A/N: Hello there! I've just finished another new chapter, as I still have no plans for the holidays yet. So, I guess updates are going to be very frequent for now, as always. Once again, thanks for those who reviewed.

Sheddingeverycolor and loves2readalways: Glad you liked the previous chapter. Hope you liked this one as well. Do continue to review! Thanks.

Now, on with the story! Enjoy!

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Chapter 9: The Task

The day passed smoothly for Hermione. Although she was rather in a bad mood after her first conversation with Riddle, Hermione did not show it. She merely pretended that nothing had happened at all. She managed to plaster her smile back onto her face as she walked into History of Magic. Minerva and Charles had saved a seat for her, beside Roger, and Hermione plopped down onto the chair after thanking them. Roger gave her a small smile, and Hermione returned it.

Mariana was talking to Minerva and the others again. She even offered to take notes for Hermione, but Hermione quickly declined it. She did not trust the girl, given that she always flirted with boys throughout most of the classes she attended. Hermione was afraid that she might miss out something important, and she was not going to risk the chance. She declined Mariana's offer politely, giving the girl a warm smile.

The class was boring just as during her time period. The only difference is Professor Binns is now still a professor, and had not become a ghost yet. However, he still drawled in that bored voice of his. Nevertheless, Hermione paid attention in his class [as she always does back in her time, although she thought that the subject was boring], and jotted down notes on rolls of parchments. Most of the students were starting to nod off before half the period of the class had passed Charles had merely looked at the board, and nod off to sleep five minutes later. Minerva on the other hand, yawned quietly, and struggled to keep her eyes open. However, halfway through the lesson, she too gave up, and slumped back into her chair, closing her eyes. Mariana was happily flirting with Roger, who was trying his best to ignore her.

Hermione continued to jot down notes. She glanced around the classroom, and saw that Malfoy and his gang were quietly playing with their quills, transforming them into various colours, and throwing them at each other. Her glance eventually settled on a certain dark-haired Slytherin, who was sitting a few rows ahead of her. He was also jotting down notes, his quill moving smoothly along the parchment. Hermione could see that his handwriting was very neat and elegantly scripted onto the parchment. For a moment, she wondered how someone could write like him. It was absolutely amazing; with the letters neatly printed onto the parchment as though it had been typed or imprinted there by a machine. Even she could not write like that, Hermione noted with slight disappointment. She even liked the way his thin and long fingers curved around the quill, gripping it firmly while he scribbled away on his parchment.

She sighed and quickly looked away, before Mariana's critical eagle eyes noticed that she was staring at Riddle again. She did not think that she would be able to endure another round of do-you-fancy-Riddle questioning session from Mariana. She had already had enough of it.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, students stretched, and started to get out of the classroom. Hermione recapped her ink bottle, rolled up her parchment, and marked the page where Professor Binns had last finished for the day. Then, she dumped all of this into her schoolbag, and followed Minerva and Charles out of the class. Mariana had dragged Bilius and Roger out of the classroom, immediately after the bell rang. She said that she wanted to show them something interesting. Hermione and Minerva exchanged exasperated looks, and managed to give both Bilius and Roger a sympathetic look, before Mariana dragged them out of the classroom by their collars. Bilius and Roger tried to protest, but Mariana continued to drag them along with her, pretending not to hear their shouts.

"What is our next class?" Minerva asked, after slinging her bag over her shoulders.

"I have Divination," Charles said, "Both of you have two periods free before lunch. Then, we'll have Arithmancy in the afternoon."

"Great," Hermione thought to herself. She would have some time to research Harperlindo McKenna's theory in the library. Fortunately for Hermione, Minerva decided to finish up her homework, and headed for Gryfindor tower. Charles walked off to his class after bidding Hermione and Minerva goodbye. The three of them promised to meet during lunch at the Great Hall.

Hermione was about to turn and walk towards the library, when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned, and gazed into a pair of warm blue eyes. For a moment, she thought it was Riddle, and started to panic. Her knees started to buckle, and she tried as best as possible to maintain her balance.

"Merope?" she heard a slightly worried voice. "Are you okay?"

She turned around, and saw a soft face staring up at her. It was not Riddle.

Hermione looked up, and found Alphard Black standing behind her, his hands still on her shoulders. Calmness overtook her, and she managed to smile at Alphard.

"Oh, I thought you were someone else," Hermione said, giving him another smile.

"You scared me, you know," Alphard said, taking his hands off Hermione's shoulders. "You looked as though you've been attacked by someone."

"I'm sorry, Alphard," Hermione said apologetically. "Maybe it's the aftermath of the war, you know? I've learn to be more alert and be prepared, as the attacks often come suddenly without warning, you know." Hermione said this quickly, trying to sound brave. She hoped that Alphard would believe her story.

She really had to get a grip on herself. She was not going to let Lord bloody Voldemort ruin her life by haunting her thoughts every day and night, and scaring the daylight out of her. She should be strong, and always be prepared to face what was coming next.

Alphard gave her a questioning look, but he never said another word about the subject. Hermione was quite glad about it.

"So, are you free now?" Alphard asked, falling into step beside Hermione.

"Yeah, I was planning to go to the library, to do some light reading before lunch," Hermione said.

"Oh, I see," he said, "Mind if I joined you?"

Hermione pondered this for a moment. If Alphard joined her in the library, she would not be able to research on McKenna's theory. She did not dare to risk the chance, even though she had treated Alphard as her friend. One can never be too careless around here, Hermione noted, especially when there is a psychopathic cold-blooded murderer still at loose, and the entire population of the school has no knowledge about it.

Finally, after making up her mind, Hermione said, "Not at all. In fact, I'll be glad that you're willing to accompany me, Alphard."

Alphard gave her a wide grin, and reached for her hand. They linked arms, and walked together down the corridors, talking and laughing happily. A warm sensation was beginning to spread through Hermione's body. She was beginning to like Alphard more and more. She found that they can easily get along with each other, although they did not have much in common.

They reached the library, and stepped through the double doors. Madam Perrywinkle beamed at them as they passed the front desk, and both of them smiled back at the librarian, before making their through the shelves, to find a place to sit down. Alphard suggested that they find a place which was less crowded, so that they would not be interrupted by the loud chatter of students, and it would make conversation easier. Thus, they headed for a small table, which was just enough to accommodate two people, at the far right corner of the library, and put down their bags on the floor.

Both of them chatted on about their families for a few more minutes. Hermione told Alphard about her family [the false story, of course], and Alphard told Hermione about his brothers and cousins. Alphard stated that his younger brother, Orion would be attending Hogwarts next year, along with his cousin, Wolburga Black, Lucricia's sister. Hermione smiled at this. These were Sirius's parents, she remembered, having read it on the family tapestry in Number 12, Grimmauld place during the summer holidays, where the Order of the Phoenix were having their secret meetings. Hermione smiled at the memory.

"Merope?" Alphard suddenly said, after a few moments of silence between them.

"Hmm?"

Alphard just looked at her, with a troubled expression on his face. Hermione could tell that he was troubled by something.

"Alphard, what is it?" she said, laying her hand gently on his arm.

Alphard continued to gaze at Hermione, with an unsure expression on his face. Finally, he said, "Merope, do you remember what I told you last night?"

Hermione looked at him, and nodded.

"Yeah, you told me to be careful around Riddle, right?"

Hermione was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She did not wish to discuss this subject at this moment. She had planned to drive all thoughts about Riddle out of her mind for the time being. However, she had no choice, as Alphard had brought it up again, and Hermione would have to play along with him, so that he would not be suspicious.

"Yeah, and I promised to tell you more about it today, right?" Alphard said, his voice gaining back some confidence.

"Yeah, I remembered. So, are you going to tell me the reason now, Alphard?" Hermione pretended to sound interested.

Alphard nodded, and clear his throat.

As Hermione expected, Alphard started to ramble off about the opening of the Chamber of Secrets two years ago, how a student named Morgana Myrtle was killed, and how many others were being petrified. Hogwarts was completely in chaos after that, Alphard informed her. Parents started to write to Dippet, worrying about their children's safety, auras running about in the grounds, trying to gather as much evidence as possible, Ministry officials coming and going, questioning students and all the staff of the school repeatedly. Alphard said that the culprit had been caught at least, and it turned out that Riddle was the one who caught the culprit.

"That was absolutely rubbish, if you ask me," Alphard said, "I knew Rubeus Hagrid very well. He wouldn't even hurt a spider, you see. How can you imagining him killing a student, using a giant monster?"

Hermione smiled at this. At least not all the students in Hogwarts believed Riddle. She was pleased with this.

"I suspected that Riddle was behind it," Alphard said in a low voice. "Even Dumbledore seemed to think that Riddle had something up his sleeves, but he did not have sufficient evidence to nail him down. I believed Riddle framed Hagrid for the murder, you know."

"You're absolutely right, Alphard," Hermione sighed inwardly. "Oh, how I wish I can tell you this."

"He's mad, I think. Who knows how many more terrible things he had done outside of school during the break?" Alphard continued. "Even strange events started to take place after the incident two years ago. Students were starting to disappear for a long time, before turning up again. Some girls have been hit by dark curses, and have to spend a few months in the infirmary. Dippet suspected that this was Grindelwald's doing, but I personally don't think so. I think Riddle was behind all this."

"Oh, indeed," Hermione pretended to sound shock. Alphard continued his story. Hermione asked him questions where she thought appropriate, so that he would not be suspicious. He went on to suggest that Riddle had been up to no good since he first set foot in Hogwarts.

"From the first day I met him, I could tell that something was not right with him. He kept to himself all the time, and never showed any emotion. I sometimes wonder how he managed to live his life, as he bottled up all emotions inside of him. I guess one day he'll explode." Alphard said, sighing softly.

"Hmm," Hermione pretended to sound thoughtful, but she had to agree with Alphard on this. She herself could not stop wondering about the same thing yesterday. She wondered how Riddle was able to endure this kind of lifestyle. No wonder he became a cold-blooded psychopathic murderer. She was not surprised at all.

Hermione decided that she had heard enough of this, and changed the subject. Alphard, noticing her discomfort complied and went along with her happily.

"So, are you invited to Slughorn's party?" Hermione asked him. At this, Alphard's face broke into a big smile.

"Yes, I was a member since fourth year. Slughorn thought that my family had quite a reputation in the wizarding world. After all, we are all ancient purebloods," Alphard said this with a bored tone. Unlike the Malfoy clan, Hermione noted that he did not bother to boast about his blood status. She was pleased with this.

"I've just been invited to join the Slug Club yesterday," Hermione said, giving Alphard a wink.

"Oh," Alphard said. "Do you have a partner yet, Merope?"

"I don't know yet, I'm still not sure about bringing one though," Hermione said, giving him a mischievous grin.

"Great. As I haven't got a partner yet, would you be so good as to be my guest, my dear Merope?" Alphard asked, extending his hand.

"Well…" Hermione trailed off playfully.

"Well?" Alphard asked her, still grinning.

"If you said so, my dear Alphard," Hermione said, taking his extended hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Ow! That hurts, you know?" Alphard said, gently punching Hermione's arm. Hermione laughed and gave his hand another final squeeze before letting go.

Both of them laughed happily, and started to walk out of the library when the bell rang, signaling lunchtime.

"I'll see you around soon, Merope," Alphard said, when they reached the double doors leading to the Great Hall. He gave her arm a soft squeeze, before heading to the Slytherin table.

"Okay. See you later then," Hermione said, letting go of his arm, and making her way to the Gryfindor table. Minerva and Charles were already seated at their usual spots, waiting for her.

Hermione sat between both of them, and started to pile food onto her plate. She was feeling particularly hungry today, as she had not eaten much during breakfast. She begins to stuff her face into the food, without noticing it.

"Merope, are you starving?" Minerva asked her, looking exasperated. Hermione looked up at the other girl with her mouth full of mash potatoes and chopped beans.

"Yeah," she said, turning red in embarrassment. "I hadn't managed to eat much during breakfast."

"Slow down, dear. You'll choke yourself to death at the rate you're wolfing down your food," Charles said, giving Hermione's shoulder a playful slap. Hermione slapped him back playfully.

The three of them finished their lunch, and walked together to their last class for the day.

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When the lesson finally ended at 3.30, Hermione quickly gathered up her things, and told Minerva that she wanted to go to the library to research some important facts to complete their History of Magic essay. Minerva gave her an admiring look, and smiled at her.

"You're working yourself too hard, Merope. I think you need to release some stress," Minerva suggested. "Why don't you come with Charles and me? We're planning to have a little party in Gryfindor tower now, just for fun."

"Yeah. It's only the second day of the term, girl. Let's get rolling for a while before getting serious, shall we?" Charles cut in.

"Oh, I'll love to join you guys," Hermione said, pretending to sound upset, "But my essay is really calling to me now. I won't be able to have a good night's sleep if I failed to complete it by tonight."

Minerva looked at Hermione again, and shook her head.

"I'm not surprised if you managed to get good grades for the NEWTs, Merope," she said, walking away with Charles.

Charles merely winked at Hermione, and followed Minerva out of the Great Hall.

"Riddle would be pissed," she heard Charles whispered to Minerva as they passed. "Merope is certainly his perfect match."

Hermione stuffed her Arithmancy textbook into her schoolbag, and headed out of the classroom, masking the disgusted look on her face with a small smile. For some reason, she felt angry after hearing what Charles had said. She was certainly not Riddle's perfect match. How could she be? They were both on different sides; she on the light side and he on the dark side.

She walked briskly towards the library. She reasoned that she would have to complete her research quickly, as she still had homework to do. She would be far behind if she continue like this. She just has to check the shelves again today, to make sure that she had not missed out anything yesterday. After all, Dumbledore still had not given her a pass to the restricted section, and Hermione figured that it would be impossible for her to sneak into that area. If anyone discovered her, her Head Girl reputation would be smeared. Hermione wanted to avoid this as best as possible. She had already had enough burdens on her shoulder; coping with young Voldemort, pretending to act normal around her friends, schoolwork, preventing her nightmares from recurring again and etc. She would not want to land herself into more trouble.

Hermione pushed through the double doors of the library, and stepped into the building.

"Back again, my dear?" Madam Perrywinkle looked up from her desk as Hermione entered. She was reading the Daily Prophet, Hermione noted.

"Yes, I've to read up on something," Hermione said, offering the librarian a half smile before heading over to the shelves where various books were arranged.

"Don't keep yourself in here too much, my dear. The weather outside is wonderful, and I daresay a walk down to the Black Lake would be just perfect."

Hermione gave Madam Perrywinkle another smile. "I'll try to finish in here as fast as possible. And then I'll see about it," she said.

Hermione scanned through all the titles in the Potions section quickly. Just as she had expected, she turned up empty-handed. There were no books on McKenna's theory at all.

Feeling slightly disappointed, Hermione decided to research from a different angle. She headed to the section on time travel, and started to pull out various books. She skimmed through all of them thoroughly, but found nothing at all. Most theories about time travel involved a time turner, and there was no mention of the Draught of Destiny.

Hermione was about to give up, when one tiny brown book caught her eyes. It was sandwiched between two dusty large books, which she had already read before, as it still existed during her time. Curiously, Hermione reached up and pulled the book out of the shelf.

The cover was tattered and worn, and the writing on its cover was beginning to fade. Nevertheless, Hermione could still make it out after squinting at it closely.

"The Theory of Time Traveling" it read. Hermione's face started to fall. This was just another ordinary book, she thought. She was just starting to put the book back on its shelf, when the second line of words caught her attention. She frowned, and blinked. She could not believe her luck.

There, written in the same fading ink, below the title was the name of the author, which was none other than Harperlindo McKenna.

Hermione began to get excited. She started to flip through the book. She frowned. The pages were all blank. She tried to flip through the pages again, doing it more slowly this time. The blank pages stared back at her.

Hermione growled in frustration. This was harder than she had expected. She would have to figure out how to make writing appear on the pages. She was sure there was some way around this.

So, Hermione decided to call it a day, and checked out the book. She decided to return to her dormitory for now to complete her homework. If she was fast enough, she could try to figure out how to read McKenna's book after that.

When Hermione stepped into the commonroom after giving the Pink Lady the password, she found that Riddle was no where in sight. Feeling glad about this, Hermione dumped her schoolbag onto the couch with Gryfindor colours, and started to take out her homework.

Two hours later, Hermione had managed to complete all her homework, which was due next week. After checking to make sure that she had not missed anything at all, she smiled satisfactorily and rolled up the scrolls of parchments. She placed them neatly into her bag.

After that, Hermione took out her old Muggle wristwatch, and glanced at the time. She figured that she still have forty-five minutes before dinner. So, she decided to work on McKenna's book.

Feeling excited, Hermione took out the small leather-bound volume from her bag, and started to thumb through the pages again. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out her wand.

"Aparesium!" she tried. Nothing happened. The pages remained blank.

"Revilium!" Still nothing happened.

Hermione tried a few more spells that she knew, but the pages of the books still remained blank.

Next, she tried to dip her quill into her inkwell and write on the book.

"Reveal your secrets."

The writing remained on the page, but nothing happened. Feeling frustrated, Hermione tried a few more phrases, before giving up.

"Oh, why must this be so difficult?" she muttered in frustration, slamming the book shut, and throwing it at the table. In her frustration, Hermione accidentally cut her fingers at the edge of a page of the book. Small trickles of blood started to appear on her finger.

"And now I've got a paper cut," Hermione sniffed, feeling more frustrated than before.

As she tried to clean the small wound using her wand, a small trickle of blood dripped onto the blank page of the book, which was still open. Hermione growled in frustration.

And then, it happened. Hermione could not believe her eyes. The drop of blood remained for a while on the page, and then it disappeared. Feeling curious, Hermione placed her hands on the page, and let a few more trickles of her blood to drip onto the page. Just as before, the blood remained on the page for a few seconds, and then disappeared.

Hermione was beginning to get excited. Was this some kind of journal, she wondered. IT had only work when she presented it with her blood. Hermione shuddered at this realization. She began to panic again. What if this is all related to dark magic? After all, it looked like Tom Riddle's diary, or his first horcrux, back in her time. She should not act in such a rash manner, Hermione scolded herself. She had now stepped into an unknown boundary, and she would have to suffer the consequences now if something terrible really happened.

Hermione began to tremble. She started to pick up the book, but dropped it immediately in surprise. She could not believe her eyes. She blinked, and stared at the book again. Her eyes widened.

Writing had begun to appear on the pages. As she flipped through all the pages of the book, she discovered that it was all filled up with writing.

With a still trembling hand, Hermione turned back to the first page, and read the following:

Dear traveler,

If you've managed to read this, it means that you're the chosen one to complete this task, for only those who had managed to mix the Draught of Destiny and had consumed it would be able to read this splendid volume. As you consumed the potion, its traces would remain in your blood forever, until your designated task is completed. Only you would be able to activate this volume, along with its twin, which would be mentioned shortly below. This volume would not be able to be activated by anybody else, and that person would also be unable to read this volume, if this volume falls into their hands.

As you've already discovered, it was I, Harperlindo McKenna, Potions Master of the 16th century, who had designed the Draught of Destiny, allowing one to travel back in time to their destiny. As you journeyed back through time, my dear traveler, I'm sure that you've discovered that certain things can be turned around, so that a brighter future can be shaped. Therefore, I, Harperlindo McKenna, with this thought in mind, had managed to spend about fifty years of my career researching a way to do this with an alternative way, other than the usual way of traveling, i.e. by using a time turner. Thus, the Draught of Destiny was designed.

As the years passed, I've managed to modify this draught, so that it would be perfect, and do not produce any flaws at all. If used appropriately, this draught would bring its drinker back through time, where it felt that certain things need to be corrected. Mind you, my dear traveler, that this draught was specially designed to negate the usual effects of time traveling, thus there would be no severe consequences if you changed certain things in the timeline. As you journeyed back in time, two alternate dimensions would automatically be created. One dimension would be the place [or simply putting it as the future] that you have left behind. The time would remain frozen, and events would cease to take place. All the people in that dimension would be in a deep sleep, and would not have notice anything peculiar had happened at all.

Meanwhile, the other dimension is the place where you are brought back to, my dear traveler. Any events occurring during your presence in this time period would instead set a new record for the future. Should you manage to correct the flaws during this time period; you would be considered to have completed your task, my dear traveler. It was only then that you would be able to return to your time, as the Pearl of Destiny would be in your possession then. It would help you journey forward in time, back to the first dimension where you belonged. You would not remember anything at all when you return, and it would be as though you had just woke up from a pleasant and long slumber.

The timeline would move on then, and everyone would forgot about what had happened previously, and events would occurred as it should have been, as though the undesirable flaw that you've corrected did not occur at all. As you returned to your dimension, my dear traveler, you would be forgotten as well in the second dimension, where your presence would not be remembered at all by anyone, and you would be treated as though you did not exist at all during that time period. Nevertheless, once the flaw had been corrected, events would play differently from before, just as the flaw had never occurred at all. I assure you that your dreams and destiny would be achieved, my dear traveler, if you have the will to move on and complete the task. The clues of the task that is set for you would appear on the parchment where you find the instructions of brewing the potion. So, I hope that you are willing to complete the task designated for you, my dear traveler.

However, should you choose not to return to the place where you actually belonged after completing the task, or if you failed to complete the task, the consequences would be unknown, my dear traveler. Therefore, I'll ask you to ponder your decision very carefully before setting out to complete your task.

Thus, I leave in your hands my private journal, entitled "Potions and Their Greatest Potential", which is the twin of this volume, where you would be able to find all you need to know about the Draught of Destiny, which I've secretly penned down. If you've managed to find this book, my dear traveler, you'll be able to activate it the same way as you activated "The Theory of Time Travel", for it only recognized the drinker of the Draught of Destiny. Hope it would help you greatly, my dear traveler.

Best of luck to you and hope that you would be successful in achieving your desired destiny.

H.K. McKenna

Hermione's hands were no longer shaking by now. Instead, she was filled with excitement. Finally, she had managed to find something. She had indeed traveled back in time using the Draught of Destiny, and she had been able to activate McKenna's journal.

Now, all she had to do was to figure out the flaw in this time period, and correct it. Then, she would be able to return home. She was glad that McKenna at least had a sense of creating something that would negate the effects of time traveling. She would not to be too careful anymore, Hermione noted. It would not matter much if she let some information from the future slipped out; of course not vital information, Hermione thought. After all, when she returned, she would be forgotten, and everyone would treat the situation as though she had never existed before in this time period.

Hermione furrowed her brow in concentration, and tried to remember what she had read on that torn piece of parchment back in her time.

"May you survive the dark times which is going to come, and may you slip into a world that you could not have imagined," Hermione mouthed silently, remembering some of the phrases written on the piece of parchment. Hermione still wondered what that was all about. The darkest times? Correcting flaws? There must be a flaw in this time period, she gathered, but what was it?

Just as she was turning over possibilities in her mind, she heard a click, and the portrait hole opened. Hastily, she snapped the book shut, and stuffed it into her beaded bag quickly. Hermione managed to stuff her beaded bag into the usual hidden compartment of her schoolbag just in time as Riddle walked into the commonroom, carrying a pile of books under his arms.

He did not seem to notice her, Hermione noted. He was deep in his own thoughts, mumbling to himself softly as he made his way to the other couch opposite her. Hermione got up, stretched, and started to head upstairs. She would have another shower before going down for dinner, she decided. She did not think that she could stand being in the vicinity of the young dark lord just yet.

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The day passed on smoothly for Tom too. He reasoned that he would not let the Head Girl bother him any longer, as he would break her tonight. He instead focused on his classes for the rest of the morning.

History of Magic passed quickly, with the boring Professor Binns mumbling about Warlock Conventions and Goblin Rebellions. Tom jotted all the notes that Binns had written on the board with a bored expression on his face. He had already knew all of this by heart, but nevertheless he figured it was just a way to pass his time and preventing himself from nodding off, like most of the other students. He had to maintain his Head Boy image after all.

He looked around the classroom. Most of the students were dozing off before half of the period has ended. Malfoy and his gang were playing their silly game of quill-throwing. Tom screwed up his face in disgust. The group really had no better things to do. Nevertheless, he did not care about that. As long as they do his bidding for him and remained as his loyal followers, they can do whatever they liked. He reasoned that it would not bring him any detriment after all.

His gaze landed on a particular brunette, which is scribbling frantically across her parchment. Her head was bent so low, that her nose almost touched the parchment. Tom noted that she writes with a beautiful and steady grace, her quill skidding smoothly along the parchment. Her writing was also neat and elegant, Tom noted, although his was more elegant and nicer. Tom could not help feeling stupidly proud about this minor detail. At least, the Head Girl had not managed to beat him in this.

"What a silly thought," he scoffed, shaking himself quickly. He wondered why the girl still had such an effect on him.

She was so immersed in copying that she did not even notice his stare. He notice how beautifully her fingers curled around her quill, holding it in place. A lock of hair had fallen into her eyes, making her look more beautiful than before. Her dimple emitted a warm glow, and Tom felt comfortable staring at her.

"Damn!" he snapped frustrated, after discovering that he had been caught off guard again. He really should stop thinking about her now.

Furiously, Tom jotted down the few last important points listed on the board, and rolled up his parchment. She gathered up all his things, and stuffed it into his worn-out schoolbag.

By the time he finished doing so, the bell rang. Binns gave the class homework, which was due next week, and walked out of the class. Tom slings his bag over his shoulders, and walked out of the class, feeling angrier with him than ever.

He wondered what had gotten into him for the past two days. Ever since Merope Granger had entered his life, he had been thinking strangely, and acting strangely too. His whole persona was out of place.

"This cannot happen any longer," Tom kept telling himself. Thus, he made up his mind that by hook or by crook, the girl was really going to get it once and for all. His future plans would be thwarted, if he does not act quickly now.

He knew that the girl was lying through her teeth about her background, judging by her actions so far. Tom had observed that she turned pale at times when that McGonagall girl or that Potter boy asked her certain things. However, she was fast in covering up her slip ups though. He would not buy her nonsense stories, just as the others. He was not a person to fool around with, and he would force the truth out of her tonight. She would learn about his persona than and see his true colours. Tom could not help feeling please when he pictured the scared expression on her face later.

With this thought in mind, Tom smirked, and headed to the North Tower for Divination.

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After his last class for the day ended at 3.30, Tom headed back to the Heads' Dorms. He would work on the small black journal by McKenna that he had found yesterday. He stepped into the cozy commonroom after giving the Pink Lady the password.

He glanced around the room. The Head Girl was not back yet, he noted. He figured that she must have gone to the library again or maybe to Gryfindor Tower, to join her friends. He was slightly pleased with this. He would have the commonroom to himself for now.

Tom started to pull out the small book from his bag. He glanced once more at the blank pages, and set to work. He sloshed various revealing potions that he had secretly brewed himself onto the pages, but still nothing happened. The pages still remain blank.

Next, Tom tried more spells that he had managed to look up in a few more books in the restricted section. Still, none of them work. He tried giving his blood to the book, but the blood just remained on the page, and nothing happened.

After all his attempts turned out to be fruitless, Tom slammed the book onto the table next to the armchair which he was sitting on in frustration, and threw it onto the floor. He glowered at the book. Why it wouldn't work, he wondered. How should he make the writing appear on the book?

Finally, Tom let out a deep sigh, picked up the book and stormed out of the commonroom. He was going to the library again, he decided. He would look for more books in the restricted section. Tom would not back down until the last resort had been used on the book. He loved challenges, and McKenna's book was one piece of mystery that he was going to solve, aside from Merope Granger.

The thought about the Head Girl made his temper flare up again. Tom quickly pushed her out of his mind, and roughed shoved the portrait of the Pink Lady side. The portrait looked taken aback, and gave him a disapproving look.

"Mind your ways, boy," the Pink Lady sniffed in a cold voice. Tom merely gave her another scowl, before storming off in the direction of the library.

An hour later, Tom walked out of the library, levitating several books along with him in the air. He loved to use magic to its fullest potential. He would not use the Muggle way of caring all the books under his arms. In Tom's opinion, Muggles are stupid, just as his own filthy Muggle good-for-nothing aristocrat father. He smirked at the memory of his father, the frightened and surprised look he gave Tom the night he fall to his death, in Tom's own hands.

Tom never regretted his actions last summer. He had killed both his grandparents and his own father at the Riddle mansion in Little Hangleton and had framed Morphin Gaunt, his uncle for the murders by planting a false memory into his mind. In Tom's opinion, his father and grandparents deserved to die, as they had abandoned him. His useless fool of a mother was also unnerving. Had she not given Tom Riddle SR the love potion, Tom would not have to go through so much in his life? In fact, he may not even be born into this world.

He remembered the look on his father's face before falling to the ground. The man was frightened and his eyes looked pleadingly at Tom. Tom was still boiling with anger at that time. Without remorse, he raised his wand, and flicked it swiftly. The jet of green light hit his father squarely on the chest, and the man collapsed, with his eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth wide open. It was then that he had created his second horcrux.

Tom fingered the ring, which he always kept in his pocket. The black stone felt cold to his touch, and he found that he liked the smooth carvings of it. In this ring was a fragment of his soul. Tom hoped that he would be able to make more horcruxes, after graduating from Hogwarts. The thought of being immortal was simply tempting, and he could not resist it. He planned to split his soul into seven parts.

"Soon, Lord Voldemort would rise to power, and the wizarding world would be dominated by him," he laughed softly to himself, as he continued down the corridor. He would be immortal, and may rule the whole world as long as he desired. No one, not even the old coot Dumbledore, could stop him. Tom Marvolo Riddle always gets what he wanted without much effort, owing to his brains and cunning strategies.

However, little did Tom Marvolo Riddle know that this was having a negative effect on him, and he would be suffering the consequences of splitting up his soul soon enough.

Tom continued to walk back to his dormitory, still levitating the books along with him. Suddenly, he felt his right hand twitched slightly. He tightened his grip on his wand, but the twitching continued. His fingers began to tremble, and his whole arm went numb. Tom stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock.

Pain shot through his arm, and his grip on his wand loosened. He staggered uncontrollably for a while, before collapsing in pain onto the cold stone floor. His wand fall out of his grasp, and the books which he was levitating fell onto the floor with noisy thuds. Perspiration was beginning to form on his forehead.

His face contorted into a mask of pain, and he clutched his chest. His whole body was burning, as though it was on fire. Tom managed to gulp a few breaths, as the tightness around his chest increased. He bit down on his lower lip, and tried to take a deep breath again. His breathing became shallow and ragged. He tried to stand up, but doubled over once more as another searing pain shot through his muscles.

Tom closed his eyes, and took a few more deep breaths. He started to massage his arms. By now, the tightness in his chest had decreased, and his breathing was beginning to return to normal. He continued to massage his arm. His fingers were stiff and numb. He could not feel anything at all.

Finally, after a few more minutes of massaging, He reached out and touched his arm again. The numbness and pain had ceased, and his strength was returning. He tried to flex his fingers and arm, trying to find out whether he can still feel anything. He was glad to know that his senses had returned and he was able to move his hands normally now.

He glanced around the corridor nervously, hoping that no one had noticed him. Luckily, the corridor was deserted, save for a few students, who were making their way to the library in the opposite direction, and seemed not to have noticed him at all.

Hastily, Tom straightened up, and picked up his wand, which had rolled a few feet away from him when he loose control just now. He flexed his fingers once again, and found that blood was beginning to flow normally through his veins again, and colour was returning to his face, which had gone quite pale just now. With a lazy flick of his wand, the books started to hover above him again, and he began to levitate them to the Heads' Dorms.

As he walked, Tom could not help feeling a bit worry. What had happened to him just now, he wondered. He had never gone through anything like that throughout his whole life. He should check it out later, he decided. Had the splitting of his soul caused this? Tom could not help wondering about this possibility. After all, he had not bother to find out the consequences of creating horcruxes, as he was too excited to try it out. If this was indeed what had caused his seizure just now, he would have found a way to stop the problem. He could not let this weakness stop his plans. He was Lord Voldemort after all.

He reached his dormitory, and gave the Pink Lady the password. She was still offended with him, and swung aside without offering him her usual dazzling smile. Tom summoned the books into his arms with another flick of his wand, and carried them into the commonroom.

Merope Granger was sitting on the couch on the right, Tom noted. She was hastily stuffing something into her schoolbag. Tom raised an eyebrow at her behaviour. He wondered what she was trying to hide from him.

The girl then abruptly gathered up her things, and started to walk away in the direction of the staircase leading to their bedroom. Tom just stared at her.

He felt lethargic for all of a sudden again, and sank down onto the couch opposite the one Merope Granger had just vacated. He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to relax his mind. He could not explain what he was feeling now. There was something not right with his body, he felt strange and out of place.

Tom massaged his temples thoughtfully. He let out a sigh in frustration. He had already had enough problems on his mind; figuring out Merope Granger, working out how to activate McKenna's diary and now this had happened to him. He would have to research more at the library, or go to the hospital wing and ask Madam McCarthy about it. She was the most knowledgeable healer that he had ever met, he noted. In fact, they often share things together. He had helped her to adjust certain potions, so that it would be more effective. They had just figured out a new way of brewing the dreamless sleep potion last year, and it was yet to be tested. He wondered whether the matron had tested it yet. It was he, after all, who had suggested the new recipe. He would have to remember to pay her a visit later, Tom decided.

Tiredness overtook him suddenly, and Tom succumbed to it. He lay down on the couch, and closed his eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione felt fresh after her shower. The cold water had raised her spirits, and made her more energetic. Hermione plopped down onto her bed, toweling her hair dry. She took out McKenna's book from her bag, drew the curtains tightly shut around her bed just in case the young dark lord happened to enter the room, and warded her bed. Then, she settled herself more comfortably on the bed, and started to read the book.

It was a very interesting book. Hermione had learned that McKenna had used most of his career writing this book, as he had mentioned earlier. The explanations were logical and so detailed that Hermione was intrigued with them. McKenna had indeed a very broad view about time travel, and the reasons he used to support his belief were simply amazing.

According to McKenna, time can be altered according to one's own desire and destiny. It depended on the witch or wizard themselves, i.e. whether they are willing to accept this theory. Furthermore, McKenna stated in his opinion that everything can possibly be achieved with time, and the usual rules of time travel should be relaxed so as not to discourage witches and wizards from achieving their most desirable destiny. Based on this theory, McKenna had figured out a way to allow one to travel through time, which would negate as best as possible the usual flaws of time travel. Thus, the Draught of Destiny was created by him in early 1650s.

The book was so interesting that Hermione read on and on, until she finally finished reading it without knowing it. She was slightly surprised when her hand turned the last page of the book. She put down the book, and takes a deep breath.

"Oh, this is such an interesting piece of work," Hermione said to herself. She would find the other book later, she gathered. She had no idea where it was at this moment. She would have to figure it out soon. Nevertheless, Hermione decided that this had been a very progressive day after all. She had managed to learn and discover so much.

She locked the book away safely in her trunk before heading out of the room for dinner. She was already late, she noticed. Minerva and Charles would certainly be worried about her, as she had promised to meet them for an early dinner. Hermione started to think of an acceptable excuse to explain her later as she closed the door quietly behind her. She tiptoed down the stairs, as she did not want to make too much noise, just in case Riddle was still in the commonroom. She had no intention to irritate him further, after their first confrontation that morning. Who knows whether he would get mad at her and decided to curse her?

Hermione reached the last step, and continued to walk softly across the commonroom. Riddle was sprawled on the couch again, fast asleep. The books he was carrying under his arms are scattered about on the floor. Hermione wondered whether he always fall asleep while he was reading. She had caught him for the second time already.

She was just about to turn away, when a small black leather-bound book caught her eye. She squinted at it more closely, and cupped her hands to her mouth to prevent a surprised scream from escaping from it.

She reached down quietly, trying to make the least noise as possible, and picked up the book. "Potions and Their Greatest Potential by Harperlindo McKenna", she ran her fingers across the smooth letters printed on the front cover of the book. She had found the book at last.

No wonder she had trouble locating it earlier. That idiot psycho had gotten it in his possession all along. She dared a glare at the sleeping young Voldemort. She could not help noticing that his face looked slightly paler, and some colour had drained from it. She wondered whether he was not feeling well, but quickly waved that thought away. It was probably the trick of the light, she convinced herself. After all, he was Lord Voldemort, and she did not even care whether he was sick or not. His skin was already as pale as a waxed doll now, Hermione noted, and she would not be surprised if it grows a few shades paler.

Not wanting Riddle to be suspicious, Hermione again duplicated the book, but this time, she left the duplicated copy to Riddle, and took the original one. Luckily for her, Riddle remained asleep throughout the who process. She quickly scanned through the book. As she had expected, the pages were blank. Riddle, it seemed, had not been able to activate the book yet.

"Ah, try as hard as you may, Mr. Riddle," Hermione chuckled inwardly, "You'll never be able to gain access to this book."

She tiptoed back upstairs, and locked the book safely away in her trunk. Then, she started to make her way downstairs again.

Quietly, she pushed open the portrait hole, and stepped out into the corridor. Riddle was still sleeping soundly when she left. She was quite glad about this. He had not noticed what she had just done. However, Hermione still worried that he would find out sooner or later. So, she would have to act fast. She would finish McKenna's journal as fast as possible, and return the copy to riddle before the fake one disappeared. She doubted he would be able to read it though, as only those who had consumed the Draught of Destiny would be able to do so, as mentioned by McKenna at the end of "The Theory of Time Travel", which Hermione had read just now.

Hermione made her way through the corridors to the Great Hall. Most of the students had already left when she arrived. Minerva and Charles were still at the Gryfindor, glancing at the door with worry looks on their faces. Hermione could see that Alphard had joined them at the table. She made her way towards them, waving.

Minerva immediately jumped out from her seat, and ran towards Hermione. "Oh, Merope! Finally you're here. We're quite worried about you, you know."

Hermione gave Minerva a big smile, and the other girl gave her a tight hug. Both of them started to walk towards the Gryfindor table, where Alphard and Charles still sat. Both boys gave Hermione a relieved smile when they arrived.

"What happened, Merope?" Alphard asked her, looking at Hermione questioningly.

"Oh, I'm sorry for making all of you worried," Hermione started too said. "I was too tired, and decided to take a nap. When I woke up, it was already this late. I'm really sorry."

All three of her friends nodded in comprehension. Hermione was glad that they had believed her story. She sat down, and started to pile food onto her plate.

The four of them chatted merrily as Hermione ate, laughing occasionally at some silly jokes cracked by one of them.

After Hermione finished her dinner, she excused herself, and told the others that she need to go back to her dormitory to complete her homework. Alphard offered to walk her back there, but Hermione declined politely.

"I just wanted some moment alone, Alphard. I need to think and clear my thoughts sometimes, you know. I hope you understand," Hermione said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Yes, I understand, Merope. Fine then. I'll see you on tomorrow." He took her hand in his, and gave it a light squeeze.

Hermione bid the three of them goodnight, and made her way back to her dormitory. She planned to finish McKenna's book tonight, as she had already completed her homework. She could not wait to discover more about the Draught of Destiny.

The Pink Lady gave Hermione another dazzling smile as she approached the dormitory. Hermione glanced at the portrait. She had not given it her fullest attention for the past two days. The Pink Lady was stunningly pretty, Hermione noted. Her black hair hung down her back, and framed her beautiful heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a soft shade of brown, and her lips curved up into a smile. She was dress from head to toe in pink. Her pink velvet gown matched her complexion well, and softens her features further. Her left hand was firmly holding her wand, which was also pink in colour, Hermione noted fondly. Her right hand grasped a large pink pearl, the size of a crystal ball, which emitted a soft and warm glow. Hermione stood there for a while, admiring the Pink Lady's magnificent features.

"Nice isn't it, my dear?" the Pink Lady asked Hermione, giving her a small smile.

"Indeed, you're so wonderful to look at, my lady," Hermione said, returning the Pink Lady's smile.

The Pink Lady gave her another warm smile. Then, she said something which made Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Time is so wonderful, my dear girl. Treasure it well, and use it to its fullest potential. Every flaw can be corrected, if you know the right way to do it. Desire and will power would carry you forward to your destiny."

Hermione stood transfixed at the spot. What was that all about? The words were so familiar. She wondered where she had read it before.

She sifted through her thoughts, and finally it hit her. Her eyes widened, and she stared into the dark brown eyes of the portrait.

She had read that particular paragraph in "The Theory of Time Travel" just now. The words were exactly the same as what the Pink Lady had said just now.

The Pink Lady gave her a wink, as Hermione continued to stare open-mouthed at her.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I'm afraid this may sound too rude, but were you somehow related to Harperlindo McKenna?" Hermione said finally, after managing to control her racing heart. She was beginning to get excited.

"What are you talking about, my dear?" the Pink Lady asked, and Hermione could tell that she was hiding something from her. She glanced once more at the Pink Lady. The large pink pearl caught her attention. If the Pink Lady was indeed related to McKenna, would the pearl in her hand be the Pearl of Destiny, which would help her to get back?

The Pink Lady just looked at her. Hermione decided to push her luck further.

"What you said just now…"

"Oh, forgive me, my dear. Sometimes I caught myself off guard, and babbled all kinds of nonsense." Hermione could sense that this was not the truth. She would push the Pink Lady further, she decided.

"But…"

"My dear, if you'll forgive me, I Need to pay a visit to the Fat Lady at Gryfindor Toward soon. Do you want to go in now?"

"My lady…"

"Oh, my dear girl, I don't have all day," the Pink Lady was starting to get offended. She started to move away.

"Wait!" Hermione said, "Okay, okay. I'm going in."

"Password?" the Pink Lady said in a clipped tone. Hermione noted that she was still angry after the confrontation.

"Caput Draconis."

The portrait swung aside quickly, and Hermione stepped into the commonroom, excitement still bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She would try to confront the Pink Lady again on tomorrow, Hermione decided. She hoped that she would be able to get more information from her.

Riddle was awake now, Hermione noticed. He was scribbling something on a roll of parchment, and did not seem to notice her.

Curiosity overtook her, and she took a few steps closer to where he was sitting. He was still scribbling quickly, his quill moving with the same beautiful grace along the parchment. He did not even look up as she approached him.

Hermione scanned the parchment quickly. Anger was beginning to well up in her. Riddle, it seemed, had started to prepare the patrolling schedules for the prefects. The nerve of him! He had not even bothered to consult her on this. He had taken the liberty to do everything alone. Hermione was furious at this. She was his other counter part, and she had the right to plan out the schedule as much as he did. Dippet had instructed them to work together, and Riddle was sidestepping this instruction already.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly to announce her presence. Riddle merely looked up for a second, and then bent down once more to pen another name in a column on the right of the parchment.

Hermione cleared her throat again, more loudly this time. Riddle just continued to pen down names, and ignored her altogether. Hermione was beginning to lose her patience.

"Excuse me, Mr. Riddle?" she forced out, trying as best as she could to control her anger.

Riddle gave her another look, but did not say anything at all.

"As Head Girl, I think I have as much right as you do in preparing this," Hermione continued, gesturing to the parchment on the table. "I thought Headmaster Dippet had asked us to work it out together. Which part of the word together did you not understand, Mr. Riddle?"

Riddle's eyes flashed red, and Hermione knew that she had managed to anger him, but she did not care. He put down his quill, and glared at her.

"Granger, since you so rudely put it," he started to say, in the same cold and emotionless baritone, "I'm telling you right now that I hate team work. I'll be doing all the work, and you'll just have to go along with it. I don't care whether you liked or not, as this are my style of doing things. It would be quicker and convenient this way. If Dippet asked about it, I'll be sure to mention that both of us had done it. Am I clear on this?"

Hermione could not believe her ears. Riddle was really pissing her off. How someone could stand him for so long, she wondered.

"Of course, he is Lord Voldemort, and those who disobeyed him would suffer the consequences later," Hermione scoffed inwardly. She would not let Tom Marvolo Riddle had his way so easily. Hermione reasoned that she would not back down without a fight. If Riddle decided to curse her, he can do as he liked. She really did not give a damn about it. After all, she would be back in her own time period soon, after completing the task that McKenna's draught had set out for her.

She pulled herself up to her full height, and looked straight into Riddle's midnight blue eyes. "Oh? In that case, I'm sorry to inform you that I'm not happy with the arrangements, Mr. Riddle. As I'm your other counter part, I've the same rights as you do in planning things for the school, and I don't care whether you liked it or not. We're going to work this out together, do you understand?"

Hermione could see that Riddle was also boiling with anger. Both his hands had clenched into fists, and he was trying as best as he could to control his magic. She could sense his magic crackling around him dangerously, waiting to be let out at any moment. The dark aura surrounding him sent Goosebumps down her spine. She had experienced this feeling before, during the final battle, and during the time at the Ministry, where Voldemort had tried to kill Harry. She was lucky that Dumbledore had managed to arrive just in time. If not, all of them would be dead in their graves before they could say "Slytherin". She suppressed a snort at this thought.

Suddenly, without warning, Riddle lashed out at her. Taken by surprise, Hermione was not prepared for it. She tried to pull out her wand, but he grabbed both of her hands so tightly that her knees begin to buckle. He sprang up from his seat, grabbed her by the neck with his other arm, and pinned her against the nearest wall. Hermione tried to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth.

"Granger," his voice sounded dangerously from above her. He was towering over her, one arm still pinning her tightly against the wall, while the other was fumbling in his pocket for his wand.

Hermione closed her eyes. She knew what would come next, and she was prepared for it. He would either kill her or curse her, she decided. She would succumb to it. The war had made her stronger. She would not let Riddle scared her so easily.

However, the other part of her was mocking herself for being so stupid. Why must she pick a fight with Riddle? Couldn't she just let him get his way? It would be much more easier this way.

"Oh, shut up," Hermione scolded herself silently. "You've made this move, and now you should suffer the consequences."

Hermione could not help feeling a bit frightened. After all, she had not deal with Lord Voldemort before. Belatrix Lestrange was worse enough. That madwoman was merciless, and would do anything she could to please her master. Hermione shuddered at the memory of being tortured at Malfoy Manor. She had not been able to shake off the memory, and it still haunted her in her dreams.

Riddle had managed to pull his wand out of his pocket. He waved it around the room in a complicated pattern. Hermione noticed that he did this non-verbally. He was no doubt putting wards around the room, to alert him when someone happened to be near their dormitory. Hermione was certain he was going to torture her now.

Riddle then pointed his wand at Hermione. "Silencio!" he mouthed silently and Hermione's mouth clamped shut on its own accord.

At least it would be better this way, Hermione reasoned. He would not hear her screams, and she would not let him have the pleasure of watching she screams. For a moment, Hermione considered putting up a fight, but thought better about it. She would get this over with once and for all.

"Granger, you would be wise to not cross paths with me," Riddle said, closing the gap between them. His hot breath tickled her neck, and sent shudders through her whole body. He traced her neckline with his wand. Then, he jabbed the tip of his wand hard on her neck. "Do not question my authority, Granger. I would only tell you this once. You don't want me to be your enemy, do you?" His wand moved down a few more inches down her neckline.

"Do you understand?" he asked her. Hermione looked at him with frightened eyes. Nevertheless, she decided that she would not give in so easily to his commands. She was not one of his precious Death Eaters, after all.

"Answer me, Granger!" his voice was raising dangerously. "Do you understand?"

Hermione remained silent, the stubbornness in her preventing her from nodding her head.

"Well, if you're so stubborn, girl, then you leaves me with no choice," Riddle said, his voice laced with malice. "I'll teach you once and for all what is it like to disobey an order. Let's see how well you can stand this, shall we?"

Riddle took a few steps back, and released her. Hermione's body was still trembling now. She tried to move, but her stubborn legs refused to do so.

"Crucio!"

The nightmare began. Hermione felt that she was reliving her past again. Pain seared through her whole body. He collapsed onto the commonroom floor, and her body started to twitch. All she could feel was pain, more pain, and burning. This was much worse than what Belatrix Lestrange had done. The curse was more powerful and stronger. She felt that a thousand knives are stabbing into her whole body.

She closed her eyes. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth, as she had been silenced. Tears were pouring out of her eyes, as she tried to control the pain. She bit down hard on her lower lip, and tasted blood.

She could not take it any longer. She hoped that that psycho would lift off the curse soon, or kill her.

Finally, Riddle flicked his wand and lifted the curse off. Although it was only for a few seconds, Hermione could feel as though as she had been tortured continuously for the past twenty-four hours.

Riddle laughed in the same high-pitched cold laugh. Hermione shuddered when she heard it. He was Lord Voldemort now, and not the handsome and nice Tom Marvolo Riddle who once charmed all the professors and had everyone wrapped around his fingers. He was a dangerous murderer now.

"Now, let's see how you're taking this, shall we?" Riddle said, turning back to her. "Do you understand my command now, Granger?"

Hermione was too weak to move. So, she just lay there, motionless. Riddle was growing impatient, and kicked her hard in the ribs. Pain seared through her body again, and Hermione closed her eyes tightly, ignoring the tears which were streaming down her cheeks.

"Answer me!"

She tried to lift her head, but found that she had no strength to do so.

"Crucio!"

The nightmare began again. This time, it was worse than before. Riddle was merciless. Hermione heard him laughing in that same higbh-pitched manner as he tortured her. She opened her eyes, and saw that his eyes were gleaming with glee as he watched her twitch and thrash about on the floor.

Her head was beginning to pound furiously, and her whole body was becoming numb from the pain. Her mind was beginning to grow foggy. She wondered whether she would be tortured to insanity before tonight had ended.

Finally, Riddle lifted the curse, and crouched down beside her. With another flick of his wand, he lifted the silencing charm. Hermione felt that her mouth was dry, and her throat was burning.

"Answer me right now, girl!" Riddle's voice boomed furiously. His face was still blank without any emotion, and the glint of red in his midnight blue eyes had disappeared now. "Were my instructions clear enough?"

Hermione nodded weakly, and started to sob. The pain was really unbearable. Riddle stood up, and started to walk away, after getting the answer he wished to hear out of her.

Abruptly, he turned again, and looked down at her again.

"Now, I'll finish up the patrolling schedule, and you would just have to follow it. I'll plan the Halloween Ball as well. From now on, you'll obey me, and do as I said. And, remember not to question my authorities. Am I clear?"

Hermione nodded again. Riddle smirked satisfactorily.

"And if you mentioned a word about tonight's happenings to anyone, you'll suffer the consequences later. I assure you that it would be much more worse than what you've endured tonight. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded again. Riddle turned away, gathered up the schedule that he had left on the table, and started to make his way out of the commonroom. She could hear his footsteps disappearing down the corridor as the portrait hole closed silently behind him.

Hermione rolled onto her back. Her body was still aching after enduring two rounds of the cruciatous curse from that psycho. She continued to cry silently. Blood was still trickling down her face, where her had dug her nails into her skin without knowing it. Her lips were swollen and bleeding. She wiped away the blood and tears on her face and cheeks using the sleeve of her robes.

Silent tears begin to trickle down her cheeks again. She remembered her friends and her family who were all lost in the last battle. Her parents were dead, Fred Weasley was dead, Lupin and Thonks were dead and the list just goes on and on.

After resting on the floor to regain her strength, Hermione tried to move, but her muscles were too cramped. She tried again, but only managed to crawl a few inches away from where he previously laid. She tried again slowly. Finally, after a few more weak attempts, Hermione managed to crawl her way to the nearest couch.

With all the strength left in her, she lounged herself onto the couch, and lay down. Her body was still aching badly. She would not possess the strength to climb up the staircase to the room, and would have to sleep here for the rest of the night.

Hermione knew very well that the effects of the curse would last for a few days. She would have to down a pain relief potion in the morning, before going to classes. In fact, she wondered whether she would be able to make it to her classes tomorrow. She was feeling very feverish right now.

She took out her wand from her pocket, and cleaned her wounds. She felt slightly better, as the bloodstains disappeared and her bleeding lips subsided slightly. She would have to go to the hospital wing tomorrow for some ointment to heal it further.

She put her wand back into her pocket, and places her right hand on it. She would not let Riddle attack her again, if he tried to do so later when he come in later. Hermione took a few more deep breaths. Her breathing was returning to normal now.

She made herself more comfortable on the couch and closed her eyes. She should get some sleep now, before the next day begins.

Her muscles were still painful, and the pain grew worse when she moved. She cried out at intervals, when the pain was unbearable. There is no way she was going to sleep in this condition.

She cursed Riddle silently under her breath. All her plans would be delayed now. She would not be able to read McKenna's journal, as she had planned, and this would further made her return slower. She still had not figured out the task that the Draught of Destiny had set out for her yet. She was beginning to get irritated. This is all Riddle's fault, Hermione decided. Hermione was sure that this would not be her first torture. Riddle would torture her further, when he suspected that she was lying about her entire background. She would have to act fast before this could happen. She was not prepared for another round of the cruciatous under the thirteen-and-a-half inches yew wand of his.

Maybe she could kill Riddle while she was still here. After all, she would return to her time period soon, and she could kill two birds with one stone by completing the task and vanquishing the dark lord once and for all. The wizarding world would not have to suffer so many losses, and Harry would not have to shoulder a great burden on his shoulders. All three of them can live happily ever after with the others, and establish their own families. She would get to spent more time with her parents, and Hogwarts would continue to shine under Dumbledore's governance if he still survived. This would definitely be great, Hermione thought. The final battle would not take place at all, and innocent lives would not be lost.

A small smile spread across her face. If only she managed to correct this flaw in the timeline, all would be well.

Suddenly, realization begins to dawn on Hermione.

"Of course. How could I be so stupid?" she muttered to herself. Although pain was still evident in her body, she could not help feeling excited and happy. Another broad smile spread across her face.

She finally knew what her task was. She had been sent back to this time period for a reason, and now she knew what the reason was. Everything fitted together neatly. She could not believe that it was she, and not Harry, that has to complete the task.

For the second time in two days, Hermione Jean Granger felt relief washing over her. She would have to complete her task soon, and plans were beginning to form in her head.

She would have to vanquish the dark lord before he could rise to power. This was the task McKenna was talking about. She was certain and confident that she would be able to accomplish this task. She would have to do this, for Harry, for Ron, for her parents and for the Greater Good. Hermione shuddered once more at the last thought.

The Greater Good.

Everything she was set out to do would have to revolve around those three words.

With these thoughts in mind, Hermione finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.

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Tom walked down the corridors, satisfied. He had managed to break the girl at last. He could not help feeling pleased as he saw the frightened expression on her face when he tortured her just now. Now, she would be wrapped around his fingers, just like the others. She would not speak to him in that same rude manner that she had used just now.

He had woke up after falling asleep on the couch some time later, and decided that he had no appetite for dinner. So, he took out a piece of parchment and started to plan the prefects' patrolling schedule. He would do all the work himself, he decided. Merope Granger would not be involved in this, and she would do as he said.

Tom noted that she was not in the commonroom. Perhaps she is still upstairs, or she had gone out to dinner. He decided to deal with her later.

He was just finishing the schedule when she entered the commonroom. At first, she did not notice him, as she was deep in thought. Her brows were furrowed together in concentration, and she was frowning while muttering to herself. Then, as she passed the place where he was sitting, she looked up and noticed him. She took one look at him, and then it started.

The girl started to taunt him, accusing him of being selfish, Tom gathered. She continued to rant on, and Tom's anger was boiling. He tried his best to control his magic, before it lashed out uncontrollably.

As she continued her rant, Tom was beginning to get more frustrated. Finally, he told her off. He told her that she was to listen to him, and he would be doing all the work.

To his annoyance, the girl countered his propositions stubbornly. He was taken by surprise for a moment. No one had dared to argue with him in his whole life. He always has an effect on everyone he conversed with. They would always fear him and comply to his wishes.

Finally, Tom decided that he had had enough. He lashed out at the girl. She would witness his true colour now. She would know better not to disobey him next time. He was going to break her now.

He pressed her against the wall, and fumbled in his pockets for his wand. He warded the whole room, just in case someone passed by the area, and put a silencing spell on the girl. Her mouth immediately clamped shut. Nevertheless, she stared straight ahead of her, as though he had expected what would come next.

Tom started to torture the girl, after she refused to give in to his commands. How someone could be so unnerving, he wondered. He had taunted her, jabbed his wand threateningly against her neck, but still she refused to budge.

After a round of the cruciatous, the girl was weak. Tom could sense that she was becoming weaker and weaker, as every second passed. Her body continued to twitch uncontrollably on its own accord, and she tried to scream. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her lips were bleeding where she had bitten down on them to let out her pain.

He lifted the curse, but the girl still did not budge. She was determined to maintain her stance, it seemed.

Tom was frustrated. He tortured her for the second time. This time, he let her suffer for a bit more longer than before. Finally, the girl breaks.

She nodded at his every word after he lifted the curse. He was pleased with this. She had finally fallen into his hands at last. He would be the one in full command now.

Tom left her sobbing on the floor, and walked out of the commonroom, after laughing satisfactorily. Now, he was pacing the corridors, pondering his next move.

He would find out about her background next, he decided. If the girl refused to tell him anything or lied to him, he would forced the truth out of her one way or the other. He reasoned that he had been too lenient and soft towards the girl for the past two days. He would not tolerate her anymore now.

After pacing the corridor for another hour, he decided to return to the commonroom. The girl would be asleep by now, and he would not have to hear her pathetic sobs and watch her tears pour out of her eyes. He hated the sound of crying, and could not stand watching anyone cry. He hated this kind of weakness in anybody. He had never cried before in his entire life, and he planned not to do so. Tom Marvolo Riddle was one to admit his own weakness, although he had one.

He gave the Pink Lady the password, and stepped into the commonroom. He closed the portrait hole behind him quietly, and glanced around the room.

The girl now lay fast asleep on the couch near the fireplace. He watched her for a moment. Her lips were still bleeding, but the tears on her cheeks were gone. He noticed that she had also unconsciously scratched herself when she dug her nails into her skin to control the pain just now.

Tom continued to stare at her. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He stepped closer, and looked down at her sleeping form. Her body would be aching badly, Tom noted. She may not be able to attend classes on tomorrow, but Tom decided that was not his problem and he did not care at all.

He could not help noticing once again how beautiful she was. He wondered how she would feel under his arms. Abruptly, realizing what he was thinking again, he turned away, and started to climb up the stairs to their room. He closed the door quietly behind him, and decided that it was time to go to bed.

He would have another long day ahead of him tomorrow.

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** There you go, Chapter 9 is done! Hope all of you enjoy reading this chapter.

** Next chapter will be up soon! Don't leave out the Pink Lady, as she would play a more significant role in the story in the coming chapters! That's why I created her in the first place!

** Tom's condition would also be explained as the chapters come along. Just is patient for now, okay?

^^ Hermione Hean Fui ^^