The evil feeling came from a man named Voldemort and this wasn't the first time he had been an issue for the wizarding world, at least that's what Dumbledore said but serious proof is lacking from his theories. She felt it that night and has since, he isn't the same as the other people or even the creatures inhabiting the forest. He feels different, like rot, misery and wrongness so thick you could choke on it. Hermione has tried staying as far away as possible but when it isn't possible she finds the urge to vomit everything in her stomach up at the thought of this thing existing. However Dumbledore has a plan and that involves someone else, a student arriving this year must face him to truly end him. Dumbledore insists it must be this way and tells her the tale of Harry Potter, the boy who lived.
Since the best she can do is tolerate the taint in her forest Hermione focuses back on the important people in her life and her self-imposed obligation to continuously increase her knowledge. She has been learning the wizards style of magic for a little over a month now in private sessions with the different professors. They had offered to get her wand but she preferred to do so herself, after inspecting the structure of their wands she had gone to her birth tree, taken a deep breath with a palm against the smooth wood and created her very own wand. The wood was a rich dark brown (a few shades darker than her hair), twelve and a half inches with tiny red flowers appearing in various stages of bloom along the wand. For the core she had used one of her own strands of hair to increase its link to her power and imbibe the wand with her magic.
According to the professors she was rapidly progressing, already at an advanced first year level. She found it still felt a bit unusual using a wand to channel her power rather than just channelling her power through herself. Tomorrow the next year of new students along with the returning year levels will arrive at Hogwarts including the boy named Harry Potter she was rather interested in. She would annoyingly have to start hiding her wanderings through the castle from the students again. Both the faculty and herself agreeing the less the students knew of the forest girl the better, that didn't mean she couldn't watch them.
The start of the term meant less time spent with her two closest friends, both were kept busy with their Hogwarts duties until the late hours of the night, Dumbledore especially so. Despite her ability to thoroughly conceal herself it would be difficult task to remain unnoticed during the daytime throng of students rushing (or dawdling) as they headed to each of their classes. Her own lessons became restricted to an evening activity though she still created an illusion as a precaution. Technically no students are meant to be out this late but she has happened to come across a student instead of one of the professors while she made her way to the classroom she had been designated to on the seventh floor. The room was setup to suit the needs of whatever that particular lesson had in store every single time, although she had to walk past a certain wall a few times while thinking about her next lesson for the door to appear. Sometimes when she was feeling bored or lonely she would hide herself to wander and explore the castle but she had a tendency to end up in the library. She would tuck herself away in a quiet corner for hours poring over book after book slowly making her way methodically through each section.
It was on one of those library dominated nights she saw her first glimpses of the Potter boy and with the glasses, unruly black hair and just a peak of the tell-tale lightning shaped scar Dumbledore had described she didn't need to be told it was him to know. It seemed even though he was a wizard (not a powerful spirit of unknown origins) a mere year younger than her who had only recently begun his education he had developed some way to also hide his presence to a degree. It had only been the light tread of his feet and controlled breathing that had alerted her to his presence. Not that he would know she was also there considering she had hidden herself and cast a silencing charm (she found wizard magic quite interesting and the feel was not dissimilar to that of her own style of power). Then a thin hand holding a lit lamp appeared mid-air with a slight rustle of material. Clearly thinking he is alone he quickly discards the rest of what Hermione now sees is obviously a cloak that for some unknown reason is able to conceal the wearer from view. He heads straight towards what is labelled as the 'Restricted Section' above the old gate he quickly yet soundlessly opens with an unlocking spell then proceeds to look at the books contained within.
Edging closer Hermione observes with curiosity though she remained hidden, students in her own age range hold a certain allure. Clearly a natural need for company with less of an age gap, it wasn't that she didn't enjoy the professor's company just a biological instinct. He'd placed his lamp on one of the book shelves a while back and was opening the next book he had chosen in his search for something (Hermione wasn't sure what exactly) when the book emitted a horrendous wail which was only muffled when Harry hastily closed the book and shoved it back onto the shelf. Quick footsteps could be heard approaching along with a soft meowing, in his rush to get his cloak on to avoid being caught he knocks the lamp to the ground shattering glass across the floor. Not wasting any more time Harry disappears under the cloak and out of the room while Hermione goes to look at the books he had just been browsing, the cogs of her brain turning faster and faster.
Her mind is drawn to the memory of the conversation with Dumbledore that first night she felt Voldemort's presence in her forest. What she was told left her with feeling of unease like never before and she didn't like it one bit. A powerful item called the Philosopher's Stone had recently been brought to Hogwarts, the day it was moved there was a robbery attempt and fortunate timing was all that had stopped it being taken. Voldemort was looking to use it to restore his power and gain some semblance of immortality, all of this it seemed Harry Potter was aware of.
Dumbledore was of course already setting up a variety of powerful protection methods as a deterrent but he didn't want anyone underestimating the man (if he could be called a man). He had asked Hermione to be a part of those protections, to create a mass of Devils Snare beneath the trapdoor entrance. A charm would also be put in place to notify Hermione and Dumbledore if someone went through that trapdoor and a sign of who that person was. What he had also asked her to do was to allow a certain black haired first year (and his friends if they were with him) through the plants after he had ascertained she could do that from the depths of her forest if necessary. She had agreed, putting her trust in her mysterious friend who had faith the boy could do what he must well enough to make it through to the end. After watching him nearly getting caught by Filch and his faithful cat companion Mrs Norris she had some doubts, but then she supposed nearly was the key word in that sentence.
Harry had peaked her interest and she continued to watch out for him in her own way. She had blatantly denied that she had seen anyone when questioned about the night in the library but a twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes and a slight twitch of his lips said he knew more despite no further mention of the incident. However it was the snarky git of a boy with the pale blonde hair and fascinating grey eyes that held her true curiosity. Whenever she noticed him during her wanderings (always hidden of course) she had an unshakable habit of following him more often than not, observing his what to her was peculiar behaviour. She could feel this boy (barely a year younger than her biologically no less) was not evil, not anything like her unpleasant forest intruder but she wondered why he acted so cruel to many of those around him. It was an enigma to her, she had an urge to understand, she put it down to her intellectual and curious nature but even she wasn't sure that was entirely true.
Nasty words flowed from a mouth that even at his age was regularly in the form of a cold sneer. Even with people from his own house and those he called friend he was pompous, arrogant and condescending, a smirk on his face. Her heart hung heavy with sorrow for the boy named Draco Malfoy, an emotional raincloud dampening the joy she found from this new addition to her small world (Voldemort was a black stain aching to be wiped clean).
She began to notice that if she was brave enough to wander the castle in the daylight hours she would see Draco Malfoy paying an almost special level of attention to the trio of Harry Potter, Ronnie Wesley's and Seamus Finnigan. Although it was in an entirely different, not so pleasant way from herself, the trio was a particular favourite of his to torment, show he was apparently better than them and get into trouble (although he ended there himself half the time).
She noticed that the trio were getting closer to uncovering the truth about the Philosophers Stone as time went by. Her fondness of the trio had also grown, also friends of Hagrid and often displaying characteristics she had grown to admire. This was all unknown to them, hidden in plain sight and quietly watching when she wasn't at lessons, watching the pale haired boy or trying to take care of her forest as best as she could.
