Shadows of Light
Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the world, or anything having to do with it for that matter. The only this in this that I own is the story and dialogue.
A/N: This is a work in progress and will hopefully be updated on a daily basis, at least. Any suggestions are more than welcome.
Eventual Hermione/Tom Riddle, but as will all story's in this pairing it will take time. :3
The cloud cover was almost complete, the sun making a valiant effort to break through only to be thwarted by the thick dust and smoke that blanketed the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds. The gloom seemed to suck all energy of those left in the castle. It was everyone's worst fear, and now that it had finally come to pass, even the light itself seemed to morn the passing of all hope.
There had to be something in the castle that would allow them to change the outcome. Anything that could offer them the option to get out of this horrible mess. She flew through the castle and made her way to the headmaster's office. If there was anything in this whole castle that could help them in this fight it would be in there.
The gargoyles that were guarding the door where completely destroyed, the once majestic images reduced to rubble in front of the now exposed stair case. without taking the time to mourn the destruction she climbed up the steps as quickly as her fatigued legs would take her. trying to desperately push back all of the stress and anguish that was lurking just on the outskirts of her mind. There would be plenty of time to break down once she was inevitably in the death eaters hands.
Glancing around the room, it struck her how much the war seemed to not touch the dear Dumbledore's most famous clutter. The portraits were all completely empty, the only sound being some slight chiming coming from the seemingly untouched items scattered around all of the tables. She marveled at the magical wards that the late head master must have put in place in order to protect his most treasured possessions from the destruction that waged unchecked outside.
Her frantic eyes moved over a cabinet that seemed to opening itself of its own accord in the corner. With cautious steps she made her way over to the now exposed shelving, allowing herself the hope that maybe the headmaster had stored something, anything that could help them. However, the only thing on all four shelves was a glistening Moldavite.
Hermione took a deep breath to brace herself, she didn't have time to be cautious with what might happen when she picked up the stone. They were long past the point of being careful in anything, the only thing left for any of them was desperation.
Her fingers gently bushed the cool rich green of the stones suffice, the power in the stone making her skin prickle. She closed her hand around its service and gasped. The office seemed to fall away, the sounds of war fading in her ears as if being pulled beneath the surface of a great ocean. She tried to pull in a shaky breath but the sensation of falling, of the world being pushed up as if she was within a massive maelstrom, put too much pressure on her chest.
Then just as suddenly as it began, the sensation was brought to a jarring end. Eyes still squeezed tightly shut, she tried to test her ability to move. A groan escaped unbidden from her throat as the agony of her joints after being exposed to such powerful magic caught up with her.
Her mind was blessedly blank for the moment, taking the time to place her thoughts back in a comprehensible order. There was some increasingly annoying sound getting closer to her that seemed to be bound and determined to stall her recovery. She squeezed her eyes closed more forcefully, willing whatever wanted to gift her with a splitting migraine to go away.
With a shaky breath, Hermione tried to roll onto her back, hoping the position would give some relief to her joints. But, before she could muster up the power to move herself she felt a warmth that was not her own moving over her prone frame. 'A spell,' she thought dazedly as the warmth brought much more relief to her abused form than shifting positions ever could.
With her breath coming more even and painless, she chanced an attempt at opening her eyes.
"My dear" said a voice from a great distance, "however did you have the misfortune of slamming into my floor, in quite a valiant manner I dare say."
Where there should have been panic and shock flooding through her system, there was only the since of over whelming relief as her gaze settled on the very much alive form of Albus Dumbledore.