Dear Miss Granger,
I am afraid since this letter has appeared to you that things have become very grave indeed. Harry has failed, and now it is up to you. You must go back in time, Miss Granger, with the time turner enclosed with this letter. You must destroy the horcruxes and you must kill Tom Riddle. I am afraid we have no other options. Take anything you feel you may need to start a new life for you shall not be able to return. I am sorry that it has come to this, truly.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore.
Hermione Granger strode through Hogwarts under Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, wand clutched tightly in one hand, the Marauder's map in the other. Tom Riddle. She watched his name moving. He was in the library – alone. It was almost too easy. Hermione Granger was going to become a murderer and she would save the world.
She arrived at the library.
He was sat hunched over a book and several rolls of parchment. His hair was slightly messy, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. His jumper was abandoned on the floor. Hermione was struck by how normal he looked.
Tom Riddle would never finish that essay. He would never graduate Hogwarts. He would never take over the world.
"Avada Kedavra."
He slumped forward, lifeless.
Lord Voldemort had been vanquished. His horcruxes were gone. His body was dead. It was over.
Using a feather-light charm, she carried Tom Riddle's body out of Hogwarts and into the Forbidden Forest.
She dug the hole manually. Out of earshot and out of view, she had nothing to fear. She put blood and sweat into putting Lord Voldemort where he belonged – six feet under.
As she dragged his body to his grave, she was floored by one revelation – Tom Riddle smelt of freshly cut grass and spearmint toothpaste.
Then came the tears.