The Forgotten

Chapter Four: Choices

Disclaimer: As always, anything that you happen to recognize regrettably does not belong to me but to the most divine, J. K. Rowling.


"It is not our abilities that make us who we are. It is our choices." - Albus Dumbledore


Hermione took a deep breath, filling her senses with crisp parchment and dusty tomes. Even after all this time, the Hogwarts Library was still able to bring her a comfort that no other place could. Sitting among thousands of books, housed within the ancient and magical walls of Hogwarts was a feeling that only she was sure to appreciate. When she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Harry turning a page in a book reluctantly or see Ron rolling his eyes as she once more lectured him about falling behind and procrastinating.

It was a sad feeling. However, she preferred to remember them like this. How they were and not how they died. She cringed inwardly as Ron's pale face and Harry's lifeless eyes came to mind. It was heartbreaking. She swallowed painfully and willed the tears away. She couldn't keep doing this to herself. It wasn't healthy.

"Inside on a lovely day as this?" A smooth voice interrupted her train of thoughts. Her eyes flew open, surprised at the interruption. She hadn't heard him enter the library. "Surely you wish to be outside enjoying the weather one last time before term starts?"

Hermione gazed curiously into the eyes of a murderer. She couldn't help but wonder what perhaps was going through his mind at this very moment. Did he see her as an enemy? As a weak defenseless woman? As someone to be conquered? She couldn't get a read on Tom Riddle. Not that she ever thought she would be able to. He was a criminal mastermind, a mass murderer and prodigy extraordinaire. Before her stood the very man that in decades to come would murder everyone she ever loved or even cared about in the slightest. The man that had ultimately killed her in every way possible in the most agonizing of ways. Her mind had been shot to the very depths of hell as he killed person after person, ripping piece after piece of her heart out. There was a time when she welcomed death, where she had begged for it. Anything had seemed better than the life she had been condemned too and then Dumbledore had offered her a way out. He had saved her soul.

And now she was here to save Tom Riddle's.


Tom stared steadily back into the curious eyes of Analiesa Dumbledore. She said nothing. She didn't blink. Tom felt like she could see right through him with those blasted twinkling blue eyes. He had always thought that Dumbledore had enchanted his eyes to twinkle in such a pathetic way, to help put people at ease when speaking with him but Tom now knew he was wrong. However, Analiesa's eyes didn't hold back the emotions she felt like Albus Dumbledore's often did.

He watched in fascination as her eyebrows furrowed and her wide eyes narrowed slightly. He wondered if she would ever answer. His eyes flickered down to her full blood red lips. He might have wondered if she were a vampire had he not known her lineage. He hadn't had much time to speak to the enigma that was Analiesa Dumbledore. He almost never saw her unless she sat in the library, which she often did but Tom never thought to interrupt her. He himself hated being interrupted while he was studying but today had been different.

It would be the last day he would get to speak to her alone. He needed to know if she was powerful. If she would even be worth his time. She could be his greatest weapon, if only he could sway her to his side. He would make her see his way of looking at the world. The woman would listen.

They always listened.


"Perhaps you're right." Hermione finally agreed as she shut her book. "After all, it is a beautiful day outside."

"Might I escort you then?" Tom asked suavely, an attractive smile on his face. Hermione tilted her head subtly.

"I suppose you might." Hermione answered slowly.

She had taken a great deal of time to avoid seeing Tom, deeming it safer to let him approach her. She often seen him in the library but he let her be respectfully. Outside of the library, she barely ever left Albus's side. They talked of everything and in someways she was sure that slowly, her father was helping her heal.

Hermione had read the file on Tom Riddle, more times than she cared to remember. She knew for one, that he never did something without an ulterior motive. Somehow it had to benefit him to talk to her. It didn't take much common sense to realize that Tom Riddle wanted information from her. Albus Dumbledore, her very father, was the only man that he had ever feared. Surely he thought Analiesa to be his weakness?

"How is Hogwarts living up to the tales I'm sure you've heard?" Tom inquired as he began to walk leisurely with her. His face held a look of interest but Hermione took it lightly, she knew he was a man of many faces.

"Hogwarts is as amazing as I imagined it would be." Hermione nodded, a small secretive smile on her face.

"I'm glad it is living up to your expectations Ms. Dumbledore." Tom replied fluently. "Surely you've found the library more than adequate."

"I've always had a thirst for knowledge." Hermione blushed lightly. "And please, call me Analiesa."

"Analiesa, then." Tom agreed. Hermione resisted the urge to flinch as the name flowed flawlessly off his serpentine tongue. Her eyes met his and light met not for the first time against that which was Tom Riddle. "It's not often that you find a young women so interested in reading a book, instead of preparing herself to be married."

"Excuse me?" Hermione bit out before she could reign her tongue in. She hadn't been expecting the comment and she couldn't hold back the fire in her eyes.

"I don't mean anything by it of course." Tom continued, as if Hermione hadn't interrupted angrily. "Only why should a girl be worried about a defensive spell when she could be learning household charms?"

"You must be sorely mistaken if you believe me to be a silly little witch that sits around all day waiting on hand and knee for a wizard's wants." Hermione breathed out quickly as she tried to wring in her obvious anger.

"I don't mean to offend you, I was just curious." Tom stopped as they reached the lawn in front of the grand doors of Hogwarts. Hermione gazed at him shrewdly. He wanted a reaction out of her and he got one. Simple as that.

"Knowledge is power." Hermione smirked lightly after a silent moment. "Surely you've realized that Mr. Riddle."

"Please, call me Tom."

Tom Riddle gazed down at her with an unknown glint in his eye.


He had undoubtedly been trying to get a reaction out of her and he was sure that she had come to that very conclusion. But to hear such words be uttered from a woman's mouth had been rather astonishing to say the least. He was a man of power. If you had it, you were to be respected. And it just so happened that almost always, men held the power. The lady before him was unusual. He was sure about that and it was perhaps the only thing he could be completely sure about at this moment concerning her.

"You can't possibly believe yourself to be as intelligent as a man though?" Tom asked innocently as he furrowed his eyebrows feigning curiosity. He watched in satisfaction as her face contorted into complete disbelief happily.

"How dare you." Analiesa hissed, her maddening blue eyes narrowing into slits. He wondered how far to push the petite witch but after a moment of again silence, he couldn't help himself. He wanted to provoke her powers.

He wasn't a fool. He knew what the Le Fay's were capable of. He knew of their light powers and how they resisted their use for only what they considered to be dire necessities. Pure power is what they referred to it as. Magic used for creating, for healing. He resisted the urge to grimace. He to knew however that their magic was not always destined to save the light in everyone and everything. Often, as seen in the case of the Most Noble Morgan Le Fay, the first notary descendent, darkness had a way of creeping in. It had a way of ensnaring the soul. If it wasn't for Merlin's influences then what would the Le Fay's be? Tom didn't hide his joyful sneer at such a thought. Such power going to waste, generation after generation. He couldn't just stand there and let it happen in front of his very eyes.

"Surely you aren't as daft as you make yourself out to be, Tom." Analiesa interrupted his ingenious thoughts, he gazed back into her blazing eyes. "Power is not dictated by something as indifferent as gender." Her voice held a lecturing quality. "Nor is it influenced by the blood that runs through their veins."

"Interesting thoughts Analiesa." Tom rose an eyebrow at her blood comment. The witch couldn't honestly believe that her power stemmed from anything less then her most ancient lineage. It was blasphemy. "But you are a Le Fay, how easy it is to say such a thing when the blood that runs through your very veins is said to be the source of pure magic in itself. You who hold the magic of Merlin and of Morgan Le Fay?"

"It is not who I am that makes me powerful or intelligent." The witch whispered, the genuine honesty of her beliefs dripping off her words. "It is who I chose to be among the chaos."

Tom Riddle tilted his head at the bold statement.


Hermione smiled softly at her words, not caring to look at Tom Riddle much anymore. She had been surprised to hear such wise words coming from her own mouth. She believed them though perhaps more than she believed in this mission. It was like her father had always tried to tell them, to her, to Ron and to Harry. They hadn't listened much back then, the meaning of the words never quite sinking in to their childhood souls. It was not their abilities that made them who they were, it was their choices. There in lay their true power. And there in lay her hardest conquest in this mission.

Tom Riddle had made horrible choices throughout his entire life. He never thought them horrible of course. Hermione knew that he honestly believed that power existed in someone purely because of the blood that ran through their veins. He believed in most everything she was sure that he had stood for. Pureblood Supremacy, the Genocide of Mudbloods and the Revolution of the Magical World into a new powerful Dark Age. However it all needed to be broken up into why he thought that way and why he was so passionate about it.

Tom Riddle had never known love. This was a commonly known fact. He never had any real friends, only followers that believed in his power and cause. There was no true loyalty in friends such as the Death Eaters. They followed Voldemort because they feared him. Purebloods believed in self preservation. Tom Riddle was ambitious and a genius. He always strove for something more. No amount of power had ever been enough. He put himself through dark rituals, he created horcruxes and killed thousands of people simply cause it was never enough. Tom Riddle had never met his match. His magic was unsurpassed, his intelligence unbeatable.

Her greatest obstacle in the success or failure of this mission lay within Tom himself. He had to make the choice to follow down a different route. Hermione had to show him, to prove to him that there was more to life than power. Or in the very least, there were more constructive ways to use it. She was here to offer him a different outlook on power and a different outlook on life.

If only the little prat would listen.

Hermione continued to ignore the boy as she looked up into cloudy sky, just as the sun came out between two particularly nasty clouds. Beauty surrounded them, if only he could learn to appreciate it. Hermione walked over to a rather sad looking wild flower that looked as if recently it had seen more than a few bad days. She touched it lightly with a few fingers, if only Tom Riddle wasn't so stubborn. There had to be some kind of light in him somewhere, she just had to find it.


Tom Riddle continued to watch Analiesa Dumbledore with heavily lidded eyes as she walked a little ways away and squatted down by a patch of dead flowers. The witch was peculiar but then again so was Albus Dumbledore and he had read that her mother, Circe, had been weird as well. It was as if they operated on a different level then the rest of them. As if they saw things in a different light. He watched curiously as her eyes closed as she fingered the dead petals lightly.

Tom held his breath as suddenly the flower began to regain its prior color of bright purple. His face contorted into disbelief as flower by flower came out of their wilted state, growing stronger and brighter every second. His eyes flickered to her hands, the one was still fingering the single flower while the other steadied her body to the ground. The witch held no wand. She uttered no words. All he could surmise was that her lips held a small secretive smile and her eyes remained close.

When all the flowers were brought back to life, her eyes reopened with their damning twinkle sparkling full force as she gazed down at her handy work. Her mouth dropped its smile as she appeared to be surprised by the spout of wandless wordless magic. She threw a withered glance his way before promptly shutting her mouth and gathering herself off the floor.

"You can bring things back from the dead?" Tom forced out calmly, his posture nonchalant. Did this mean that she could bring anything back to life? Did pure magic entail such a thing? He had never read about this when he had been researching the ancient Le Fay family. However, it had said that their special abilities differed. Circe herself was a celebrated seer that was said to have predicted her own death months before hand.

Analiesa's eyes widened as if she were surprised by the question. Surely she had known of her own abilities beforehand. Her magic should have long been manifested. The witch walked back over to him before sighing heavily and looking up at him sadly. He suddenly felt as if Dumbledore himself was looking at him. The pity was undeniable in the blinding twinkle.

"Tom the flower wasn't dead." Analiesa said slowly as if talking to a child. "You can't bring anything back from the dead. We all have our life cycles, its only a matter of time."

Analiesa was staring at him calculating, as if he were an open book that she was trying to understand. As if he could even be understood. She was a stupid witch.

"Everyone and everything is destined to die. No one is above death." Analiesa whispered fiercely as if she were speaking more to herself then to him. He tilted his head again, curious once more by the witch. "That flower held a light, it just needed a chance to be healed."

"Of course, silly pure magic." He uttered disgusted. Of course that's all it had been, so powerful was Analiesa Dumbledore that her great ability was to heal. "Have you no real powers?"

"I don't need to parade them around in front of everyone to have them." The witch spoke softly, again her eyes filled with pity.

He hadn't expected anything less from a Le Fay though. They didn't often use their powers unless they needed to. Surely the girl wouldn't go around cursing any man that talked bad of her. It was above a Le Fay. Their magic was a privilege to be seen.

And what an honor it had been.


Tom Riddle was worse than she could have ever imagined. She had hoped that he wouldn't be so cynical and well, evil, for lack of a better word until after his horcruxes had been made. Hermione was amazed that someone could be so pessimistic at such a young age. She knew of course of his past but did that really warrant this man before her? He grew up without his parents in an orphanage but nothing ever completely horrible had happened to him. It wasn't as if his parents were brutally murdered in front of him.

She noticeably cringed at the thought and couldn't help to sneak a look up at their would-be murderer. He was staring down at her intimidatingly, his face blank and his eyes dead. Suddenly, it all came crashing down on her. Her walls closed in as her breathing increased into a horrified pant. What was she doing here! This was absurd. This man didn't deserve to be saved. He deserved to die. He deserved to feel the pain she was subjected to by him!

What had she been thinking! Tom Riddle would never change. He was an evil man. Even now as he stood before her, his handsome face studying her ever so calmly she could tell. Who was she to think that she could change a man such as this? Could she honestly expect him to not turn into the evil that was Lord Voldemort? The basis of that man already stood directly before her. Yes his choices would make him into who he was. But Dumbledore had been wrong.

Because Tom Riddle had already made that choice.