AN: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far, they're always very motivating. I realise I have taken a few liberties with the story (I know Prefects start in fifth year, not fourth) but please bear with me for the sake of story telling.

Also, there is a little cameo for any past readers who have taken a peek at this story after some of my older ones. I'd love to know if anyone spies it. Please, enjoy!

CHAPTER 3

As if she wasn't dreading enough about their time in the 1940's, Hermione eyed her expected wardrobe with a sinking dread, holding the deep navy skirt at arms length. 'Did no woman in this time wear trousers?'

'Draco's got some.'

'Potter, I swear I'll make you eat that sweater vest.'

Hermione shook her head at the bickering silhouettes on the other side of the screen and wiggled her way into the waist hugging skirt and tucked the low, box-cut ash coloured, dress shirt into it. A thin, pointless belt slid through the loops and she turned to the mirror, sighing forlornly at the uncomfortably feminine figure she posed. Knowing her moral indignation would not be a good enough reason to jeopardise their cover story, she tapped her wand on the top of her head and, using a charm she had learned from Ginny, smoothed her unruly curls into neat glossy ringlets.

'Come on, 'Mione, our guides are going to be here soon.'

'She's just getting into character, taking an age to get ready.'

'Oh shut it, both of you. You just have to put on your creepy Uncle sweaters and open a few doors. This is practically torture.' Hermione huffed as she folded away the divider and stifled a surprised laugh upon seeing the boys. Harry's hair was fighting desperately against the heavy globs of gel he had attempted to streak through it and he tugged at the knitted hem of his maroon sweater. Meanwhile Draco ran his fingers to loosen the collar of his grass green dress shirt, a silver cotton vest hugging his waist flatteringly, but his grey trousers sat well above his hips, as was the fashion, and Hermione failed to swallow another snicker.

'Not a word, Granger.' Malfoy raised an eyebrow upon turning to the mudblood; there was no denying she cut a charming figure in her 40's pencil skirt and low cut shirt. Her bushy, lioness mane was tamed into a more respectable do and he nodded a lewd approval that simply earned him a glare.

'Hello? Is anyone in there?' All three jumped at the sound of a curious, timid voice, swapping glances to ensure their facade was holding up, spurring Hermione to duck into the bathroom and check they had not left anything incriminating behind. It took a deep, calming breath before Harry strode forward to pull open the camouflaged door.

Three faces greeted them, two unknown to the boys and one was blood-curdlingly familiar. The petite, blonde girl who had no doubt been the one to call through the door, jutted out her hand cheerily. 'Hi there! I'm Merida Lovegood, Ravenclaw Prefect and this is Minerva McGonagall, Gryffindor Prefect and that's Tom Riddle, he's the Slytherin Prefect.' The chirpy girl gestured to each in turn.

It took a considerable mental kick for Harry to believe the rather sharp, but attractive girl before him would be his future Transfiguration Professor. Her eyes were keen and intelligent, but her features had not yet been hardened and there were even two faint smile lines curving around the corners of her mouth. Tom Riddle was exactly as he recalled, however, high cheek-bones, a strong jawline and a carefully styled mop of bible black hair, not unlike his own but well behaved. It was the cold, bottomless eyes that betrayed the future Dark Lord lurking behind the chiselled outerlayer of a charming schoolboy.

'Nice to meet you all.' Harry shook hands in turn, pulling himself from his reverie, feeling a faint twitch in his scar as Riddle's cool fingers grasped his for a moment. 'I'm Harry Privet and this is Draco Lucius.' He jerked a thumb back at Malfoy who shook Riddle's hand, but brought the women's to his lips with a soft peck.

'Pleasure, all of you.'

'I thought there were going to be three of you?' Merida's tiny form bobbed as she peered past the boys.

'Oh, there is,' Draco glanced over his shoulder as Hermione made her way from the bathroom. 'This is Hermione Viktor.'

'I'm sorry, I was just fixing myself up for our first day,' she took the three Prefects hands, hesitating as Riddle raised her dainty digits to plant a small kiss on the back of it. She gave him as sincere of a smile as she could, but may have pulled her hand back a little too fast. 'So Merida, I think you're burdened with me for the day.'

Merida's soft blonde waves bounced as she gripped Hermione's arm and pulled her through the sea of faces and into the hall. 'Oh shush, it's not burden. I'm so excited to hear about you! First we have to get you all to the Great Hall though, that's where we have all of our meals and things.'

Hermione cast an apologetic glance back to the boys as she was quickly steered out of sight and down the staircase leading to the hall she had come to know so well. 'You wouldn't happen to know if my friend, Ron has woken up, do you?'

'Oh yes! He's up and about! I think he went to the Headmaster's office to get sorted though. I'm sure Dippet will bring him down before breakfast is over.'

She sighed in relief, finding Merida's incessantly chipper tone infectious and she couldn't help but to smile, even finding the strength to ignore the blatant staring from all tables as she made her way to the Ravenclaw side. Two boys parted, never ceasing their respective conversations, to allow the girls a space and Merida was quick to fill Hermione's goblet with pumpkin juice. 'Don't mind the stares, we don't get a lot of transfer students.'

'That's okay, I think it would have been the same at Beauxbatons.'

'Why is it you don't have a French accent?' Merida shoved a piece of toast unceremoniously into her mouth.

'Oh, I'm not French, I was born in England, but my family moved for work when I was young.'

'The three boys, they're from Durmstrang, right? How is you know them?'

Hermione sipped her juice as her mind reeled for the most obvious story, desperate to up the odds Harry, Ron and Draco might tell the same one. 'Oh, our Father's all worked together in England and so we grew up very close by.'

'Oh that's so sweet! Childhood friends, I love it! Are your families back in England now, is that why you all transferred?' Merida wiped crumbs from the corners of her mouth.

Granted a merciful reprieve from having to put on a mournful show, the Great Hall hummed to polite silence and all heads turned up to the staff table. Dippet had sidled to his place in the centre, a podium hiding his spindly legs as he lowered his hands to dictate the volume and smiled benignly over the hall.

'A wonderful morning to you all, as I am sure the hallway rumours have no doubt informed you, we have new students joining us as of last night. In Slytherin, Mr. Draco Lucius. In Gryffindor, Mr. Ronald Scabbers and Mr. Harry Privet. In Ravenclaw, Miss Hermione Viktor.' There was a timed applause from each house as they were announced and the Hufflepuff table just clapped amiably along regardless. 'I trust you will all treat them with the utmost courtesy and make them welcome in the castle.'

Hermione glanced over to the Gryffindor table, smiling softly upon seeing the shock of raven black and ginger hair she had become so fond of. Catching her gaze, Harry elbowed Ron who surfaced from his breakfast and gave her a stuffed cheek smile before diving back down. She could barely contain a relieved chuckle and shook her head to mirror Harry who jerked his head back, motioning to Draco. His bleach blonde hair was just barely visible behind the bobbing heads of the Gryffindor table, but her stomach clenched in the realisation beside him was the broad-shouldered figure of Tom Riddle. Of course it was, he was going to chaperoned by Riddle for at least the next few days, what had she expected to happen?

Swallowing the unwelcome feeling of pity for the arrogant Slytherin and turned her gaze back up to Dippet who had been rambling about schedule changes to First Year Potions classes. 'With that, I wish you all a busy, prosperous week!' Token applause broke out as most student fell back into their paused conversations.

Hermione managed to survive and deflect most of Merida's questions with bland answers or simply interrupting with daft questions of her own about the castle. She prattled happily about the history of the school, forcing Hermione to bite back several corrections, and was only silenced by the shuffle of their peers signalling time for first classes. Hermione managed to overcome the struggle of stepping over the bench in a pencil skirt in time to snatch the schedule Merida waved in her face.

'I nearly forgot! That's your timetable of classes.'

'Oh, I have Defense Against the Dark Arts first, what do you have?'

'Oh no! I have Potions...That's okay, you'll be in with the Slytherin's so I'll just ask Tom to take you over with your friend Draco.'

Before Hermione could stammer out an excuse, Merida flounced off to the Slytherin table and shamelessly tapped Tom Riddle's shoulder. He seemed unphased by the contact, although Hermione was going to painstaking efforts to stare into her goblet. It must have worked since Merida managed to make her leap with a friendly pat on the back, her eyes offering an apology.

'Wow, you're jumpy. Tom said he'll show you the way! I'll meet you outside at the end of class; we both have Charms for second class.' With that, her moonshine blonde hair fluttered into the sea of taller students, leaving Hermione to stare after her with an encroaching sense of dread. It encroached with a smart click of perfectly polished black shoes and razor sharp cheekbones, an abnormally demure Malfoy in tow.

'Miss Viktor?' Riddle prompted, his cold eyes watching he every little gesture as she took a deep breath, turning to him with a plastered smile. 'I believe you need help on your way to Defence Against the Dark Arts?'

'Oh, yes, if you don't mind,' her nerves worked in her favour as she clutched her schedule to her chest. 'Sorry to impose.'

Riddle flashed a knee-weakening smile, shadowed by the mildly amused raise of Draco's eyebrow, and held out his arm to lead the way. 'No imposition, but we should go or you'll be late.'

Draco clapped his hands on Hermione's shoulders as they made their way through the halls. 'No greater hell, is there Gr-...Hermione?'

She shrugged his touch off with a huff. 'If you want to get your future status from connections then be my guest. I'd sooner earn it through knowledge.'

'I'm sure the librarian and cleaner will hang off your every word.'

Tom Riddle watched the exchange with a carefully passive face, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly as the slight girl following fell silent with a scowl. Her tiny fists were clenched in her robe and it seemed the Lucius boy was satisfied with that. They soon joined the student filtering into the classroom, their idle chatter somewhat calmer than she was used to, but still it perked up in feminine tones as Riddle made his way through the desks. Fighting her instincts to either retch or laugh, Hermione flicked a cynical glance to Draco who simply nudged her towards a free desk just back from the front.

Riddle turned from a fawning Slytherin girl to see his two wards settling into the desk in front of his, he allowed a frown to crease his brow as the girl laughed when Draco pulled her chair out. Dismissing their strange behaviour as nerves, Riddle settled behind them both and watched as Hermione's already stiff posture snapped even more upon his presence. Her thin fingers visibly clenched around each other as he leant forward, the desk creaking under his weight.

'I feel you should know it is customary for students to sit among their houses.' He whispered, the baritone of his voice raking down Hermione's spine and even Draco rolled a shoulder.

He glanced back to the prefect with a curt nod. 'Understood.'

The class fell silent as the storeroom door flew open with a flurry of deep purple smoke and someone's chesty coughing. Draco swatted away a few stray wisps as they approached the desk, but Hermione narrowed her eyes to make out the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered man stumbling towards the teacher's desk. There was a scrape of chair legs on stone and Riddle's wand twirled in short-sharp motions, seemingly sucking the mauve fog into the tip and clearing the dense room. He sat back down, boredom, perhaps even a little disdain, resting on his features as there was a confused and scattered applause from the other students.

Draco and Hermione swapped puzzled looks before casting their eyes to the tall, lithe man with piercing, almost unearthly green eyes, and carefully styled dirty blonde hair, patting purple dust from his cloak. 'Well then, that's what happen when you tickle them.' He hacked, throwing a pleasant smile over the sea of stunned faces. 'Good morning, fresh faces, good to see. Forgive the grand entrance and turn to page 112 of your books; Zoras I believe.'

Hermione's fingers flicked to the worn book she had found in her trunk that morning, an ornately sketched diagram of the notoriously personable lake creature staring back at her, as she looked up in time to see the suave looking wizard approach their desk. He stuck out a faintly stained hand to Draco, shaking it with a brisk jerk; no doubt cracking a few of the school boy's knuckles. 'Professor Artemis Bolt, new students I believe?' His eyes flickered between them.

'Yes, Professor. I'm Draco Lucius and this is Hermione Viktor.' Draco tilted his head, picking up on the cues of introduction for the era.

Hermione tried to match his manner, offering just a demure smile as Professor Bolt lightly grasped her hand, planting a chaste kiss on the back of it. 'Pleasure, both of you. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I understand you're both transfers from other schools, so if anything is unclear, just shoot up a hand and I'll backtrack as much as you need.'

'Very kind of you, Professor, thank you.' Draco clipped, his blonde brow quirking at the kiss of Hermione's hand.

'Right,' Bolt clapped his hands together before retreating to the front of the class and revealing a large tank, hidden beneath a cloth, and a happily swirling Zora inside. 'This is Neptune and he's kindly agreed to join me for today's lesson. These remarkable creatures have a plethora of fantastic abilities that lose a lot in dry words, so let's start with a little demonstration, shall we?'

There was an excited murmur through the class, notably not from directly behind the two new faces, and Bolt seemed please with his spiel. Draco leant ever so slightly over to Hermione, quill turning in his hand to feign attention. 'Ten Galleons says you slap someone before the week is out.'

'Oh shut it, Ma-Lucius,' Hermione growled, catching herself just in time. 'It seems harmless enough.'

'I'm sure. I look forward to seeing the badges you make for this.'

'So perhaps Miss Viktor would like to jump straight into the Mandrake patch and join me up here?' Her neck audibly cracking, Hermione turned to see Professor Bolt staring intently at her, his bottle green eyes twinkling expectantly as he waved her up. 'Come along, dear. He won't bite and neither will I.'

Almost tripping as her slightly wobbly knees refused to work when she stood from behind the desk. Hermione flashed an apologetic smile to the Professor before joining him in front of the tank. The creature inside was not unlike a dolphin, but the size of an otter with large inky black eyes and a subtle phosphorescence emanating from it's ghostly white skin. Although it's entire eye seemed to be one big pupil, Hermione knew it was watching her with a quiet attention and there was something about it's proximity that relaxed her; like a reassuring smile from an old friend.

'Now then, Miss Viktor if you would please place your hand on the glass,' Bolt caught her attention once again with a warm hand on her shoulder, pulling an instinctual flinch as she pressed her palm to the surprisingly warm glass. 'Very nice, now would you kindly tell me do you happen to know what a Patronus is?'

She stared at him, her eyes widening for just a moment, before she found her voice. 'Oh, um, yes, it's a protective force used to repel the presence and effect of a Dementor.'

'Lovely, just lovely. Clearly Beauxbatons don't skimp on their Dark Arts. Have you ever summoned one yourself?'

'Yes, once in class, Professor.'

'What shape did it take?'

'An otter.'

Bolt chuckled quietly to himself, clearly in on a joke Hermione and the rest of the class had missed. 'How fitting. Well, when I count to three, Miss Viktor, I would like you to summon your patronus for us, never taking your hand from the tank. Can you do that for me?'

Fiddling the take her wand from her robes, Hermione gave a weak nod, struggling to fish out a warm memory in her panic. 'I can.'

'Good girl, wonderful, let's have at it then.' Bolt motioned with eager hands for Hermione to begin and she could feel the eyes of the class resting on her; one set uncomfortably heavy.

Desperate to block out the attention, Hermione closed her eyes and allowed the slide show of her life to flutter through her mind, a few pleasant days pausing longer than others, but none settling that warmth in her stomach that would allow her to cast the charm. The minute that had passed seemed an eternity when finally the image of Harry and Sirius floated before her, the older man encompassing his Godson in sinewy, tattooed arms as he would his own child. Buckbeak shuffled impatiently behind, his hawk eyes itching to the night sky as Hermione watched Harry bathe in his first real memory of familial love.

She raised her arm, robes sliding down, and she swirled her wand expertly, flicking it in front of her with a calm cry; 'Expecto Patronum.' Hermione opened her eyes in time to see a playful, solid silver otter materialise from the tip of her wand and scamper over the heads of the rather stunned looking classroom.

'Wonderful! Just wonderful!' Bolt clapped his hands together, before turning his attention to the tank. 'Now, Miss Viktor, look Neptune in the eyes if you would.'

The creature's impossibly black eyes caught Hermione's instantly and she found herself trapped by the intensity of his gaze. It seemed to creep past her eyes and under her skin, invasive, but not unwelcome as warm tendrils curled around her nerves and seemingly into her very mind. They caressed her thoughts, seeking out the same feelings of joy she had searched for just second ago and flaring throughout her entire body as they struck gold. There was murmuring behind her, even a gasp or two that allowed her to pull from the Zora's gaze and turn back to the desks. It was with a dropped jaw, that Hermione watched the fine stream of silver, feeding her Patronus, thicken and suddenly it was not just her otter rolling happily around the roof of the room, but a half dozen. Six scampering otters made the classroom their playground, all solid and perhaps even larger than Hermione recalled.

'Exceptional, Miss Viktor.' Bolt came to stand beside her, his fingers gently curling around her wrist and lifting it from the glass. It was as though ice claimed her every nerve, cutting through her entire body and her knees threatened to collapse from beneath her. 'Whoa, whoa, be careful now. It seems Neptune took a liking to you.'

'He has a funny way of showing it.' Hermione muttered to herself, earning a rather charming grin from her teacher before he ushered her back to her seat.

Mercifully the Professor chose not to dwell on the demonstration and Draco had the chance to shuffle closer to Hermione, his face full of skepticism. 'What was that?'

'A Patronus, you'd recognise it if you weren't usually on the other end of the Dementor leash.'

'You know that's not what I mean, I thought we were trying to keep a low profile?'

'What are you talking about? The Professor asked me to go up there.'

His murky grey-blue eyes narrowed, but his hands moved to hold up the page Bolt had instructed them to turn to and pointed at a low paragraph. Hermione snatched the book from Draco, skimming the words until she found where the Slytherin's concerned lay and she swallowed a thick lump of agreement. 'Oh...,'

'Well done, Viktor.' He growled.

'How was I to know?'

Draco snorted, snatching his book back. 'Little Miss Bookworm not knowing something from a textbook?'

'This one is a little before my time.'

'Never stopped you.'

'How was I to know Zora's usually only double the number of Patronuses...,' Hermione frowned at the implications of her own question. 'Maybe I just picked a really strong memory.'

'Yeah, well, let's hope our friend behind has a bad memory or you've just put yourself on his radar.'

The classes were a minefield of assumed knowledge, demure manners and Hermione desperately trying to bite her tongue as outdated information was trotted out by several respectable Professors. Harry and Ron had been a frustrating comfort behind Hermione in their Charms class and just plain frustrating in Potions as they played mock 1940's gentlemen with Merida. Thankfully there were no further Ravenclaw/Slytherin classes for the day and only Draco had been exposed to Riddle for any length of time.

The two boys had walked in brisk silence to their Potions class, just barely missing the tide of Ravenclaws making their way to Transfiguration. Riddle's keen eyes spied the soft curls of the new Ravenclaw girl bouncing past, in tow of that flaky airhead, Lovegood. He fought the urge to curl his lip in a sneer, transforming it seamlessly into a polite smile and nod as he lead Lucius to the seat beside him.

'Aren't I taking up someone's seat?'

Riddle cocked an eyebrow. 'Sit wherever you want, Lucius. I was simply instructed to guide you.'

Wisely, the boy took the seat beside him without further argument and Riddle waited with a practised straight back as Slughorn thundered past. His rotund build only served to emphasise his disappointing lack of edge in Riddle's mind, but doubtless the man had his uses and that was enough to warrant politeness for now. No matter how forced it was. As the Professor delved in to another tedious study of the uses of Mandrake root, Riddle took the opportunity to corner the new Slytherin among them.

'Durmstrang, was it?' He asked lightly, clearly catching the boy off guard as he scratched an ugly line across his parchment.

'Yeah, yes. It was.'

'And the other boys, the same?'

'Yes, all Durmstrang.'

'The Viktor girl?'

'Ye- No, no of course not, she attended Beauxbatons.'

'So how is it all you all know one another?'

'Family friends,' Draco recited, perhaps a little too sharply, after having had Hermione hurriedly whispered their back story in the hallway. 'We grew up together.'

Riddle noted the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of the boy's hands as he spoke. 'Were you expelled together too?'

'Hm? No, we weren't expelled; we fled.'

'Fled from what, pray tell?'

'Now Tom, my boy, as routine as I'm sure this is for you, I can't have you distracting the new fellow from class,' Slughorn tutted jovially. 'You can tutor him in the common room if you must.'

'Of course, Professor, I apologise.' Tom played his part beautifully and, for the first time in his life, even since their begrudging allegiance at the end of their third year, Draco found himself wishing for the company of the Terrible Trio.

'Not at all, my boy, just doing your duty I'm sure.' Slughorn bustled before continuing in his droning theory lesson and Draco breathed a gradual sigh of relief and made a mental note to excuse himself the second he stepped out of the classroom. It wasn't hard to lose Tom as the end of the lesson marked the end of classes for the day and the Slytherin Prefect was almost immediately mobbed by giggling, hair-twirling Slytherin girls. Draco used the cover of vapidity to slip his guide and made his way quickly to the Great Hall in the blind hope the other three had thought to do the same. He crossed the threshold and almost ran nose first into Ron as he rounded the corner at speed, scrambling to keep his footing as Draco growled.

'Merlin, Wea- Scabbers, do you want another trip to the Hospital Ward?'

'I was coming to find you, actually. Finished cuddling up to Riddle?'

'Say it louder, you flubber-head, I don't think they heard you in the common room.'

Ron had the sense to clam up as he lead a sneering Malfoy to the end of the Gryffindor table, tucked in the corner where Hermione and Harry sat waiting. They all rather blatantly checked no one was near enough to overhear anything that could ruin the future of wizardry before huddling together and Harry ruffled his messy locks. 'Well, at least it's all pretty familiar.'

'Apart from the lessons and teachers and students and customs, almost a mirror image,' Hermione scoffed, puffing her cheeks out in a day's worth of frustration. 'There is something very wrong with a teacher kissing the back of your hand.'

'I didn't hear complaints when Bolt did it.'

'Because I'm not willing to risk your lunatic father becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts for the sake of my pride,' she bit sharply. 'I'm just saying, it's not that familiar.'

Harry held up an apologetic hand. 'All right, fair call, well it's not that bad for us I guess.'

'Speak for yourself, Privet,' Malfoy shuddered. 'I was almost interrogated by Riddle in Potions.'

Hermione's eyes snapped to Draco's with an almost audible crack. 'What did he ask? What did you tell him? Is he suspicious?'

'Take a breath, Viktor,' Malfoy groaned, smoothing back his gelled hair. 'Slughorn cut him short before he could ask anything delicate, but I do think it means we need to get our story sorted before it happens again.'

Ron nodded frantically. 'I had no idea what you'd told that nurse when I came to, I just kept pretending to choke on my water; pretty sure she thinks I'm special.'

'She is an educated professional, mate.' Harry grinned.

'Nevertheless,' Hermione held up both hands to stop the incoming argument. 'I think Draco is right, let's get our story sorted. You three came from Durmstrang, I was schooled at Beauxbatons and our Father's all worked together as we grew up; hence we're all friends. Our families were targeted and killed by Grindelwald and we were sent away by, let's say Ron's father, during the attack.'

'Why his father?'

'Because your father would only save Purebloods.'

'The problem being?'

'Are we clear on that?' Hermione hissed through her teeth. 'Or do I need to write it down?'

Draco waved a dismissive hand. 'Relax, we won't be here long enough for the story to get twisted.'

'Oh really?' Ron snorted, choking a little on his pumpkin juice. 'Got a plan already, do you?'

'Not yet, Scabbers, but I don't plan on spending enough time in this year around Riddle to rouse his suspicion. So let's just stick to the bones of a story and not draw any unwanted attention that might bring questions.'

Hermione nodded solemnly. 'He's right. Riddle hasn't opened the Chamber of Secrets yet, but he's already cultivating his power base as Lord Voldemort and we don't know precisely when he began to suspect he could open the Chamber.'

Harry frowned. 'I don't want to wait around to find out.'

'None of us do,' Hermione shook her head, her small hands clasping at her goblet in thought. 'If we do this right we can tip off the Dumbledore of this time before Riddle ever gains real momentum and save Myrtle's life.'

'Or we kill her and pin it on Riddle.'

'Draco!' she hushed herself quickly, glancing around to see if they had drawn attention. 'Don't even joke about that.'

Draco shrugged with infuriating detachment. 'Who was joking? We're here to make sure Dumbledore knew enough in Riddle's youth to distrust him, if history gives us no other option than to kill Myrtle, I'm willing to get my hands dirty.'

'You're just okay with killing an innocent girl?' Harry rumbled darkly.

'Are you okay with putting her life above that of hundreds, maybe thousands, of other witches and wizards if Riddle comes to uncontested power?'

'...It's not that simple.'

'No, Privet,' Draco stood, gulping down the last of his juice. 'It really is, but you're just going to complicate it with sap morals to make yourself feel good. Believe it or not, I'm not that fond of the future we left; if killing one measly girl is the best way to stop my Grandfather throwing in with Riddle and cursing my family to live under his thumb, not mention slaughtering hundreds...I'll snap her neck myself.'