*AN* : Okay so if you have read any of my other works you'll know that I'm notorious for never updating. Yes, I'm sorry about that but I just HAD to write this one despite my others. It's honestly some of my best work so far and I'm really looking forward to sharing it with all of you. I can't promise that I'll update soon but support from you guys really helps keep the ball rolling so support would mean the world to me. Anyways, enjoy what you can :)
On a typical first day at Hogwarts, the halls are teeming with the eccentricity and life that comes from a magical school. The bright sun harshly pierces through the windows onto the happy students' faces, as they innocently make their way to class. The first years, stumbling fools that they are, take every wrong turn they can manage only half on accident. They devour the sights of each new turn greedily, trying their best to memorize every nook and cranny that could possibly lead to adventure.
Then, there are also the middle- graded students. The ones who aren't exactly as excited for the start of new term now that they know that the magical part of school still does not take away the fact that Hogwarts, is in fact, still school. They trudge around wearily, kicking at the dirt under their shoes until they remember all those friends they left behind during their long summer holiday. Suddenly, those fresh smiles once again bloom on their faces and they remember all the fun they can have at this place.
Lastly, there are those older students, the ones who have sat through countless dreary hours of Professor Binns and found all that they can to get into mischief around the castle. The ones that look upon those fresh faces and shake their heads, partially in remembrance of their own beginnings at Hogwarts, and partially because they know exactly how underprepared they all are. They look upon those bubbling children who will someday replace them and decide that yes, Hogwarts was a good place for a long while. It was a place for mischief, a second home, and the best institute for magical education that the world had seen. However, in that moment in which they all walk together as one in that sunny little corridor, those older students know in their hearts it is time for them to leave it all behind. Time to relinquish their hold on a place that for so long as been a companion. Time to start a new life away from the moving stairs and cozy dormitories, filled with the crackling of half-learned magic. Time to surrender to the idea of a new place in society where they are free to make their own decisions. So as these students visualize their futures, they are filled with hope.
However, the castle does not always have hope to warm its ancient bones. Just hours later, when those very same halls are devoid of the light-hearted students who love to occupy them, a new, much dimmer aura settles deep within the depths of Hogwarts. It was a rolling fog that crept from the cracks in the old stone walls as the sun was swallowed by the horizon. The waning crescent moon barely let off enough light to flit through the naked, empty windows that made the shadows sink into the walls around them. The ancient, arthritic bones of the castle wailed in agony as the fleeting summer warmth was overtaken. Whispers of icy wind clawed their way down the halls and into the frosted glass panes.
The solemn clamor of the clocktower marked the time as twelve at night, nearly two hours after curfew for nearly all the witches and wizards who attended Hogwarts. Yet, pacing through the halls on the 7th floor, was Hermione Granger.
Her bushy brown hair whipped through the air as she angrily stomped through the corridor, not completely caring if she was caught out of bed after hours. She knew she could always blame her absence from the Gryffindor dormitory on one of her many prefect duties. It wasn't like anyone was going to question her intentions anyway. She was, after all, Hermione Granger: Golden girl know-it-all dubbed not only as the Gryffindor Princess, but also as the brightest witch of her age. No one, save Professor Snape, would suspect her of lying.
Normally, Hermione considered herself to have pretty good morals. She didn't like to lie, steal, or cheat for any reason, but ever since that summer it had been difficult for Hermione to find good reason not to. So what if she didn't play by the rules? It's not like he would either…
As per usual, Hermione had spent a large portion of time over the summer at the Burrow with Ron and Harry. It was one of her favorite places to be in the world, and to an extent, felt more like home than the one she shared with her parents. As much as she loved her parents, Hermione knew they would never truly understand her life in the Wizarding community like the Weasley's did. They were so warm and kind to her that Hermione couldn't help but fall in love with the cozy magical family. In turn, Ron's parents also couldn't help but fall in love with Hermione. They treated her like a daughter and secretly wished that someday they could call her such.
Arthur Weasley especially took a shining to the muggle born girl, as he was fascinated by her vast knowledge about all that was happening in the muggle world. He often suggested to her that she and Harry come with him to the Ministry for a day to really get a better understanding of how the magical world outside of Hogwarts works. Every year, Hermione had politely declined his offer, assuming it was mostly just an excuse so he could ask her different questions about muggle items. However, that summer on a particularly brutally hot day, she had finally accepted his invitation. That is how she found herself at the Ministry the day everything changed.
That day, both Harry and Ron had both politely, yet firmly, refused to accompany Arthur and Hermione, claiming that the hot weather was perfect for Quidditch.
"Thanks Mione, but no thanks. Besides, you'll have more fun with dad on your own anyway. You're the only one who cares about all that ministry nonsense," Ron noted without even looking up from his game of Wizard's Chess.
"Checkmate! Blimey Harry, you really haven't gotten any better at this have you?"
"Shut up, you prat. Yeah, no offense Hermione, but I'd much rather hop on a broom than spend my entire afternoon answering questions about the muggle world. I'm sure you'll have a blast though." Harry turned back to the game at hand, not noticing the blood boil in Hermione's face.
"Fine, you two miserable gits! At least someone is concerned with their future!"
Hermione didn't bother to point out they didn't even have enough players for a proper game before storming off to the fireplace to wait for Arthur. The floo network was something that she wasn't particularly familiar with, so she stood patiently by the fire, huffing at the audacity of her two best friends. How dare they leave her to fend for herself! She would never have done such a thing if it was Harry who was going.
There was suddenly a gust of wind that swept through her hair before the fireplace erupted into bright green flames. Arthur Weasley stepped from the fire, brushing off dust as he went.
"Ah, Hermione! Punctual as usual, of course! All ready to head off to the ministry I take it?"
"Of course, Arthur. I'm sure it will be interesting to see where I'll probably be working after I graduate."
"Wonderful! And where are those two knuckle-headed boys? Are they ready to go yet?" He asked her. Hermione rolled her eyes as she gestured to the other room where she was sure Ron and Harry were still playing.
"I'm afraid they won't be joining us. Something about Quidditch apparently." She pursed her lips in annoyance.
"Quidditch, ey?" Arthur popped his head around the corner to see the two boys still locked in a brutal game of chess. "Ships leaving boys. You had better hurry up and get dressed to go. Unless of course there's a game of Quidditch more important than your respective futures?"
"N-n-no, course not dad!" Ron stuttered out. "It's just… well…" he searched frantically around the room until his eyes landed on a tiny gnome figurines. "I-i-it's just we promised mum to help de-gnome the garden again. You know how how bad that gets."
"Ahh, I see. Splendid then! Your mother will be thrilled to have you two help her! I expect a full report from you and your mum when we get back. Nasty little things, but sure to make a great story!" Harry and Ron exchanged uneasy looks as Arthur left the room to accompany a smirking Hermione.
"That should teach them to ditch us, shouldn't it?" Arthur whispered low enough so that just she could hear.
"Oh, I'd imagine it will," she smiled. The head Weasley pulled out an old muggle pocket watch from the breast pocket of his robe. His eyes went wide when he saw the time.
"Blimey! We better get a move on if we are going to get anything done today." He replaced the watch in his pocket before shouting in the direction of Ron and Harry. "Good luck with the gnomes you two!"
There was an unenthusiastic reply before Arthur grabbed something off of the top of the fireplace. He held out a bowl of greyish powder and Hermione took a large handful. It felt grainy and left an unpleasant dusty feeling on the palm of her hands. She tried to hide the disgust on her face as she waited for instructions from the elder Weasley. He barely noticed, as he was grinning ear to ear when he grabbed his own handful.
"Now remember, as long as you speak clearly, you'll arrive at the Ministry just behind me and we can begin the tour with the Department of Muggle Artifacts. Though, I'm sure you have plenty of knowledge on that topic yourself!"
It was funny, Hermione had never really seen much of a connection between Ron and has dad before, besides the skinny frames and flaming red hair of course. However, in that moment of erratic excitement, she could see Ron. She could see him gushing about all his favorite teams in Quidditch, or the best strategies for wizard chess. She could see the different ways the paternal Weasley's eyebrows would raise in fascination just like his sons did. Hermione felt her heart melt just a tad and thought that perhaps this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.
Arthur Weasley stepped in front of the fire and threw in his handful of floo powder. The fire erupted in a swirling cloud of green flames before him.
"The Ministry!" he shouted, before stepping into the fire and letting the flames engulf him whole. Hermione waited a few seconds before throwing her own powder in and following him to the ministry. The moment her body touched the fire she felt a horrible pulling sensation rip through her. It was very similar to what it was like to apparate except it seemed like she had no control of the direction that her body was being pulled.
Awkwardly, Hermione landed on her feet. She stumbled out into a sea of people who did little to move out of her way as she tried to regain her composure. The nice business robes she had worn for the trip had been thoroughly covered in a fine layer of soot and dust. Dirty looks were shot her way as she tried to pat as much of it as she could off of her. A wand waved in front of her face and suddenly all of the grey smudges were removed from her linens. A sheepish looking Arthur Weasley stood before her.
"Eh, best to just use scourgify for those here. No need to use the old fashioned way. Now come on, plenty of things to see." He quickly dragged her away from the fires with a seemingly embarrassed look on his face. Of course, Hermione didn't quite understand then that "the muggle way" of doing things was not always appreciated in the heart of the magical government. It wasn't out right forbidden or mocked, but some certainly looked down upon it. The same goes for purchasing low-quality floo powder that leaves scorch marks in the first place.
"Eh, Arthur?" she asked.
"Yes, Hermione?" he responded.
"Have you forgot that I'm still not quite old enough to use magic outside of Hogwarts?" He stopped to look at her.
"That's right… you don't turn 17 until September, is that right?"
"September 19th is my birthday," she affirmed.
"Sorry, it's just you act so much more mature that sometimes I forget you're still a child." He paused for a second. "Well, no harm has been done anyway, let's be on our way before-"
Hermione barely had any time to examine her surroundings before a familiar voice cut him off.
"Well, if it isn't Arthur Weasley. And what's this? Brought a unauthorized visitor into the Ministry?"
They both stopped dead in their tracks. Hermione saw Arthur's face twist into an ugly grimace before they slowly turned to face the owner of the voice. In front of them, clad in what must have been ridiculously expensive robes, were none other than Lucius and Draco Malfoy. The father and son stood together tall and proud, their platinum hair slicked back in a preposterously formal way. The two sets of stone grey eyes looked down upon Hermione and Arthur like they weren't even fit to touch their garbage. Knowing the Malfoys, Hermione suspected that is exactly what they thought. Lucius's lips were drawn back in a snarled smile while his son kept his face completely blank, letting his entitlement be all the expression he needed.
"Lucius!" Arthur tried to fake a smile that ended up looking more like he was awkwardly baring his teeth. "I wasn't aware you were working today."
"You shouldn't presume to know anything about me." His eyes shifted to Hermione and she felt her heart leap into her throat. There was something incredibly deadly about that stare that made her hairs stand on end.
"This is uh- Hermione Granger, one of my son's friends. She's got a very bright future and I thought it would be- well- beneficial for her to gain some knowledge about the Ministry," Arthur rambled on, trying to explain himself.
"Ah yes the… muggleborn. Draco's told me all about you and your little friends. All the mischief and rule breaking you do," Lucius drawled. Hermione's eyes flicked to Draco momentarily before landing back on his father. "You know Arthur, it really sounds like she could be a liability. Especially if you didn't completely the proper paperwork before bringing her here. You did do the paperwork didn't you?" Arthur shifted nervously.
"Well, I… well no but-"
"Tisk, tisk. I should've expected this from you Weasley. I suggest we sort this out immediately."
"What is he talking about Mr. Weasley?" Hermione questioned. She had never heard of any paperwork needing to be done for visitors before. This sounded absolutely ridiculous. He took a long deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"It's best to just not argue and do what he says. I can explain it after this is all over. Come along Hermione." They began to walk past the Malfoy's before Lucius drew his wands and pointed it discreetly at Hermione. Her eyes lit up in alarm as she instinctively itched to draw her own.
"What are you doing Malfoy? She's just a girl!" Arthur harshly whispered, shoving Hermione behind him protectively.
"We can't have unauthorized muggleborns roaming around, looking at classified information can we?" Lucius reached into the front pocket of his robes and fished out a silver ring of keys. He handed them to Draco who continued to hold the same blank expression as before. "Draco will look after her while we fix your disastrous mistake." Before Arthur could say another word he was dragged off, leaving a confused Hermione in his wake.
For a moment it was just Hermione and Draco. Brown eyes meeting grey, staring stoically at each other. A dare on each of them to make the first move. Hermione contemplated for a second if she should make a run for it. The moment her eyes left his to scan the area she felt a strong hand grip her arm and drag her off into the direction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Draco's grip was firm on her arm and Hermione knew there was no way she could get out without making a scene. She scanned the faces around her, coming to the conclusion that it was a terribly bad idea to do that in present company. At best, she would get free only to be caught by another fascist wizard before she made it to an available fireplace. At worst, she could possibly be getting Mr. Weasley in a lot of trouble. Hermione decided it was better to just grit her teeth and act like nothing was wrong until she could find a reasonable time to hex the pants off the boy next to her.
They walked like that for a brief while. Two enemies locked together in hatred. Hermione suspected he was taking her to some sort of holding cell, or public place to lock her up until Arthur could find her. However, she was quite surprised when Draco pulled her aside and unlocked a private room. Inside it appeared to be some sort of unused office with a thick layer of dust over every surface. He quickly shut the door behind him with the flick of his wand and left the two in complete silence.
Great, Hermione thought, it seemed like he didn't have any problems with the use of underage magic. To her it certainly seemed to be a power move, showing off his use of magic in the Ministry of all places. It screamed of cockiness, which is exactly what he was. She examined her surroundings in preparation for whatever hexes she would have to dodge in the near future. All the while he just stared at her with the same empty expression.
"Unauthorized muggleborn," She muttered to herself, quoting Lucius from earlier. "How barbaric. Who does he think he is with his… stupid hair and pretentious clothing. Who ever heard of paperwork for visitors anyway?" She was pacing back and forth behind a desk at the back of the room.
"Things have changed around here, Granger. I'd be careful what you say." It was the first time Draco had said anything this entire time. She snapped her head up to stare at him.
"Oh, and I'm sure you're just thrilled about all of these so called 'changes'." She made quotation marks in the air with her hands.
"I never said that."
"You didn't really have to. These ideals scream of Malfoy. I wouldn't be surprised if this thing wasn't completely your muggle-hating father's idea."
"You'd be correct with that assumption," he deadpanned as he picked at the beds of his nails. A silence passed between the two until Hermione couldn't take it anymore.
"Well?" Draco looked up at her once more.
"Well what?"
"Well, aren't you going to call me a good-for-nothing mudblood, tie me up and hex me until I beg for mercy or something like that? Isn't that why you brought me here?" His eyebrow raised considerably and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly before he responded.
"Why? Is that what you want me to do to you, Granger? Tie you up?"
"No, its just-"
"Because in my world, I certainly wouldn't associate pain with that."
Hermione's face scrunched up with confusion. Draco watch bemused as that big brain of her's tried to work out what he had just said. He knew instantly when she had because her face lit up to match the same shade of red Gryffindors wear on their robes.
"Ugh! You're bloody disturbed Draco Malfoy! I don't even understand how you could say something so vulgar." He let out a light chuckle which struck Hermione as rather odd. She had been going to school with him for years now and not once had she heard him laugh.
"You just wouldn't understand. I'm sure you're underdeveloped in that area. Hell, I'd wager 50 galleons you're still a virgin. 50 more that you won't lose it until after you've graduated."
"You don't know anything about me, Malfoy," Hermione huffed with both annoyance and embarrassment."
"Unless of course, Weasel-Bee has finally convinced you to let him stick you with his ginger prick." She was absolutely fuming.
"It's none of your fucking business what I do or do not do with my body. You don't know anything about me and I can't believe I've even let this conversation get this far."
"Did you just swear? I didn't even know you had the capability." Draco remarked.
"Yeah, well, someone like you wouldn't know, would they?" His eyes darkened slightly.
"What do you mean someone like me?"
"I mean a horrible git who hates people based off the false notion that their blood makes them less of a person. How many times do I have to beat you in magic to prove that blood doesn't mean anything about magical power? You're all just ignorant monsters."
Draco pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning on and began to walk towards her. Bloody hell, she should have kept her mouth shut. He could do magic here and there was no way she could defend herself without him turning it against her. He stopped about a foot or two in front of her.
"When was the last time I called you a mudblood?" This took her back slightly.
"What?"
"Use that big brain of yours for a second. Think, when was the last time I called you that?" She searched her mind for a second and was a little shocked to not immediately have found an answer.
"Well? Have you figured it out yet?" He asked, uncomfortably close.
"Um," she paused, "I-I think maybe late fourth year? Or maybe early fifth? "
"Wrong. The last time I called you mudblood was a month before the yule ball after charms when you once again scored higher than me on the exam. It has been a year and a half since I've bothered you and you still treat me as if I'm the worst thing to walk on this planet when we both know I'm far from it. What do you think that says about you, Hermione?"
It was rare for someone to render Hermione speechless. She was, in this case, for a multitude of reasons. The first, which she almost didn't notice, was that Draco had called her by her first name for the first time. The second being that she hadn't even noticed he'd left her alone. Now that she thought about it, all the bullying she received from Slytherin house had dropped dramatically in the last year or so. The last thing being that for once somebody made Hermione question herself in ways she never thought she would before. He was right afterall. She kept making horrible assumptions even though she knew as much about him as he did of her.
"Why? Why did you stop?" At this point Draco had finally backed away slightly and was leaning on the desk.
"I had my reasons. Mostly, it was just tiring to believe in something that I saw evidence against on a daily basis. I'm not daft, Granger. I'm a very intelligent wizard, but no matter how much I tried I could never beat you in anything."
She could tell he was suppressing the bitterness that so readily formed on his tongue. Hermione could see it in the way his blonde brows raised with a shrug of his shoulders, a clever disguise that would have fooled most. Usually, Hermione would have called out his confessions to reveal whatever his true intentions were, but in that moment she found herself trying to empathize with those steel grey eyes that looked casually in the distance.
Hermione opened her mouth a few times in an attempt to respond but the moment she began to sputter out anything remotely close to a cognitive sentence the sounds of a tortured scream ripped through them. It was a memory that burned through Hermione and left a mark on her very soul, for this would be the sound she would always remember to be true anguish. It felt almost as if in the few seconds she stood there that she could feel the pain radiating through the air. It was for that reason that in the next moment, without thinking, she bolted.
The halls were a frenzie as she ran. People everywhere shared horrified glances, ran for the cover of office spaces, pressed flat palms over their injured ears. Hermione thought for a moment she heard the distant sounds of her name as she ran towards the shrieks, but nothing could stop her from catapulting her way through the masses. She was an arrow that pierced the crowds of people gathered in the middle of the ministry square, pushing her way to the front until her pointed head broke through.
All the breath in the room was gone as her eyes locked with the sight before her. A girl just older than Hermione herself stood at the center of the crowd. Her mouth wired open by some contraption that hooked through her lips and pulled them back so her entire mouth was on display. Just past the girls teeth was no tongue, but the bleeding flesh of ones remains. The dark liquid pooled in her mouth and down the sides of her chin only to be sputtered out whenever it would block the sounds from her throat.
"Granger what are you- Holy shit!" Draco exclaimed as he finally caught up to Hermione, grabbing her hand to try and stop her escape before he too saw the girl in the circle. The moment he saw her he became petrified next to Hermione, hand locked with hers as he watched the scene unfold before him.
The girl in question looked around frantically. Her eyes trying to find someone, anyone who could help her as she unsheathed something from her robes. For a second Hermione thought it was a wand until the sickening glint of silver reflected from the dimly lit torches. The girl waved it around in the air, still searching the people around her until her wild eyes landed on Hermione.
It was a look Hermione had never seen before. The girls eyes were not cloudy or unfocused like she was the victim of a stray Imperius. No, this girl knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. It was a hauntingly hopeless expression of a tortured soul.
Those eyes never left Hermione as she used the blade to cut the sleeves of her soft blue camisole just past her elbow, exposing the tanned flesh of her wrists and forearms. Without hesitation her right hand pressed the blade into her left arm. Slowly, deliberately, she dragged it lengthwise from the bulging blue vein in her wrist to 3 centimeters from the crook of her arm. The blood that ran from her wound did not stop her from dragging the knife again across her second wrist until the cuts were mirror images of each other.
The knife clamored to the floor as the girl rushed to the center of the circle once more, kneeling before the great fountain that stood proudly for anyone in the ministry to see. She pressed the fingers of her left hand deeply into her right wound, coating them completely until the skin of her entire hand was red. One by one she wrote the letters on the stone floor until they spelled out a single word: Concido.
As soon as the final "o" was marked upon the ground she finally fell over convulsing briefly before going completely still, a single gashed arm extended in Hermione's direction.
Draco's stomach turned as he watched the pool of blood creep closer and closer to where they stood. No one moved. No one breathed. The only sound to be heard was a single tear falling from Hermione's eyes to mix with the crimson at her feet.
In a second the world began to move again. People ran in every direction, screaming, shouting, praying. A few stood to the side trying their best not to heave at the sight of the mangled corpse before them. All the while Hermione and Draco stood still, hands still locked together like a vice. They looked at each other for a moment, maybe two, as the panic engulfed them knowing full well that this was just the beginning.
It didn't take long after that for Arthur to find her and whisk her away to the Burrow where a worried Molly stood waiting. A blanket and a cup of tea later and Hermione was escorted to her shared room with Ginny by Ron and Harry, eager to hear about what had happened. She numbly relayed the details she could stomach while they listened intently.
"Bloody hell Mione. What a terrible thing to happen. I heard Dad come in before you, askin if anyone had seen you all frantic like. Goin on about how some muggle born had be murdered at the ministry." Ron whispered, praying that no one downstairs heard them.
"A muggle born?" Hermione questioned.
"Yeah, that's what I said. Though me mum was about to have a heart attack before Dad returned with you. Really though, I've never 'eard something like this happening in the open. I can't even imagine what kind of person would do that."
"Are you serious, Ronald? Do you even know what Concido means?" She asked dumbfounded. How could he possibly not put two and two together?
"Can't expect me to know everything Mione. It's not like I've taken a class in words crazy people write in blood."
"Even if you did you wouldn't know what it meant," Harry interjected causing Ron to snort with laughter. Hermione was not amused however, and couldn't understand how those two had the ability to joke about something this serious. With a shaky hand grabbed her beaded bag from the nightstand and rummaged through it until she felt the soft spine of the book she was looking for.
"What's that?" Harry asked as he pointed to the book in question while Hermione flipped through the pages.
"With N.E.W.T.'s coming up soon I wanted to prepare." The boys exchanged a knowing look at her dedication to study. "Anyway I learned quite some time ago that many of the spells we use actually are based off of Latin words or roots. Naturally I assumed that if I had a better grasp in Latin I would be able to figure out what a spell or potion was just by being able to decipher what its title means in Latin. Therefore, I began taking a summer course when I visit my parents since there is a Catholic school a few blocks from where we live. They were happy to take me in and teach me all I needed to know."
"Bloody hell, only Hermione would find it interesting to take a class over break. You're bloody mental sometimes, Mione."
"So you've told me, Ronald," Hermione replied with a fake smile. "Ah, here it is. Concido. Latin is a language full of violence and treachery so it is no surprise that in this chapter we yet again learn another word that means to kill. Concido is a third conjugation verb used very frequently throughout ancient texts that means to cut, slice, destroy, maim, or kill. While it seems like Concido had many translations in the end it always means one thing: Death." Hermione concluded the passage with a slight shutter and closed the book.
"Could that have been any creepier?" Harry asked with a forced chuckle.
"Obviously you two don't understand," Hermione's nose flared in anger as she stared at her best friends. "She wrote kill in her own blood. In 'dirty blood'. Can't you see it's a warning? It means they are going to kill anyone they deem to have dirty or impure blood. This was an obvious attack from the death eaters." Ron exchanged uneasy looks.
"You think it could really be Voldemort?" Harry inquired looking a little green.
"In my mind, it really couldn't be anything else. It's the start of something bigger than us all, and I'm afraid if we don't prepare for it, then it will take us down with it."
"I don't know, Mione. I really don't think they would risk an attack so openly with all those Aurors around," Ron said while scratching the faint red stubble on his chin. "I mean their numbers are way too low for them to put themselves in danger this soon. I'm sure you're right about something bigger coming, but now? I don't think so. It just doesn't make sense."
"It makes perfect sense! It's a blatant terrorist attack meant to throw our side in un-organized chaos and fear while they establish their footing. At least Harry agrees with me," Hermione argued. However, when she looked at Harry he looked down, guilt covering his face.
"Actually, I'm not so sure. Ron makes a good point with everything. Things just aren't lining up enough for it to be Voldemort. Maybe one of his followers, but not someone in the inner circle with orders to do this. It's not their style. Way too… messy." He finished with a gulp.
"You can't actually be serious. You don't actually believe someone as monstrous as Voldemort has limits. Has morals. What I saw today couldn't have been done by anyone but the most deranged kind of person. I don't know about you, but I can only think of one person who fits that description."
"Mione, even in the Ministry's official statement the death was ruled 'the suicide of a truly disturbed and deranged young girl'. They aren't even calling it a murder. All the witnesses watched her do it to herself and there was no trace of Imperius left on the body. I can't think of anything else that could control a person like that." Hermione seethed a Ron's words. How could they be so blind? She had seen the look in that girl's eyes, there was no way she was in control of her own body.
"They are just covering up the true! You both know exactly how much Fudge wants to deny Voldemort's return. It terrifies him and he knows the moment he admits it is true that his control is gone. People are going to panic and he doesn't know how to handle it!" Her voice was growing louder by the second. Harry tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder only to immediately have it shrugged off like he burned her.
"Whoa, Hermione maybe it's best if you calm down. I understand you're shaken up by what happened today but you're getting too worked up. Ron's probably right after all. You just can't see it right now because of what you saw. Besides," Harry added, "if this was a true death eater attack the house would be swarming with owls and Order members alike. I think the best thing for you to do right now is get some rest"
But she couldn't rest.
She spent the entire summer in her and Ginny's room with the curtains drawn. No matter what she said Harry and Ron wouldn't believe that something was coming faster than anyone would suspect it. It was the same routine everyday. She'd wake up at a quarter past nine to the sounds of Harry and Ron knocking on her door asking to escort her to breakfast. She'd decline without opening the door and wait until she heard their footsteps leave to begin researching once more. The hours ticked by with Hermione barely leaving the small oak desk, let alone the room. Ginny or Molly would sometimes bring her food, only to collect the barely touched plate a few hours later. Fred, George, and even Arthur tried to draw her from her obsessions a few times, but despite her enjoying the company she did not budge. Hermione kept reading until the sun set fully behind the light summer clouds and all Hermione had to read by was a single, short white candle, dim enough not to disturb Ginny in her sleep. Then before she knew it, Hermione was once more waking up from the desk to the soft rapping of knuckles on the door.
It took Hermione 4 weeks develop a plan, and another two to prepare for it. By the end summer was over and she found herself in the crowded train back to Hogwarts, fully ready to execute what she had been planning to do all summer without the help of her friends.
That's how she found herself alone on the seventh floor, pacing back and forth in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy with her hair flowing wildly behind her. If she was caught now, it would ruin everything, but she pushed that thought from her mind. For once, Hermione pushed everything from her mind focusing solely on what she needed. She honed in her mind to everything she read this summer, everything she ever heard said or done, and most importantly on every speck of magical energy radiating from the dedicated book in her hands.
Just when she thought it wasn't going to work, a wooden door swirled to life before her. It began first as the size candle stick until it loomed over Hermione like a giant mahogany tomb. And perhaps that is what the Room of Requirement would be to her in the end. If of course, everything had worked.
Hermione closed her eyes and let a deep breath escape her mouth as she laid a delicate hand on the room's ordinate door handle. She could do this. She had to do this. It was for the better of wizard kind. Hermione tried to tell herself that at least, but the truth was quickly becoming hard for her to separate from the lies.
She carefully pressed her thumb down on the coppery handle and heard a metallic click as the door unlatched. She let out a sigh, secretly wishing that it she would have not been able to open it. She was tired after all and it couldn't have been that bad if she had found it locked and had to return to her comfortable bed. Alas, that would have defeated the entire purpose of her research and Hermione was after all curious to see if what she did had worked after all. Leaning her weight into the door she pushed it open and slipped inside.
The darkness was almost unparalleled. This was certainly not what she pictured to be behind this door. For a second, Hermione thought that it didn't work, that there was nothing in this blackened abyss but darkness. She sighed with relief until she heard the sound of a single drop fall somewhere in the distance and echo off the walls. She stopped breathing, her lungs burned as she waited for another sign to tell her that the sound she heard wasn't her imagination.
Thwop Thwop.
Two more drops fell, filling her heart with fear.
Thwop Thwop.
Thwop Thwop.
Thwop Thwop.
They dropped two at a time, filling the cavern with the rhythmic beating of water hitting water. A metaphorical heartbeat signifying that the room was not only awake and ready for her, but alive on its own. It had worked.
Shaking, Hermione drew her wand from her robe pocket and pointed it in front of her.
"Lumos," she whispered, barely loud enough for even her own ears to hear. The tip of her wand immediately flared, illuminating a grin nearly two feet in front of her.
Hermione shrieked and fell back, hitting the stone floor with a loud thud. A wetness began to seep into her clothes from where she touched the ground as she desperately tried to snatch up where her wand and fallen in front of her. Just before her fingers could curl around the polished wood it was snatched up before her.
He brought stick closer to his face, twisting and turning it in his hands, flexing it here and there until he took it in the palm of his right hand and sighed contently. He used the tip of her wand to brush back a mop of dark curly hair from his eyes causing the light to glint off his devilishly charismatic grin. He then took this moment to finally look over the poor girl at his feet.
"Well well well," he said with a hint of amusement laced in his silvery tone, "It's finally nice to make your acquaintance, Hermione."
She knew from that point nothing would be the same again. Not now that she had brought him into this world.
Tom.