hermione asked, her voice coming out weakly.

Harry shook his head. “No, sorry,” he said, “Do you have any idea what it means?”

Hermione tried to think of an explanation and turned up empty.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I’m sorry. But if I find anything out, I will let you know.”

Harry nodded. “Sorry to trouble you,” he said.

“It’s no trouble,” Hermione assured him as they parted and Hermione went back into her and her friends’ compartment, unsure how to deal with what she had just learned.

She sat down next to Daphne.

“Mione?” Astoria asked, “What did he want?”

Hermione said, trying to ignore the shiver at how Tom seemed to be involved now, “Nothing. He just wanted to make sure I was okay after the Dark Mark incident.”

Hermione could tell from the way her friends were staring at her, that they didn’t believe her, but they accepted her answer, so that they didn’t make her feel pressured to tell them anything.

Hermione was so grateful to them for that.

Hermione and her friends got to the school, the thestral dragged the carriage that they were going to ride to Hogwarts, being pulled up to them.

Hermione looked at the thestral sadly, as she and the others got up in the carriage.

Seeing Hermione’s sad expression, Pansy asked softly, “You can see a thestral, right?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, nodding, as they got in the carriage, the thestral moving as soon as they were all inside, again, Hermione trying to ignore the uneasiness, trying to figure out how Harry could have seen through Tom’s eyes in his dreams.

They reached Hogwarts, got out, and as they were about to approach the school, they heard commotion from the other kids in the courtyard.

Hermione and her friends, joined those kids and watched, startled, as two shapes emerged, one from the water and one from the sky.

A huge ship emerged up out of the water, going across the surface of the water and getting closer to Hogwarts.

There was also, rows of flying horses, soaring through the sky, descending down, a covered carriage right behind them, zooming closer and closer to Hogwarts.

“What’s going on here?” Daphne asked, surprised.

Hermione shook her head. She didn’t know and from the looks on her friends’ faces, they didn’t know, either.

With many questions on their minds, they followed the rest of the kids through the yard, to the school and entered the school.

After giving the animals to the staff to be brought to the Slytherin dorms and Hermione and her friends headed to the Great Hall.

They filed to their table, Hermione caught sight of Luna Lovegood, at the Ravenclaw table.

As soon as they sat down, Luna happily got up from the Ravenclaw table and went over to the Slytherin table, sitting down next to Hermione and Pansy.

At the startled looks from some other Slytherins, Hermione and Daphne sent a few glares those Slytherins’ way and those Slytherins quickly looked the other way.

“How have you been, Luna?” Hermione asked, smiling at her.

Luna smiled at answered that she’d been well, and that her shoes hadn’t been disappearing all that much.

Hermione chuckled, “Well, that’s nice to hear.”

Hermione saw a good deal of the Gryffindors going to their table and Hermione caught sight of Harry.

She hoped he was okay after what happened.

The teachers all were seated, then Dumbledore walked over to the podium and gave his announcements and speeches.

Then he announced something startling. Their school was going to be host to the Triwizard tournament.

Hermione’s eyes widened. The Triwizard tournament? That barbaric tournament?

She would have thought that Dumbledore might not have something like that at his school.

Then again, this might have been the one time when she wasn’t condemning Dumbledore.

After all, he needed to maintain “political relationships,” didn’t he?

Then again, that certainly would explain the large ship and the carriage pulled by those horses, right?

Dumbledore explained how becoming a champion in the Triwizard tournament was not to be taken lightly and all that.

Yes, Hermione knew that. That was exactly why she would never put her damn name in.

Those must have been the other schools that were going to participate in the Triwizard tournament.

Hermione noticed Barty Crouch Senior and his Aurors crowding around the table where the teachers and Dumbledore were.

Hermione noticed that the chair where the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would usually sit, was empty.

She wondered who would be their teacher this term, if anyone.

Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers tended not to last long.

Hermione caught sight of Severus Snape, glowering at her every now and then.

She scowled right back at him.

He clearly must have still be soured over what had happened last year. Because Merlin forbid that he didn’t keep indulging in a boyhood grudge and taking it out on everyone else.

Dumbledore then began the introductions. He told everyone to welcome the students of Beauxbatons.

The doors to the Great Hall opened up and Hermione and the rest turned to see several tall, shapely girls or young women, enter the hall.

Hermione noted that there were at least two boys or young men with them.

Trailing behind the many students in their blue Beauxbaton attire, was the biggest woman Hermione had ever seen.

“Merlin’s balls,” Pansy mumbled, staring at the large woman.

Hermione would have given Pansy a side eye at that comment, were it not for the strange feeling she experienced, only a few seconds after the doors had opened up.

It was that feeling that she’d recognized from before. In her dreams.

She froze as she felt it.

A tug. A pull. A yearning.

She shook her head. No. Here?

But then she remembered-Beauxbatons, of course, was a school for witches and some wizards.

And it was French.

And she knew that one of her mates, Fleur Delacour, was undoubtedly French.

Hermione tried to ignore the chills she felt with the strength of her soulmate pull, getting its hooks into her.

Her eyes searched the group of girls or young women that had entered the hall.

She knew what Fleur looked like.

Where-?

Just as Hermione looked at the head of the line, she froze exactly where she was, not moving at all where she sat, her eyes glued to the girl or young woman at the head of the line.

A woman who courteously turned in her direction, smiled coyly at her, and bowed in Hermione’s direction.

Hermione felt herself still unable to move.

She could feel herself being pulled, painfully pulled in the direction of that girl.

“Mione?” She heard Daphne asked softly.

It was Daphne’s voice alone, that broke Hermione out of her frozen state.

She gasped, looking at Daphne and speaking quickly, “I’m fine, it’s okay.”

Her voice betrayed that she definitely was not okay.

She said quickly again, “I………I just need a moment.”

Daphne frowned, but nodded.

Hermione, sweating now, looked back at the group of Beauxbatons students, at…………at Fleur.

She noticed there was a young looking girl with Fleur and Hermione recognized the girl too. Gabrielle, Fleur’s younger sister.

Fleur moved her and her sister and the rest of the students to the Ravenclaw table, sitting down, Fleur never at any point, not watching Hermione, with that same smirk on her face.

Hermione again, was broken out of her shock, when the next school was announced. The Durmstrang students.

Several muscled boys, possibly some who had just become men, entering the hall, bearing wooden staffs and slamming them against the floor of the hall rhythmically, and several of them moving about in agile fashion.

Hermione noticed that there were some muscled girls or women with them, also using staffs.

Hermione recalled that not just boys went to Durmstrang. There were girls who went to, but not many.

Beauxbatons mostly had girls at their school, but some boys, as well.

And Durmstrang mostly had boys at their school, but some girls, as well.

The boys and few girls went up to the steps to Dumbledore, one of them blowing fire into the Great Hall, in the shape of a phoenix that flew overhead in front of Dumbledore.

Hermione saw one large boy or young man walking through the hall, and she recognized him. Viktor Krum.

Behind him, was someone else she recognized.

Someone who under normal circumstances, would have made her blood boil.

A former Death Eater.

Igor Karkaroff.

A supposed former Death Eater, like Snape.

Hermione couldn’t ignore the hate she felt when she saw him, even with her mind and heart busy, knowing Fleur was here. She watched Karkaroff walking forward, with a proud smile on his face, as if he deserved to be the headmaster that taught anything to children.

Who the hell knew what he was teaching to the students of Durmstrang?

Snape might have been a teacher, but at least he wasn’t the headmaster. But Karkaroff?

He was the headmaster of Durmstrang.

That made Hermione very nervous.

Any fascist teaching anyone anything, made her very uncomfortable.

And Hermione tried to ignore the way her skin crawled when Karkaroff approached Dumbledore and the two men embraced.

Hermione knew that Karkaroff couldn’t do anything here, so, she just kept glancing at the Ravenclaw table, at Fleur.

Fleur who kept up with that infuriating smirk.

Hermione vaguely made out the droning on of Barty Crouch Senior, who announced that because of the dangers of the Triwizard tournament, no underage students were allowed to participate in the tournament.

That got outrage from several students. Unsurprisingly, most of it coming from the Gryffindor table.

Dumbledore roared out, “Silence!” and the feast proceeded.

Eventually, a figure emerged from the side door of the head of the Great Hall.

It was a large, bulky man, with a most unpleasant face and brown-gray, scraggly hair.

Hermione was startled by the man’s appearance. He had a large, thick stick that was a cane. He had a metal leg, and what must have been a fake eye on his face. In place of where his real right eye at one time had been.

There was a patch, with a wildly moving eye in it on his right eye socket.

Hermione saw the man looking over at the Gryffindor table. What he was looking at, she didn’t know, but then the man turned his head, and his eye fixed right on her.

Hermione tensed up as the man moved his eye away from her and he went over to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore happily greeted him.

Dumbledore then announced that the man who had appeared, was named Moody. An Auror, Alastor Moody. And he was to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Hermione heard Millicent mumble, “Are they just getting desperate now? Bringing in Moody? There’s a reason he’s called ‘mad,’ and that was even before he lost an eye and had it replaced.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Yes, she had heard of Alastor Moody. A great boon against the Death Eaters. But dangerous. Vicious.

Hermione would have turned to her friends and discussed this, but she kept turning her attention to the Ravenclaw table.

She was about to look at where Fleur was again, or rather, she would have, had Fleur been in the spot where she previously was sitting.

Hermione gasped, seeing Fleur no longer in her seat. Her sister and the others were at the Ravenclaw table, but Fleur wasn’t.

Hermione’s heart pounded.

Where was-?

Suddenly there was movement next to Hermione and she gasped, as Fleur appeared, doing the most absolute and audacious thing at the moment that the Veela could probably consider doing, and dropped down right between Hermione and Daphne, sitting down, smiling at Hermione widely, causing Hermione’s heart to hammer insanely in her chest.

There were several gasps and grumbles from Hermione’s friends and from the rest of the table as Fleur said, her voice heavy with a French accent, “Bonjour, mademoiselle Hermione. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You two know each other?” Pansy asked, as Hermione shivered at Fleur’s intense gaze.

“In a way,” Hermione said numbly, “Daphne, Astoria, Pansy, Millicent, Luna, meet my mate. Fleur Delacour.”

Well, one of her mates, but she’d get to that other issue, later.

“Your mate?” Pansy asked, stunned.

“Oh, Hermione, congratulations!” Astoria said happily.

Hermione, however, couldn’t help the unease she felt at this development. She could already feel it. Had been feeling it since she met the gaze of this girl in her dreams. Her life no longer was her own.

Chapter Text

Hermione could feel the questioning stares on her from her friends and from a good portion of the Slytherin table.

Fleur smiled sadly at the brunette’s caution of her. “You are not happy with this, are you, mon cheri?” She asked.

Hermione tried not to feel put off. But said nothing.

Fleur sighed, nodding. She leaned forward and kissed Hermione’s left cheek, causing Hermione to gasp and Fleur whispered softly to her, “I understand that you’re frightened, ma belle, but give me time, please. I can show you that you have nothing to fear about your independence. I just wish to protect you.”

Hermione shivered, half tempted to ask, “And who’s going to protect me from you?”

But she didn’t say that, tempting as it was.

Seeing that she wasn’t going to get any response anytime soon from Hermione, Fleur got up, and left the table, her eyes never leaving Hermione, her soft and endearing smile never leaving the blonde’s face as she left and joined her sister at the Ravenclaw table.

As soon as Fleur joined her fellow Veelas, several of the girls and young women around her began to cluster close, giggling, looking excited for Fleur having found her mate, at last.

Hermione glared at the table where Fleur and the other Veelas were, turning away. She recognized a few of those Veelas from the soulmate dreams she’d had of Fleur. She knew a few of those Veelas’ names too.

Lucille, Camille, Colette, Madeleine.

Those were the names she knew.

And since they were all Veelas, she distrusted them all.

Dumbledore then moved to the middle of the steps before his podium and said, “Now, we shall entertain our guests in the best way we know how,” and he pulled his wand out and Hermione almost dropped her head against the desk.

And here came the anthem of the school.

Normally, she’d delight at the ridiculousness of the upcoming song and that all of them, including the students as old as seventeen, were expected to sing the song with upmost enthusiasm, but right now, she could only feel discomfort.

Dumbledore summoned a floating banner with several words forming lyrics across it, which would be changing soon. And Hermione and her friends got up and as the school anthem began to be signaled to them, they all started singing, and Hermione was trying hard not to groan.

They belted the lyrics out, “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy, hoggy Hogwarts, teach us something, please!”

They continued singing and Hermione tried so hard to join in her friends snickering at the song.

And normally, she would. Because really, with the grand entrance of the Beauxbaton school and the showing off of the Durmstrang school, and this was the best they could offer up as entertainment?

But all she could do was just sing the lyrics, sounding like a robot, not even smirking at the enthusiasm that Vincent Crabbe was showing as he sang and the disgusted look Malfoy threw at Crabbe as Crabbe sang.

After that embarrassing incident was over, the students then sat down again.

The feast began, and as they ate, Peeves started to harass some students, until the Bloody Baron came along and Peeves instantly quieted and left.

Hermione smirked, unable to help but be amused. One thing she could appreciate the Bloody Baron for, was how he put Peeves in his place.

Hermione noticed at the end of the hall, where the table with all the teachers were sitting, was, that Igor Karkaroff and Severus Snape were seated next to each other.

Hermione mentally cursed Dumbledore.

And he thought the two former Death Eaters sitting next to each other, was a good idea?

Hermione watched as Snape and Karkaroff shared a suspicious look with each other, but averted their gaze and said nothing.

Hermione tried not to snort. She almost could picture what they were non-verbally trying to communicate to each other.

‘Hey, Snape, remember the good old days when we could rape and kill as many muggles and muggle-borns as we wanted-‘

‘Shut up, Karkaroff, we need to look good in the eyes of Dumbledore, or we’ll be carted off to Azkaban.’

Because, really what other reason did Karkaroff and Snape have for behaving in general?

Certainly, not because they had “reformed.” You couldn’t reform people like that.

There was no “reforming” a Death Eater.

No, Karkaroff and Snape were only being “upstanding citizens” now, because they knew there were consequences to their actions.

The feast went on and Hermione tried not to feel self-conscious, both with Fleur and the other Veelas’ eyes on her, and with her friends all tossing curious glances her way, not sure why she wasn’t happy she’d found her mate.

Eventually, Pansy asked a question. She said, “You’ve had the dreams about Fleur, right? Did…………did she say or do anything that upset you?”

Hermione tensed, then shook her head. “No, it’s not like that,” she said, “Just……………it’s complicated, is all.”

She huffed out then, “What about you four? Haven’t the dreams started for any of you, yet?”

Millicent shook her head. “Not for me,” she said, “Not yet.”

“Me neither,” Pansy said.

Hermione nodded.

Daphne spoke up, “I’ve been having dreams, but they don’t make sense.”

Astoria nodded as she said, “The same with me. I’m not sure I understand who my mate is. Or where they are.”

Hermione frowned. What did that mean?

Seeing Hermione’s confused expression, Daphne supplied, “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I think our mates live in the muggle world.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Oh.

“They’re muggles?” She asked quietly, making sure her voice was almost silent, worried that the Slytherins would judge, which they would.

Daphne shook her head. “No,” she said, “They’re both definitely magical. But they live in the muggle world.”

Hermione nodded then, feeling like she understood. Muggle-borns.

Astoria said, chuckling, “Yeah, you’d think that would explain a lot. But it doesn’t. These people, they know how to use magic, but they do it without wands. And it’s almost like they’re professionals at it.”

Hermione’s eyebrows lifted. That was………………interesting.

Hermione asked, suddenly worried about the Greengrass sisters’ parents, “What about your mum and dad?”

Daphne and Astoria both looked awkward at that question.

Which told Hermione everything.

“You haven’t told them yet, huh?” She asked sadly.

Both Daphne and Astoria shook their heads.

Hermione’s sad smile stayed on her face. She couldn’t blame them for that, could she?

“I’m sorry,” she said to them.

“It’s okay,” Astoria said and Daphne nodded.

Daphne said, “I’d like to think that mum and dad aren’t as narrow-minded as a lot of other purebloods are. But you know……………I just don’t know if we should say.”

Hermione grimaced. She understood that.

Contrary to a great many muggle societies, the “same-sex” relationships, and interracial relationships, weren’t a problem in the witch and wizarding world. So, if Astoria and Daphne’s mates were girls, or individuals with different skin colors from Daphne and Astoria, or both, it wouldn’t be an issue. The big problem here, was that the magic users in question were muggle-borns.

“What are their names?” She asked, “Do you know?”

“Yeah,” Astoria said, “They’re both older. Daphne’s mate’s name is Chloe. My mate’s name is Noah.”

Hermione’s grip on her fork almost became a steel grip. Two older kids, muggle-borns, most likely, and their names were Chloe and Noah?

The shock must have been apparent all over Hermione’s face, because both Daphne and Astoria’s eyes widened.

“Mione,” Daphne said, “Are you okay?”

“I,” Hermione said, taking a breath, her mind desperately trying to ignore her thoughts of Cromwell, the labs, the breakout, all the guards and the dead kids-it was a coincidence. It had to be, “I’m fine.”

Seeing that none of her friends believed her and Hermione, shooting a glance at Luna, who, regardless of the young girl’s age, had a look that said, “you’re not fooling anyone,” Hermione went on, ignoring her self-conscious feelings, “I’m very happy that you found them and you know who they are.”

Daphne and Astoria both smiled, but Hermione could tell from the looks in their eyes, that they were not going to let this go.

Hermione tried to ignore how her stomach turned.

If the “Chloe” and “Noah” who Astoria had mentioned, were the Chloe and Noah from Cromwell’s labs, and if they were having dreams about Daphne and Astoria, too? Then that meant that they knew about Hermione by this point, as well.

Of course, that was only important, if Chloe and Noah remembered who Hermione was.

Chloe and Noah had been older kids. Hermione had been one of the younger kids.

Who knew, maybe neither of them had even bothered knowing who she was.

Maybe they had no idea who she was now, even if they had dreams of Daphne and Astoria, and by proxy, saw Hermione, as well now.

Hermione tried to ignore her unease, holding the left side of her robes close, feeling the reassuring shape of Tom’s diary, against her.

Dumbledore then made the next announcement, that the goblet of fire would be opened soon, and if someone who was not underage, wished to take part in the Triwizard tournament, all they needed to do, was throw their name into the fire on a piece of paper.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn’t have to look at other people at her table, or at other tables, to know that several of the underage kids would make a try at throwing their names in the fire.

It wouldn’t work. She didn’t doubt for a second that Dumbledore had made it so that it wouldn’t work.

But she didn’t doubt either that several underage kids would try.

Hermione still didn’t turn to the table where Fleur was, not wanting to face the blonde Veela.

She just listened to the others talk.

Astoria was mentioning things about her mate, Noah. About how she was positive that Noah identified as “they/them,” and that Noah knew that a lot of people in Britain didn’t like that, but they didn’t care.

Daphne occasionally would mention that Chloe was really strong-willed and that she and Hermione probably would have a lot in common.

Hermione tried not to laugh at that part. Because if Hermione was right about who Chloe and Noah were, then yes, she’d have a lot in common with the both of them.

Including childhood.

When it was time for the students to go off to their dorms, the kids got up from their tables and filed out of the Great Hall. Hermione hurried along quickly, hoping not to run into Fleur and her pack.

She felt Fleur’s eyes on her the whole time and tried not to feel tracked, like a deer being followed by a wolf.

She quickly moved, ignoring her friends’ worried looks. Luna told them that she was very pleased to see them and that she wished the “nargles” wouldn’t bother them for the rest of the year, before skipping off to her dorm.

This finally brought a chuckle from Hermione, and from her friends.

They reached the dorm, and they settled in for the night.

Hermione tried not to let that dread in her chest that had been building up since she first saw Fleur in the Great Hall, put Tom’s diary under her bed, and went under the covers, about to sleep, hoping she didn’t dream of either of her mates. Especially not Fleur, not now that Fleur was at the school.

She drifted off to sleep.

Thankfully, the dreams were brief. Flashes of Fleur and her friends and Fleur’s sister, Fleur trying to speak to her, then the images fading in and out, and going to the woman in that prison cell, but still, Hermione couldn’t see the woman’s face.

Then she woke up earlier than expected.

Hermione lifted herself up out of bed, yawned and checked out the stained glass window.

She could see that the sky was getting somewhat lighter, but not that light.

It was early in the morning.

She half thought of trying to get back to sleep, and just as she laid back down, her mind began to wander.

Her mind went to the muggle-borns that Daphne and Astoria were tied to, then her mind for some reason went to Tom and his mate, Ella, then to the two dead people that were found hung from the bridge.

As soon as she did, her eyes snapped open, and she shot up out of bed, startled.

No. No way that could be the case.

She shook her head, looking into the dark. No. Tom…………he wouldn’t, would he?

But she thought about it, what would seeing his mate, Ella get murdered by her own parents, do to him?

Merlin, whatever her feelings were about soulmate connections, what would it do to her if she saw Fleur or that woman in the prison cell get murdered?

Making up her mind fast, Hermione got out of bed, reached under her mattress, grabbed Tom’s diary and went to the common room, ignoring hearing Crookshanks and Amelia’s meows from behind her.

She got to the common room and opened up the diary.

Tom’s image came shooting up out of the pages and Hermione sat down on the sofa chair in front of the fire.

“Hermione?” Tom asked, looking at Hermione’s pajamas, “Is it even morning?”

“Very early morning,” Hermione said, “I know this is going to sound like a strange question, and I’m sorry for opening up this wound for you again, but I have to know……………did you do something to Ella’s parents after she died?”

Tom’s eyes widened at Hermione’s words that couldn’t be taken as anything less than an accusation.

Tom was silent for several seconds, before he lowered his head and confessed, “Yes, Hermione. I did. After Ella was murdered, and after I graduated, I tracked Frederick and Catherine Taylor down, tortured them and murdered them. Hung their bodies from the Westminster Bridge.”

Hermione stared at Tom, stunned.

He was actually admitting it?

Cold horror spread through her, realizing that.

And that certainly explained where she had heard the names “Frederick” and “Catherine” before.

At Hermione’s disturbed expression, Tom sighed again. “Hermione,” he said, “Think about this, for a moment. I have been alone most of my life. Certainly, since childhood. I never thought I’d really meet anyone who could love me. I was an orphan my entire young life, before adulthood. I had no one. Then I met Ella? I thought my life was finally starting. Then a pair of bigoted self-righteous Christian muggles murder her and call us magic users monsters. I just……………I needed to avenge her. To avenge my own pain too.”

Hermione stared at Tom, and hated how much his reasoning made sense.

To torture someone to death and hang their bodies like that?

Inhuman, without question.

But so was murdering one’s own daughter, and blaming it on that daughter’s soulmate, who just happened to be different.

A soulmate who also was an orphan.

Treating an entire population of the world with magic as freaks and monsters, was also inhuman.

If Hermione had been in Tom’s place and Cromwell in Frederick and Catherine Taylor’s place, would she have reacted any differently?

What if Cromwell had murdered her mother?

Hermione ignored the twisting in her belly as she thought of that. She would have killed him. Even if she’d been very young back then and Cromwell most likely had an army of guards at his back, she would have done everything she could, to kill him.

And she knew she wouldn’t be ashamed of it and wouldn’t regret it. Not for a second.

Hermione sighed, feeling the words coming out steadily, “We’re a lot alike, Tom.”

Tom smiled sadly at Hermione’s insight.

“We are,” he agreed, “I won’t make assumptions about how you grew up. But I know you’ve been through a lot. I can tell. Now, imagine you were in the same situation as myself, and you saw someone you loved being murdered, because someone considered you a freak because of something you can’t help, nor should you want to change. What would you do?”

Hermione swallowed, feeling the pain of that scenario play out in her mind.

He was right, of course.

Because if anyone she loved; her mother, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent or Pansy got hurt, or if Tom possibly could get hurt the way he was now, she knew she would make whoever did it, pay. Even if she wasn’t as close with Luna and Harry as she was with Daphne, Astoria, Millicent, Pansy and Tom, she knew she wouldn’t take it well if anything happened to them either.

And then there were Fleur and that woman in the prison cell.

If anything happened to any of them, if anyone even threatened them? Hermione didn’t think she’d be able to keep her anger in place.

Hermione huffed out sadly, anger and sadness roiling in her over what had happened to Tom, and how much she identified with him, “You were completely alone…………”

“Well, almost,” Tom said, “I had the………I suppose you’d call them “fake friends,” Abraxas and the others. And one other.”

At this, Hermione frowned, curious, though still sad for her friend.

Tom elaborated at Hermione’s questioning expression, “There was……..I suppose you could call him a staff member that worked at Hogwarts. His name was Marc Gunderson. He befriended me, close to my third year. I know that it probably would be seen as inappropriate, since Marc was a full-grown man. I was a thirteen-year-old. But I appreciated his presence. His presence made me happy. It was like having a father. Salazar knows that Dumbledore certainly wouldn’t step in for that role. And neither would my absentee father or his family, or my poor mother’s murderous brother. So, I was glad for his presence.”

Intrigued by this information, Hermione asked, “This Marc Gunderson, who was he? A teacher?”

“Not exactly,” Tom said, “A wizard that I don’t think was supposed to be at the school, but decided to stay there because I don’t think he had anywhere else to go. I believe the common word referred to people like him, is ‘homeless.’”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Some homeless wizard had ended up here? Usually, they ended up at Knockturn Alley.

Then again, she admittedly didn’t know of every homeless witch or wizard in the world, did she?

“What happened to this Marc, anyway?” Hermione asked, curious.

It sounded like a lot of bad things happened to the people in Tom’s life. His girlfriend and mate, Ella Taylor, murdered by her own father. His mother dying in childbirth. His father, and the rest of his father’s family being murdered by his mother’s psychotic brother.

Tom answered, “I’m not quite sure. We talked on and off throughout the years in the castle or in the Forbidden Forest, keeping out of other peoples’ eyesight. I promise you, there was nothing untoward. Marc never saw me in that way. I think he just wanted a friend. And I think I might have been the closest he had to family. He said that his family had died when he was very young. A long time ago. You might think that Hogwarts helped me learn a lot of the things I know now. But it was Marc Gunderson that taught me the spells that I know today.”

Hermione stared. This was all strange information for her to take in. A random wizard, whom she had never heard of before, had been in contact with Tom for years and years, in this very school. And no one had known.

The Marauder’s map hadn’t even been invented yet, because this was before James, Sirius, Remus and Peter’s time.

So, as far as she knew, there was no way to keep track of this Marc and Tom and their interactions.

A sudden thought entered Hermione’s mind. If Tom had met Marc when Tom was thirteen, then………………

Hermione asked, uneasy now, “Was this Marc the one that taught you legilimency? And helped you kill Frederick and Catherine Taylor?”

Tom smiled sadly. “You’re very perceptive, Hermione,” he said, “And to answer your question? Yes. He taught me everything. Everything. And yes, when I told him of what happened to my Ella? When I wept before him, he offered me vengeance. And he would not allow me to wipe my hands clean. He said that if he was to do it, I would have to take responsibility and be there too. But I want you to understand this, Hermione-I wanted to do it. I was more than happy to do it. To torture both Frederick and Catherine Taylor to death for what they did. So, I went with him and tortured both of them to death for what they did to my Ella.”

Tom’s voice was heavy and angry by the time he finished and Hermione sat there, stunned into silence.

Because how else could she react?

There had been a wizard, who had been involved in Tom’s life, and from the sounds of it, had been an intensely negative influence in Tom’s life, and yet? He had done more for Tom than anyone, save for Ella Taylor, who was murdered.

What was Hermione supposed to feel about that?

Hermione felt herself say the words quietly, “I’m sorry. I don’t have the right to judge, do I? I think if I were in your position? I’d do that too.”

And she knew it was the truth. Again, the gut churning mental image of Percival Cromwell murdering anyone she loved, ran through her mind, and she knew, with unflinching hate, that she’d torture him to death in seconds, as soon as he just might do that.

“Thank you for understanding, Hermione,” Tom said, smiling.

When Tom went back into the diary and Hermione went back to her bedroom, storing the diary away again, she made a decision, her mind going to that possibility of Cromwell harming someone she loved, she grabbed her clothes, changed into her robes, grabbed her wand and went out of the Slytherin dorm rooms, going through the halls of the castle, staying out of Filch’s sight, and getting to the library.

She cracked some of the darker tomes open and began searching more information up on legilimency.

If she wanted a way of destroying someone like Cromwell? Then, she’d better find out what she could about legilimency.

She made a mental note to look up the last name “Gunderson” later.

In a few hours, after she absorbed much information, she put the book back and ran back to her dorm, and she saw her friends awake, looking around for her. When they saw her, they watched her, worried.

“Hermione,” Pansy said, “How long have you been up?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hermione said, and the looks she received let her know that they definitely were going to worry, “Let’s just get to class.”

Hermione went to her bed, grabbed the diary and hid it under the floorboards under her bed, then she and her friends ran to class.

After the first few classes, between Hermione’s lack of sleep and her worries about Fleur Delacour being here, she barely was able to focus through most of her classes and she knew her friends noticed.

Thankfully, they said nothing personal at all.

When they went to the Great Hall, the goblet of fire was there, standing at the end of the hall, between a couple of tables. The fires roared and flicked.

Many students gathered around it, gawking.

Many mumbled about trying to throw their names in, but didn’t dare.

Hermione and her friends sat down to eat, watching the circus that was unfolding.

Those two ridiculous Weasley twins, Fred and George took a potion, making a whole show of it and jumping into the circle around the goblet, able to do so, thanks to this potion they took, and tossed papers into the goblet, those papers presumably had their names on it.

Suddenly, there was a blast from the goblet and both Fred and George were sent flying away from the goblet, onto the floor, wincing and their red hair becoming white and white beards sprouting over their faces.

They started arguing about whose fault it was and started rough housing, even throwing a few punches.

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Idiots,” Daphne remarked wryly.

“Agreed,” Millicent said.

During their time in the hall, several figures went in and tossed their names into the fire.

Amongst these many people, were Cedric Diggory, a seventh year Hufflepuff.

Another was Viktor Krum himself, stepping up to the goblet, and tossing his name in. The large young man looked over at where Hermione and her friends sat and Hermione tilted her head as he turned and walked back out of the Great Hall.

Then after a few more people went on to throw their names in, someone else walked in that caused Hermione to freeze up.

Fleur Delacour herself.

Fleur walked up to the goblet, not looking at Hermione the whole time, but Hermione knew that Fleur knew she was there. Hermione could see it in the way the tips of Fleur’s mouth just twitched, like she was having a hard time not smiling. The Veela lifted her hand and tossed a piece of paper into the goblet. As soon as she was finished with that? Fleur turned and went back down the hall. Right before she exited out of the hall, she only then looked in Hermione’s direction and smiled at her.

Then she left.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head, trying to ignore how every inch of her felt like it was on fire.

“Need some time to recover, Mione?” Pansy chuckled.

“Shut up, Parkinson,” Hermione grumbled, earning a few laughs from her friends, trying to ignore how her face heated up, thinking about Fleur.

Of course, now she had a new worry. What happened if Fleur’s name was picked out of the goblet of fire? How much danger would Fleur be in while in the Triwizard tournament? The answer was a lot.

She would be in a lot of danger.

But Hermione tried to reassure herself by reminding herself that it was unlikely that Fleur’s name would be coughed out of the goblet of fire. What were the chances where almost anyone could be chosen from the Beauxbatons school and Hermione had seen multiple students from that school throw their names in, that Fleur would be the one that was chosen?

This wasn’t a matter of ability-Hermione had no doubt that Fleur was a powerful witch and Veela, but this was a matter of probability.

She’d seen at least sixteen students from Beauxbatons throw their names in, and that wasn’t including Fleur. Not to mention there were probably several other students who had thrown their names in that she hadn’t seen. So, wasn’t there a probability that one of them could be chosen instead too?

So, she was certain that it was alright.

She also made a mental note to go down to the Chamber of Secrets and check on the basilisk. She had to make sure that it stayed where it was. That thing could kill someone just by looking at it.

It was a terrible thing to think, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to let that thing live.

It was terrible to think, because, well, the basilisk was a very rare creature. It was an endangered species. And it was magnificent.

To kill one of them, would be like killing a jaguar. Something beautiful and endangered.

It would be completely and utterly unforgivable to do.

But the basilisk had already killed at least one person. And as long as it was around, anyone that met its eyes, was in danger.

That was why basilisks were endangered in the first place.

Because as soon as one was found, witches and wizards would kill it instantly, before it could turn to them and kill them with its eyes.

Basilisks were considered dangerous for that, because they were dangerous for that, so, they were always killed with the killing curse, on sight.

So, there weren’t that many of them left.

She walked with her friends to their next class, and after that class, she snuck away, went to the girls lavatory, where Moaning Myrtle tended to be, snuck in, used Parseltongue to open up the sink, took her wand out and levitated herself down the tunnel, to the underground caverns.

She went through the tunnels and reached the circular door of the Chamber of Secrets, and used Parseltongue again.

The snake locks slithered back and out of the way, the door creaking open slowly.

Hermione sucked in a breath, feeling unease, and walked through the doorway. Time to see the gargantuan reptile that she somehow could command.

Honestly? The fact that she could control the basilisk, didn’t bring her comfort. It actually made her more nervous. Because of what it entailed. That she was somehow the descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

Her, a muggle-born, who Salazar Slytherin himself, had hoped to keep out of Hogwarts, and if this chamber was anything to go by? Built in order to get rid of muggle-borns.

In a way, she supposed there was a type of justice with her being a muggle-born and being the heir of the bigoted Salazar Slytherin.

His legacy fell upon the shoulders of a muggle-born.

There was something satisfying about that, she had to admit.

But there was still a question of what to do about the damned basilisk.

Honestly? Hermione was surprised that the basilisk had survived this long throughout the centuries.

Then again, it might be an entirely different basilisk.

She had no idea what the mating habits were of a basilisk. Maybe there was only one in here, or maybe they could asexually reproduce. Who knew? She’d heard that there were a few reptiles that could do that.

She stood before the colossal stone face of Salazar Slytherin, and she spoke the Parseltongue language, ordering the basilisk out of the huge stone mouth of Salazar Slytherin.

The mouth parted and Hermione watched the murderously large snake head emerge from between those big stone lips.

Slowly, the basilisk exited out of Slytherin’s mouth, “slithering,” essentially out.

When the large snake with gigantic fangs and yellow eyes was fully out of the stone face and loomed over her, looking at Hermione and again, much to Hermione’s unease, it bowed its head to her.

Hermione took a breath and spoke, her voice trying to carry some authority, despite looking up into a nightmare of a face.

Why couldn’t it just have been a dragon that was in the Chamber of Secrets? She could handle that.

In fact, she would have been delighted over that.

But she spoke as well as she could, “Show me where you’ve been getting your food for the past years.”

She avoided saying “centuries,” because she had no idea if centuries were as long as basilisks lived.

What happened next, Hermione had not expected.

The basilisk opened its horrid mouth, and to Hermione’s shock and horror, it spoke!

A slow and hissing, reptilian voice spoke from the basilisk’s massive throat. It said, “I can do more than that, young master. I can tell you.”

“What the-?!” Hermione gasped out, stepping back, gawking up at the basilisk.

The almost smiling face of gruesome creature, made her shiver, but she still couldn’t help the words, “You………you can talk.”

“Yes, young master,” The gargantuan reptile responded, “Now, would you like me to tell you what I’ve been eating?”

Hermione swallowed, her mind having a hard time grasping this. The basilisk could talk.

And you know? Somewhere in the back of her brain, Hermione realized she shouldn’t have been surprised by that.

Because well, she was a parseltongue and the basilisk was a great big snake.

Really, she should have realized that she could communicate with the basilisk.

“No,” she said, taking a breath, “That’s fine. Just tell me honestly, okay? Have you been eating any humans?”

The snake shook its massive head. “No,” it hissed out, “I have not. Even if perhaps my previous master, wanted me to.”

Hermione froze, staring up into those very deadly golden eyes. “Your previous master?” She echoed, “Who was that? A boy, right? Who was he? Did you know his name?”

“I did not,” the basilisk said, almost solemnly, “I just know that it was a boy. And eventually, a man. With dark hair, brown eyes. He was in Slytherin. Like you. Eloquent. Commanding. But I never learned his name. He wouldn’t tell me. But I know what name he chose for himself.”

“The name he chose for himself?” Hermione asked, voice shaky, “What was it?”

The snake never tore its gaze from Hermione as it spoke plainly, “Voldemort.”

Hermione gasped, stepping back. She should have seen it coming. But she hadn’t.

In made too much sense, though. The timing fit.

She had thought that the person who controlled the basilisk to attack people, had been Abraxas Malfoy or someone like that.

But she hadn’t realized that…………that it had been Voldemort.

And Hermione comprehended what that meant.

Voldemort had been a student at Hogwarts.

Well, because of course, he had been.

Because there were very few magical schools in Britain. And unless Voldemort had originated from another region of the world, what other school would he have attended in his youth to learn magic?

Voldemort had been a student here at Hogwarts.

And he’d been………..in Slytherin.

Suddenly, Hermione shuddered, remembering all the horrible things people said about her house. How every witch and wizard that ended up in Slytherin, turned out bad.

She told herself that it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

But still……….Snape, the entire Malfoy line, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black, Regulus Black, and so many other Black family members, the Lestrange brothers…………and now Voldemort, himself?

Hermione swallowed, ignoring her growing discomfort. She looked at the basilisk again and asked, “Can you keep track of time? How long ago was this, when you last saw your previous master?”

The snake didn’t even move in all the time that Hermione was taking in this information. It just loomed there, staring at her.

Which made the huge snake look…………all the creepier, honestly.

The basilisk answered, “I can keep track of time, very well, thank you. This was several decades ago. If I’m calculating correctly, it was about fifty-one years ago.”

Hermione gaped. She hadn’t really thought about how old that would make Voldemort.

However, something then clicked in her mind.

There were times when Hermione actually hated how observant she was. How she could leap into logic and realize things she didn’t want to realize.

And she had that exact moment, just then.

She could do the math in her head. Fifty-one years ago?

That was around the 1940s, right? Right around the time when Tom Riddle went to school, right?

She tried to tell herself that it just meant that Tom had avoided being killed by Voldemort, but that was just what she was telling herself.

She could feel her mind already making the connection.

It was like a terrible game of “connect the dots.”

Voldemort most likely had come from a pureblood family. Tom had come from a pureblood family, even if they had rejected him completely.

Voldemort had gone to Hogwarts fifty-one years ago, in the 1940s. Right around the time Tom was there.

Voldemort, according to this creature, wore Slytherin robes. And Hermione knew that Tom had been in Slytherin.

Tom had “caught Hagrid” years ago and had claimed he set something loose on the school and attacked a student with it. But was that because he was looking for someone to blame, so that he himself wouldn’t get caught?

And weren’t the attacks from this basilisk, right around the time Tom had been here?

Hermione tore her mind from that train of thought. No, no, no, no, no, no! She couldn’t think something like that.

She just couldn’t.

A thought then hit her. She said, “Wait, this boy who was your last master, did he say anything about his family?”

The snake paused, then answered, “In a way. He was obsessed with what he called ‘pure blood.’ But then, many of the previous masters of this chamber, have been. He was obsessed with finding out if he was related to a pureblood family. So, he tracked down a book that would help track his family down-if the family was pureblood, that is. It only tracks people who are descended from pureblood families. And he hid it here in this very chamber. It was called ‘The History of Pure Lineage.’”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Oh. It was that book that Pansy had told her about in her and her friends’ previous year.

A new question entered Hermione’s brain. She asked, “Why would your previous master be interested in a book like that? Didn’t he know who his family was?”

“No,” the basilisk said, sounding almost pitying, “He was an orphan, you see.”

Hermione felt her heart become filled with liquid ice.

No……….

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Tom had been an orphan.

Voldemort, apparently, had been an orphan.

There were just too many parallels.

It might not explain how Tom ended up in that diary, but all this felt like it just might explain a few things about Tom in general………..

And now, Hermione thought about one last thing. Harry had said that he’d had a dream of her, and he was looking through someone else’s eyes. That someone else had been Tom.

Now why would something like that happen?

Unless, something had happened involving Tom, that had somehow tied him to Harry.

Something like, say, maybe a killing curse gone wrong when Harry was only a baby?

“Master?” The large snake asked Hermione, “Are you alright? You’re crying.”

Hermione shook, memories searing through her head as her breathing became shallow and she realized that there were hot tears indeed, streaming down her face.

Cromwell and his guards. The mistreatment, being told that no one would love her and the other muggle-borns, just because of what they were.

That people would never really be friends with them, even if they made it out of the labs, that anyone who made friends with them, would be lying.

Hermione felt sick, and she took several deep breaths, trying to focus on her mother’s breathing technique.

She breathed out in an even breath, trying to match them mental count in her head.

1.

Breathe.

2.

Breathe.

3.

Breathe.

4.

Breathe.

5.

Breathe.

Finally, Hermione’s breathing started to even as she lifted herself up from where she’d bent, trying to control her breathing and she exhaled deeply, raising her right hand and wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’m fine,” she lied and she was sure the snake knew she was lying. “I’m fine. Thank you. I just needed a moment.”

The snake, thankfully, said nothing.

Hermione took a breath and said quickly, needing to get out of there, now, “Thank you for your time. I need to go. But there’s one thing I have to ask. Did your previous master ever say anything about someone named Marc Gunderson?”

The snake actually appeared puzzled by this, before saying, “No, master. He did not. Why?”

“Never mind,” Hermione said, breathing out weakly still, “I need to go. Thank you. But the same order applies like before. Stay here. And don’t show yourself to anyone. Keep eating things that aren’t human, only.”

“Yes, master,” the snake said, “Not that I haven’t been doing that for the past thirteen years already.”

Hermione paused. Was that sass?

As Hermione neared the exit of the chamber, she said, “Do you have a name?”

“Yes, master,” the snake said, “Shagshic.”

Hermione nodded. She was positive that if anyone else had heard that name, they’d make some derogatory joke, but alright. Shagshic.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shagshic,” she said, though she wasn’t sure “nice” was what she’d call the word. She added, “I’m going to ask you about the book later, do you know where it is?”

“I do,” the snake said, “It’s in the mouth of that snake head.”

Shagshic was looking to the right, to the very first head of the snake that she was closest to, that flanked the hall.

Hermione frowned and moved to that metal head of the snake, looking inside.

The tongue of the snake was out and on the floor. But yes, it appeared that something had been placed right behind the tongue.

The large snake, Shagshic, slithered up back into the mouth of Slytherin and disappeared into it. The mouth closed up.

Hesitantly, Hermione reached into the snake mouth of the metal snake head, and wrapped her hand around what was inside.

It indeed did feel like a book.

She pulled her arm up out of the metal snake head and held the book up in front of her.

The book was large, old looking, and to Hermione’s surprise, had a metal binding and a metal cover of some sort.

There was a large metal tree on the front cover, with long, metal vines coming out of the tree.

And written across the cover, was the title, “The History of Pureblood Lineage,” by someone named Lukas Halifax. Whoever the bloody hell that was.

She could safely say that in all the books she’d read from the magical world, she had yet to recall reading that name. Lucas Halifax.

After staring at the cover of the book for a long while, she began to move with the book, to the chamber’s doorway.

Hermione got out of the chamber, locked the chamber up and levitated herself out of the tunnels, making sure the sink was back in its place.

She reached the corridors, keeping the book under her robes as she moved and got to the Slytherin common room, trying to ignore how her stomach turned the whole time.

She put the book under the floorboards, next to Tom’s diary, and spent a solid four minutes, staring at that diary.

Could it be true? Could it really be true?

Swallowing the bile in her throat, and desperately trying to keep herself from crying again, she quickly grabbed the diary and put it in her robes, then put the floorboards back into place and lifted herself up from under her bed.

She couldn’t risk leaving the diary under the floorboards under her bed.

Not if Tom was who she was beginning to believe he was.

It was too risky that someone might find it. She was keeping the diary on her person at all times.

She checked the time on the mantel of the fireplace when she went into the Slytherin common room again. And her eyes widened.

She was late for her class. She had to go now.

She gripped the diary close, and ran out of the dorm and headed for her next class.

The whole time, she tried to ignore the horrid and chaos in her mind, the feelings of betrayal and fear chasing each other around.

Trying desperately to ignore the reality that the entity, who she had come to love as her brother, might just be one of the darkest wizards who had ever lived.

She had no idea how she could face her friends like this.

Her next class would be Defense Against the Dark Arts.

With “Mad Eye Moody.”

All Hermione could think as she walked down the hall was, (Oh, Merlin, maybe Daphne was right about Tom, all along.)

Chapter Text

The whole world felt like it was closing in on Hermione. Tom Riddle-he was……………he was………

But Hermione couldn’t finish the thought. She just couldn’t.

She couldn’t think the name. Because thinking the name, would make it real.

If she actually thought it, thought the other name that Tom Riddle most likely went by, the name which she was strongly beginning to believe that Tom had at one time gone by, she would break. Of this, she was sure.

It just couldn’t be………

Hermione got herself out of the Chamber of Secrets and back to the school halls, her hand occasionally raising up and pressing against her robes, where she had put Tom’s diary. Which contained Tom.

Possibly a piece of………..him. Possibly a piece of one of the darkest wizards in history.

She tried so hard to dismiss the thought.

Because it just couldn’t be……….

Even as she tried to tell herself that she was wrong to think it, she remembered what Pansy had told her, about the book that she now possessed. The book on bloodlines, by this Lukas Halifax.

Pansy had told her that the last time it had been seen, it had been in the possession of Voldemort.

And now it was here in the school, in the Chamber of Secrets? Which very well may have been a place where Tom Riddle had frequented?

What more proof did she need?!

Hermione could feel her breath becoming shallow again, but took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

She had to get to class. She had to pretend that everything was alright.

She shoved the new book she had in her back, hoping no one would see it. And she rushed to Moody’s class.

She got into the classroom, finding Pansy, Daphne, Astoria and Millicent already there.

They smiled, seeing her, before they all lost their smiles, clearly seeing the distress on their friend’s face.

“Mione?” Astoria asked, her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “What happened?”

Hermione glanced at the rest of the class, seeing other kids all around and seeing Moody going to the blackboard.

She sat down quickly, averting her gaze from the rest of the onlooking class and she sat down between Daphne and Millicent. She whispered to them, “I’ll tell you later, okay? Not right now. Now’s not the time.”

All four of Hermione’s friends were looking at Hermione, then looked at each other, all deeply worried, but saying nothing, because they heard the tone in Hermione’s voice. That tone made it clear that she couldn’t handle talking about it now.

Moody went to the board and began writing. He introduced himself. Gave his full name and a very curt explanation as to why he was there and finished with, “That’s all, goodbye, the end. Any questions?”

Upon hearing no response, he said curtly, “Good.” He then asked if anyone knew what the consequences were for using an unforgivable curse, and why it was considered “unforgivable” to use.

Now, normally, this was a question Hermione would answer.

But Daphne looked back at Hermione and was well aware that her friend would not be able to answer, so, she raised her hand, waiting for Moody to notice, which he did.

When Daphne was called upon by Moody, Daphne explained best as she could.

She said, “Any use of an unforgivable curse, can get you locked away in Azkaban for life. These curses are so horrid and forbidden, that it earns such a punishment.”

“Good,” Moody said, “Exactly,” he then said, that he believed that the students before him, needed to understand the threats that were out there, which was why he was going to more or less take the gloves off.

He selected Ron Weasley from the class and told him to step up.

Timidly, afraid of looking Moody in the eye-to say the least, Ron kept his head down and gave Moody one of the names of the three unforgivable curses. The imperius curse.

Moody chuckled, “Your father would know all about that one, what does it do?”

Hermione was only half paying attention.

Yes, she was rather disturbed that a teacher was talking to them about the unforgivable curses, but she had a few other things to worry about.

Tom potentially being…………being one of the darkest wizards in history.

That basilisk, Shigshac being her servant, more or less.

More and more proof thrown in her face about who Tom Riddle might actually be.

Hermione stiffened, when she felt eyes on her and glanced at her friends. All of them also, were only paying half attention.

Their eyes were on Hermione, worry etched across their faces.

Hermione looked away from them and forced herself to look ahead at where Moody and Weasley were.

That was when Hermione’s eyes widened, seeing Moody doing something rather disconcerting.

He took an insect out of one of the cases on the desk, used the engorgia spell on it, making the insect bigger, then used the imperius curse on the insect, ordering it around and making it jump from one student to another, making the insect, jump in students’ hair and jump on other students’ faces.

Hermione was so stunned, that she couldn’t even laugh or react with disgust.

It was one thing to explain what the three unforgivable curses were, but to perform them in front of students……………

Hermione’s friends turned their head in the direction of where all the yelling and commotion was.

Daphne gasped and Pansy exclaimed, “Merlin’s beard!” as the insect, because of Moody’s orders, leapt onto Malfoy’s face, before jumping off of him and jumping into Crabbe’s hair.

This was getting alarmed cries from some and laughter from others. But Hermione and her friends remained silent, too startled by what they were watching.

The cackling Moody, sent the insect flying and it crashed into a round, flat glass magnifying instrument, dropping down into a bowl of water in front of him.

Moody sighed, picking the insect up with his free hand, so that it lay on his palm, and he then went to the desks of the students again, as the nervous Ron Weasley sat down again.

“Someone give me another curse,” Moody said, then looking at Neville Longbottom and continuing, “You, Longbottom, can you think of another unforgivable curse?”

Neville stood up, looking extremely nervous. He mumbled, “The……….the cruciatus curse.”

He said.

As soon as he said it, Hermione felt her heart grow cold.

No, no. If Moody was going to demonstrate those spells in front of students, then……….did that mean he’d use the torture curse on the insect?

In front of Neville? Whose parents had been……….

“No!” Hermione yelled, before she could stop herself.

Everyone in the classroom, including Neville and Moody, snapped their attention to Hermione.

Hermione gasped, startled that she had let out such an impassioned reaction, but after several moments of feeling everyone’s eyes upon her, including her best friends’ eyes and the eyes of Neville and Moody, she realized she would need to say something.

She forced the next words out, “I’m sorry, professor. But it would be extremely unconscionable to perform the cruciatus curse in front of us. We all know what it can do. There would be no benefit of performing it in front of any of us. So, please, professor…………”

Neville nervously looked back at Moody, who stared at Hermione, tilting his head to the left, as if now that Hermione had caught his attention, he was fascinated by her words.

“Ms. Granger,” he said, “Is that right?”

Hermione nodded, trying not to feel small under that shifting, strange fake eye that Moody had. “Yes, professor,” she said, “Hermione Granger.”

Moody nodded. He chuckled, “Yes, I suppose you would know a great deal about unforgivable curses.” He snickered, “The first-year Slytherin that took down the Dark Lord. Fine. I won’t use the cruciatus curse. But tell me, Granger, what is the killing curse? Surely, you know that one. You used it in your first year.”

Hermione felt the gazes on her in the classroom intensify.

Hermione shook her head, looking away. She didn’t know what this man’s sick game was.

But she wasn’t going to play it with him.

Moody sighed, placing the insect onto the desk in front of Hermione, as he made his way over to her and aimed his wand at the insect. Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent all watched him like a hawk, in case they needed to knock his wand away from Hermione’s desk.

And then, while aiming the wand at the insect, Moody said the dreaded words that were the killing curse.

He said, “Avada kedavra.”

Green light sliced out of the tip of Moody’s wand and hit the insect. The insect stiffened in what had to be pain, then it dropped down onto the desk, limp and dead.

Hermione’s eyes closed shut tightly, jaw clenching.

Hermione could almost sense what Moody was trying to say to her. That she should be very familiar with this type of killing.

“The killing curse,” Moody said, gesturing to Hermione, “And young Ms. Granger here is very familiar with using it. And no one has survived it, except for one person,” Moody turned his head to look at Harry Potter and said, “And he’s in this room right now.”

Moody pulled out a vial, uncorked it and took a swig of it, then leaving the students, to go back to the front of the class.

Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent watched him go, cautious and tense now.

Hermione, when she heard Moody’s footsteps getting further away, finally opened her eyes and watched his receding figure.

This sadist was the person that Dumbledore trusted?

As if Hermione’s respect for Dumbledore couldn’t sink any further.

After class, the five girls exited class, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy all checking to see if Hermione was alright after that.

No, Hermione was not alright, for several reasons. But even before she had entered Moody’s class, she hadn’t been alright.

When they were getting close to the bottom of the stairs away from Moody’s class, they stopped, finding Neville leaning against one of the railings, staring at a stained glass window.

“Neville?” Hermione asked, alarmed.

When she got close and saw his expression, her heart fell. The boy looked absolutely haunted.

Hermione didn’t have to guess to know why he looked like that.

His mother. His father.

Bellatrix, the woman that had tortured them into madness.

Just talking about the cruciatus curse, had…………..

“Neville,” Hermione said gently, “Do you need anything?” That was a stupid question, because what could she or her friends offer Neville, to make something like that feel better?

There was no fixing Frank or Alice Longbottom.

They were out of their minds. Driven to insanity by a dark witch who was a fanatic, incapable of recognizing when she was doing something wrong.

How did you help someone who was suffering from a loss like that?

Hermione had heard of a phrase that was used in mental medical terminology.

The phrase was, “ambiguous loss.” It was used for a lot of things, outside of mental illness-any situation when there was no chance of closure.

But the term, “ambiguous loss,” was used a lot for mental illness.

And this? This appeared to have no chance of closure, whatsoever for poor Neville.

Hermione felt a hand touch her hand and she looked back, to Pansy, who had tapped her hand, catching her attention.

Pansy nodded downwards and Hermione followed the black-haired girl’s gaze.

At the bottom of the spiral staircase, was Luna, looking up at them and waving.

“Luna,” Hermione said quietly. As soon as she said the name, she heard a gasp come from Neville.

She turned to him. “Neville?” She asked.

Neville now looked more panicked than anything else as he said, “Hermione? Can you do this for me? Can you get Luna away? Please? I don’t want her to see me like this.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

And apparently, she wasn’t the only one confused, because Daphne said in assurance to Neville, “Neville, Luna won’t judge. I’m sure you know that.”

Hermione nodded. Besides, Hermione had learned from Luna what had happened to Luna’s mother.

Luna’s mother had died in experimenting with magic. Luna had lost her mother young.

It wasn’t the same type of loss as Neville, but it was still a tragic loss. Surely, she’d understand.

“It’s not that,” Neville said quietly, “It’s just…………my soulmate dreams have started. And…………and,” Neville nodded down the spiral staircase, at where Luna stood, but wasn’t facing Luna.

Understanding, Hermione’s eyes widened. Oh.

“But wait,” Daphne whispered, now understanding as well, “You’ve seen each other, haven’t you? Luna never mentioned this.”

Neville nodded. “Because I’ve dreamt of her,” he said, “I’m older, remember? The dreams haven’t started for her yet. So, I know what she looks like. So I’ve………avoided places where she and I are likely to make eye contact.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped slightly.

And she thought she had issues with finding out who one of her soulmates was.

Neville had literally avoided any situation where he’d make eye contact with his soulmate, so that the soulmate connection couldn’t be established.

“Neville,” Hermione said, voice soft, because she knew Neville was still hurting, “You’re going to have to face her at some point. It’s not right to either you or to her if you don’t.”

“I know, I know,” Neville mumbled, almost painfully, “Just please?”

Hermione sighed and she looked at her equally as surprised friends and nodded to them. Hermione then said to Neville, “If you need anything at all, you tell us, okay?” After Neville’s slight nod, Hermione and her friends all made their way down the stairs, to Luna.

Hermione smiled at Luna and she and her friends led Luna away from the stairs and away from where Neville was.

Hermione would try to deal with this later. Right now, she needed to get to a secluded place with her friends and explain what it was she had just found out about Tom.

About an hour later, after Luna had gone off to her dorm, Hermione and her friends went to their next class. After that, they went back to their dorm, and as soon as they were inside the common room of the Slytherin house, and as soon as they were all certain that there was no one in the room, but them, they sat down, and Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent, facing Hermione all waited expectantly.

“Alright,” Daphne said firmly, “Answers, Mione. Now.”

Hermione huffed out, opening up her bag and pulling out the book by Lukas Halifax, then reached into her robes and pulled out Tom’s diary, laying both items down onto the table between herself and her friends.

She knew she would have to start talking. Have to start telling them more things and not hide so much from them.

It wasn’t just that it wasn’t right that she wasn’t telling them these things, it wasn’t good for any of them.

It would give Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy, reason to doubt Hermione’s genuine friendship with them.

For many reasons, Hermione realized, as her heart hurt still over what she had learned in the Chamber of Secrets, she would have to tell her friends. Everything.

Well, not about the Philosopher’s stone. That, she wasn’t going to risk getting out. That would put a bigger target on her and her mother’s back.

But everything else? She would have to tell her friends about.

About finding out who Tom Riddle very likely was, about Hermione’s time in the muggle world in the labs that were under Percival Cromwell’s control, about knowing Daphne and Astoria’s soulmates, Chloe and Noah, about the experiments done to her and the other kids in those labs, about the basilisk Shagshic, about Hermione having another soulmate, one with long curls of black or almost black hair, that was locked away in some prison somewhere-everything else.

Including that she shared a wand, down to its core, with Voldemort.

So, Hermione took a deep breath, and began.

Hermione watched her friends’ faces.

She watched them grow pale. Watched the horror spread all over their faces.

If there was any anger in her friends at the moment? It was overshadowed by the sheer horror and agony they felt for Hermione.

By the end, Pansy, Millicent, Daphne and Astoria all had tears in their eyes.

Taking a deep, painful breath, Daphne whispered, “Why didn’t you tell us any of this? Why didn’t you tell us what was going on?!”

Most of the tears, as to be expected, came from Hermione telling them about the experiments in the labs.

About what was done to her, and to Chloe and Noah, and all the other muggle-born kids there.

“Daphne,” Hermione said gently sniffling, trying to fight her own tears, remembering the screams in those labs, the dead bodies, the crying at night, but Hermione was cut off by Pansy.

“No,” Pansy said, shaking her head, “You should have bloody told us. Merlin, we’ve known each other for almost four years now. Haven’t we proven that we can be trusted by now?!”

Hermione winced.

She knew ‘sorry,’ wouldn’t be enough, still she said it. “I’m sorry,” she answered.

Pansy gave a weak, watery laugh.

Daphne wiped her tears away with the back of her right hand as she pushed the words out, “The labs? You were there, what? For five years?”

Hermione nodded. “Just about,” she said, “I mean, if I believe my adoptive mother, which I do, I was taken when I was just a baby.”

Daphne nodded, looking numb. “And your mum,” she said, “She can be trusted?”

Hermione almost laughed at that. “Of course,” she said, “She’s my mother. She betrayed Cromwell to get me out of there. I trust her with everything.”

Daphne nodded.

Admittedly, Hermione had been the most hesitant to tell her friends when Jean Granger had first adopted her and where exactly the two of them had met.

Knowing that Hermione’s mother had originally, helped an organization that abducted and tortured muggle-born children?

It likely would cause some suspicion to be thrown Jean Granger’s way, for lack of better terms.

“And you didn’t tell us about Chloe and Noah as soon as we told you we were dreaming about them,” Astoria said, voice hurt, “Hermione…………that’s just not okay.”

Hermione flinched. She had known that she should have told Daphne and Astoria about her knowledge of Chloe and Noah, as soon as she suspected that Daphne and Astoria were dreaming about the same kids that she had known back in the labs.

But if she had? Then Daphne and Astoria would question how she knew about them. Then everything else would come out.

“I know it’s not,” Hermione said quietly, trying very hard not to start crying herself, “I’m sorry.”

Daphne apparently, had some strong feelings she needed to get out, because she sucked in a breath and wiped some more tears from her face, and said, staring at Hermione, “Look, Mione, I get after something like that? You would have so many trust issues, that you would have a hard time telling us this. But here’s what I know, there’s no keeping friends or allies, by not extending trust to them. Trust is a two-way thing. We’ve trusted you with so much. And you’re only telling us all of this now? Now that Tom most likely isn’t to be trusted? Hermione, I have to ask, does Tom know about what happened at Cromwell’s labs? Or about Cromwell?”

Hermione shook her head. “No,” she said urgently, “I never told him anything about Cromwell. He doesn’t even know that name, as far as I know. He just knows that I’ve been through some difficult things. But he doesn’t know the details.”

Daphne nodded, but still looked upset. She said, “Alright, but if it turned out that you trusted Tom more than us? I wouldn’t have been surprised. Hermione, you just told us, even before you found out who Tom might be, that you didn’t trust him. And I said that I didn’t trust him and that wasn’t enough for you.”

Hermione grimaced, feeling more and more guilty at her friend’s words.

“Okay, come on, Daphne,” Millicent said gently, seeing how hurt Hermione was.

Daphne sighed, glancing at Millicent, then looked at Hermione, “Hermione, would you have told us all this, if you hadn’t just found out from a basilisk, of all things, that Tom just might be one of the darkest wizards in existence?”

Hermione froze and thought about Daphne’s question. She really thought about it.

And she knew the answer.

Yes, she likely would have told her friends eventually.

Just not as soon as she had now.

“Yes,” Hermione said, deciding that she needed to be as honest as possible, “I would have. But probably after a few more years.”

Daphne scoffed, shaking her head.

The hurt looks that crossed Astoria, Millicent and Pansy’s faces at Hermione’s confession, made Hermione feel like the worst person alive.

The idea that she was only telling them all this now, because she was desperate? That must have hurt them deeply.

“Hermione,” Pansy said, leaning back against her seat, wiping her tears away, “We’re your best friends. We love you. We faced a giant three-headed dog, devil’s snare and the rest of the trials with you in our first year. We would have faced off with Voldemort in our first year too, if there had been more liquid in that vial that you drank. We’ve faced Snape and Lockhart together, for Merlin’s sake. We’ve faced dementors together. We’ve kept the secret of you having a time turner. And we rescued Buckbeak together. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that proof that we can be trusted?”

Hermione closed her eyes. The pained questions almost felt like an accusation, and in some way, Hermione supposed that they were.

Yes, in theory, all of those things should have proven to her that her friends could have been trusted with her life. And more importantly? Could have been trusted with her mother’s life.

But some inexplicable thing………trauma, maybe, kept Hermione from fully trusting them.

It wasn’t the same as with Tom. With Tom, even before she’d had her talk with Shagshic, there had been some sense that she felt, that Tom just couldn’t be trusted. And as it turned out, she and Daphne were both right.

But not trusting Daphne, Millicent, Pansy and Astoria? There was no excuse for that.

Hermione opened her eyes when she heard someone moving away from their seat.

Her eyes widened when she saw Astoria get up and come over to her.

Hermione braced herself, half expecting Astoria to raise her hand and hit her.

But Hermione was shocked instead, when Astoria lunged for her, hugging Hermione. Hermione gasped with the impact of Astoria’s body hitting her own and feeling Astoria hug her. Astoria buried her face in Hermione’s neck, tears falling from her eyes.

Shocked still, Hermione hugged Astoria back, shocked more when Millicent and Pansy both got up too and walked over to her, leaning forward and hugging her and Astoria between them.

Hermione was stunned, so stunned that she didn’t move for a few seconds, then it all sank in, and she awkwardly tried to hug them back, feeling tears finally spilling out, as her body shook against them.

Daphne watched from the right of the four other girls, her hands at her sides.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione mumbled out in tears, “I’m sorry.”

When finally, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent recovered, sucking in a breath and separating from Hermione’s grasp, Daphne came over, not looking nearly as heartbroken as Millicent, Pansy and Astoria did.

Hermione nervously looked up at Daphne, from where she sat, suddenly thinking that maybe Daphne would hit her, unlike Daphne’s twin.

But Daphne instead spoke to her. She said, staring at Hermione, “No more secrets, understand? You want us to trust you too? No more secrets.”

Hermione fought a grimace. That would be a complication, considering she still wasn’t sure she could tell anyone just yet, about the stone. That she and her mother had the stone at their place, concealed away.

But she forced her expression to be neutral.

And she nodded to Daphne.

Then it was Daphne’s turn to do the unexpected.

She leaned down, but instead of hugging Hermione fiercely, she stopped in front of Hermione’s forehead and gently kissed Hermione’s forehead, causing Hermione to gasp, staring up at Daphne as Daphne smiled gently at the other girl.

She said, “Well, I guess we know what we need to do after figuring out what to do about Tom, right?”

At Hermione’s confused frown, Daphne supplied, “Get your other mate out of the prison she’s in.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and smiled, her heart swelling with warmth.

Hermione said weakly, honestly not believing how lucky she was, “Thank you. All of you.”

Despite their remaining tears, all of Hermione’s friends smiled at her.

They all knew that they would have to depart from the common room in due time, less they wanted someone to stumble upon them in their extremely vulnerable states and ask questions.

And they certainly didn’t want Draco Malfoy or one of his companions to catch them like this and begin to gossip, even if they did fear Hermione.

The five girls got up and began wiping their tears, then they looked down at where the books lay on the table.

The two books in question; the apparently famous tome by Lukas Halifax, which identified a person’s ancestors, and which pureblood family a person was related to, and the diary of Tom Marvelo Riddle.

And that same diary, potentially, the current home of a fraction of the spirit of…………of Voldemort.

Hermione said, staring at Tom’s diary, “We can decide to look into Halifax’s book later. But I say we store it away for now. Right now? We have to deal with Tom.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Millicent said, “Halifax’s book can wait. But it’s best if we don’t let just anyone find it. The biggest priority right now, is figuring out of Tom is actually, you know.”

Hermione paused and glanced at Millicent. “You still doubt it?” She asked.

Millicent shook her head. “Well, no,” she admitted, “And that dream you said Harry Potter had of you, through someone else’s eyes, someone you called ‘Tom?’ That definitely sounds incriminating. But if there’s even a slim chance that we’re wrong? We need proof.”

“What more proof do we need?” Daphne asked in disbelief, and as soon as Daphne was finished asking that, Hermione chuckled, suddenly realizing that she knew where to find proof.

“Hermione?” Pansy asked, her and the others startled by Hermione’s small outburst.

Hermione turned to her friends and said, a knowing smirk on her face as she said, “I think I might know where we can find proof. I don’t know for sure, but I think we can find proof this way. Ollivander.”

At the wand seller’s name, all three Astoria, Pansy and Millicent looked startled.

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows. “Mr. Ollivander?” She asked, “Why him?”

“Because,” Hermione said, nodding to her, “He remembers every single wand he’s sold, right? And it’s likely that someone like him would keep records of the people who have purchased wands from him, right?”

Hermione watched in the light of the fireplace, as her friends’ eyes widened in realization.

“And if you share a wand core and wood with Voldemort,” Daphne said, as the understanding hit her, “Then the name of Voldemort, the one that he used to go by, will be the one listed as the person who bought the wand in his first year at Hogwarts.”

“Right,” Hermione said, now grinning as she and Daphne shared the same thought.

“That’s a really good point,” Pansy said, “But will Ollivander let us see the records?”

Hermione nodded. She knew that there was a possibility that Ollivander would be stubborn about that.

Confidentiality, and all that.

But then, if Ollivander really cared about confidentiality, would he really have told her that she shared a wand’s core and wood with Voldemort?

“I’m going to go seek him out,” she said, “As soon as we’re finished with lunch and the teachers aren’t expecting us to be in class.”

Daphne and Pansy’s eyes widened, but they, Astoria and Millicent shared a nod.

Alright, then.

Lunch would arrive soon. Then there would be time between then and the next class. And then?

The goblet of fire would choose who the champions of the Triwizard tournament were to be.

And for that, all of the students in all three schools were to be in attendance.

And there was time till then.

There was time for Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy to find out what name Voldemort had gone by, before starting to call himself the “Dark Lord.”

“Right now,” Hermione nodded to Halifax’s book, “I think I should put that back in the Chamber of Secrets. I don’t want it in any place where anyone can find it. So, I’ll put it back. Then I’ll join you for lunch. And I’m not letting Tom’s diary out of my sight. And after lunch, we go to Ollivander’s?”

“Alright,” Pansy said, “You sure you’ll be okay?”

Hermione nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her voice stronger now, “You go to lunch. I’ll take Halifax’s book back to the Chamber of Secrets. I’ll join you soon.”

She grabbed up Tom’s diary, put it in her robes, grabbed Halifax’s book and stuffed it into her bag. She asked, as she and her friends began to exit the common room, “Does anyone know anything about this ‘Lukas Halifax?’”

“Mmm,” Pansy said, contemplating, “Supposedly he was from one of the pureblood families. No one knows which one. But a few historians swear he’s from Avery family, but who knows if that’s actually true? And supposedly he traveled the world. And had a wife, who he was deeply in love with, named Anne. Again, who knows if any of this is true?”

Hermione nodded as they walked.

They parted when they reached the girl’s lavatory, and Hermione said to her friends, “I’ll catch you later.”

The four of Hermione’s friends, looked at Hermione, still worried, clearly, but did as she wanted and walked away, leaving Hermione to go into the girl’s bathroom and Hermione reached the sink and used parseltongue, to open it.

It took about almost a half hour, but Hermione got down the to the Chamber of Secrets, opened it up, got to the hall, stashed Halifax’s book back into the mouth of the metal serpent, where she had found it, deciding to use it later, and turned, walked out of the chamber, closed the door, locked it up, and used her magic to float herself back out of the tunnels, back into the school, closing the sink up again and left the bathroom, running now to join her friends at lunch.

Hermione in no way missed the relieved looks on her friends’ faces when they saw her enter the Great Hall and walk over and sit down next to them.

“It’s been done?” Pansy asked and Hermione nodded.

“Yeah, it’s back in the you-know-where,” Hermione said, not feeling confident about even saying the word, ‘chamber’ out loud, “The diary is still in my robes. We should eat now.”

“You should eat now, you mean,” Millicent said dryly, pushing a plate full of food to Hermione, “We’ve already eaten.”

Hermione chuckled, smiling gratefully and began digging in.

Hermione ate a hearty lunch, and after she was finished, she and her friends got up from the table and walked out of the Great Hall, and left the school.

There were several students who had wandered off from the school and off to various parts of the property, or to Hogsmeade, amongst other places.

So, the five of them wandering off? Not the strangest thing.

They would need to move quickly, though.

Ollivander’s was in Diagon Alley. To get there, Hermione and her friends would need to go to Hogsmeade, and take the path from there to Diagon Alley, which would take a while. But they’d manage.

It took up to almost an hour to get to Diagon Alley.

They arrived, pushing past the hustling and bustling witches and wizards and the cages full of owls, cats, toads-amongst other animals. They went past the broom shops and the book shops and cauldron stores, and at last, arrived at Ollivander’s shop, where all five of them had purchased their wands.

Daphne and Pansy both turned to look at Hermione.

“Are you ready, Mione?” Daphne asked.

Hermione sighed, not facing her friends, just staring at the sign for Ollivander’s, “No. But we have to know.”

Hermione sensed, rather than saw her friends nodding and as she moved closer to the wand store, her friends followed.

They went through the doorway of the store and got to the cluttered desk. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Ollivander himself, wasn’t present.

At least, he wasn’t present at the desk.

Hermione, Pansy, Millicent, Daphne and Astoria searched the various rows bookshelves full of boxes of wands.

And only after almost a minute, did Ollivander show up, sliding up to the bookshelf they were closest to, on a sliding ladder, looking down at where the five of them stood.

Any possibility for a sly smirk, abandoned the store, as he stared at the five girls before him.

“Ms. Granger,” he said, “Ms. Parkinson. Ms. Bulstrode. And both Ms. Greengrasses. To what do I owe the honor?”

“Hello, Mr. Ollivander,” Hermione said, trying for her voice not to be dry, but was unsuccessful, “We have a question about a wand that was purchased from you. Back in 1938. A wand that according to you, my wand shares much in common with.”

Ollivander’s eyes widened and Hermione observed as understanding crossed his features.

“I see,” he said, slowly climbing down from the ladder, “You want to know about the twin wand that was bought decades before your Hogwarts letter reached you?”

“That is technically what Hermione said,” Pansy said, no patience in her voice as Ollivander approached them.

Ollivander chose not to comment on Pansy’s snark, as he reached the desk. He looked at the girls again and asked, “What would you like to know?”

“Who bought the other wand?” Hermione asked, “A name. Not the name that he goes by now. But the name that he went by when he first bought the other wand.”

Ollivander’s eyes widened, but without questions, surprisingly, he pulled out his wand and summoned a large, wide ledger out of the air, magically opened it up and magically had the pages go by to the right page and lowered it down with his wand to the desk, for the five girls to look at it.

With the open ledger in front of them, Hermione, Pansy, Daphne, Astoria and Millicent, leaned forward and peered at the content of the pages.

Hermione’s eyes traveled all the way down the list of names.

Abraxas Malfoy.

Julia McNair.

And multiple other names.

Finally, Hermione’s eyes found the “R” section.

And she found the name, “Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Her eyes traveled from Tom’s name, to the description of the wand that he purchased.

And as soon as she did, her blood froze.

A wand with wood that was redwood. The core? A dragon’s heartstrings. But not just any dragon heartstrings.

The heartstrings of a dragon that was called the ‘Obsidian Flame’s Dragon.’ The same exact type as Hermione’s own wand. And that type of dragon? Had given only two heartstrings.

Hermione backed away from the ledger, feeling like everything was about to crumple onto her, her heart in her throat as she gasped, letting out a weak, panicked groan, and she barely heard her friends’ cries of her name.

This? This was what betrayal felt like. Of this, Hermione was sure.

This was exactly what betrayal felt like.

Hermione backed up into the door of the store, and lowered herself, her hands on her knees as she felt herself hyperventilating again, tears in her eyes again.

Tom……………he was………….

This was it. This was the proof.

Tom really was………….

Tom was Voldemort.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was actually Lord Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

How had Hermione been so stupid not to realize it before?!

Hermione took several deep breaths as her friends crowded around her, making sure she wasn’t about to faint or something.

Hermione took several deep breaths.

1.

Breathe.

2.

Breathe.

3.

Breathe.

4.

Breathe.

5.

Breathe.

Hermione’s breaths slowed and were now under control. She breathed out more smoothly and stood up fully.

She let out several deep breaths and faced her friends. “I’m okay now,” she said, and even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

Again, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be okay again.

Tom was Voldemort.

She had proof now.

In 1938, a young boy named Tom Riddle had gone to Hogwarts. He was an orphan and he had lived in a time, when he knew that from what he had seen, at least, that muggles were bigoted, murderous beings.

And he had met his love, years later, his mate. And she had been murdered by her parents, a couple of bigoted Christian muggles.

And that was the breaking point, most likely.

The final decision made for young Tom Riddle, who was left with a question of whether or not muggles deserved any pity.

And then he had gone to the Chamber of Secrets and had begun his killing, using his parseltongue ability to control Shagshic. Because he was an heir of Slytherin.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized what that meant.

If both she and Tom were heirs of Slytherin? That meant that they had to be cousins. Had to be.

Hermione actually almost laughed at how fucked up that was.

Her cousin was Voldemort, for fuck’s sake!

Hermione looked past her friends at Ollivander.

“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander,” Hermione said, nodding to him, “We appreciate the help. We need to get going now.”

Ollivander said nothing, just nodded, as the girls began to leave.

Before the last of the five friends, Pansy, exited the shop, she turned back to Ollivander and said dangerously, “If I were you, I wouldn’t repeat this to anyone, Ollivander.”

Ollivander, despite the obvious threat, didn’t appear scared or offended, he just nodded again.

“Understood, Ms. Parkinson. Good day,” he said.

And Pansy left.

When the group were making their way back to Hogsmeade, Astoria looked at Pansy and asked, “Seriously, Pansy? Threatening him?”

“What?” Pansy asked, shaking her head, “I did what I had to.”

Hermione chuckled at Astoria and Pansy’s further bantering.

Tom was Voldemort.

It was like her mind still couldn’t accept that, and so it needed to keep repeating it, as if in disbelief.

Because really?

It hit Hermione then, that that was why Lucius Malfoy had given her Tom’s diary.

Voldemort must have ordered him to do it.

But why?

Hermione had had the diary on her for years now. And as far as she could tell? It had no negative effects.

The only negative thing was that she had ended up trusting Voldemort-

And there, Hermione realized, was bad enough. That had been Voldemort’s plan all along. It must have been

To gain her trust.

Hermione again tried not to laugh at the morbid realization.

Voldemort-Tom, after his second encounter with Hermione, in Hermione’s first year? When Hermione had killed Quirrell and had defeated Voldemort, Tom must have realized that he’d need to get a better read on Hermione. To either figure out how to properly kill Hermione or get her on his side, or both.

That was why Tom had ordered Lucius to give Hermione the diary. So that Tom could convince Hermione into trusting him.

And clearly, Tom hadn’t alerted Lucius to this plan. Which was why Lucius had looked so surprised whenever he had seen Hermione alive and well.

Tom had neglected to mention that getting Hermione to trust him, was his plan.

“So, what now?” Daphne asked, looking at Hermione.

Hermione sighed, seeing Hogsmeade up ahead, “I don’t know.”

On impulse, her hand going to her robes and feeling the diary under her robes.

She nodded. She knew that she couldn’t face Tom now. Not now. Hell, even if she had all the preparation in the world, she wasn’t sure she’d be ready to face Tom.

Because he wasn’t just Voldemort anymore, was he?

No, now she had known him as something else. Someone who she had come to see as her friend, her brother, even.

Facing Tom, wouldn’t be like her facing off with him when he had attached himself to Quirrell’s head.

This would be personal. Very, very personal.

But she knew she couldn’t face him now. There wasn’t enough time, unless she decided to use the time turner.

They had to get to class, then go to see the meeting at the Great Hall to see the Triwizard champions selected.

“I’m going to have to face Tom eventually,” she said absentmindedly.

“We’re going to have to face Tom eventually, you mean,” Daphne corrected.

Hermione paused, looking at Daphne and the rest of her friends.

“You really would be willing to face him?” She asked, “Literally Voldemort?”

“Hermione Granger,” Pansy said, “You question if you can trust us again, and I just might hex you into next year.”

And despite all the stress, despite all the pain and despite all the madness happening?

Hermione burst out laughing.

She loved her friends.

How had she gotten so lucky?

The five of them arrived back at Hogwarts, and all of them feeling tense and bearing far too deep a secret with them, they forced neutral expressions on themselves in class, then went to the Great Hall to witness the goblet of fire select its choices, or however it worked.

Hermione, all the while, pressed her hand to her robes, making sure Tom’s diary hadn’t fallen out or anything.

Hermione sat at her table with the other Slytherins, Daphne and Pansy flanking her and Astoria and Millicent sitting across from them.

Every now and then, Hermione would raise her head and look over at the Ravenclaw table, seeing Fleur seated there next to that small girl she had seen before with her. Fleur’s sister, Gabrielle.

Fleur glanced over at Hermione. She didn’t wave, but she did give Hermione that far too knowing smile.

Hermione looked away, not wanting to think about the whole mate thing, on top of everything else.

Dumbledore walked up to the front of the hall and called out, “It is time we see the chosen Triwizard tournament champions!”

This got an excited cheer from mostly everybody.

The goblet’s blue fire changed its tint, and something came firing out of its depths. A small, burnt piece of paper.

Dumbledore caught the piece of paper, looked at it and called out, “From the school of Durmstrang, Viktor Krum!”

There was a roar of cheers from the Durmstrang students and Hermione glanced at where Viktor was, watching him do a slight fist pump as he came over to Dumbledore, shook his hand and went to wait at the end of the hall.

The goblet roared to further life again, and a new piece of paper flew out. Dumbledore caught it and read out loud, “From the school of Beauxbaton, Fleur Delacour!”

Hermione paused, her eyes growing wide. What?

Hermione raised her head again and watched as Fleur smiled, looking delighted and saw Fleur look her mate’s way, clearly hoping Hermione noticed and was proud of her.

But Hermione watched numbly as Fleur went over to Dumbledore and shook his hand, smiling wide the whole time, but Hermione knew that smile wasn’t for Dumbledore, and then Fleur went to wait in the edge of the hall, with Viktor.

Hermione’s breath was shallow now.

She felt Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy’s eyes on her, realizing what had happened.

“Oh, Merlin,” Astoria said, “Mione, you okay?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Millicent reasoned, “She wouldn’t have been picked for the Triwizard tournament if she wouldn’t have been able to handle the tasks.”

Millicent’s reassurances didn’t help Hermione.

Now, on top of everything else, Hermione’s mate was going to be in danger from the tasks of the Triwizard tournament.

The next slip of paper must have been vomited out of the goblet of fire, because Dumbledore yelled, “From Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory!”

Almost everyone in the hall, especially the Hufflepuff table, cheered happily as Cedric got up to go join his fellow champions.

Hermione had been dealt a lot of emotional blows lately.

So, in her defense, she might not have been too capable of paying attention, as the Great Hall suddenly went silent, aside from a few mumbles in the Great Hall of, “what the bloody hell?”

It was only after hearing the goblet of fire spurt something else out, this time twice in succession, and hearing Dumbledore call out two more names, that Hermione’s attention was caught.

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore cried out, reading the two new pieces of paper that had been thrown out of the goblet of fire, “And Hermione Granger!”

As it turned out, when the world fell down upon someone, sometimes it just kept falling down upon that person.

Chapter Text

The Great Hall went almost completely silent as soon as Dumbledore announced those last two names, silent, except for the whispers and mumblings from all the students around the hall.

Many students, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin alike, whispered and stared. Many were staring at the Gryffindor table, in Harry’s direction. Many were staring at the Slytherin table, staring right at Hermione.

Hermione swallowed as she slowly lifted her head to look at her friends, seeing the ashen expressions on all four of her friends’ faces.

Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy’s eyes were all huge and they all looked like they had all the blood drained from them.

Hermione’s heart was caught in her throat.

Because how?

How?

Hermione would never put her name in the goblet. And she had a hard time picturing Harry doing it either.

And even if either of them did it, how would the goblet have allowed it? She saw what happened when Fred and George Weasley tried it.

And she doubted anyone else under the age of seventeen, would have succeeded.

So, how?

Now, it might have been because there were so many malignant things going on that Hermione had just learned of, but her mind went to only one place.

Tom.

This was Tom’s fault.

Tom-no, Voldemort, had ordered her and Harry’s name be put in the goblet. But why? To get them killed?

That certainly sounded like a logical explanation, right?

After all, who might Voldemort see as the two biggest threats, besides Dumbledore?

One of them, a boy that defeated Voldemort when that boy was just a baby. And the incident made the boy famous and caused many to believe that Voldemort was no longer to be feared.

And the other, a girl that met Voldemort in her first year at Hogwarts, resisted him, and killed the host that he had taken, Quirrell and had defeated Voldemort, even if Voldemort had been far from being at full power at the time.

Hermione and Harry, Hermione realized, had to be the biggest threats besides Dumbledore, in Voldemort’s eyes.

And well, of the three of them; Hermione, Harry and Dumbledore, which of them would be the easier to kill?

After all, one of the three of them; Dumbledore, was the headmaster of the school, and was perhaps the most powerful magic user known to England-maybe even to the world if you believed the rumors, which Hermione didn’t.

But it certainly made Dumbledore less likely to be targeted, because he’d be more protected than either Hermione or Harry would be.

This was why their names had been put in the goblet of fire.

Because Voldemort was trying to get Hermione and Harry killed.

The trials of the Triwizard tournament would do the work for Voldemort, and for whoever had put the names in the goblet.

Because there had to have been someone that had put Hermione and Harry’s names into the goblet, for Voldemort.

The last time Hermione had seen Voldemort-before meeting Tom, he had required a flesh and blood host to move around in, in order to survive.

And afterwards, when Hermione had met Tom, he’d just attached himself to a diary. He couldn’t affect the physical world at all.

So, someone had to have put Hermione and Harry’s names into the goblet for Tom.

Instinctively, Hermione’s eyes jumped to the back of the room, at the table where the teachers sat.

Specifically, she found her eyes glued to where Igor Karkaroff and Severus Snape were seated.

It had to have been one of them.

They were former Death Eaters.

But once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, right?

Karkaroff and Snape? There was no way that they didn’t miss the “good old days” of when they could do whatever they wanted with muggle-borns, muggles and half-bloods.

Hermione’s distrustful thoughts were interrupted, when Dumbledore called her and Harry’s names again.

Hermione tensed, blood turning cold.

She knew ultimately what she and Harry were supposed to do.

And she somehow forced herself to her feet, avoiding Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy’s gazes, as she lifted herself up from the table and moved down the hall, towards Dumbledore, the goblet and the other three champions.

All the while, she felt everyone’s eyes on her and her jaw clenched when she heard several mumbles of, “cheater.”

She tried not to curse.

Fucking hypocrites. They’d been cheering Fred and George on when they thought that one of them might get their names picked out by the goblet.

As if multiple students that were under the age of seventeen, hadn’t already tried.

But when someone succeeded, they suddenly were getting all moral?

What a joke.

Hermione pushed herself forward, turning her head just slightly, seeing Harry emerging from between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table, his timid and worried eyes, meeting hers.

Hermione knew, as soon as she looked at the fear on Harry’s face, that he hadn’t done it. No more than she had.

Someone was setting them up to be killed.

And Hermione was positive that that someone, was either Snape or Karkaroff.

Most likely Karkaroff. Since Snape had had several years to potentially kill Harry and Hermione.

But then………maybe this was retribution on Snape’s part, for Hermione telling him that he needed to stop bullying Harry.

And Snape certainly was vicious and cruel enough to do it, wasn’t he?

So, it could be either former Death Eater.

Hermione tried to mentally convey her confidence to Harry. She forced an encouraging smile on her face as she looked at the dark-haired boy.

(It’ll be okay,) she tried to say to him silently, even if she didn’t believe those words herself, (We’ll get through this.)

Harry forced a smile on his own face as he regarded Hermione, but she could see that the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Both youths walked up to where Dumbledore was, both of them losing their smiles as they walked past him, to the backroom, which was where the three other Triwizard champions had gone.

As soon as Hermione and Harry entered the backroom, Hermione was faced with a furious Fleur.

The blonde Veela demanded, as she loomed over Hermione and a now gasping Harry, “Hermione, did you-?”

“No.” Hermione stated, dryly, before Fleur could even finish her sentence, “I know exactly what you’re going to ask. And NO. I did NOT put my name in the goblet of fire. Do you really think I’d be that reckless?”

Fleur’s expression most likely was meant to instill fear, and while Hermione doubted that Fleur meant to scare her, Fleur likely had lost control of her instincts, with the possibility of her mate being in danger.

Veelas were dangerous creatures, after all.

All the more reason for Hermione to be cautious of any relationship with Fleur.

Fleur suddenly looked taller than she had before. And her eyes were black. There were almost fangs in her mouth, and there were now dark blue feathers sticking out of Fleur’s skin.

“Calm. Down.” Hermione ordered, staring at Fleur, “I didn’t put my name into the goblet of fire. Use your brain. I’m in Slytherin. Harry’s in Gryffindor. Yet both our names were in the goblet of fire. Do you think we worked together to do it? Have you ever heard of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin working together for such a thing?”

Hermione watched as Fleur’s dark eyes started becoming more blue, and she could see those eyes narrowing in thought, clearly contemplating Hermione’s words.

Soon, Fleur’s feathers and fangs receded and she almost shrank to her normal size.

Fleur’s expression softened as she stared at Hermione with the emotion that had clearly motivated her to lose control of her instincts-fear. Fear for her mate.

“Je suis desole, mon cherie,” Fleur said going back to normal now, “I just was…………”

Hermione scoffed. While she was far from able to speak French fluently, she had read enough French, plus dreamt of Fleur enough to know that Fleur had just said, “I am sorry, my dear.”

“You just almost gave Harry a heart attack, is what you almost just did,” Hermione said, turning to look behind her, at Harry. “You alright back there?” She asked Harry.

Harry swallowed and nodded, glancing over at Fleur, nervous.

“It’s alright,” Hermione said, “It’s not you that needs to worry about her, if she gets angry.”

“I’m not,” Fleur started, then hesitated, as Hermione turned back to the older girl, “I’m not angry, Hermione. I just………….you swear you didn’t put your name in the goblet?”

Hermione snorted, glaring at the Veela, “No. Fleur. How many times do I have to say it? I’ll even say it in an obnoxious American way, alright? ‘N. O. Spells NO.’”

Fleur shook her head, jaw tight like she wished she could be angry, but honestly, just looked scared.

“Then how did-?” She began, and Hermione sighed.

Because there was no gentle way of explaining that she and Harry were being targeted, was there?

Any answer that Hermione could have come up with for Fleur, was interrupted, when there were people filing into the room behind Hermione and Harry.

Hermione, Harry and Fleur moved away from the door, as Dumbledore, Snape, Karkaroff, McGonagall, the headmistress Maxime, Moody and Barty Crouch himself, entered the room.

Hermione and Harry both tensed, when they saw the suspicion and outrage in the eyes of many of the authority figures approaching.

Well, all of them really, except for Dumbledore and Moody. They looked calm. Too calm.

Hermione looked at Harry reassuringly, as the accusations began to be thrown at them. Fleur stepped in front of Hermione protectively, as Maxime and Karkaroff got close enough to touch her mate.

“Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore interrupted, causing everyone else to be silent, his voice calm and smooth, “Harry, tell me, did either of you put your names in the goblet?”

“No, I didn’t,” Hermione said, trying not to get angry, realizing that she was probably going to be saying this for a while.

“No, sir,” Harry assured Dumbledore.

“Of course, they’re lying,” Maxime scoffed, earning a glare from Fleur.

Moody stepped in, answering, “I don’t think either of them would have the magical capabilities to do something like this.” He turned to Maxime, Karkaroff and Crouch. “Do any of you really think a couple of fourth years could do something like this?” His voice dripped with aggravation-conviction that he was certain that Hermione and Harry had not put their names in the goblet.

Maxime still looked pissed, but both Karkaroff and Crouch now looked doubtful.

Hermione supposed that Karkaroff was playing his part well.

And Moody? Hermione had no idea what his deal was, but for the moment, she was grateful for his input.

McGonagall, desperate, looked at Dumbledore and said, “Surely, we need to put a stop to this.”

“I’m afraid that there’s nothing we can do,” Crouch said grimly, “The law is very clear,” he looked at Hermione and Harry with an unsettled expression, “Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter are as of now, Triwizard champions.”

Crouch and the others all looked at Hermione and Harry, and Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, Hermione feeling Fleur’s scared gaze on her.

The appropriate words for this situation? “Well, shit.”

But Hermione and Harry both said nothing.

But as always, Hermione thought about everything.

Including a question. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told everyone what Voldemort’s name was, before Voldemort had started calling himself by his new name?

Why didn’t the entirety of the witch and wizarding world know the name, “Tom Marvolo Riddle?”

Why had Dumbledore kept that a secret? Was it possible that Dumbledore, even, hadn’t known?

No. That sounded more insane than even a basilisk staying concealed in Hogwarts for centuries-yes, she now had to assume that Shagshic had been around and in Hogwarts, for centuries now-without people knowing, and who was capable of talking.

Dumbledore knew. He had to have known.

Hermione remembered that Dumbledore had been here while Tom had been a student. He’d been a teacher at the time, not the headmaster, but a teacher. And would have had to have met and talked to Tom.

And what was more? If what Hermione remembered was true, hadn’t Dumbledore stopped Hagrid from going to Azkaban, when Tom had claimed that Hagrid had let a monster into Hogwarts, to attack people?

Surely, Dumbledore had become suspicious of Tom then.

So, how had Dumbledore not told everyone what Voldemort’s name was before?

How did almost no one know the name, “Tom Riddle?”

Honestly, Hermione had to confess that that probably was on a lot of people. Because who actually believed that a person born into this world, would ever be actually named at birth, “Voldemort?”

Because of course, Voldemort had had a prior name. But everyone in the witch and wizarding world, had just dreaded and feared him so much, that they only had thought of him as “Voldemort.” For them? For Hermione? For everyone? “Voldemort” took up every portion of whoever else the dark wizard might have been, before calling himself that.

For everyone who had ever heard the name, “Voldemort,” it was difficult to ever have imagined him having a name before that. Or ever having any sort of life before that, that hadn’t involved hunting down muggles, muggle-borns and half-bloods.

But still, shouldn’t Dumbledore have told someone?!

Hermione knew that her anger and even hate, wasn’t logical. But that was what she felt in that very moment for Dumbledore, as she stared at him, talking with the teachers and other headmasters. Hate.

How dare he stand there and pretend to be all noble and diplomatic, when he had stood back and did nothing and told no one about what Voldemort’s name was, before he started calling himself that?

How dare the whole witch and wizarding world not curse the name “Tom Marvolo Riddle,” just as they would the name, “Voldemort,” all because Dumbledore chose not to tell anyone?

Hermione tried hard not to give Dumbledore a death glare.

Hate. That was what she realized she was beginning to feel for the old wizard.

Pure hate.

And logically? She knew why too.

Because if she had just known what Voldemort’s name had been before he had started calling himself that, then she wouldn’t have trusted Tom.

And she wouldn’t be feeling like this!

Like she had let someone play a huge trick on her and had willingly turned a blind eye, for years.

Like she couldn’t trust herself.

She wished this hatred could be for Tom. For Voldemort. But all that she felt was betrayal. Pain. Anger, yes. But more than anything else? Pain.

But her hatred? That was reserved for Dumbledore.

Hermione knew that her hatred probably didn’t make sense, but that was how she felt for Dumbledore. She was beginning to hate him.

And some part of her wondered, for just a moment, how it would feel to use the cruciatus curse on him.

She immediately knew her thoughts had gone too far, but some part of her was certain, that using the cruciatus curse on Dumbledore, would feel good.

Dumbledore and the rest, dismissed the champions, telling them they could go back to their quarters, and when Hermione, Fleur and Harry left and went to a corridor, which would be separated soon by several stairways going off in different directions and changing, Fleur confronted Hermione again and Hermione had the feeling she was in for another round of questioning.

Instead, Fleur surprised Hermione as she said, “Hermione, I can’t protect you one these trials. They won’t allow any outside help.”

Hermione sighed, seeing the scared look in Fleur’s blue eyes, her heart clenching at the sight.

“You don’t need to protect me,” she promised, “I will do everything I can to find out what’s needed to survive the trials.”

This clearly wasn’t a satisfactory answer for Fleur, as her face clenched up in pain.

Hermione winced. She knew there was nothing she could say that would reassure the older girl.

Harry’s voice thankfully interrupted. He asked Hermione gently, “Hermione, I’m sorry to ask, but you didn’t put your name in the goblet, did you?”

Hermione snorted. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. It was only a matter of time before they actually asked each other.

“No,” she said dryly, before turning to him, her eyebrows lifting, “Did you?” She was positive of the answer already, but she still figured she might as well ask.

Harry shook his head. “No,” he answered, “I didn’t.”

Hermione nodded. Harry could be lying. But she doubted he’d pull off lying very well.

Hermione knew that she would need to start being honest with the people in her life. Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy’s reaction to learning all the secrets she had kept from them, was proof enough of that.

But if she told Fleur that she was positive that this had been done to kill her and Harry, at Voldemort’s behest, how would that help Fleur? Wouldn’t it make her so worried about Hermione, that she might just not focus on passing her own trials and getting put in danger, herself?

So, Hermione knew she’d have to tell Fleur later. But Harry? She found it hard to believe that Harry didn’t at least suspect it a little.

Hermione turned to Fleur and said, “Listen, nothing’s going to happen right now. We can worry about the trials, when it’s time to start training for them. If you want, Fleur? We can train together.” As much as it put her on edge to let Fleur have that much influence on her, when she feared still possessing her individuality, while knowing Fleur. But she knew that this more or less would put Fleur at ease-at least somewhat.

Fleur’s eyes lit up and Hermione knew that she’d made the right choice in words.

Fleur nodded as she said, “Alright. That’s a good idea. Thank you, Hermione.”

Hermione could see in how Fleur was angling her body close to her and how Fleur’s hands were clenching at her sides, that the Veela wanted to reach out and hold her mate.

But Hermione couldn’t help but feel grateful that Fleur wasn’t reaching out for her.

She still didn’t know how to deal with this. With having her mate right here.

This was a lot for her.

So much was going on and she didn’t know how to deal with all of it.

“We should get to sleep,” Hermione said, deciding that she couldn’t think of anything else, “We can talk about this, and how to best prepare for the trials, tomorrow or the next day, okay? But we should get our rest for tomorrow or after.”

Fleur thankfully nodded and before she walked away, she said quietly, “Hermione, please, be careful, mon amour.”

Hermione shifted slightly, fighting a shiver at Fleur calling her, “my love.”

“I will,” she said, forcing the words out, “Promise I will, Fleur. Thank you. And you be careful too.”

Fleur nodded, as she left, seeming reluctant to leave Hermione for the night, but still left. When she was out of sight, turning the corner, Hermione turned to Harry. She said to him, “Harry, I need to know, is there anyone you could think of who might want to put your name in the goblet of fire, and put you in danger?”

Harry’s eyes widened. He asked, “You think that someone’s doing this to us, to kill us?”

Hermione shook her head at Harry’s naivete, “Don’t you?”

Harry’s eyes started to shift, as he thought of it, then he stared at Hermione, and the name came out of his mouth, “Voldemort?”

Hermione nodded. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to worry Harry like this. But she was positive he had the right to know, since Hermione was absolutely sure of who had ordered their names to be put in the goblet.

Harry looked down at the floor then, then looked back to Hermione and said, “Hermione, you remember that person we saw chasing after us at the camp near the World Cup?”

Hermione nodded. Of course, she remembered.

That tall, creepy guy, who they could only see the silhouette of-with a head of matted hair, and wore an overcoat, who had stumbled after them-who had created the Dark Mark in the sky.

“I remember him,” Hermione said, “Why?”

“I think I had a dream about him before the Weasley family and I went to the World Cup,” Harry said, “It was like the one I had of you. I was seeing through someone else’s eyes. I saw this figure. A man with ruffled, brown hair, in a coat with a big collar, and he was in this shack of some type. I was looking at him and he was looking at me, and he says to the person whose eyes I’m looking through, “‘I won’t disappoint you, my lord.’” Harry shook his head, “And this is where it gets really weird. When I am done listening to him say that? I lower down to the floor and slither away.”

Hermione frowned, now alarmed-really alarmed this time.

“You’re seeing through the eyes of a snake?” Hermione asked, startled.

She thought for a moment that because Tom was a parselmouth, that he could talk to people through snakes-but of course, she knew that was impossible. Even in the witch and wizarding world.

But she did remember something important.

Hadn’t Voldemort had a large snake that he kept around as his pet or something? What was the snake’s name again?

Nagini.

After Voldemort’s fall years ago, when first trying to kill Harry, when the boy was a mere baby, everyone had assumed that the snake had just slithered off and died without its master there to feed it.

It seemed they were wrong.

But Harry being able to see through Tom, the Tom that was in Tom’s diary in his dreams, and being able to see through Nagini’s eyes in his dreams-what was all this about?

How could Harry do that?

It clearly meant that Hermione’s suspicion in the Chamber of Secrets, had been correct-that there was a piece of Voldemort that had latched itself onto Harry, when Voldemort had tried to kill Harry and somehow it had been botched.

But Harry wasn’t finished. He said, “And something else happened in the dream. There was someone else there. A man. A stranger. Someone who the big snake and the guy with messy, brown hair didn’t know. The groundskeeper of wherever the people in the dream were. He came, because I guess he saw lights in the room from where he was, and stood outside the door. The man with messy brown hair pulled out his wand and………………,” Harry flinched when he said the next words, “Used the killing curse on the groundskeeper.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She had known that the man that she and Harry had seen at the World Cup, had been bad news, as soon as he had used the Dark Mark. But he hadn’t just been some asshole that was messing with everyone by using the Dark Mark and trying to scare people.

No, if what Harry had seen was correct, then that man was a murderer too.

“Alright,” Hermione said, nodding, “We can talk about this later. But we have to stay on guard, okay?”

Harry nodded, more than happy to agree. “Right.” He said, shivering.

The two of them parted and went off to their dorms. Hermione tried to brace herself. She knew she’d have to face her friends’ questions as soon as she got to her dorm.

She entered the dorm, and unfortunately, it wasn’t just her friends waiting for her.

Hermione was startled to find Daphne, Astoria, Pansy and Millicent, and multiple other Slytherin students in the common room.

They were all looking at her.

And many of them, rather than looking disgusted or angry, like Hermione expected, actually looked proud.

Marcus Flint, Linda Avery, amongst many others-including Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, actually all looked very pleased with her.

Even Pansy was smirking at Hermione, as if Hermione had done the most badass thing imaginable.

The magical equivalent of a muggle teenage delinquent climbing up on top of their high school and mooning the headmaster, before taking cans of graffiti and spraying the entirety of the cans all over the roof of the school.

Hermione almost groaned. Really? They were happy that this happened? They still thought she did it, though she doubted that Pansy actually believed that Hermione had put her name in the goblet. And her house was proud of her for thinking she had done it?

She wasn’t sure that was much better than the accusations.

Then again, at least she wasn’t dealing with hypocrisy like she was sure that Harry was going to be dealing with, from his own house.

“Bloody brilliant, Granger!” Linda Avery hooted happily and many of the Slytherins cheered loudly.

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes as many of her schoolmates patted her on the back and shook her hand and congratulated her and told her that they were glad that Dumbledore could now take his, in their own words, “Gryffindor loving arse,” and “shove it.”

Hermione supposed she understood.

Dumbledore, Hermione knew, had a preference for the Gryffindors.

Even if he didn’t outright say it.

Honestly, even if Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor when he’d been here at Hogwarts? It didn’t make his favoritism of Gryffindor, okay. Especially when the Slytherin house or one of the other two houses, had accomplished something.

When all the fanfare Hermione got was calming down and people went off to bed, and even Crabbe and Goyle looked at Hermione like she was a hero, Hermione, and her friends, thankfully, had the common room to themselves.

When they all made sure that no one was nearby to hear what they said, and they all sat down, Hermione faced her friends and grumbled, glaring at their smirks and grins, even if there wasn’t any real anger in her glare, “You know I didn’t put my name in the goblet, don’t you?”

“Of course, we know you didn’t,” Daphne said, chuckling, “But still, it’s nice to see you being treated by our house, the way you deserve to be treated.”

Hermione groaned, “Thank you for the confidence, Daphne. But I think we have bigger things to worry about. Like finding out who put Harry and my name into the goblet in the first place.”

“Right,” Pansy said, nodding, trying to contain her smirk, “So, who do you think-? Voldemort, right?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, “He ordered it, he had to have. But I don’t think he could have physically done it himself. He had to have told someone to do it. I’m guessing? Karkaroff or Snape.”

“That makes sense,” Daphne said, “I bet Snape wasn’t too happy you treated him how you treated him in our third year. And Karkaroff, like Snape, used to be a Death Eater.”

“There’s a way of finding out who did it, right?” Millicent said, looking at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. “I’m sure there are a few ways,” she said, “Why, what were you thinking?”

“Well……………,” Millicent hesitated, like she knew she was about to say something that she shouldn’t, “Well, I know that this is probably a bad idea, since Vold-since Tom taught you how to do this, but maybe use legilimency on Snape or Karkaroff? Or both of them?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Violate Snape and Karkaroff’s minds?

Try to read their minds?

Well, for Snape, Hermione imagined that that would be difficult. He was a potions master, and most likely had learned of ways of deflecting legilimency attempts on his mind.

But Karkaroff might be easier.

Still, that was really risky. Legilimency could be detected, as soon as someone invaded another person’s mind.

Which meant as soon as Hermione tried it with Snape or Karkaroff, they would know that someone was trying to invade their minds. Even if Hermione stayed behind some corridor or something, while casting the spell? What she would be doing would still be found out.

Which meant that Hermione wouldn’t be able to keep her schemes from the teachers long.

But a new idea entered Hermione’s mind. She could figure out who it was that had put her and Harry’s names in the goblet, through other magical means.

“No,” she said, “That’s too risky. But there’s something else I can try. If I’m there when the person who put the names in the goblet, actually goes to the goblet and watch them put the names in there in the first place.”

She watched her friends, to see if any of them got it. She watched as many of them looked confused, but then Daphne’s eyes widened.

“The time turner,” she said and Hermione nodded. “That’s right,” she said.

That was what she had in mind. Use the time turner to go back in time, before, when the names were starting to be put in the goblet, and see just who it was that had snuck into the Great Hall and put the names in, in the first place.

“That’s………doesn’t that have its own risks?” Millicent asked, worried.

“It does,” Hermione said, nodding, “But if Tom ordered someone to put Harry and my name into the goblet, which I’m sure he did, then we have to know who is working with him.”

Millicent sighed, nodding.

Hermione knew it was a risky choice, but if they had the time turner on hand, which Hermione had under her shirt, then they needed to know who the enemy was-besides the obvious, which was Tom.

Speaking of which, she still needed to confront him. But that could wait.

The longer she waited on going back in time, the more turns Hermione would have to do on the time turner.

And the longer she would have to hide from people, worried that she might be seen and people discovering that she had used time travel.

Hermione said, “It’s too risky to go into the Great Hall where the goblet is. I’ll have to wait outside of the Great Hall, when I go back in time.”

This actually got some annoyance from her friends. Daphne and Millicent both narrowed their eyes. Astoria looked disappointed and Pansy scoffed.

“Hermione,” Pansy said, “How many times do we have to tell you? You aren’t doing this alone. We’re coming with you. And no, you’re not going to argue with us about this. So, you’re not doing anything. We, all of us, are going back to find out who did it.”

Hermione blinked at her friends, startled, but she knew she’d need to stop being so startled. She would need to accept that this was how it was-she had friends. Friends who loved her and who she loved and most likely would die for her. Who she’d die for.

Which meant that ultimately, they were coming with her. One way or another.

Hermione chuckled, unable to help the grateful smile that crossed her face.

“Thank you,” she said, “I……..appreciate it, really.”

This brought smiles to some of her friends’ faces. Hermione then added, “But the five of us hiding from people? That’s going to be difficult. So, before we go back? We’re going to need something. Harry’s invisibility cloak.”

Several of her friends were startled, but they understood.

What they were about to do, wasn’t like what they did in their third year. This wasn’t just going back in time, when there was no one else around, save for Dumbledore, who was more than happy to keep the secret of the time traveling quiet and the Hagrid’s hut where they could hide in some area near the woods without people seeing them.

There were going to be many people around the area where they’d be time traveling to.

So, they’d have to be much more careful than they’d been in their third year.

“This is one thing that I will do alone,” Hermione said, “Harry probably trusts me more than you. So, I’m going to go to him and ask, okay?”

Her friends nodded, aware that Hermione made sense. And she got up and headed to the entrance to the common room, when Pansy spoke up, “Mione?”

“Hmm?” Hermione asked, turning to Pansy.

Pansy said carefully, “Promise us that you’re not going to go back in time alone, when you get Harry’s cloak.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she actually felt a sting of guilt.

Because had she really caused her friends to be so suspicious of her? Of the things she’d keep from them?

Grabbing Harry’s invisibility cloak, then going back in time, without her friends, actually hadn’t even crossed her mind. She had accepted it, when Pansy had all but snapped at her, that they were all going with her, back in time.

Hermione nodded to Pansy, heart hurting at the expressions of protectiveness and worry that were on her friends’ faces, “I promise, I won’t,” she said, “I’ll get Harry’s cloak. Then come back. We’ll all go back in time together after that. Promise.”

Her friends nodded, but they still had that same worried look on their faces and Hermione tried not to wince.

That doubt that her friends had?

She had put it there. She had done that. She had made them doubt her.

And she had done that by keeping secrets from them for years now.

She knew she needed to be more honest with her friends from now on.

She sighed and moved through the doorway, and went on her way to the Gryffindor section of the school, heading toward Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione went all the way up to the tower, hiding behind pillars and corridors when teachers or Filch showed up.

She got to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who had been reinstated as the guard for Gryffindor Tower.

And Hermione? She knew that most of the houses, save for probably the Ravenclaws, weren’t too efficient at changing their passwords. So, she had a suspicion what the Gryffindors’ password was. She had heard it one time from Neville one time when he’d been passing by.

“Cabbage draconis,” she said, and the Fat Lady, while she eyed Hermione suspiciously, opened up the portrait.

Hermione walked through and looked around the common room. Thankfully, Harry was right there, looking into the fireplace. She wasn’t sure why.

“Harry?” She said.

Harry, startled, turned around. Hermione smiled. She said, “Harry, I’m sorry to ask this, but can I have your invisibility cloak?”

Harry, understandably, appeared quite startled at that request, but since he clearly had decided that she was to be trusted and probably knew to be cautious about how she and his names had ended up in the goblet of fire, he eventually nodded and walked up the steps to his room.

Hermione looked around the common room, making sure no one saw her. Harry came back down, carrying the invisibility cloak in his hands, and to her surprise, the Marauder’s map.

Harry brought both items over, smiling and handed them to Hermione.

“The Marauder’s map?” Hermione asked, surprised, “Didn’t Remus confiscate that?”

“He did,” Harry said, “And who do you think gave it to me, in case any trouble happened?”

Hermione nodded. “I see,” she said, well that was a relief.

She held up the map. “Thanks for this,” she said.

Harry nodded.

Before Hermione left, she said, “So………how is your house taking this? That your name was in the goblet?”

Harry snorted quietly, his face now falling, “Not good. Ron thinks I did it. And is angry. Jealous, I think.”

Hermione scoffed. Harry deserved a better friend.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Harry, “You deserve better.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, “At least someone thinks so.”

Hermione winced. She decided that if Ron wasn’t going to be there for his friend, then she would have to be, during the trials.

She thanked him again for the cloak and map and headed out the door, going fast down the hall, and back to the dungeons.

She patted her robes, making sure that Tom's diary was still there, which it was, and got into the Slytherin common room and said to her friends, “I have the Marauder’s map, as well as the invisibility cloak.”

“Wow, really?” Astoria asked, her eyes wide.

Hermione nodded. She said, “Everyone check the room, make sure no one’s near enough to see or hear us.”

Hermione’s friends went about checking the room and checking the stairwells to different rooms. There was no one.

So, Hermione, Pansy, Millicent, Daphne and Astoria all clustered together, and Hermione handed the Marauder’s map to Astoria and the cloak to Pansy, and pulled the time turner out from under her shirt.

Hermione looked at her friends as she said, “You guys sure about this? If we go back in time, we’ll have to go back all the way to when people just start putting the names in the goblet. And when we do, we’ll be waiting for a long time to come back to this room at this point in time. Because we won’t be able to risk being seen.”

“Hermione,” Daphne said, chuckling and smiling, “We know.”

Hermione’s friends nodded and again, Hermione smiled and proceeded.

She grabbed the chain of the time turner and tossed it over the heads of her companions. When all of them were wrapped up in the time turner, she began turning the pendant.

It flipped several times at her fingers. Because she was going back in time several hours.

And that was as the figures from the past moved back and forth speedily, and she and her friends went back in time, unnoticed by these people in the past as said past figures, moved through the common room.

Many times, though these figures moved quickly, Hermione was positive that she saw herself and her friends in the common room as they moved back.

Now, Hermione knew exactly when they were to go back in time. To the day before. When the names had started being put into the goblet.

Which meant they’d be waiting a while.

This was not going to be fun.

Finally, going all the way back, they looked around the common room, as Hermione stopped, sure that she had gone back enough, for them to be back to the day before. Which meant that almost all the Slytherin students would be in class. Which meant that most likely? Almost no one would be here in the common room to see them.

Hermione checked around the common room. Thankfully, as she had suspected, no one was here.

“Alright,” Hermione said, pulling the chain of the time turner off of her friends, “Let’s get under the invisibility cloak. And get to spying on the Great Hall.”

Soon, they were all under the invisibility cloak, the five of them becoming invisible, and exited out of the common room and went down the hall, avoiding running into people.

They reached the Great Hall and since they now had the invisibility cloak on hand? They realized they could go into the Great Hall and watch, without being seen.

They slipped past many groups of teachers and students and went into the Great Hall, went to the back of the room, where the goblet of fire stood, watched and waited.

Astoria, from under the cloak, opened up the map and occasionally checked it, to see who might be approaching and Hermione was glad that Harry had given her the map. Because she was sure that would help.

She and Daphne peered through the fabric of the cloak, and though it was somewhat difficult to see through the fabric, Hermione and Daphne were able to see enough to see the faces of the people passing by the common room.

So, whoever showed up and put additional names into the goblet? They’d know who it was.

Chapter Text

Waiting, as Hermione knew, was not very fun. Not very conducive to making things relaxed. Ironic, when waiting involved not doing anything.

But that was how it was.

And this was just plain boring. Thankfully, since the Great Hall was often kept private this year, so that the goblet could be left alone and only be approached by those that wanted to put their names in the fire, they’d had time to take the cloak off and sit down on the benches, letting themselves rest for a while.

So far? While hiding under the cloak, they’d seen several people put their names in the goblet.

Krum, Fleur, Diggory, a lot of other people hoping to make themselves famous. And Hermione and her friends seriously doubted that any of them had been responsible for putting Hermione and Harry’s names into the goblet.

Then, night fell.

Hermione and her friends all were getting tired. They’d snatch some food from the Great Hall, soon after most of the students had left, during dinner, so, they’d have things to eat. They also grabbed two closed glass pitchers of water from the table. Hermione kicked herself for not having thought of that before. But thankfully, they got their hands on some food and water.

Then a person came in that caught Hermione’s attention. Someone who Astoria announced when she looked at the map.

Igor Karkaroff.

Hermione tensed, and watched as he entered the hall, and walked to the goblet of fire, holding something in his hand, some paper and tossing it into the goblet.

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line. That looked extremely suspicious. Karkaroff looked around, to make sure no one had seen him-which five people had, and he walked out, unaware of the five people watching him from under the cloak.

Hermione slowly looked at her friends, eyes wide.

“Okay,” Daphne confessed, nodding, “That looked weird.”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed, “But we can’t go back to the common room now. Our other selves are there and we haven’t gone back yet, so we still have to wait. So, we might as well still watch, to be sure that it was Karkaroff.”

Her friends nodded and they went back to waiting.

They wondered what they’d do about sleeping arrangements. Because they’d need their strength for when they “caught up” with the timeline.

Hermione honestly wasn’t sure and again almost facepalmed for not having thought of that.

But then, Astoria made a couple of suggestions that almost made Hermione topple over.

The Shrieking Shack.

Or the Chamber of Secrets.

Hermione was startled at Astoria’s suggestions.

The Chamber of Secrets, she was not going to risk. Because Shagshic was there. Shagshic might have been a peaceful basilisk, it didn’t change that just looking in the giant serpent’s eyes, would kill someone who wasn’t an “heir of Slytherin.”

Hermione wasn’t going to risk that.

That was why, to the Shrieking Shack it was.

They agreed on that and waited for the first few hours to go by, to see who else might be suspicious.

Astoria, looking at the map, announced a person’s name.

“Um, Mione?” She said, “There’s someone coming down the hall. It looks like………..Barty Crouch………..wait, Jr.?”

Hermione paused, and looked down at Astoria, glancing at the map.

Her eyes widened. Thankfully, there were torches all around the Great Hall, which allowed Hermione and the others to see what was on the map. And Hermione definitely saw someone walking to the doors of the Great Hall.

And next to those sets of moving footprints, was the name, “Barty Crouch Jr.”

Not “Sr.” “Jr.”

Hermione stared.

One of the many reasons why she disliked Barty Crouch, was because of what he had done to his son.

Now, Barty Crouch Jr., Barty Crouch Sr.’s son, had joined the Death Eaters, yes. And he’d been with Bellatrix Lestrange, when she had tortured the Longbottoms.

But there wasn’t enough evidence to suggest that he’d been the one to do it.

And even if he deserved to be punished, for joining the Death Eaters-something, as far as Hermione knew, was unforgivable, since she hated Death Eaters, how could you show so little pity to your own child?

But Barty Crouch Jr. supposedly had been put away in Azkaban.

And yet…………here he was, walking through the hall, to the doors of the Great Hall, according the to the Marauder’s map.

Hermione stared at the doors of the Great Hall, chest tight, waiting. The doors gradually, were pushed open, and a figure walked through.

In the darkness in the doorway, the Hermione couldn’t quite make out all the details of this figure. But for a second, she got the sense of a lumpy, round head, before the figure moved closer, and it looked almost as if the head was shrinking.

Then the figure came fully into view, and there he was. A man that fit the description that Harry had given her.

A stick of a man. Thin, a slim face, with matted brown hair, a shrewd look on his face, and a somewhat pointed nose.

The man moved close to the goblet, papers in his hand, and reached up and threw those papers into the goblet.

He stepped back, grinning victoriously, as he pulled out his wand and spat out a spell-most likely designed so that Hermione and Harry’s names inevitably were pulled out of the goblet.

After he finished administering the spell, he put his wand away, still grinning that mad, vicious grin, and his tongue slid out of his mouth, licking against the left corner of his mouth.

Hermione watched this unsettling action as he did it a couple more times, before he shuffled out of the Great Hall.

When the doors were closed, Hermione checked the map. Barty Crouch Jr. was going down the hall now.

And he went all the way to Mad Eye Moody’s office.

“Oh………,” Hermione said, startled, eyes wide.

“He’s in Moody’s room?” Astoria asked, “Where the heck is Moody, then?”

Hermione shook her head, “No idea. Does the map say anything about where Moody is?”

Astoria eyed the map, looking troubled.

“Um,…………” Astoria said, her eyebrows furrowing, “This is weird. According to this, Moody is in the office. With Barty Crouch Jr.”

Hermione stared at Astoria, then looked down at the map. “What?” She demanded, confused.

But sure enough? There was Barty Crouch Jr. walking down the hall to Moody’s office, and there was Moody, right on the map, not moving an inch when Barty Crouch Jr. stepped inside the office.

“This makes no sense,” Daphne said, looking pale, “We saw Moody after this. We see him the next day! So, Moody can’t be dead. But why else would he be doing nothing while a Death Eater is in the room with him?”

Hermione nodded, feeling numb.

Daphne’s question made sense, which made this situation make no sense all the more.

Moody was well-known for being brutal to Death Eaters.

He would never tolerate having one in his office, let alone walking around freely in Hogwarts. So, why wasn’t Moody moving around and chasing Barty Crouch Jr. around the office?

But there Moody was on the map. And he wasn’t moving.

But he couldn’t be dead. It was the only explanation for why he wasn’t moving-he had to be dead.

Yet, Hermione and the others all knew that he couldn’t be.

After all, they had seen him just the next day after this. Moody had to be alive, for the five of them to see Moody all of tomorrow.

So, what the hell was going on here?

“Is anyone else creeped out and confused?” Millicent asked, nervous.

“Yeah,” Daphne agreed, “I’m right there with you, Millicent.”

The five girls remained staring down at the map, completely confused.

Needless to say? They had just found where they were going to next.

They quickly moved out of the Great Hall, remaining with the cloak over all of them, and went down the hall, in the direction of Moody’s office.

When at last, they reached Moody’s office, they found the door slightly creaked open and peered inside.

There he was. Not Barty Crouch Jr., but Moody, seated in his chair, taking a drink from his flask and after he was done drinking from the flask, humming to himself quietly.

Hermione heard quiet gasps next to her and Hermione figured that it was because of the small, dark hole in Moody’s face, where his eye used to be. Hermione wasn’t phased by it. Why would she be? She had seen injuries similar to that, done to children in her childhood, at Cromwell’s labs.

Hermione scoped out the rest of the room.

She saw no sign of Barty Crouch Jr. anywhere.

And the two men that she and her friends had chased after, were quite different physically.

Moody was large and round and Barty Crouch Jr. was tall and thin.

So, them in the same room would stick out.

Yet there was no sign of a tall thin Barty Crouch Jr., so, what did that mean?

They noticed that Moody didn’t have his “eye” on, and when they saw him reach down for the eye that he had taken off and placed on the desk next to him, about to put it on, which would alert him to the presence of the five students watching him, they quickly backed away from the entrance to Moody’s classroom.

They moved away from the room, and when they were far from the room, they breathed out in relief over not having been seen.

They then turned to each other.

“Okay,” Daphne said, confusion on her face as she and the others saw each other’s equally as confused expressions by torchlight, “What the bloody hell is going on?”

“Good question,” Hermione grumbled, glancing back at the room from where they had just escaped being seen by the occupant of.

Were Moody and Barty Crouch Jr. working together? Or was it like something that had happened in their third year with Peter Pettigrew? Was Barty Crouch Jr. an animagus? Had he changed into an animal and had snuck away somewhere in Moody’s office? Unknown to Moody himself?

There was that possibility.

However, Hermione’s growing suspicion of Moody wouldn’t be shaken from the conclusion that Moody and Crouch were in cahoots.

Why would a teacher, let alone one that was an auror, teach any student an unforgivable curse?

It certainly made Hermione’s stomach turn.

“We had better go to the Shrieking Shack,” Pansy said, “Before Moody finds us.”

“Right,” Hermione agreed. They moved through the halls, dodging away from anyone that might see them-and yes, they would have to be careful of their past selves, as well-in fact, perhaps more than anyone.

They eventually got out of the castle, got past Filch and got to the Shrieking Shack, going far past everything else and entering the rickety building.

None of them liked the idea of sleeping there with only their robes, but it was early in the school year and it hadn’t gotten terribly cold yet. Besides, they had warming spells should they need them-they all had their wands, after all.

They reached the Shrieking Shack and stayed there, going through the rooms, and finding a few close together where they could stay.

During the night, as they took the cloak off of them and sat down, minding the dust around them as they did, they prepared to wait for many hours.

They knew they’d need to get sleep soon. Because tomorrow, they would be waiting for hours and hours, and then, they would have to sneak back to the Slytherin common room fast, right around the time that they first time traveled.

Thankfully, Hermione had kept in mind when they first had time traveled.

They used cleaning spells on all of the furniture, properly cleaning the beds, chairs, floor and sofas, making the furniture safe enough to sleep on, and used the repair spell to repair much of the furniture, the furniture was as good as new or almost as good as new, and they settled in for the night.

Hermione placed the map down onto the table next to the couch she had selected to sleep on, and placed the folded up invisible cloak down on top of it, and placed her wand right onto the cloak…………and placed Tom Marvelo Riddle’s diary down onto the cloak, next to the wand, and laid down on the couch, getting ready to sleep.

Pansy and Astoria had selected the bed, Millicent the long sofa chair and Daphne the long loveseat across from the couch where Hermione was going to sleep.

They were trying to get to sleep, but several of them had just too many questions.

As demonstrated by Astoria who spoke out into the Shrieking Shack for her sister and friends to hear, “Why do you think…………Tom basically befriended you, Hermione?”

“Astoria!” Daphne hissed quietly, looking over in the dark worriedly at Hermione, worried her friend might be upset at her sister’s question.

Hermione sighed. She wasn’t upset with Astoria. She couldn’t be. This was Tom’s fault. Not any of her friends’.

Merlin, it was practically her own fault for letting Tom get as close to her as he had gotten. And Daphne had warned her.

“I don’t know,” Hermione confessed, staring into the dark at nothing, Astoria’s question honestly making the brunette think, “That’s the thing that is really puzzling. I don’t get it. Why befriend me instead of ordering someone to kill me? And if my name being in the goblet of fire, is actually meant to kill me, why not find a way of killing me earlier?”

Honestly, it just didn’t make sense to her.

What was Tom playing at?

For a moment, she thought about the diary that was still present, and on the cloak.

Hermione thought about it. Sure, she had come to the conclusion that Tom had taken his time, to earn Hermione’s trust. Sure, she understood that. But after earning her trust? Why hadn’t he done something sooner?

Surely, he understood that she had foolishly trusted him. Far more than she should have.

So, why not act on that sooner? Why wait till she was in her fourth year.

A thought then struck her as she asked, “Should we ask him? Tomorrow?”

She felt the room grow tense.

Then Millicent asked, “You mean, open up the diary and face him? Yes.”

Hermione almost laughed at Millicent’s willingness. The darkest wizard in history, and Millicent was ready to dive in.

“Yes,” Daphne agreed, her voice angry, “He owes us answers. And after what he’s been doing? I don’t care who he is, after what he did, he’s going to get a load of shit when we open that diary again.”

Again, Hermione had to stop herself from laughing.

Where the hell were these four, when the witch and wizarding world had been at war? What the Ministry of Magic would have been able to do with their bravery and conviction.

When she heard Pansy and Astoria both confirm that they too wanted to face Voldemort-Tom, she honestly wondered if the sorting hat had sorted her four friends wrong and wondered if they belonged in Gryffindor, instead.

But she chuckled and ignored that thought as she said, “Alright, tomorrow. We’ll open up the diary tomorrow and face him. Remember, no matter how beguiling he is, don’t forget for a second who he is.”

There were quiet confirmations around her as they slowly began to drift off to sleep.

Hermione in seconds, was back in that horrid prison. Surrounded by cold, gray walls, hearing wailing of people in other cells across the hall and in the next cells over. Hermione instantly looked down at the ground, searching for her other mate. She found the woman easily enough. The woman again had turned her head away and was hiding her left arm from view.

Hermione winced. Why did her mate always turn her face away? And conceal her arm?

A thought hit her then. Had someone scarred the woman’s face and arm? Was that why?

Hermione’s teeth clenched at the thought of someone-anyone harming either of her mates.

Hermione kneeled down as she spoke softly, “It’s okay. I don’t care what was done to you, you can show me your face. You’re beautiful.” She knew that what she said wouldn’t be able to convey what she wanted to convey.

That beauty wasn’t about physical looks, no matter what societies told people, that if her mate was scarred, it wasn’t a sign of ugliness, it was a sign of what her mate had survived.

How did she say it, without sounding condescending or without assuming to know what her mate was hiding and sounding rude and intrusive?

Hermione knew there were currently bigger things to worry about, when it came to her mate in this prison-like figuring out how to get her mate out of the prison.

But Hermione didn’t even know where this prison was.

Hermione sighed, reaching a hand out and tried to touch those dark curls of her mate’s long hair that was in knots and she assumed that before all this had been luscious. She tried to touch that hair to soothe her mate, but of course, like always, she couldn’t touch anything here.

Hermione nodded, pain clenching her heart. So, she did what she usually did when she saw her other mate. She began singing to her imprisoned mate, hoping to calm her mate down.

The song that she was singing, while you could argue, wasn’t a heartwarming song, since it was likely meant as a “cautionary story,” still had been soothing to her whenever her mother had sung it to her.

The song, she was certain had origins in the United States, but Jean Granger had heard the song from an American tourist who had been in Britain during Jean Granger’s time working with Cromwell, and Jean had sung it to Hermione at the labs when Hermione had a hard time getting to sleep, and would sing it to Hermione, after they escaped Cromwell and began to live where they were living now.

The song was called, “In the pines.”

Hermione began singing it to her mate, hoping it soothed the woman.

She watched, smiling, as she watched her mate’s tense shoulders relax, and heard a quiet sigh escape her mate.

Her mate might have been insecure, and in pain, but she was glad that she could bring her mate some happiness.

(But she’s still trapped in this prison,) Hermione thought to herself, her chest tight.

She would never want to put anyone in a cage.

She remembered what being treated like an animal felt like, well.

She had even felt a good deal of guilt about sending Peter Pettigrew to Azkaban.

Hermione nodded to her mate, after she had finished singing to her imprisoned mate. “I promise I’ll get you out,” she said, “I don’t know where you are. But no matter what prison you’re in? I swear I’ll get you out.”

Hermione awoke gasping, feeling that cold pain still lodged in her heart and feeling tears at the corners of her eyes.

Her mate was still trapped and she didn’t know how to find her mate or help her.

She heard movement around her and knew that her friends were waking up too.

Morning had come, light shining through the wooden framed windows of the Shrieking Shack, and the group had woken up, all of them needing to take a few moments to recall where they were.

Oh, right, they were in the Shrieking Shack, and they had time traveled to the day before. Hermione’s senses had gotten to her faster than the others had, but the others now realized where they were. And remembered that they needed to stay here and stay out of sight, until it was time for them to go back to the Slytherin common room, back to the exact time when they had first time traveled.

Hermione wiped the tears from her face and focused on getting ready for today. The group slowly got off of the places where they had slept, and went to where they had put the food they had grabbed from the Great Hall the day that they had traveled back to, and picked the food up from where they had wrapped them up in bags and had placed the spell on them to keep them protected from dust and pests, and began eating.

They’d need their strength.

After a couple of hours went by, when they ate the food, and drank some water.

When they were sure they had the strength they needed and still had food and water left, each of them turned to look at the diary on the table where Hermione had placed it the night before.

“Are we all sure about this?” Hermione asked cautiously, as she approached the table, almost expecting the diary to get up and open, the killing curse blasting out of it at her in response to her becoming aware of who Tom really was.

“You really need to ask?” Daphne said, and Hermione glanced at the other girl, half worried about being glared at, but noticed that all of Daphne’s ire was aimed only at the diary-at Tom.

Hermione nodded.

She supposed she understood.

Daphne felt not just betrayed but protective. Even before Hermione had figured out who Tom was and had told her friends, Daphne had been heavily distrusting of Tom.

To her, Tom was a stranger that was taking advantage of her friend’s trust.

And she hadn’t been wrong.

But it was so much worse than any of them had even thought.

Hermione nodded and walked to the table, taking a deep breath and picking up the diary.

Before she opened it, she said to her friends, not facing them, “Let me do the talking first, please? I should be the one to tell him that we know.”

She heard a few sighs, then heard Pansy say, “Alright, but don’t trust a thing he says, Mione.”

Hermione allowed herself a snort, “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll never trust a thing he says ever again.”

That? None of her friends needed to worry about, at least.

She took another breath, then opened up the diary, watching as the see-through form of Tom, of the deceiver who she had come to see as her brother, emerge from the diary’s pages.

Hermione sat down on the couch, and the others took that as their cue to do the same, as they watched Tom enter the room through the diary.

Tom’s floating form appeared before them and he looked around at the five stricken-faced girls around him.

Tom addressed Hermione first. “Hello, Hermione,” he said, smiling. When he noticed the stare Hermione was giving him, he lost his smile.

“Hermione?” He asked, frowning, “What’s wrong.”

Hermione stared at the apparition in front of her. His voice sounded so genuine. His features revealed no insidious quality.

Was this how Tom had gained followers in the past? By being this sincere? This plainly polite and beguiling persona of his? Was that what had attracted the Death Eaters to him, as well as his beliefs in “pure blood?”

“Tom,” Hermione said, as Tom looked at the other girls in the room, noticing how they were glaring at him condemningly, “We have to talk.”

Tom nodded. “I think I’m coming to that conclusion, yes,” he said, standing up straighter, “Have I done something to offend the five of you? If I have, I apologize. But please allow me to know what it is I’ve done.”

Hermione noticed that Pansy looked like she was about to answer, anger on the dark-haired girl’s face, but Hermione spoke up first, “Firstly, Tom, I need to ask something, if that’s alright?”

Tom eyed her, then nodded. “Of course, Hermione,” he said, “Go ahead. What’s the question?”

Hermione began her line of questioning carefully, “There’s something I have to know. What did you do soon after graduating from Hogwarts? What line of work did you go into?”

Tom frowned, clearly finding this question odd, but answered, “I didn’t. I decided that I would not conform to what the witch and wizarding world wanted. I would not conform to their limits. So, did what I wanted.”

Hermione nodded. “Okay,” she said, “And what was that, exactly? You would have graduated in the mid 1940s. It’s been fifty years. What has happened between then and now?”

Tom shrugged. “After losing my mate?” He said, “As I’m sure you can imagine? I was distraught. No one could console me. And I was angry. I kept to myself for the most part.”

“Did you?” Hermione asked, “I’m sure you wanted revenge.”

“Of course, I did,” Tom sighed, “But you know that. You know that I killed Ella’s parents to avenge her.”

“I know,” Hermione confessed, “But that wasn’t all you did, was it?”

Tom narrowed his eyebrows. “Hermione, where is this going?” He asked, unable to help the caution in his voice.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head, feeling her heart tear in two. The man that was so much like her? He had lost so much, had been through so much. They even had blood in common.

He was a half-blood, she as a muggle-born. And if they both were heirs of Slytherin? Then they were cousins.

And Tom had become closer than a cousin. He had become almost like Hermione’s brother.

That made this all the more painful.

Hermione fought the tears as she said quietly, “This is going to hurt me to say, Tom. You know that?”

At Tom’s tilted head and confused expression, Hermione finally said, “I know who you are. I know. I guess…………I guess it was foolish of me to think that Voldemort didn’t have a past. That he didn’t have a childhood. But I guess that’s what I thought. I guess I had told myself that someone as evil as Voldemort, didn’t have a backstory. He was just born evil.”

Hermione watched Tom and to her surprise, he didn’t look even remotely startled. He sucked in a breath and nodded, as if in resignation.

“I’ve never lied to you, Hermione. Well, not about the important things. A great deal I have told you, has been the truth.”

Daphne barked out a disgusted laugh, “You’re not even going to deny it?!”

Tom sighed, turning to Daphne and smiled, “Oh, Daphne, I think I have danced around this enough, don’t you think? Yes, I am Voldemort.”

Hermione felt a gasp leave her unconsciously and she heard her friends make similar sounds.

Yes, they all knew that Tom was Voldemort, sure, but to hear him outright admit it? To say his other name out loud?

It was a shock.

Tom slowly turned back to Hermione and said, that sad smile never leaving his face, “I do hope though, Hermione, that you never stop referring to me as ‘Tom.’ I hope you still understand that I consider you a friend and a sister, no matter what happens.”

Hermione snorted, shaking her head, feeling the tears becoming stronger, “You won’t be able to get out of this, Tom.”

“Get out of this?” Tom asked, “What’s there to get out of? You know who I am. There’s no way around that. But regardless of what you decide to do? I hope you never stop seeing me as your friend. Or your brother.”

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat as she choked out, “It’s difficult to see a mass murderer as a brother.”

“Oh, surely it’s not that hard,” Tom said, “We’re blood, aren’t we? Cousins. I'm sure you've realized that by now, since, I know you must know about my status as Slytherin's heir by now.”

Hermione snorted, “Blood means nothing.”

“Blood means everything,” Tom said, his voice strong now, the conviction in his voice as hard as steel, “Blood is what decides everything and blood is all that matters in a family.”

“Speaking of which,” Hermione said, staring at Tom, “What exactly happened to your father and uncle?”

Hermione’s words left no room for Tom to come up with the lie that he had come up with before. By this point, she was positive that the story that Tom had fed her before, had been a lie.

Tom chuckled finally, nodding. “Ah,” he said, “I see you caught on. No, my dear uncle Morfin did not kill my father. That was me. And I framed my disappointment of an uncle for it. I didn’t lie, though, when I told you the reason why I stole the family ring. I really did take it, because I wanted some sort of connection to my mother, who died giving birth to me, and who would have loved me.”

Hermione’s jaw clenched.

That was yet one more part of this that was so tragic.

Voldemort did not come from nowhere. He had been made. When Tom’s mother’s family had mistreated her and created the environment that they had for her and for Tom, which inevitably led Tom to turning to the dark arts and hatred as his answers for his loneliness and trauma, they had essentially made Voldemort into who he was.

If Tom’s mother had lived and had been allowed to keep and love her child, would Voldemort ever have come into existence?

Most likely not.

Tom had become Voldemort for a reason.

Not an excusable reason. But for a reason.

Hermione felt that clenching in her chest again.

What would have happened to her, had she grown up with what Cromwell had done to her, and had survived, yet didn’t have her mother’s love and support?

What would have happened if she had all the hate for Cromwell and people like him, in her heart, yet had none of the positivity of her mother’s support, affection, protection and love?

Would she have ended up just like Tom? Would she have become another Voldemort?

Would she have grown to become a dark witch, searching for people to blame and killing without remorse?

She wished she could say that she knew that the answer was ‘no,’ without question, but she just didn’t know.

For all she knew? She’d end up just like Tom. Hunting people down, murdering them and enjoying it, because it soothed some sort of twisted pain and loneliness inside of her.

Hermione then thought of her imprisoned mate, alone and desperately in need of help and love.

Yes. She realized that she would become like Tom, had she not been raised by Jean Granger. In a second. Especially if she knew that one of her mates was imprisoned and most likely being tortured. And it wouldn’t take anything for her to kill whoever was in her way.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, and she could feel the gasps around her as her friends stared at her, startled, “It must be so painful to live like this. Not having grown up with love. Having grown up without being given any compassion. Did no one at all try to help you?”

Tom shrugged as he said, “I suppose when Dumbledore tracked me down at the orphanage where I was, he thought he was helping, by telling me about Hogwarts and getting ready for me to enter Hogwarts when I was eleven.” He shook his head, “But an education only told me how to get what I wanted. It didn’t give me any of what you speak of. Ella did that. And you know how she was taken from me. By muggles.”

Hermione nodded, eyes clenching shut.

The worst part was? Tom was right.

All the pain that had been done to her? It had been done by Cromwell and his guards. Done by muggles.

And how had Tom’s mate died? By muggle hands. Yes, Tom’s pureblood family had abandoned him.

But the muggle world had been the world that had mistreated Tom for years during his time in the custody of muggles.

If the way Hermione and Tom had been treated was anything to go by? Even if one decided to ignore the rest of history, which Hermione refused to do, then muggles were just as bad as the witch and wizarding world-perhaps even worse.

After all, would the witch and wizarding world have become so vicious and concerned about the survival of “pure blood” if muggles hadn’t become so obsessed with wiping out witches and wizards over the centuries during the witch hunts?

Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at Tom sadly. She said, “You grew up during the period of the Holocaust and the World Wars. Of course, you think muggles are evil. I don’t blame you for thinking that.” She smiled sadly, “You might even be right. But I do blame you for the innocent blood you’ve spilled since becoming Voldemort. The Potters? What did they do? What did James and Lily Potter do? What did that baby, Harry, the baby you tried to kill, do?”

Tom paused, an odd look crossing his eyes, sadness, Hermione suspected, as he said, “Some deaths are necessary, even if they are painful to cause.”

“Necessary?!” Millicent spat, “Harry was a baby!”

“Yes,” Tom said, nodding, “But tell me, are any of you familiar with the prophecies in Department of Mysteries?”

Hermione froze, frowning. What did that have to do with anything? She suddenly felt like the conversation-chaotic as it was, just got derailed.

“What are you talking about?” Pansy asked, asking the question that Hermione currently was wondering silently.

Tom took a breath and said, “Apparently, there was a prophecy that said that there was a baby, who was born in July if 1980, a boy, and this boy would supposedly be the one who would kill me. That was what the prophecy said. And there were two candidates. One of course, was the Potters’ boy. The other? Neville Longbottom.”

Hermione’s eyes grew huge. Neville Longbottom could have been the one that was meant to kill Voldemort?

Firstly, Hermione honestly didn’t take prophecies seriously, like at all. Just hearing professor Trelawney spout her nonsense was bad enough.

So, she didn’t buy any of this. But this was still a surprise to hear.

“Neville?” Daphne asked, sounding stunned and she shook her head, “No way.”

Hermione glanced at the others, seeing their equally as startled expressions. She decided to dismiss it. It wasn’t that she doubted that Neville Longbottom could have grown to be a threat to Voldemort-even if Neville might be considered a lummox by most of Slytherin, a sentiment that Hermione didn’t share, it was that she doubted prophecies in general.

Still, Tom continued, “And I went after the Potters.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, looking to Tom, then, “Harry is half-blood. Neville is pureblood. Didn’t you see Neville as a potentially bigger threat?”

Tom chuckled, “You’d think that-I understand why you’d think that I’d think that. But for me…………it was more personal to target Harry. I knew he could be a bigger threat. I would know personally.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

She didn’t know if it had been intentional or not, but Tom had more or less just said he had respected Harry because Harry’s blood status, was similar to Tom’s own.

Had Voldemort gone after Harry instead of the pureblooded Neville, out of respect? Because he knew that children who were half-bloods could be a threat?

Because Tom knew personally, that a child being half-blood didn’t make that child any less a threat?

Another thought entered Hermione’s mind. Even if she thought of all prophecies as ludicrous, she knew that the Department of Mysteries, did indeed produce those prophecies-whether they were real or not could be debated from now, till the end of time. But it didn’t change that there was no way that Voldemort could have learned about the prophecy about himself, Neville and Harry, unless he had someone on the inside of the Department of Mysteries.

“Who told you about the prophecy?” Hermione asked, “There’s no way the Department of Mysteries would have happily told you, themselves.”

“No, as a matter of fact,” Tom confessed, nodding to her, “There was someone who told me about the prophecy. In fact, you know the Death Eater who told me about it, quite well.”

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows at Tom, curious.

Tom said, “Severus Snape.”

Hermione stared at Tom, almost getting the wind knocked out of her.

Snape? Snape had told Voldemort about the prophecy?

“Did……..,” Hermione hesitated as she said, “Did he know who you’d go after?”

Even if Snape hated Harry for being James Potter’s son, it didn’t change that Harry was still Lily’s son.

Surely, he wouldn’t have told Voldemort, if he thought that Lily or Harry would be in danger.

“Oh, yes,” Tom said, nodding, “He was the one that told me about the prophecy. He didn’t know that I was going to go after the Potters, before he told me about the prophecy. But when he found out who I meant to go after, do you know what he asked? He asked that I spare Lily Potter. He was fine with me murdering James Potter, her husband. And her son, baby Harry. Just as long as he got to reap the benefits. That being, hoping to become Lily’s new lover, when he had arranged her husband and son’s deaths.”

Hermione stared at Tom, feeling cold repulsion enter her blood.

How was it, that when there were people like Voldemort around, Snape somehow was even worse?

“That’s……………..,” Pansy said, shaking her head, “That’s horrid! How can anyone…………so, Snape was just going to go, ‘oh, I’m sorry your husband and your beloved son are both dead, and I’m not all that sorry that I had a hand in it, but I’m going to be your new husband now?’ What………….”

Hermione wasn’t going to believe this. Even if Snape was an utter git? There was no way he could have been that stupid.

“You’re lying,” she said, glaring at Tom, “You have to be lying. There’s no way that Snape would have done that to Lily. Even if he is still a Death Eater.”

“Oh, but he did,” Tom said, smiling that same sad, but yet, still sly smile, “For you see, I heard it with my own ears. He didn’t know that I was going after the Potters, when he first heard the prophecy from Trelawney, when she was spouting it to Dumbledore and Snape was listening in. And had he known? There is a strong possibility he might not have told me. But I think he would have. After all, what better an opportunity did he have to close in on Lily, than when I was going to target their home and kill Harry and even James? Which would give Snape a chance, in his eyes? I swear to you, Hermione, Snape, after he learned I was going after the Potters, begged me to leave Lily alive and only Lily alive. And of course, he was just asking, in hopes that he could claim her as his possession.”

Hermione felt her blood run cold.

A monster like that had been in front of her, in her potions classes for years. He had been around children for years.

What was more? Dumbledore had let him near children all this time.

“I’m going to kill him,” Hermione whispered, feeling what she was positive to be hate sparking in her blood, and you know, she wasn’t really sure who she meant when she said, “I’m going to kill him.”

Had she meant Snape or Dumbledore? Honestly, she wasn’t sure by this point.

She could feel Tom’s eyes on her, but her eyes were aimed at the floor in front of her, as she contemplated everything, and so, she didn’t see the grin on Tom’s face as he watched her.

Daphne, however, saw him grinning and a chill ran through her.

Again a thought ran through her mind. The thought was, (corruption, he’s trying to corrupt her.)

“You sick fuck,” Daphne growled, staring at Tom as he turned to her, “You want this. You want her to be like you.”

Hermione and the others glanced at Daphne, startled by her outburst.

But Tom didn’t deny it.

Today, apparently, was a day of honesty for him, it seemed.

“You are not wrong,” Tom confessed, as he turned back to Hermione, watching as she lifted her gaze to him, “I very much do want Hermione to be like me. But I don’t think I need to work very hard to do that.” He smiled as he said, “Hermione, I don’t know what happened to you in the world of the muggles, before you came to Hogwarts, but I know something awful happened to you. You and me, Hermione? We are so much alike. Aren’t we? You a muggle-born, me a half-blood, both of us have been horribly mistreated by muggles, both of us in Slytherin, both of us heirs of Slytherin, both of us Parselmouths. You know that muggles are vicious and horrid. You know this.” He stared down at Hermione, almost imploringly, “Join me. Become one of my generals.”

Hermione gaped. That was what this had all been about?! Tom had hoped that she would become a Death Eater?!

Clearly, everyone else felt the same way she did, because Astoria spat out in disbelief, “You’re mad!”

“You keep your mouth shut, Riddle!” Millicent snarled, “Hermione will never join you!”

“Off your rocker, Tom, I see,” Pansy sneered.

But Hermione spoke up, keeping her voice calm, trying to hide the disbelief that she felt, “You tried to kill me in my first year at Hogwarts. Twice. And the first time you tried to kill me, you almost killed Daphne too. Do you think I’ve forgotten the unicorn incident in our first year here?”

She still had nightmares about that night in the Forbidden Forest, when she and Daphne had seen a hooded figure float upwards from a dead unicorn, drained of its blood, and began walking towards her and Daphne, with silver blood on its teeth, the rest of the figure’s face not visible.

She had nightmares about the second time that Voldemort had tried to kill her, but not out of fear, but out of horror over having killed another human being.

That other time? She had killed Quirrell. She hadn’t had a choice, but it didn’t change that she still had nightmares about it.

“I did,” Tom confessed, “And I’m sorry for that. But things have changed. After you killed Quirrell in self-defense and left me without a body, I stayed in the diary and when Lucius found me, I ordered him to give my diary to you. I realized that the way I had been trying to handle you, wouldn’t work. So, I decided to get to know you. I masqueraded as an innocent young man who just had a tragic past. To gain your trust, to get to know my enemy. Or what I thought was my enemy.”

Tom chuckled as he stared at Hermione, continuing, “But as I learned? You weren’t just my enemy. You were something else too. I realized how much like me you were. I realized that we were kindred spirits, even if you won’t allow yourself to believe that. And I realized? Even before I discovered you were the other heir of Slytherin, that we were two of a kind. Become my general, Hermione. We can make the muggle world pay together for what they did to us and to the people we love. Join me, and together, we will keep the witch and wizarding world safe from muggles.”

Hermione stared at Tom, disbelieving still. She honestly couldn’t believe this. Tom really had some screws missing, didn’t he?

Unfortunately, in this, she realized she agreed with. Yes, they were alike. Kindred spirits, even if she didn’t want to accept that.

She said, staring coldly at Tom, “I don’t care about how much blood we share or if we have similar pasts and blood statuses. I will not join you. Besides, you think I would ever trust you to rule while I was a general and didn’t have a say about the people that I was trying to protect?”

Tom again didn’t take this as a rejection, apparently. He laughed as he said, “Of course not. You are ambitious. That’s why you’re in Slytherin. But I have no intention of you remaining only a general. Join me, and we will find your mate or mates, and you will obtain far more power than just that of a general,” he nodded to Pansy and Astoria and gestured to Millicent, then to Daphne, “And your friends will, as well. Join me.”

Hermione couldn’t hear this anymore, so, she slapped the diary shut, Tom disappearing from their view in seconds.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, staring down at the diary between her hands, now closed, “I just couldn’t listen to that madness anymore.”

“Don’t worry,” Pansy reassured Hermione, feeling honestly shaken up by Tom’s zeal herself, “I can’t say I blame you at all.”

“Let’s torch it,” Astoria said, getting up and grabbing her wand off of the table next to her, “Throw it onto the floor, I’ll burn it.”

Hermione looked up at Astoria, startled, but she saw the anger in Astoria’s eyes.

Astoria clearly was furious. For most likely several reasons. Because Tom had deceived them, because Hermione and the others all had believed him, because Tom was a mass murderer, because Tom had tried to get them to come to his side-the reasons for why Astoria was enraged right now, could be endless, if not all of them together.

But Astoria wanted to burn the diary.

Hermione looked down at the diary, chest hurting.

Tom, someone even if she knew it was a terrible thing to realize, was her brother. She still considered him that way, even after finding out that he was Voldemort.

She knew she didn’t want to burn the diary. But she knew she had to.

So, she dropped the diary to the ground, pain tearing her in two, as she thought to herself, (Goodbye, Tom.)

She knew she was saying goodbye to Tom, and not Voldemort. She was saying goodbye to the young man she thought she knew, and facing the mass murderer and fanatic he actually was.

Even his claims of not wanting to kill Hermione had to be false. Because why else would he have ordered her name to be put in the goblet of fire, along with Harry’s name?

The diary plopped onto the floor, and Astoria nodded, aiming her wand right at the diary and spat the spell out.

Fire shot out of the tip of the wand and shot right at the diary.

But the strangest thing happened.

The fire hit the diary, but was extinguished in seconds.

And the diary was untouched. There wasn’t even a scratch or scorch mark on it.

Hermione looked up at Astoria, startled. She watched as Astoria’s eyes widened.

Astoria used her spell again and again, another fireball shot out of her wand and hit the diary, but again? The flames went out in seconds and the diary was in no way damaged.

Hermione slowly stood up from where she had been sitting, staring down at the diary, her heart pounding dangerously fast.

What sort of dark magic had Tom used to make this diary?

Chapter Text

You’d think that the first few times blasting fire at the diary, would tell Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy, that they were fighting a losing battle with it.

But it hadn’t. They each took turns blasting fire at the diary.

But nothing happened.

At last, Hermione lifted herself up off of the couch and moved slowly to the diary, kneeling down and reaching out with hesitant hands, she picked the diary up.

“Mione, no-“ Pansy began, but Hermione grabbed the diary and gasped as she lifted it up.

It wasn’t even warm!

Hermione felt coldness seep to the bottom of her stomach.

She turned to her friends as she said, looking down at the leatherbound book in her hands, “It’s not warm. Not even a bit. How is this possible?”

Daphne stared at the diary, feeling cold. The diary, it was made by extremely dark magic. And she knew it. She didn’t have to read up on it to know. Daphne was certain that the diary had dangerous, deadly magic. But what was it?!

“There……………there have to be books about this, right?” Pansy asked, staring at the diary in Hermione’s hands.

Hermione nodded, staring down at the diary as well. She knew that there had to be. And if anyone was bright enough to be able to track that magic down and make use of it, it would have been Tom Riddle.

But Hermione had never heard of this sort of thing.

An object that was so dark that it couldn’t destroyed and literally carried a piece of someone’s soul?

A thought entered Hermione’s mind, but she wasn’t sure she trusted the thought. (Dumbledore would know,) was the thought.

If Dumbledore had known so much about Tom Riddle? Then maybe he knew about this too.

And from what Hermione had seen? Dumbledore cared about one person only. Dumbledore. Probably only cared about how he would look in public, knowing what he knew about Tom.

If he didn’t tell Hermione about what this diary was? Hermione could tell everyone that he had known about Voldemort being Tom Riddle all along. True, it was unlikely, deeply unlikely that anyone would believe her, a muggle-born Slytherin who had used the killing curse, and who people suspected of having put her name in the goblet, over Dumbledore, a famous headmaster at Hogwarts and a former Gryffindor.

Still, rumors spread fast, especially when they were negative rumors. What was more? Everyone loved a good conspiracy. The moment she so much as suggested that Tom Riddle was Voldemort and that Dumbledore knew? Reporters would be all over that.

And Dumbledore really wouldn’t like that, even better.

It was something to consider. Hermione looked back at her friends as she said, “We should get ready to go back to the castle. And……….I need to go back to stashing this away. I can’t let anyone get their hands on this. Not ever.”

Daphne, Pansy, Astoria and Millicent, all spooked, nodded and answered quietly.

Needless to say? All five of them were greatly disturbed by what they had just witnessed.

They couldn’t go back to the castle yet. They did and they’d be seen, and it was too early for when their past selves had gone back in time.

They would have to wait several more hours.

And they did just that. They waited. They ate food and water and discussed what to do about the diary. And how Hermione and Harry could survive the upcoming trials.

It was beginning to turn dark, and they knew it would be time to head back soon.

On half hour before it was time for them to go back, Hermione wandered outside, sighing and sitting down on one of the wooden steps, staring out at Hogwarts.

She wondered, how was it that no one had known about Tom. Literally no one had known that Voldemort was Tom Riddle, save for fucking Dumbledore. Even if Dumbledore had kept it a secret? How had no one known?

It was just so strange.

When it was time at last for them to go to the castle, they moved carefully. They collected everything, Hermione grabbed her wand, the map, the invisibility cloak and of course, Tom Riddle’s diary.

They snuck out of the Shrieking Shack. And kept moving.

When they reached the grounds of Hogwarts, they threw the invisibility cloak over themselves and began moving through the grounds, to the castle.

They entered through the doors carefully, slipping through the hall, the cloak allowing them to evade being seen by Filch and everyone else. They reached the Slytherin common room, and slipped inside, watching as their past selves got out of the common room and left, and they knew that their past selves were going to go to the Gryffindor common room, to get the invisibility cloak and map from Harry Potter.

As soon as all five past Hermione, past Daphne, past Millicent, past Astoria and past Pansy left the Slytherin common room and the doorway closed up, Hermione pulled the cloak off of herself and the other four.

They now stood in the Slytherin common room, almost caught up with the timeline.

“So, now what?” Pansy asked, looking at the doorway that had closed up where her past self and the others’ past selves had disappeared through.

“Now,” Hermione said, “We try to get to sleep and figure out what to do tomorrow. About everything.”

Because there was a lot they’d need to deal with. Tom Riddle’s diary. The trials. And what they were to do if Mad Eye Moody and Barty Crouch Jr. were indeed working together.

They had a lot that they were going to be dealing with tomorrow.

So, with a lot on their minds and a great deal of unsettling knowledge in their possession, they went to bed. Hermione placed the diary under her mattress and she and her friends got to sleep. Or got to sleep as well as they could with the knowledge they had.

That night, Hermione saw her other soulmate again.

Hermione felt the pain in her heart expand, tearing her. She knew how brutal the Triwizard tournament tasks were. If she died, who would rescue this woman?

Hermione softly sang to the woman, still wondering why this woman was not showing her face, wondering if someone had hurt the woman and the woman was fearful of Hermione’s rejection.

“I’ll get you out,” Hermione whispered to the woman whose face she hadn’t yet seen, “I swear, I’ll get you out. If not me, someone else will.”

Morning came. And Hermione and her friends got up, ready for the day.

Hermione was never going to let the diary out of her sight again, she could easily tell you that.

The five of them walked out, following the flow of the rest of the Slytherin students and mingled in with the rest. They had caught up with the timeline.

No one knew that they had been gone-or that they time traveled.

The next few hours, Hermione ignored all the stares and glares she received from the students in the other houses.

She had enough to worry about already, without being concerned about what other students thought of her.

She and the others kept their eye on the diary and on Dumbledore, but could do nothing else besides that.

It was not beneath Hermione’s notice, that Fleur stayed close by, whenever she caught sight of Hermione. And Hermione tried to ignore how her chest pulled with a longing ache whenever she was near Fleur.

Unfortunately, there was a journalist who was brought in, to interview all five champions.

A woman that Hermione took an immediate dislike to, named Rita Skeeter.

Hermione vaguely recalled a few of the woman’s articles.

Always embellished and overly poetic and emotional. Something never felt right about the woman’s articles.

Hermione ignored Rita’s attention to her and put a reassuring hand on Fleur’s arm gently, when she heard her soulmate growl at Rita, when the journalist got too close to Hermione. Hermione knew that Skeeter likely noticed those reactions; Fleur’s protectiveness and Hermione gently touching Fleur’s arm both, but she knew that she had needed to get Fleur under control, unless she wanted Fleur to kill Skeeter.

The next morning, Hermione was met with an unpleasant surprise. Multiple people had badges on their jackets that showed Harry Potter’s face twisting and becoming green, with the words, “Potter Stinks.”

She saw many of the other kids leering at her, but didn’t say a word against her. She had an idea as to why.

You didn’t want to piss off someone who you knew for a fact, had used the killing curse when she was only eleven years old.

Besides, if she was right about who had invented those badges? Then the person who had done it, didn’t want to bring any bad attention to his house, only to the Gryffindor house.

And Hermione suspected that she was right about her assumption, when she went past Malfoy and his thugs, Malfoy’s buddies standing around a tree and Malfoy perched in that very tree, Malfoy grinning victoriously at her as she went by him.

Her jaw clenched.

She had thanked Harry last night, when she had brought the invisibility cloak back to him.

He was a good guy and deserved way better.

What also hadn’t gone beneath her notice? Was that Harry’s supposed “friend,” Ron Weasley, had been avoiding him, since Harry’s name had been pulled from the goblet of fire.

Harry deserved a better friend.

And Hermione was proven correct about this, when she ran into Harry, and Harry asked her to come aside for a moment for him to speak to her. She nodded and followed him off to the side, in the courtyard.

Cedric and his friends were there, as well.

Cedric’s friends were hooting and laughing at Harry, but Harry got Cedric to get to the side, next to him and Hermione, and he told Hermione and Cedric both that he knew what the first task was.

And Hermione’s jaw almost dropped then.

Dragons.

The first task was dragons.

Hermione almost uttered the word, “Barbaric,” but didn’t.

But the truth was? It was, indeed, barbaric.

It was barbaric to hold creatures like dragons caged and throw them into a pit against human beings for no reason but entertainment.

And it was barbaric to expect literal students to face off against a literal fire-breathing dragon.

Not for the first time, Hermione had to wonder at how dated the laws were of the witch and wizarding world.

Hermione thanked Harry for this information, absolutely meaning it, as did Cedric.

When Harry walked away, Hermione saw Ron and Seamus approaching from one of the halls.

Harry went up to Ron and snapped, “You’re a foul git, you know that?”

“I think so,” Ron said, not appearing angry or off-putting to Harry, “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Harry snapped, “Stay away from me.”

Ron grumbled, “Fine,” and he and Seamus walked away.

Hermione sighed, as Harry walked off and from where Draco was seated, that was when he made his presence known to Harry.

Draco mouthed off, “My father and I have a bet! I don’t think you’ll last even ten minutes!”

He then jumped down from the tree as he said, grinning, “My father thinks differently. He doesn’t think you’ll even last five minutes.”

Hermione was ready to say something, when Harry acted. He walked forward and snapped, “I don’t give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy!”

Hermione’s eyes widened, not expecting such a reaction.

Harry then added, “He’s vile and cruel. And you’re pathetic.”

Harry then made the mistake of showing Malfoy his back and walking away, and Hermione pulled her wand out, already suspecting what was about to happen.

She again saw that she was correct, when Malfoy pulled his wand out and aimed it at Harry’s back, his face screaming of the type of entitlement that a spoiled brat would have, as he tried to hex Harry.

But it wasn’t Hermione that came to Harry’s rescue.

It was Mad Eye.

He hit Malfoy with a spell and Malfoy suddenly shifted and shrunk down, his flesh becoming white fur, and he became very small.

Hermione’s eyes widened again.

It was a ferret!

A very cute ferret. But a ferret, nonetheless.

Mad Eye came over, spitting out, “I’ll teach you to curse someone while their back is turned!”

Hermione stepped back and smirked at the sight of Malfoy being turned into a ferret. She couldn’t laugh as hard as everyone else, because she was almost positive that Mad Eye was working with Barty Crouch Jr., but it was still satisfying to see Malfoy like this.

Mad Eye began using his wand to lift Malfoy up off the ground and almost bounce him up and down in the air.

Professor McGonagall obviously had heard the commotion and came running.

She demanded to know what Mad Eye was doing, and Mad Eye responded, “Teaching.”

McGonagall took a moment to realize what was going on as she stammered, “Is that a-is that a student?!”

“Technically,” Mad Eye said, “It’s a ferret.”

And then Mad Eye stuffed the ferret down the front of Crabbe’s pants.

Okay, now Hermione was laughing.

She knew she shouldn’t be so amused by a potential Death Eater’s actions, but she couldn’t help it.

When Malfoy crawled out of Crabbe’s left pant leg, McGonagall aimed her wand at him and changed him back into his human form.

Malfoy, as soon as he saw Mad Eye, naturally, threatened him. He yelled, “My father will hear about this!”

Mad Eye lunged and snapped at Malfoy, scaring the boy and his friends away.

When McGonagall admonished Mad Eye, then strode away, Mad Eye did something odd and almost stuck his tongue out at her, then strode away, grumbling to Hermione and Harry as he did, “You two, follow me.”

Hermione and Harry looked at each other, startled, but followed, as was instructed.

They reached the man’s office, and Hermione checked around the room glancing at every corner, to see if another man was here somewhere.

She almost laughed at herself.

Just because she and her friends had seen Barty Crouch Jr.’s presence in this office, when they had looked at the map? Didn’t mean that he was still here. Barty Crouch Jr. could have left since last night. In fact, he probably did.

Speaking of the map? She had asked Harry last night if she could hold onto it, and he said that yes, she could.

Which caused her to almost reach for it, to check this room on the map, but didn’t.

Harry and Mad Eye both would wonder why. And while Hermione was close to trusting Harry, at least, somewhat, she most definitely didn’t trust Mad Eye.

Mad Eye sat down and removed his metal prosthetic leg. He explained that the glass he was in front of, was designed for him to see if anyone was sneaking up behind him.

That was when something in the room moved.

It was the large trunk in the room. It started jumping around and muffled screams of what Hermione suspected was a man, came from that trunk.

Hermione stared at the trunk, cautious, feeling her heart jump.

She felt Harry gasp and tense next to her.

“Oh, don’t ask what’s in that,” Mad Eye grunted, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Hermione turned back to the man, confused. Maybe Barty Crouch Jr. hadn’t left the room last night, at all.

But why would Mad Eye have placed Barty Crouch Jr. into this trunk and not tell anyone? Why hadn’t Barty Crouch Jr. been carted off back to Azkaban by now?

Mad Eye pulled out that flask she had seen him drink from before, uncork it, and tilt his head back, drinking again.

She suddenly felt her skin crawl with comprehension.

That was, of course, assuming that that was, in fact, Barty Crouch Jr. in the trunk.

She would have to look at the map again, as soon as this man left this office, to be absolutely sure of what she was thinking.

The thing was?

Hermione knew of a potion that could change someone’s shape, if only temporarily.

Polyjuice potion.

She had heard of it. It was a complicated brew to make. But not impossible.

What if it wasn’t Barty Crouch Jr. that was locked up in that trunk………………but Mad Eye Moody, himself?

Hermione shivered at the thought.

It couldn’t be, could it?

If that was the case, how had Barty Crouch Jr. done it?

The man that looked like Mad Eye Moody, pulled the flask from his lips, capped it and gestured for Hermione and Harry to come sit down in front of him.

They did. Hermione cautiously did a few moments after Harry did.

The man that Hermione was beginning to doubt the identity of, went on about how talented Cedric was, about how dangerous Fleur was-Hermione couldn’t help but feel that Fleur would find that to be a compliment, and about how smart Viktor’s instructor, Karkaroff, was, so, Hermione and Harry had to look to their strengths, as well.

Which led him to demand of the two students, what their strengths were.

Hermione actually found herself stumped. Well, she knew she was intelligent. And that she had a lot of power.

But raw power and smarts, wouldn’t do much when facing off against a dragon.

Hermione said this exact thing to him, and the man who looked like Mad Eye Moody said, “It’s still a mite better than nothin’. And it’s the right step.” He looked then at Harry.

Harry shrugged as he said that he was a good flier, but pointed out that the contestants weren’t allowed a broom.

“No,” the man that might not have been Mad Eye said, “But you’re allowed a wand.”

After a plan more or less had been created between the three of them, they all left the office, and only after she was out and Harry had walked away, did Hermione get behind a pillar, reach into her pocket and pull out the map, and open it up, as the man that looked like Mad Eye, left the office.

As soon as he did, Hermione looked at the map, looking right at the office she had just exited.

When she did, she felt her blood turn cold.

The footsteps she saw on the map, leaving the office, didn’t belong to a name that was “Mad Eye Moody.”

It belonged to a name that was “Barty Crouch Jr.”

Which meant that the man in the trunk, was in fact, Mad Eye Moody, and Barty Crouch Jr. was walking around Hogwarts’s halls, drinking Polyjuice potion that contained hair from Mad Eye Moody.

Hermione tore her eyes from the map and looked down the hall, seeing the broad-shouldered figure that Barty Crouch Jr. had made himself into.

Her heart hammered. A Death Eater was here.

Not one, not two, but three Death Eaters were in this castle.

Barty Crouch Jr., Igor Karkaroff and Severus Snape.

She knew that Dumbledore might try to swear in favor of. those other two, but Hermione wouldn’t hear of it.

Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.

She had to get Mad Eye out of that trunk.

But how?

When Hermione was sure that Barty Crouch Jr. was out of sight, she ran back into the office and pulled out her wand.

She said multiple spells, seeing them hit the lock of the trunk.

But nothing happened.

Clearly, whatever spell Barty Crouch Jr. had used on the trunk, designed the trunk to be sealed shut, no questions.

Hermione cursed quietly.

Dammit.

She needed to go tell her friends.

She rolled up the map and stuffed it and the wand into her pockets and ran from the room, seeking out the others.

When she met with Daphne, Astoria, Millicent and Pansy, she quickly got them aside, as crowds began to flock towards the arena where the quidditch matches were usually held, she told them everything she had learned.

She watched as the horror touched her friends’ faces.

“Oh, shit,” Millicent whispered.

“Yeah,” Hermione mumbled, “Shit is right.”

“What now?” Astoria asked, glancing at where Barty Crouch Jr. was standing, still appearing every bit as Mad Eye Moody.

“We can’t come up with a plan right now,” Hermione whispered, “Everyone is expecting the first task to take place. So, I need all of you to hold these things for me.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the diary and the map, handing them to Daphne and Pansy.

Seeing her friends’ shocked looks, Hermione said, smiling wryly, “If I don’t survive? Please try to find a way of destroying that diary. And find a way of freeing Mad Eye. And tell Barty Crouch Sr. that Mad Eye Moody has been locked away. And if anything happens to me? Please get my other mate out of wherever she’s been locked up. Find her and save her, please.”

Hermione didn’t trust Dumbledore, but it was very likely that a man ruthless enough to lock away his own son, would act swiftly, if he knew that very son was back and was pretending to be a teacher at Hogwarts.

And she knew that her friends would try to find her other mate. She had told her friends about her other mate recently, and trusted that they would find the woman and free her, should Hermione die today.

She added, looking to Daphne, then to Astoria, “And find your soulmates, Chloe and Noah. They’re good people.”

Hermione tried not to fall apart at the pained expressions on her friends’ faces, as they knew what she was going to be facing soon.

She had told them, on top of everything else, that there were dragons that were the first task.

They knew that she was going to be facing a dragon.

Astoria whimpered, lunging forward and hugged Hermione. Hermione sighed, sinking into her friend’s embrace.

She let out a startled gasp, when she felt her other friends close in on her and hug her tightly too.

Her eyes closed, trying to keep her emotions at bay. She needed to focus.

Barty Crouch Jr., when he had put her and Harry’s names into the goblet, he had done it to get them killed.

Although, she had to wonder that if that was indeed the case, why he was helping them now?

She didn’t know, but for whatever reason it was, it couldn’t be good.

Either way? She and Harry would be in serious danger, even after surviving the tasks.

They would have to be cautious the whole way.

Hermione unwound her arms around Astoria and Pansy as she felt her friends step back, all of them with tearful expressions on their faces.

Hermione tried not to feel her pain rising up.

This wasn’t the first time her friends had hugged her, as if afraid of never seeing her again.

When she had gone through the fire to get to the sorcerer’s stone, in her first year, and her friends had hugged her tightly, after she had drunk the potion designed to let her through the fire, hugging her, as if they had been afraid that it would be the last time they’d ever see her.

It would be a dragon that would make all five of them certain that one of them was going to die.

“Please don’t die,” Daphne said quietly.

Hermione though of chuckling, “I’ll do my best,” but didn’t. Right now, joking around probably wasn’t the right thing.

“We’ll be okay,” Hermione said to them, “We’ll be okay.”

Hermione was trying to tell herself that, too. But she wasn’t sure she could believe it. And she could tell from the expressions on her friends’ faces, that they weren’t sure they believed it, either.

Hermione moved towards where the champions were expected to be, joining Viktor, Fleur, Cedric and Harry in their tent.

She was escorted to an alcove of the tent, where she could change into the outfit made for one of the Triwizard champions. An outfit not dissimilar from a quidditch outfit, minus the cape, only in her Slytherin colors, silver and green.

She was given a black and yellow jacket, similar to the ones given to Cedric and Harry, but not given to Fleur or Viktor.

Hermione sat down by the table where Harry was seated, able to tell he was nervous.

“Ready?” She asked.

Harry snorted, “Are you?”

“No,” Hermione confessed, chuckling sadly. She watched Fleur, noting that the older girl was pacing, and occasionally glancing at the brunette, keeping Hermione in her sight while she could.

Hermione had told Fleur about the dragons. So, hopefully, Fleur had a plan for her respective dragon.

Hermione knew it was risky parting with the diary that held a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul in it.

But if she trusted anyone with that diary? It was Daphne and the others.

Barty Crouch Sr. came in and pulled out a small sack, having each champion reach inside and withdraw a miniature of the dragon they were to be fighting.

Viktor pulled out a Chinese fireball dragon.

Cedric pulled out a Swedish short-snout.

Fleur pulled out a common Welsh green dragon.

And Harry pulled out a Hungarian horntail.

When it was Hermione’s turn, she reached in, figuring that the horntail and the fireball were far more fierce than whatever she would be pulling out, so she felt less fear than before, and pulled the miniature out.

What lay in her right palm, made her heart still.

Because again, here was another impossibility.

She thought they were almost extinct.

She didn’t even need to hear Barty Crouch Sr. say it. She knew what she was holding in her hand.

A heartstring from a dragon like this, lay within the confines of her wand.

Originating in Mexico, this was the Obsidian’s Flame Dragon.

And it was the dragon that Hermione was to fight in the first task of the Triwizard tournament.

Chapter Text

Hermione had almost been hesitant to part with the miniature of the Obsidian’s Flame Dragon.

Yet, she had.

And through her shock, she waited as the first trial had played out.

Viktor Krum went out first.

Then Fleur Delacour, who gave Hermione a soft and reassuring smile, as Hermione watched her go. Fleur said quietly, “Do not fear, mon cheri, I will return to you in one piece.”

Hermione tried to feel comforted by that, but couldn’t-too much dread had enveloped her, already.

It didn’t help that after the first task was over, none of the remaining champions, were to know what became of the previous champions, until after the first task had been completed by everyone.

Then Cedric Diggory went out.

Then Harry Potter did.

Hermione wished him good luck, and he wished the same to her as he left.

Finally, it was her turn.

She knew that Fleur was still alive, at least, because not an inch of her soulmate mark had faded yet.

She had heard that when someone had more than one soulmate, rare as such a thing was, and when one of those soulmates died, half of the soulmate mark on a person would remain, but the other half would fade.

Besides, Hermione didn’t feel anything close to the pain or loss that Tom had described to her, after his soulmate had been killed.

Thinking about Tom again, Hermione felt her chest go tight.

She had accepted that Tom was Voldemort, and that she would have to destroy the diary. But that didn’t change that she still cared about him. Cared about one of the darkest wizards in history.

She knew she had to get rid of him. She had to get him out of her life.

But it didn’t change that she knew that to an extent? He had been right-that she was like him, in more ways than she’d like to admit.

Had she not had her mother’s support and love? And had lived with the knowledge of just how brutal muggles were? Knowing what Cromwell and his cronies did, knowing how cruel muggles were throughout history?

Could she really say for certain, that she would have turned out better than Tom?

No, she couldn’t. And that was the problem.

With her troubled thoughts, she almost jumped when she heard the trumpets being blasted again.

It was her turn up next.

She was to face the Obsidian’s Flame Dragon.

She got up from where she had been sitting, taking a deep breath.

And she walked out of the tent, towards the arena.

She heard the shouting and cheering, and knew that her friends would be amongst those watching and waiting.

She hoped she didn’t scare them too much.

She had an idea of what she was about to do, but she knew that it was a gamble.

One of the spells she had perfected in her very first year, had been the “windgardium leviosa,” spell, and she was very glad that she had-a blasted troll had tried to kill her, Daphne, Astoria and Pansy in their first year, after all.

But would what she was planning on doing work, especially given what she was planning on levitating, could shoot fire out of its maw?

She planned to raise the dragon far above the arena, away from everyone within the arena, keeping the fire far from everyone within the arena. The dragon would drop down hard onto the ground, after she grabbed up the egg and left with it.

She didn’t want it to get hurt, any more than she wanted anyone else to get hurt, but she knew that she would have to survive, when she thought of her friends’ reactions, should she die.

And the thing that made the decision for her, even without thinking about her friends, was thinking of her mother, learning of her adoptive daughter’s death.

Thinking on how much it would destroy her mother, to learn of Hermione’s death.

Hermione’s stomach fell at that thought. She couldn’t let her mother suffer that. Under any circumstances.

She would have to survive, and that was even without the thought of what would happen, should she die and the diary that held a part of Tom’s soul, wasn’t destroyed.

So, she resigned herself on what she would have to do.

The thought was to levitate the Obsidian’s Flame dragon far up above the arena, and have it come crashing down, when she had the golden egg in her possession.

Still, there was the question as to what was to become of the dragon after she had the golden egg.

She hoped that she wouldn’t end up killing it.

As she emerged into the arena, hearing the cheering, shivering as she saw the dragon that she admired, just beyond the patch of rocks where the golden egg lay.

It was larger than she thought it would be. Yes, obviously, the dragon that she had held in her palm had been a miniature version, but even without that miniature version, Hermione admittedly had thought the dragon to be smaller than this.

Its feathers and scales were all black.

Yes, feathers. Unlike many other dragon species, most of the dragons in Mexico had feathers, as well as scales.

Most of them were more colorful than this dragon was. This dragon was entirely black.

The horns were immense. The wingspan was startlingly large for the dragon. The eyes were red. The snout long and feathered too.

The dragon was beautiful. Simply beautiful.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she took the creature in.

It eyed her with understandable suspicion.

Hermione pulled her wand out, as the cheering erupted louder.

She didn’t want to hurt the dragon, but she knew she might have to.

She hoped that the dragon would be okay afterwards, and that it could forgive her.

She seriously doubted that the dragon would understand her, when she spoke next, but she still wished to comfort the dragon, even if it was with just a soft voice that the dragon didn’t understand the words of, “I’m sorry. You’re beautiful, dragon. Truly, you are. Magnificent. But I need to defeat you, hope you can understand. For the sake of my loved ones.”

The dragon tilted its head slightly, and eyed her.

She then noticed something-the crowds were quieting down. Everyone was staring at her now.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, not sure what this was about, but okay.

She aimed the wand and was about to use the windgardium leviosa spell, when the dragon opened its mouth, and it spoke.

Hermione’s heart stopped, hearing the dragon speak.

It said, its voice very deep and low, “You wish to take what is mine, child? This is my treasure. Mine. What will you do with it?”

Hermione stared at the dragon, feeling her blood leave her.

It couldn’t be…………

No…………dragons were too distantly related to snakes for this to be the case. This couldn’t be what was going on here.

“I…………,” Hermione started, swallowing, not quite comprehending what she was witnessing, “This will help me finish the tasks. And it’s important that I do. The fate of the witch and wizarding world is in danger, if I’m right about why I need to finish the tasks.”

The dragon lifted its head back and made a sound that caused Hermione to shiver, and caused several in the audience to jump and it struck Hermione, that this was perhaps the dragon’s version of a laugh.

The dragon peered back down at Hermione as it said, “And what do we dragons care for the witch and wizarding world, child? Your species has enslaved our kind for centuries. Abused us, tortured us, chained us.”

Hermione winced. Well, this dragon had a point.

What did the magical species that were not humans, owe witches and wizards? Nothing.

Witches and wizards had oppressed dragons, elves, werewolves and centaurs for centuries.

They were within every right to distrust and hate the witches and wizards throughout the entire world.

“I have a proposition,” Hermione said, “I can either use my magic on you, or you can let me get the golden egg, and after this first task is over, I find a way of freeing you and the other dragons from your cages, and you can fly for it.”

Hermione meant every word of her suggestion.

She knew that it would make many people flip their lids, but she knew she would have to do it.

She knew how to do some wandless magic. She had been practicing.

So, she could open up the locks of the dragons’ cages, and let the dragons out, without people knowing that it was her.

She already thought of the Ministry of Magic’s treatment of magical creatures to be barbaric.

And she knew what it was like to be locked up, shuttered away and treated like she was inferior.

She wouldn’t wish that on any living creature, even if she was capable of hating living creatures that had been death eaters.

So, yes, she intended to free all the dragons from their prison, after this, regardless of how many of them still lived.

The dragon eyed her, then made a snorting sound, “So be it, child. But I have no faith in your promises. You are a witch. All witches and wizards are liars.”

Hermione’s stomach fell at the dragon’s pessimism, but lowered her wand and cautiously stalked across the arena, towards the golden egg.

It was not beneath her notice, that everyone was watching her, silent and shocked.

She cursed mentally when she saw her friends in the audience, and saw their expressions of “oh, shit.”

Dammit.

She definitely had been speaking parselmouth.

But again, how? How had the dragon understood her? How had she understood the dragon?

Dragons were not snakes.

Yet somehow, she understood what the dragon had said, and the dragon understood her.

And now? Everyone knew that she spoke parselmouth or parseltongue, whatever it was called.

Hermione mentally cursed again.

Great.

She would deal with it, when she would deal with it.

She went up to the golden egg, occasionally glancing nervously at the dragon, seeing that the dragon kept its crimson gaze on her, and she kneeled down, scooped up the egg, and began to walk away from the dragon.

And the dragon allowed this.

As Hermione neared the entrance of the hallway, leading back to the tent, she heard whispers all around her.

The words that she picked up were, “heir,” “Slytherin,” and two words that were spoken, that Hermione caught, that made her blood run cold, “dark witch.”

Shit. Shit had officially hit the fan, for her.

When at last, Hermione was reunited with her friends and everyone else, came to see her, she could see the genuine shock of everyone.

The rest of the Slytherins stared at Hermione with a mixture of confusion, awe, fear and new respect.

Even Draco was now looking at her, as if he suddenly was afraid that he had offended a queen of some sort.

Hermione felt her stomach become tight. She didn’t like these expressions.

The Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, on the other hand, all, save for Cedric, Neville, Luna and Harry, looked at her with fear.

Ronald Weasley was staring at her with pure revulsion. He mumbled under his breath, though he was close enough for Hermione to hear, “The heir of Slytherin? A muggle-born? Bloody unbelievable.”

The teachers were now watching her warily. Severus Snape was staring at her as if he was trying to figure out what species of predator she was.

Besides Harry and Cedric, who just appeared confused, Viktor was looking at her oddly, as well.

Fleur’s fellow veelas, including her sister, were now looking at Hermione with not just respect, but almost affection.

Fleur herself, smiled sadly at Hermione, and that protectiveness that had been there since the moment that Fleur had looked at Hermione, was only increased.

Hermione’s friends came bounding over, each of them hugging Hermione fiercely.

“Oh, Hermione,” Daphne whispered, stepping back, her expression one of deep fear for her friend.

“I know, I know,” Hermione confessed, as she stepped back from her friends, “I had no idea that I could communicate with dragons. I didn’t plan that, I swear.”

“It’s alright,” Pansy whispered, looking around at everyone who was staring and whispering, “We know.”

Hermione asked, though she knew that she had other things to worry about right now, “What happened to the other dragons?”

“Aside from the horntail?” Astoria asked, “Nothing. The horntail fell from Gryffindor Tower, while chasing after Harry on his broom. Then after it fell and Harry got the golden egg, the horntail flew back up from the abyss and flew away.”

Hermione nodded, slightly relieved.

Alright, well, that excluded at least one dragon from the equation.

“And the others?” She asked.

“The dragon that Fleur faced is still sleeping,” Astoria further explained, “She knocked it unconscious with her spell. The one that Cedric faced was distracted by Cedric turning a rock into a dog. And the one that Viktor faced, I think is still recovering from that temporary blindness spell that Viktor used on it.”

Hermione nodded again.

Okay, four dragons to free. And it would take her a while, since one of them was still asleep, and another was still recovering from temporary blindness.

At least the horntail was loose now.

The…….authorities approached her, watching her with grave suspicion. Well, all of them, save for Dumbledore.

He was staring at Hermione in a way that she didn’t like.

As if he had been expecting this.

“Congratulations, Ms. Granger,” Barty Crouch Senior said, staring at her, his face deathly pale, “You have passed the first task with flying colors.”

Hermione quietly thanked him, nodding to him.

She knew what he was thinking. She didn’t need to be a more experienced a legilimens, to know what he was thinking.

He was afraid of her.

She quickly said, “Thank you for that, Crouch. I didn’t cheat, just to let you know. I was going to use the windgardium spell on the dragon, but I wanted to speak softly to it, to soothe it. I didn’t know that it would understand me. I didn’t realize that I was speaking in parseltongue.”

“Ms. Granger,” Snape said, eyeing her, “You’ve known this for some time now?”

“Only recently,” Hermione lied, “And my friends don’t know. They’ve never known.”

She quickly shot an expression at her friends that said, (please, I’m begging you, keep your mouths shut.)

Thankfully, her friends stayed quiet.

“How did you get the dragon to let you get the egg?” Dumbledore asked, keeping his voice calm.

Hermione shrugged as she lied, “I explained that the egg was nothing. That it was just a piece of metal that wasn’t really valuable. I mean, it’s not even real gold, right?”

“No, it’s not,” Crouch confessed, still staring at Hermione, not moving.

“Well, there you go,” Hermione elaborated, “I explained that the dragon was wasting its time and energy, guarding a useless but nice-looking object, and that it could be relieved of its services and be allowed to be unbothered by me, after I took the egg.”

It was an absurd lie, but it seemed to work.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said, “So, all of the contestants passed. With you, Harry Potter and Viktor Krum tied for first place.”

There were whispers around Hermione and the rest of them about “cheating,” but thankfully, those whispers were ignored.

Hermione said, “Well, there’s something you should be concerned about. It’s about Mad Eye Moody. Or the man pretending to be him, anyway.”

Hermione’s gaze found Barty Crouch Junior, who looked like Mad Eye Moody, and who had been looking at her, since she had gotten the golden egg from the Obsidian’s Flame Dragon, with an expression of borderline awe.

Though, now?

Now, he was backing away, hand gripping his cane.

Dumbledore and McGonagall both turned to look at the man pretending to be Mad Eye.

“Who-?” McGonagall started, but Hermione gave the answer.

“It’s Barty Crouch Junior!” Hermione responded, not allowing anyone an inch of ignorance, “I saw him drink Polyjuice potion and change into Mad Eye! He has Mad Eye locked away in a trunk in his office!”

Hermione watched as Barty Crouch Senior absorbed this.

He honestly looked like he was about to pass out now, hearing this.

There were gasps and cries all over the place.

“That is a serious accusation, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said, staring at the girl as if she thought Hermione was the biggest threat to this school.

“Don’t believe me?” Hermione asked, “Watch him. Polyjuice potion wears off between ten minutes and twelve hours. Watch him and see if he changes shape and appearance at all. If not, then you know I’m lying. But if he does? Then you have a death eater in your midst.”

She wasn’t going to get into the fact that there were already two other death eaters under the roof of Hogwarts, with Snape and Karkaroff being here. No need to get into that.

Dumbledore seemed to decide that this was reasonable and turned to the imposter, and as the man pretending to be Mad Eye, pulled his wand out, Dumbledore and McGonagall acted faster.

They whipped their wands out and flicked the wand from the imposter’s hand.

Barty Crouch Senior turned to stare at the imposter, his expression dead, almost like he had already been killed, even before the imposter could have used the killing curse.

“Is it you?” Barty Crouch Senior all but whispered to the imposter.

It seemed that while Barty Crouch Junior had the wherewithal to pretend to be someone he was not, he didn’t know how to maintain the façade, when his chicanery had been called out.

Though the Polyjuice potion had in no way worn off, the look that the imposter was now giving Barty Crouch Senior, was one of pure hate.

The imposter spat, “Act like such the hero of the ministry, Crouch? We’ll see what you do to any of these youths, the moment they commit some action that you decide is worthy of being sent to Azkaban. See how much the youth can trust you then.”

Hermione felt her friends relaxing and snickering.

While there was no counter-spell to the Polyjuice potion, the potion would wear off, eventually.

And Barty Crouch Junior having pulled out Mad Eye Moody’s wand, certainly hadn’t helped his case.

“You will come with us to the of the Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore said to the imposter, “If Mad Eye Moody is in fact, locked away there, we will find him. McGonagall, Crouch Senior, with me. Severus, stay with everyone else, for now.”

Severus nodded, and all three Dumbledore, McGonagall and Barty Crouch Senior, moved the imposter out of the Great Hall and back towards the office that was the office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts.

When all four figures were out of sight, everyone went back to staring at Hermione, shocked.

Hermione sighed.

Well, this really had all escalated, hadn’t it? And all because she had opened her big, fat, smart mouth, too.

Then Hermione caught sight of someone she had desperately hoped wouldn’t have seen or heard her in the arena, but would have had to, if she wanted a whole story.

Rita Skeeter, who was currently staring at Hermione as if she considered the girl the biggest, juiciest story she had ever come across, who was grinning and writing away madly.

Again, Hermione cursed mentally, even as Pansy and Millicent both laid comforting hands on her shoulders.

What was worse? Fleur and her friends and sister were all still looking at her with affection, that they considered her even more one of them now, than before.

And Karkaroff and Snape were eyeing her with fear yes-but fear, and also, possibly respect.

And that to Hermione, at the moment, somehow was even worse than if the two former death eaters had outright called her “mudblood” to her face.

In the office that was the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, the imposter pretending to be Mad Eye Moody, was escorted to the room by his three captors, and forced to sit down next to the trunk he had in his room.

“Keep your wand on him, professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore instructed, and turned to the trunk, blasting it open.

He peered inside.

Sure enough, there was a familiar looking figure down at the bottom of the cavernous trunk, bound up, but not gagged.

Dumbledore recognized Mad Eye Moody’s voice as the Auror snapped, “Get me the bloody fuck out of here, Dumbledore! Where is that cowardly death eater?! Barty Crouch Junior, I’ll have his guts for garters!”

Dumbledore would have chuckled, if the situation were any different.

He turned to Barty Crouch Senior and saw the comprehension on the other man’s face, and Barty Crouch Senior slowly turned to the imposter.

The imposter, whose disguise had not yet faded, sneered out, “Hello, father,” and he licked the side of his mouth, a characteristic action that anyone who had met Barty Crouch Junior so much as once, would have recognized.

Dumbledore sighed, “We’ll get you out, Moody. Barty Crouch Senior, send for the Aurors to bring Barty Crouch Junior back to his cell at Azkaban.”

Barty Crouch Senior nodded.

Dumbledore then added, “And the Triwizard tournament?”

“I will discuss it with Cornelius Fudge,” Barty Crouch Senior said, his voice sounding brittle, as he turned away from his deranged son, “But it’s very likely that despite this horror, Fudge will insist on the Triwizard tournament continuing. If only for the sake of appearance.”

Dumbledore nodded, not surprised.

If it was shown at all that there was anything “out of the usual” happening, Fudge would consider that a sign of weakness.

And Dumbledore knew how Fudge was. He knew.

So, the Triwizard tournament would continue. Death eater caught here or no. If anything, with Barty Crouch Junior caught, it would be assumed that since the culprit that had placed Harry Potter and Hermione Granger’s names into the goblet had been caught, and would be sent to Azkaban, then everything was fine.

But Dumbledore knew that wasn’t the case.

And this newest development, if anything, told Dumbledore that he had been right about Hermione all along.

She was going to be very valuable in the coming conflict.

Or…………..the greatest danger.

Chapter Text

Dumbledore shuttered Barty Crouch Jr. away into a room, where McGonagall, Snape and other teachers held him at bay.

Dumbledore didn’t need to read Hermione’s mind to know that she would not have felt comfortable learning that Snape, a former Death Eater, was guarding a current Death Eater.

Dumbledore didn’t doubt that by now, Hermione knew of Snape’s former affiliation.

Her paranoia would be a problem. But Barty Crouch Jr. would not be soon. Dumbledore had a suspicion, though.

How had Barty Crouch Jr. escaped? Barty Crouch Jr.’s mother had died recently. And soon after she had, Barty Crouch Jr. had just happened to escape?

No, the Death Eater had had help. But from who? Well, from who else? Dumbledore knew that Barty Crouch Senior had been cold and unfeeling when he had locked his son away, but his wife had not been.

Which led him to one conclusion about who had helped Barty Crouch Jr. escape, after the Death Eater’s mother had died.

As McGonagall, Snape and the other teachers held Barty Crouch Jr. at bay, Dumbledore faced Barty Crouch Senior and said in a sad voice, “I’m afraid that there will be an inquiry as to how your son escaped. And I’m afraid that there will be no help for the one that helped him escape.”

Dumbledore watched as Barty Crouch Senior’s face paled considerably, and pity filled the older wizard’s heart.

Barty Crouch Senior had done everything out of love for his wife, after his wife’s death.

But there was no help for that now.

Dumbledore moved past the other wizard and walked past the hall, where young Ms. Granger’s friends were surrounding her protectively, and where Harry, Viktor and Cedric were watching in confusion, and other children were gossiping, Rita Skeeter with a scandalized expression on her face as her quill went to work, and Ms. Delacour was standing near Ms. Granger protectively.

Things were beginning to become……..somewhat clearer to Dumbledore.

Everything in life was a choice.

And Ms. Granger? She was going to have to make a very serious one.

That was, if Dumbledore was right about who she was destined to be.

Harry? Dumbledore knew what would have to happen to him, and it tore his heart. In the end, Harry would have to die.

Dumbledore would need to speak to Snape, for Snape would need to be a part of this.

But Harry Potter would need to die, to end Voldemort.

But the decision Hermione was destined to make? That would be after Voldemort’s time.

He went to the cabinet that held a good portion of his memories, pulled his wand out, and removed the most recent memory of learning that Hermione was a parseltongue, and placed it into the vial, placing it into the shelf.

Ten years ago:

Dumbledore stood witness as the new round of prophecies were produced. Prophecies were rare, despite how many stood in the shelves in the Department of Mysteries. Those prophecies had been produced over the course of centuries and centuries.

So, yes, prophecies were rare.

And some less important than others.

Some were so insignificant, that they’d just prophesize if someone was going to work the next morning or not.

But some? Predicted catastrophic events.

A new prophecy was produced and held in its small, glass orb.

Dumbledore was present, as were very few staff of the Department.

And the new prophecy formed. It would not be able to be removed by anyone who was not in the prophecy, but Dumbledore heard the seers speaking, nonetheless.

The seers surrounding the prophecy spoke, their heads tilted back in their black hoods as they announced, “A dark witch will rise, an heir of Slytherin. She will reach her twenty-third birthday, and the siege against those in power now, will begin. The old guard will fall, no lion or raven or badger or serpent will be able to challenge her reign. Her army will take hold of every branch of power. Her brides; the veela and the former servant of the dark wizard that the dark witch will depose, will rule. The young lieutenants will control the branches of government and all who served the old guard will lie in ruin!”

The seers collapsed as the magic filled the orb that was the new prophecy and several concerned staff members brought the prophecy to its respective shelf.

No name was announced in the prophecy. And the prophecy was kept secret by any who witnessed it, for years.

Present day:

Dumbledore had kept that prophecy in the back of his mind, though he had never spoken of it ever.

He was certain he knew now who the dark witch was, who was to eventually replace Voldemort.

No, Voldemort’s name had never been announced in that prophecy, nor had his former name been mentioned, but what other dark wizard could the prophecy had been speaking of?

And even before Dumbledore had heard Hermione use parseltongue when speaking to the dragon she had faced? He had suspected who she was.

He had suspected it, the moment he learned that she had secreted the Sorcerer’s Stone away.

A witch or wizard wouldn’t do such a thing, unless? Unless they were planning on using that stone for something drastic. Something big.

And Hermione? If Dumbledore was right about her, hadn’t been planning on using that stone for only personal gain.

She had been hoping to share the immortality with others.

Those weren’t the actions of some lowly thief or con artist.

Those were the actions of a potential idealistic leader.

And idealistic leaders could do great things. But perhaps terrible things, as well.

If Hermione was who Dumbledore suspected she would be………..

He knew that this was all a gamble. All a risk. If Hermione could be swayed from the path she was supposedly destined to go down? She could be the greatest ally that the magical world could have against dark wizards like Voldemort.

Then there was the mention of the “brides” of this dark witch. Dumbledore was certain already that the veela mentioned in the prophecy was Ms. Fleur Delacour. But who was the other?

The prophecy had mentioned the former servant of a dark wizard.

If Dumbledore was right? Then that left only a few options. There had been very few women Death Eaters. Very few women in the horde of those that had served Voldemort closely.

There were three particular options that Dumbledore could think of.

He had to wonder if the dreams had started for Hermione yet. The soulmate dreams. Because if they had?

Then Hermione was likely hiding who her other soulmate was, if Dumbledore was right, that was, and Hermione was afraid of anyone finding out.

There were three options as far as Dumbledore knew, of who the other “bride” could be, and if he was right about who Hermione was destined to be, then that other “bride” was Hermione’s other soulmate. Unfortunately, he had only one memory of one of these individuals that he could share with Hermione, and she could decide on what to do with that information. For all he knew? The memory wasn’t even of Hermione’s other soulmate. He might have the wrong guess about who her other soulmate was. But he would try to steer Hermione’s focus onto that memory, see what happened.

He made his way back towards the crowds of gabbing people, and his eyes found young Malfoy, who was staring at Hermione along with everyone else, as if he didn’t know who Hermione was.

There was another prophecy that Dumbledore had learned of. One that had been developed soon after the prophecy that had mentioned the dark witch destined to kill Voldemort-or the wizard who was most likely Voldemort.

Dumbledore had witnessed this prophecy too.

A young member of the Malfoy line, who was male, was to be one of the lieutenants of this dark witch.

The young Malfoy man had never been named, but Dumbledore had a suspicion who the servant was that bore the Malfoy name, just as he suspected who was to be the master-the new dark witch in the other prophecy, though the name had never been uttered.

Interestingly enough, Harry had never been featured in either of these prophecies, as far as Dumbledore knew.

It was unlikely that Harry would be a party to this “dark witch’s” takeover of the witch and wizarding world.

Which made Dumbledore wonder what would happen to him before the rule of this dark witch began.

Would he die, like he needed to, before this dark witch deposed Voldemort? Probably.

When everything in life was a choice, and the wrong choice could lead to disaster? How did you know what the right choice was?

Hermione if she was who Dumbledore suspected she was? She might just make the wrong choice.

And what then?

Dumbledore, when he had chosen not to make it apparent to everyone that Tom Riddle could speak to snakes, even after Tom had framed Hagrid all those decades ago, he thought there might still be a chance to save the boy.

He had been wrong, of course.

But what if there was still a chance to save Hermione from the path that she might just be destined to go down?

Fact number one: Dumbledore knew that Hermione had in her possession, the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Fact Number two: Dumbledore knew that Hermione had in her possession, a time turner.

There was limited damage that Hermione could do with the time turner, unless Hermione was far more reckless than he gave her credit for, and she decided to interfere with time, far more than just taking extra classes.

If Hermione’s ideals overtook her and she chose to use the time turner for something drastic, what then?

The Sorcerer’s Stone, on the other hand? Couldn’t be used for anything, except for something drastic.

But Dumbledore hadn’t done anything when Hermione had smuggled it off.

Why? There were times when Dumbledore wasn’t entirely sure why he allowed such things to happen.

But in time, he had come to realize that part of it, wasn’t just “for the greater good.”

Often, it was just out of sheer curiosity.

Some part of him? Had just wanted to know what Hermione would do with the Sorcerer’s Stone.

It was the same reason why he still hadn’t ordered the time turner that Hermione had, to be confiscated yet.

Some part of him wanted to know what Hermione would do, with all her brilliance and magic and tools at her disposal.

Was that the reason why he hadn’t stopped Tom, before the boy had first become Voldemort?

Because he had wanted to know what Tom Riddle would do, with the power he had?

It was a troubling thought. But he couldn’t think of any other reason why he had stood back and had done nothing, save for watching Tom carefully, after getting Hagrid cleared of the supposed crime that Tom claimed Hagrid was responsible for.

No, Dumbledore hadn’t believed, after Tom had incriminated Hagrid, that Tom was going to become one of the darkest wizards in history.

He had known not to trust Tom by that point, but he hadn’t realized how far it would go.

Yes, he suspected that Tom might have had a hand in the murder of Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, but he still hadn’t realized how far gone Tom was by that point.

Dumbledore observed overhead, from the balcony, as Hermione’s friends and Fleur, got her to sit down and Rita Skeeter continued to write, now walking off to probably publish something outrageous.

Dumbledore knew of what happened to Hermione, when the girl had been younger.

There had been rumors about muggle-borns being taken from their homes and being experimented on by muggles.

Dumbledore and a few others had worked to quell these rumors, so as not to cause panic in the magical world, or to breed hate against muggle communities.

But nonetheless, Dumbledore knew.

He knew that because of this, Hermione looked on everyone with suspicion, especially those with a good deal of power and authority.

He wondered how it would all play out, in the end.

Then there was a scream, and a bright green flash from down the hall.

Dumbledore turned. That was McGonagall.

He raced down the hall.

He knew that everyone below had heard the scream, because he heard the commotion from downstairs getting louder.

He reached the room where he had left Barty Crouch Jr. in McGonagall, Snape and the others’ custody, and his eyes widened when he found Barty Crouch Jr. on the floor.

Dead.

A wand was gripped in his hand.

Thankfully, Mad Eye Moody had been shunted off to be looked at by any healers that he might need, so he had not been in the room.

Dumbledore looked at the teachers that had kept Barty Crouch Jr. captured.

Snape didn’t have his wand in his hand.

Snape, McGonagall and the other wizards and witches were staring down at Barty Crouch Jr. in horror.

Barty Crouch Jr. had committed suicide.

Dumbledore had seen the green glow. Barty Crouch Jr. had used the killing curse on himself, using Snape’s wand to do it.

There was a set of running footsteps, then Barty Crouch Senior ran into the room, staring down at where his dead son lay.

The Crouch father’s face was graven, stricken with pain and grief.

News was announced throughout the school. Barty Crouch Jr. had pretended to be Mad Eye Moody. And he had committed suicide, using Snape’s wand to do it.

Barty Crouch Senior was sent off to be interrogated about his son. And a new administer was sent to oversee the rest of the Triwizard Tournament.

Mad Eye Moody was sent to the healers, and Barty Crouch Jr.’s body was sent to his father’s property for a proper burial, something Barty Crouch Senior exclaimed that his wife would have wanted.

And remarkably, life went on.

As to be predicted, Rita Skeeter published the article about Hermione Granger.

The title of the article was, “The Heir of Slytherin, a Muggle-born?”

Goodness knew that there was gossip throughout Hogwarts.

Dumbledore sadly, could only sit back and wait and watch.

Where the students were concerned? Things were not peaceful.

Hermione and her friends had been careful. They watched their backs, ever since it had become apparent to everyone that Hermione was a parselmouth.

All of the houses had reacted in different ways to finding out this news.

The Gryffindors, save for Harry and Neville, looked at Hermione as if they feared that she would use the killing curse against them, first chance she got.

The Ravenclaws watched her with mild fascination.

The Hufflepuffs were friendly, as usual, and some of them even acted sort of like she was a large predator that just needed someone to be nice to her, to make her placated.

But the Slytherins? Hermione disliked the way the Slytherins looked at her, the least.

All of the Slytherins, barring her friends, and Malfoy, looked at Hermione now, as if she was their savior or something.

Sure, there was disbelief and some snide remarks about how a muggle-born possibly could be the heir of Slytherin, however, there was still a disturbing amount of reverence from a great deal of them.

Fleur’s fellow veelas and Viktor and the other students from his school, all treated her similar to how they did before the reveal.

For them, it seemed that they weren’t going to judge her by who she was descended from, but by who she was as a person-by her character.

She appreciated that, truly.

And when the article written by that fearmonger, Rita Skeeter, Hermione almost threw the copy she read, into one of the many active fireplaces in the school.

Rita Skeeter’s article read, “The Heir of Slytherin, a Muggle-born? Hermione Granger, age fifteen, just passed her first task in the Triwizard Tournament, by using parseltongue on a dragon.

“For those that are not aware, the Obsidian-Flame Dragon is more closely related to snakes than other dragons.”

Hermione’s eyes widened when she read that. She had heard that rumor before. But had also heard the rumor that that other rumor was rubbish.

Then again, if she was able to communicate with that particular dragon, then maybe the first rumor was actually true.

She kept reading.

The article went on, “Called the brightest witch of her age by many, this fourth year at Hogwarts has been said to have faced ‘He who must not be named’ and not only survived, but destroyed the body that ‘He who must not be named’ was using as his servant, one Professor Quirinus Quirrell.”

Hermione flinched.

She didn’t like the reminder.

She hadn’t wanted to kill Quirrell. But he and Voldemort had left her no choice.

But of course, everyone knew about that.

The article said then, “Why then, if there is much evidence to suggest that unexpectedly, this young muggle-born witch is the Heir of Slytherin, would she go against ‘You know who?’ Unless of course, it’s a power struggle.”

Hermione growled, tossing down the article onto the table in front of her, not wanting to read more.

So, that was how Skeeter was spinning it. As if Hermione stopping Voldemort in her first year, had been an act of someone who didn’t want to deal with competition.

Daphne, who had been reading the same article, dropped her paper down onto the table as she sighed, “I know. I know. I feel the same way. Can’t believe Skeeter’s nerve.”

“Nerve?” Pansy grumbled, tossing her copy of the article onto the middle of the table, “Try being slimy. This? This is exactly the type of behavior people expect of Slytherins, and they call us Slytherins untrustworthy? She was a Ravenclaw, you know. She probably would have been friends with Gilderoy Lockhart if they had been in the same year together. I mean, they weren’t. But if they had been in the same year, they sure as hell would have been.”

Hermione chuckled at that. Well, that would actually make a lot of sense, if Lockhart and Skeeter would have been friends, had they been in the same year as the other. Even if they weren’t.

It seemed that Ravenclaws, while clever, didn’t always reach their goals through only cunning. Often it was also backstabbing and deception and fucking others over.

It struck Hermione how much the Ravenclaws might be like Slytherins, in that way.

Hermione kept her left hand against her robes, feeling where the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle was.

And there was still THAT issue to deal with.

It had been almost a week since Barty Crouch Jr.’s suicide.

And now everyone, including anyone that read Rita Skeeter’s salacious rubbish, knew that Hermione was a parseltongue.

She snorted. Just what she needed.

She had set up a plan on how to free the dragons that were being held here.

Due to everything else that had happened; Barty Crouch Jr. being revealed and then killing himself, Barty Crouch Senior being taken in for questioning, and someone being sent for to replace him to oversee the Triwizard Tournament, the dragons for now, had been left here.

Which gave Hermione time.

The horntail that Harry had faced, had flown away, so, that took care of that particular dragon.

But that still left four dragons for her to free.

The green one, the short-snout, the fireball…………and Hermione’s dragon.

Funny that Hermione couldn’t help but think of it as “her dragon.”

There were a series of hoots from above, signaling that the owls were bringing in the mail.

While Hermione didn’t have a respective owl, those that didn’t have owls, were assigned ones, to bring them mail from their families and friends, or if the students without owls wanted to contact their families and friends.

An owl came swooping down, dropping a pile of envelopes onto the table right in front of Hermione.

Hermione’s eyes widened. She had received a letter from her mother just a few days ago, after Hermione had explained that she would be in the Triwizard Tournament.

The letter had all but implied that Hermione’s mother would arrive at Hogwarts somehow with a shotgun if she had to, to get Hermione out of danger.

England had far stricter gun laws than the United States had, and so guns were hard to obtain, but if anyone could pull off getting a shotgun and smuggling it to Hogwarts, it was Hermione’s mother.

Hermione had explained in her later letter that no, her mother was not going to threaten anyone at the school or anyone else in Hogwarts, and that she would be okay. She promised her mother that she would be careful and that she would keep her mother updated about the tournament, but pleaded with her mother not to do anything rash, in the meantime.

It was unlikely Hermione was receiving another letter so soon. And who were the rest of the letters from?

Cautiously, Hermione picked up one of the letters and turned it over, inspecting who it was from.

It was most certainly addressed to her, and the person who it was from, to her surprise, was from a Nott family member.

Another letter addressed to her, was from the Brown family.

She kept looking through the letters.

All of them from members of the sacred families of the magical world.

Hermione’s stomach twisted.

Getting these letters would be bad for many reasons, but getting them just after it was publicly announced that she might just be the heir of Slytherin?

Extra bad news.

Hermione slowly lifted her head and looked at her friends.

All four of her friends were staring at the envelopes in her hands with great uncertainty.

Pansy though, had opened up the envelope addressed to her and read through it.

She looked at Hermione and said, proffering it to the brunette across from her, “You should read this.”

Hermione carefully took the letter to Pansy and read it.

Apparently, it was from Pansy’s father.

The letter read, “Dear Pansy, I have just heard the news. Your friend, the……….muggle-born, is very possibly the heir of Slytherin. I admit, it is most unexpected. And I can’t pretend that I am not extremely skeptical of these claims. But I will tell you this, if there is any truth to it at all? You and your muggle-born friend will have your mother and my protection. And our support. No doubt that this news will cast a great deal of suspicion from the witch and wizarding world towards Ms. Granger, yes? Should this happen, then should Ms. Granger need powerful friends, she will have those powerful friends within the Parkinson household, with all my love and support, your father, Marcus Parkinson.”

Hermione swallowed, feeling cold.

This……this was literally one of the last things she wanted to read.

Whether it was an act of genuine concern for his daughter, or a means of trying to climb up the ladder, by appealing to his daughter’s apparently powerful friend.

Trying perhaps, to appeal to yet another heir of Slytherin, like he had with Voldemort.

Hermione felt her throat become bile-addled.

She hated this. Absolutely hated this.

And if the letters she had with her now were anything to go by?

It was very likely going to be the same thing with the rest of them.

Hermione shuddered, handing Pansy the letter back, and began to open the letters now in her possession.

And as she read through each of them, she had her disturbed impression confirmed.

Letters from family members that were of the sacred families, and they were appealing to her, to try to not consider them…….bigots against any muggle-borns.

As if trying to appeal to her to gain her protection.

Hermione felt sick, and clustered all of the letters together as she grumbled, “If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to throw these letters into the fire.”

Her friends, save for Pansy, gave her a sad smile. Pansy, however, was looking at the letter sent to her by her father, with a sort of analyzing look.

Hermione pulled away from the table, got up and walked down the hall, feeling more than a dozen eyes on her back as she left the Great Hall.

As Hermione reached fireplace that was away from the Great Hall and threw all the letters in, trying to ignore the pain in her chest.

Only a few more months until the next task.

And of course, she didn’t have a clue what it was. The clues supposedly were in the golden egg that she had in her dorm.

But how did she open it? She had no idea.

She had tried pulling the top of it open, and opening up the egg, all of the Slytherins watching with fascination, as were her friends, but the sound that had spilled out of the egg had been so piercing and torturous, that Hermione had to immediately close the egg.

Clearly, whatever message was in that egg? It wouldn’t be so easily learned by the person that had gotten it from the dragon guarding it.

Hermione had asked Harry if he had managed to get any information from it.

And Harry wasn’t the sort that lied, or if he was, he was terrible at it. He appeared genuinely disappointed that he wasn’t able to get the egg open.

So, from the looks of it? So far, there was no information that had been gotten from the eggs.

After Hermione disposed of the letters, she walked down the hall, needing to clear her head, when she heard a voice from one of the stairwells.

“Ms. Granger,” it was Dumbledore’s voice.

Hermione looked at the stairwell, tense.

The headmaster of Hogwarts said, “Please come with me, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione didn’t want to, but she nodded to him, following him as he went up the stairs.

Shit, had he caught onto her contact with Voldemort? Sure, she called him “Tom,” but it was still Voldemort. Did Dumbledore know?

If he did and he was going to put a stop to it, she had to say, it was about time he actually did something.

When they reached Dumbledore’s office, Hermione noticed, perched on the pedestal, just next to Dumbledore’s desk, was a phoenix.

Hermione wasn’t surprised; she had heard the headmaster had a pet phoenix. Still, it was a magnificent creature to look at.

Dumbledore circled his desk and sat down, looking at Hermione as he said, “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you by asking you here, Ms. Granger.”

“No, sir,” Hermione, though she didn’t like being in this office, she admitted it was good to have a distraction from her thoughts for a while, “What is it that I can help you with?”

“Well,” Dumbledore began, after taking a moment, “I imagine you’re troubled after the article that Rita Skeeter published?”

“Yes,” Hermione said dryly, “Because a lot of people don’t like being called the descendant of one of the darkest wizards in history.”

Dumbledore nodded. Though he knew that there were some grounds to defend Salazar Slytherin. He had made the law against muggle-borns learning magic, during a time when witch hunting was still very much prominent. Salazar Slytherin likely feared the children of witch hunters being allowed to enter a school full of magical children.

“I understand that you are frustrated over this,” he said, “But I’d like to point out that it doesn’t matter if you are descended from Salazar Slytherin or not. It is not who we are related to that makes us who we are. It is our choices.”

Hermione tried not to scoff. Well, she knew that part.

However, she couldn’t help but feel like there was something more that Dumbledore wanted to say to her. Much more.

“Thank you, headmaster,” she said, trying to remain casual, “Is there anything else?”

Dumbledore smiled as he said, “Not unless you wished to speak more.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m alright,” she said, “Thank you, though.”

“Good, then,” Dumbledore said, getting up and going to a cabinet, opening it up, revealing a series of many bright vials, and to Hermione’s surprise, a pensieve.

Dumbledore reached out and picked up a glass vial, as he said, turning to her, he said, “Don’t mind me, just placing this vial; a memory of when Barty Crouch Jr. was first put on trial, along with Bellatrix Lestrange and the Lestrange brothers for the torture of Alice and Frank Longbottom.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. Of course, she knew about that. Everyone had heard of that horrible deed. Of how Neville had lost his parents, but not in the merciful way. Not to death, but to madness, caused by the sheer pain inflicted on them by Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband and probably by her brother-in-law and Barty Crouch Jr. too.

But why was Dumbledore bringing that up? Why show her this?

It was only after Hermione wondered that, that it hit her that this was part of the bigger thing that Dumbledore wanted to say to her, but wasn’t saying to her. There was something more that Dumbledore wanted to say to her, but wasn’t saying to her. And he could have had this conversation with her outside of her office, but had chosen not to.

Why?

The reason why was simple; he had brought her to his office in the first place, because he had wanted her to see the pensieve and know which memory was the one that had Barty Crouch Jr. locked away in Azkaban. But why?

Why did he want her to know about that one particular memory and where it was in the shelf of vials?

But she was certain that she was right.

Dumbledore had brought her to his office to have this small conversation, with the sole purpose of her seeing where his pensieve and his memories were.

“Good day, headmaster,” Hermione said quietly, feeling disturbed, as she made her way out of the office, hand again going to her robes where Tom’s diary was, and waking down the steps, away from the office.

She thought about how sure everyone was that she was the descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

Then again, her contact with the basilisk, Shagshic, seemed to be perfect proof of that suspicion.

However, she would need to be certain.

She thought about that book that she had found in the Chamber of Secrets. The book that she had stashed there again.

She would open it and see if she could figure out a way of using it to track her bloodline. If there was a way.

But she would put that on a much later “to do list.”

Right now, she had three particular tasks in mind:

Freeing the four dragons that were still being held captive here

Finding a way of figuring out what message was in the golden egg that she had gotten from her dragon during the first task.

Finding a way of getting her other mate out of the prison where she was being kept.

And finally, and certainly not least? Figuring out how the hell to destroy Tom Riddle’s diary.

When Hermione was out of the office and moved down the stairs, Dumbledore placed the vial with that particular memory down.

Well, he had done what he had needed to do. He had mentioned where the memory was, now all he could do was wait and see what Hermione was going to do.

He also had thought about how long it would be until that very specific prophecy potentially occurred.

Hermione was now fifteen.

The dark witch in that prophecy was twenty-three.

There was time.

If Dumbledore was right that Hermione was who the prophecy had been about? There was time to save her.

Eight years. If he was right, then he had eight years.