Hermione wasn't sure. She's always been sure but this time her instinct told her that there was more to be known than what McGonagall had divulged to her. Unfortunately she didn't have time to run to the library and check her facts. They were the only two left fighting on the side of light and now they were deserted; in a forest in South England where they had escaped an onslaught of curses and hexes. They knew they couldn't win a losing war so they decided to hide. It was their last hope.

"Professor, I'm not quite sure what you mean." Hermione said nervously. She was tired, exhausted and hopelessness had escaped its way into her being. Seeing her best friends die was an unforgettable experience. She hasn't had time to mourn them and the shock of it all hadn't worn off on her.

"We are in a hopeless situation Ms. Granger. We must do something…anything. Our loss was great today and I am afraid it will only get worse. Voldemort has taken over the Ministry of Magic and our numbers have significantly decreased." Professor McGonagall said, her teeth gritted and she sounded breathless- on the verge of tears but, not yet. She still had a trickle of strength left in her- that Voldemort hasn't completely stripped away from her. "I implore you to consider what I am about to tell you. I don't do so lightly but it must be done."

"I can't disagree with you, Professor. We are in destitution." Hermione agreed, almost silently. The world was a dark place and any light that remained was bound to be extinguished in the span of a breath.

"There is a way…Professor Dumbledore had left me a parcel and had cautioned me not to open it until all hope has been lost." Professor McGonagall whispered diligently. "And, I daresay, that we are certainly in that state." Hermione looked at her questionably. She wasn't sure there was any other way or method left for them to survive or, if she wished to day dream, at least level the playing field. Did she dare to hope? Could she dare to imagine a world where here best friends were alive and fighting by her side?

"I don't know Professor. I don't think there's anything left. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has something wise to share with us but I'm not sure even he could have predicted our current predicament. What else is left for us to do but run and hide?" Hermione'e replied, her voice detached of any human emotion. She didn't have any more fight in her, if she was lucky she will run and survive. If she was lucky, she'll preserve her own life. But even now with hope almost rekindling its way into her heart, she knew that luck didn't favor her.

"I know, Hermione. But I implore you to not fade away just yet, my dear girl." Professor McGonagall reached for Hermione's hand and gave it a light squeeze of reassurance. She reached down into her cloak pocket and took out a small, medium sized box. It was tethered and looking somewhat dirty, as if it had been packaged as a last minute resort. Clearly, whomever wrapped the box didn't think it was going to be a present. McGonagall handed the box to Hermione who took it almost hesitantly, not sure what could possibly help them in this situation. As much as Hermione greatly admired her old Headmaster, Dumbledore often talked in riddles that she was not in the mood for at this time.

With a deep breath and her patience wearing thin, Hermione started to slowly unwrap the box. She opened the container and stared. There, lying in the box was small necklace with an orb no larger than a walnut or snitch. She traced her fingers alongside the golden chain and the clear glass. Her old time turner. She remembered fondly the time when she would use the time turner to get through her overly packed class schedule. A single tear slide across her cheek. Those were the times when Harry and Ron were alive. Those were the times where they would tease her about her affection for books and her constant time spent in the library.

"So he wants me to go back in time before we lost the battle and tell the Order how to prevent our demise?" Hermione asked McGonagall, looking up at the elderly witch whose hairs had now had gotten more grey- because of time or because of circumstance, she couldn't surmise.

"No, Hermione." McGonagall began. Hermione looked puzzled. If not that, then what? "Not that a short of time but a longer time. 50 years back in time, specifically speaking." Hermione was astounded, shocked. But how could she?

"Go back in time to Tom Riddle's time and stop him then" the Professor continued, sounding much more excited than perhaps it was necessary, Hermione thought. Dumbledore's crazy, Hermione thought. She didn't know what Dumbledore was thinking but he must have been very desperate to think along such lines as to go back decades in time. But if we are not in desperate times now, then what kinds of times are we in? Her inner voice asked, challenging her.

Hermione took a deep breath and stared at McGonagall. She didn't know if she could or that she wanted to. She didn't know if she could endure hope but more than that if she could endure having hope and then losing it again. Being hopeless wasn't the worse part but being hopeful and taking away that hope with nothing left but emptiness is what made the darkness grow.

And the darkness was growing in her.

Hermione could feel it. She never could relate to Harry when he described the brittle cold sentiments of being near Azkaban's Dementors but now she had the faintest idea. But no, that's not the kind of cold that was starting to feel. She was forlorn but there was something else creeping up inside of her. A new form of knowing. A deep, dark and fearless desire beyond desperation. A desire to kill.

Hermione was ready to kill the young Lord Voldemort. She knew she was ready. And she will.

Her new resolution gave her a new sense of hope and strength. She knew this time she wasn't going to fail. She knew she will succeed.

"I will kill Tom Marvolo Riddle." For Harry. For Ron. For Her parents. She will kill him or she will die trying.