A/N: Hey! Here's a new chapter. Hope all of you enjoyed reading the last chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. The coming chapters will be more exciting, as more events will unfold. So, do stay patient and continue to read! Do continue to offer your suggestions and post your reviews. Once again, special thanks to those who reviewed for the last chapter.

Some of you might think that the events from the last chapter may be too illogical, given that Hermione had been through the war and had went through a lot of hardship before. You might think that it was unlikely that she would went all out just to protect a spider, as the war had made her stronger. I would like to clarify on this point now. True enough, Hermione had witnessed more evil acts in her time, thus when she is thrown back to Tom's time, where nothing of that sort had happened yet, she was not prepared to face her past again. She imagined the spider as another innocent life, and she went all out to protect it. She was also overtaken by grief and memories from the past too. So, I made it seemed that she was not thinking straight at that time, and acted in such a silly manner, to give my story a slightly different twist. Hope all of you liked it.

Furthermore, I'm looking for a beta now. I hope it would not be too long, before I'll be able to find one. So, please do bear with me for any spelling and grammatical errors for now.

And now, on with the story! Enjoy!

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Chapter 11: Dumbledore's Proposition

Albus Dumbledore sat in a straight-backed leather armchair behind his large mahogany desk. His phoenix, Fawkes was fast asleep on its perch at the top of the drawer situated to the right of his desk. The various trinkets which he kept in his small and crowded office buzzed with energy and the magic inside them crackled around him merrily.

He turned the final pages of the book he was currently skimming through, and closed it with a soft sigh a few minutes later. There was still nothing that he had found so far that would be useful to the girl, Merope Granger.

Dumbledore let out a great sigh, and took off his half-moon spectacles. He wiped them on his robes with a thoughtful expression on his face. He had spent the rest of the afternoon after his class in the morning researching alternative methods of time travel. He was keen to help Merope Granger, the new girl to return to her own time as fast as possible. He knew that it would severely affect the timeline if her presence was longer than it is intended.

At first, he could not help feeling suspicious about the girl. She had turned up in Dippet's office in such a short notice, and Dumbledore was quite sure that she had used a fake identity. The thing which puzzled him was the name that she had chosen to use. After all, Merope was not a very common name in the wizarding world. Thus far, he had only known one person with such a name, and that was none other than the daughter of Marvolo Gaunt, or better known as Tom Marvolo Riddle's mother. He hoped that the fact that the Head Girl shared the same name as that woman was only a coincidence.

He could not help wonder sometimes whether she knew something about Tom Riddle's past. He figured that Riddle must have a great influence in the future, as he could not help noticing the disgusted look the girl gave Riddle whenever they locked gazes. However, he did not intend to ask the girl about it, as he knew clearly the rules pertaining to time travel. Nevertheless, he could not help feeling a bit troubled. He hoped that the future would not be just like what he had predicted. He was worried about what a certain teenage half-blood boy would do in the future. He had observed the boy for quite some time now. He hoped that Riddle would be able to graduate without causing any bad things to happen again, and bring fame instead of terror to the wizarding world in the future. After all, he was a potentially smart student, and Dumbledore felt that his talents should not be thrown away just like that. He secretly placed high hopes on the boy, although he did not show it in front of Riddle or mentioned it to anyone else.

At the thought of the Head Boy, Dumbledore's face turned into a sad expression. He let out a long and resigned sigh. For seven years, he had tried everything he could to understand more about the boy. He could not wonder how the boy had managed to pull through all these seven years, as he was always emotionless and without feeling. Dumbledore could not help feeling pity towards the boy sometimes.

He remembered the look on Riddle's face when he first learned that he was a wizard. He had seemed lonely and behaved in a cold manner around other children in the orphanage. The matron, Mrs. Cole, had informed Dumbledore that all the other children there were afraid of Riddle, as he often made weird things happen whenever they annoyed him. Most of them thought that he was some sort of demon who would bewitch their minds and body at any time. Thus, Tom Riddle got a room to himself, and eats and played alone. No one would dare to go near him, or speak to him. Dumbledore had felt a tinge of sadness as he observed Riddle. However, the look he gave Dumbledore when he knew he was a wizard was somehow disturbing. Dumbledore could not help feeling that something was really not right with Riddle. He seemed to be bottling up all of his emotions, and did not show a single trace of it on his youthful face. For several years, Dumbledore had tried as hard as he could to unmask the boy, to find out about his secrets and tried to help him to move on with his life happily. Riddle, on the contrary, seemed to hold a grudge towards him. Dumbledore wondered whether this was because he was the only one who was not wrapped tightly around Riddle's fingers and the only one who could see right through that charming façade put up by the boy.

Indeed Dumbledore had his suspicions about Riddle. He was almost certain that Tom Riddle had something to do with the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. From the first day he met the boy at the orphanage, Dumbledore had been able to see right through him. He had long ago suspected that he was the rightful heir of Salazar Slytherin as the Gaunts seemed to be the final descendants of the particular founder. However, he did not have enough evidence to support his theory, and he intended to do more research before confirming his suspicions. He had no doubt that Riddle had also known about this some time during his school years, if his theory was indeed true. Thus, if this was the case, he was not surprised that Riddle would be able to access the Chamber of Secrets, as it was built by Salazar Slytherin himself and would only be opened by his heir. What he did not expect was Riddle taking away an innocent life. The act was simply evil and uncalled for. He hoped that his suspicions were only his own imaginations and not true at all.

Even though he had his suspicions, Dumbledore could not do anything at all, as he had not been able to gather sufficient evidence to pin it on Riddle. That boy was certainly very cunning indeed. He had cleverly framed Hagrid for the incident, and Dippet, given his character of taking things for granted and his adoration of the boy, had believed every word of it. Of course Dumbledore did not blame Dippet for being so easily fooled. An ordinary person would look at the situation just as Dippet, and Dumbledore daresay that their reasoning would be the same as Dippet's. Tom Riddle had in fact constructed the crime scene cleverly, creating the picture which he desired everyone to see.

Like some other students, Dumbledore himself believed that Hagrid was innocent. After all, the large spider could not have been the monster living in the Chamber of Secrets, he reasoned. Hagrid had told him that he kept the spider from the time when it was young, and Dumbledore believed every word of it. He would not ever believe that Rubeus Hagrid, an animal lover and a friendly student, would commit such an evil act. Thus, he had convinced Dippet to let Hagridb remain in the castle, as the helper of the current Groundskeeper, OG. Dippet had reluctantly agreed, and Hagrid now lived in a hut a few feet away from the castle, with OG. Dumbledore found that he was happy with his current job. He sometimes visited Dumbledore in his office when he had some time off. They would chat about various things over a cup of tea, and Hagrid would always leave the office with a broad smile plastered on his face.

Dumbledore sighed. Riddle was certainly too cunning and clever. Dumbledore had known this the first time when they met. Riddle was a dangerous person too. He had a habit of manipulating others in getting what he wanted, and Dumbledore dared to believe that the death of the Myrtle girl was only a small part of Riddle's master plan. Dumbledore was sure that the boy had more up his sleeves. Everybody else in the school was tightly wrapped around Riddle's fingers, which made his plan easier to carry out. Dumbledore had long since given up hope of unmasking the boy. He gathered that if Tom Riddle wished to be the person he desired, he would simply washed his hands off the boy. After all, he had other more important things to do. Thus, for the past two years, he had taken to ignore Riddle in his classes, and never award him any points if he managed to excel in his classes. He gathered that Riddle was frustrated with this, but he did not care. The boy had already troubled him from the very first day Dumbledore set eyes on him.

"I can talk to snakes. I can make animals obey my command, and I can also make someone who annoys me hurt. I can make things move without touching them. Besides, bad things happened to those who bullied me." The bored drawling voice of the eleven year old dark-haired boy with pale skin haunted Dumbledore's thoughts for the rest of the years to come. Back then, he had seemed calm, and did not comment anything at all. On that particular visit, Dumbledore had also discovered something else about Riddle; the boy did not trust anyone easily. "Prove it," his cold baritone was still clear in Dumbledore's mind, as though it had just been spoken yesterday. This was when Dumbledore informed him that he was a wizard. Riddle seemed not to believe a word about it until Dumbledore showed him some magic. Only then that he believed that Dumbledore was really a wizard, and he had started to get excited. After reading his acceptance letter, his face seemed to show some emotion, but it was quickly wiped off his face just as fast as it had appeared seconds before. Dumbledore pretended not to notice this. After his visit to the orphanage, he had mulled over the problem in his office for a few hours, before shoving the thought to the back of his mind for a while. He had more important matters to attend to at that moment.

When he had the time to think about it, sometimes, Dumbledore wondered what had caused the boy to become so evil and lived the life he lived now. Perhaps it was lack of love that made him like this, Dumbledore thought silently. After all, he was an orphan and had never experienced love before. Nevertheless, there is no harm trying, is there? Why did the boy have to be so difficult and see the world around him with such a narrow perspective? These questions often haunted the old professor's thoughts when he sat by the fireplace during peaceful nights, reminiscing his past life remorsefully. He was afraid that Riddle would become a bad person in the future, just like his pal Grindelwald back then, where he himself had planned to dominate the world along with Grindelwald. Dumbledore now looked back at all of this in disgust.

"Look what had become of this," he scolded himself sometimes, if he could not help it. "The Greater Good indeed."

Grindelwald, after breaking off contact with Dumbledore, had moved on quickly with his plans. He still planned to dominate the world, and the raging war now was one of his plans. Dumbledore could not help feeling remorse, as he had a share of responsibility in these events too. He remembered the old times where he shut himself away in his bedroom during summer breaks, writing letters to Grindelwald and exchanging ideas on world domination with his long ago friend. These memories cut through him like a thousand knives the moment they flooded his mind. The sense of guilt continued to build up in him, trapping him more tightly around an unbreakable wall, where all his past were calling back to him like the whispers of the demons in the dark forest of Albania. He was certain that these thoughts would continue to haunt him until the day he was able to rest in peace forever.

A pang of sadness and guilt always washed over him whenever these memories beckoned to him. If it wasn't for his own selfishness and silly thoughts back then, Ariana would not have died. His relationship with his brother, though quite civil would not be broken and shattered into a million pieces which would never mend itself together again. He was sure of this. His brother loved Ariana with all his heart, and would not forgive him so easily. Subconsciously, he reached up and stroked the bridge of his crooked nose. It had been broken before, when his brother punched him hard in the face during Ariana's funeral. Although the pain had ceased to take effect after he had healed it himself, it had inflicted upon him a deep wound that would remain there for the rest of his life, and he would have to face it until the day Death called out to him. He could not help feeling a bit silly, after realizing that three tiny words could change everything in his life.

The Greater Good.

He grimaced at the sound of those three syllables, ringing out clearly in his head. Dumbledore frowned, and let out another deep sigh. He leaned back in his chair, and massaged his temples. He should think of this later, he reasoned. He still needs to research Merope Granger's alternative method of getting back to her own time now. However, the past seemed to beckon to him to dive into it again now. The thoughts about Riddle and his own past made the old professor sad. He had not yet dare to face his brother after so many years, and the war with his so-called long ago pal was still eating at him. He realized that some day, he would have to defeat Grindelwald, whether he liked it or not. There was really no other way around it, as he was the only one that Grindelwald feared the most.

However, the problem with Tom Riddle would also need to be looked into. He would not have much time left now, he figured. Riddle would be graduating next year, and if Dumbledore had not managed to unmask him and ensure that he would be walking the right path of his life, he figured that he would not get to rest in peace properly. Although he had tried to wash his hands off the boy, he could not bring himself to do it. Guilt was already welling in him every time he ignored the boy in his classes, and pretended not to notice his brilliant performance. Dumbledore could tell that Riddle had known about this, and had planned to play along with him. His actions during that morning's lesson were enough to tell all that was necessary.

"Oh Tom, whatever should I do with you? How can I make you see things from a different perspective?" the old professor sighed, stretching and yawning for the second time now.

Sighing, Dumbledore banished all the books on his table, returning them to their respective places in his private library, which was hidden from the eyes of other students.

"Time travel…" he murmured, "Mixing potions…time travel through mixing potions…"

He screwed up his face in concentration. He was sure that he had heard something like that before, but he could not remember where. The thought of his past life was eating at him more strongly today, and he found that he could not concentrate on other things. Why was that, he wondered. And then, a sudden thought struck him.

"I wonder…" he said, frowning slightly. He gets to his feet, and pulled opened a drawer on the big wooden chest, where Fawkes was perching on. He rummaged in it for quite some time, before pulling out a small box. The small black leather box was dusty and tattered. He opened it, and lifted up the object which had been placed inside it for several years now. He should have thought of this sooner, he gathered. Somehow, he had already guessed that this would be the answer to the girl's problems.

He gazed down on it, and smiled. He now understood why he was so immersed in his past just now. "Thank you, Ariana dear. You reminded me of this. I think I know what to do with Ms. Granger now." And with that, Albus Dumbledore took the box firmly in both hands, and sat down at his desk once more. He held the object in his hands thoughtfully, feeling its cold and smooth surface. He then dropped the object back into the box, and admired its carvings for a while, his blue eyes twinkling madly with excitement.

The object in question was a gold chain, which held a beautiful gold locket. Two bright emerald gems were placed side by side on the locket, gleaming beautifully. The stones felt cold to Dumbledore's touch, and he lifted the locket out of the box again after gazing at it for a long time. He fingered the chain thoughtfully. This was Ariana's necklace, where their mother had bestowed upon her prior to her death. After Ariana's death, Dumbledore had managed to find it neatly tucked away in one of the drawers in Ariana's bedroom. It seemed that his sister had never worn this locket before.

Ever since then, the locket had been in his possession. He doubted that his brother knew about this. He planned to keep it anyway, as this was his last connection with his sister. The locket was hand down from their ancestors; it seemed quite old by the looks of it. He was not sure whether it contained any powers at all, as he had never used it before. In fact, it had not come to his thoughts for quite some time until now.

"Ariana," he whispered, and there was a faint click as the locket opened. In the centre of it, he saw a gleaming pink pearl, and the face of a beautiful woman. The woman was holding the pearl in her left hand, and a wand in another. For many years, Dumbledore thought that the young woman looked familiar, but he had not given much thought to it. The portrait was already there when their mother gave Ariana the locket. He had heard his mother telling Ariana that the locket would only open when the name of the person which it had been bestowed upon was spoken aloud. That was how he managed to open the locket just now.

For several years after the locket was in his possession, he wondered what was it that made the young woman look so familiar. It was a few years back when he had found her real portrait at last, in one of the corridors at Hogwarts. She was known as the Pink Lady, as most of her portrait was pink in colour. However, Dumbledore also known that she was originally known as the Lady of Destiny. Not many people knew about this. Now, as he thought about her, a picture started to form in his head. It all fitted perfectly together. He smiled. He realized now that his earlier conclusions were indeed correct. He squinted more closely at the locket.

"Ms. Granger, I think I know what all this is about," he said, smiling to himself. He turned the locket over, and looked more closely at the Pink Lady, which was offering him one of her dazzling smiles. And then, he noticed something which he had not noticed before this. He blinked, and squinted more closely at the locket. There were some writing engraved on the pearl which the young lady held, and it was not quite visible, as it was so small. Excitedly, Dumbledore dusted off the remaining specks of dust on the locket, and brought out his wand. With an effortless flick, the locket began to grow in size. When it was big enough so that he could read the engravings on the locket, he flicked his wand again, and the locket stop growing in size. He reached for his spectacles, which he had placed on his desk just now, and put them on. Then, he picked up the locket, and squinted at the writing on the pearl.

Engraved in small block letters were the following words:

I OPENED AT THE CLOSE

Dumbledore looked at the words, and a puzzled expression crossed his face. He read the words for a few more times, and shook his head. What was the meaning of this, he wondered. What is the close and when would it come? Was the pearl hidden somewhere in the locket? Question after question flooded his thoughts. He would have to figure this out soon, so that the puzzle would be completed.

Just as Dumbledore was planning to wave the thought aside for the moment, something else caught his eyes. He had not noticed this earlier too, as the locket was quite small. At the top right corner of the locket, there was a small gap, which can be pulled apart. He reached out his hands once more, and tried to pull open the small gap. It immediately parted easily, and there, in the middle of it, was a scroll of parchment, rolled up neatly and tied with a yellow ribbon. Dumbledore peered down at it for a moment, and then he pulled the parchment out of the gap as gently as he could. The paper was crumpled and was beginning to turn yellow. Carefully, he unfolded the paper. With astonishment, he read the following poem, printed in green ink in a neat hand:

When the time has come

All would be right

For the task would be completed

And the flaws will be corrected.

The light would meet the dark

And together they would strive

To achieve what they wanted

Until one party emerged with glory.

The task

Though easy as it seemed

May have to be achieved through a different method

For not all battles are fought the hard way.

The right path taken

Should correct the said flaws

And through time we will know

Whether the desired destiny had been achieved.

Where blood is shed and life is taken

Shattering lives and future plans to pieces

Sadness and fright enveloped the place

And one is sent back to try turn things around.

Revenge is sweet and vengeance is venomous

But above all, the strongest emotion still lies

Waiting to be explored;

Where trust is essential and friendship is built

And truths are discovered and unleashed

Love would then unfold

And bond the light and the dark together
it is only then that The task would be completed.

As time proceeds

It remained to be seen

Whether the said task should be completed;

If the task is completed indeed

Then all will be good

And the present would be restored; the past left behind

And the flaws will be corrected.

For love would speak all it is needed

To shape the desired destiny.

If the task was not completed

Then the future remained what it is; for time is limited

And events would played out

Just as what the timeline had intended.

However, if it was necessary

A different path can be taken

Where the light turns to the dark

To achieve what they desired

To plot revenge and shed blood
and the flaws would be corrected.

When the time is appropriate

Someone with the desired destiny would be sent

By the Draught of Destiny

If correctly brewed and properly consumed

To correct particular flaws

And to that person the task is bestowed upon.

The two roads lay open

To be chosen by him or her

For their choice will make a great difference

And brought victory or disaster.

And thus, Careful choice is most necessary

Planning is essential

Before the task is completed

To achieve the desired destiny.

H.K. McKenna

Dumbledore was getting more and more puzzled. He reread the poem for a few more times. What was the meaning of all this?

He had already had enough on his mind now. He had to think about how to end the sufferings of the wizarding world, by planning how to approach Grindelwald. And then, there was the problem of Tom Riddle, which he wished to changed; Merope Granger who has traveled back in time, desperately awaiting his help; and now this was found in his sister's locket. Dumbledore let out a tired sigh, and started to pace about in his office.

And then, it all suddenly made sense. The realization hit him at last, and he clapped his hands together. He had finally understood how all of this fitted together easily at last.

Throughout the years he had taken the locket from Ariana's room, he had tried to trace its background, and his research was not fruitless at all. He managed to trace it back to the descendants of Harperlindo McKenna, who was the greatest potions' master of the 16th century. It turned out that his great-grandmother, who was a cousin to McKenna, had inherited the locket, and it had been passed down his family line since then. Dumbledore had researched about Harperlindo McKenna, and he was sad to find nothing much interesting about him, save some theory about mixing a few potions together, creating something known as the Draught of Destiny. According to McKenna, this draught would help someone travel back in time, and correct the flaws in the timeline. The effects of normal time traveling would also be negated. However, McKenna's work was never published, and Dumbledore doubted that he ever wrote anything at all. Of course, he had not given it much thought since then. Now, however he had finally figured something out.

Merope Granger was the person who had been sent back here by McKenna. In fact, Dumbledore gathered that she had brewed and consumed the Draught of Destiny without knowing it. She had been sent here to correct a certain flaw, and Dumbledore still wondered what it was. Perhaps there was something so terrible in the future that needs to be corrected, in order to shape a brighter future for everyone. What was it that the girl had told him when he asked her about it a few days ago?

"The war was terrible. It had brought many sufferings to all of us, as innocent lives were lost," she had said, tears welling up in her hazel brown eyes. "He destroyed everything we all loved, and his followers were merciless. There was blood everywhere, and the school was in ruins. People were tortured, some others went missing and threats were posted everyday. It was so terrible, professor."

The girl's words sink into Dumbledore more meaningfully than before. Of course, her task was to prevent the war from happening. He wondered whether this was still the war with Grindelwald that they were talking about. He would ask the girl later when they meet on Friday to discuss what they had discovered. If this was indeed the case, Dumbledore reasoned that he would have to act fast, and help the girl to complete her task by stopping the war. He would not let Grindelwald gain power and dominate the world. He would have to settle this once and for all, for himself, for Ariana and for the Greater Good, though the last seemed to disgust him.

Dumbledore tapped his spectacles on his desk thoughtfully. After brushing a final speck of dust from the lenses, he put the spectacles on again.

Another thought entered his head. Could this have nothing to do at all with Grindelwald? After all, how cans Merope Granger made Grindelwald experienced love? Grindelwald had already had a wife, and he was capable of loving somebody, from what he had gathered. Could this be a totally different scenario that they were talking about? He furrowed his brows in concentration, and something else suddenly struck him. Tom riddles.

The smile on his face broadened. He knew it at last. This had nothing to do at all with Grindelwald, he decided. It had something to do with Riddle, and Dumbledore just knew what it was all about.

Placing his hands on his temples, Dumbledore pushed away all thoughts of Riddle from his mind for now. He would deal with the problem of the boy later, as he had to first device a plan for the girl. Now, he must figure out how to help Merope Granger. He reasoned that he should pass the locket to her. She was now the rightful owner of it now, as the parchment suggested. He hoped that it would be able to help her in her task, although he was not quite sure about it himself. He blessed himself of having to discover this now before it was too late. He had pulled out the locket out of his own instincts, and it had indeed paid off well. He was at least able to find out something useful for the girl and also for his own interest. Soon, something exciting would happen, he decided, and he was going to make sure that all of it plays out well, as he had planned. Tom Riddle would be unmasked, for someone would help him to experience an emotion which he had never had before in his entire life. He would not rise to become that terrible dark wizard during the girl's time [Dumbledore's own suspicions only]. However, he was not sure whether this was the case. He would have to ask the girl about it later.

Sighing again, Dumbledore picked up the locket, shrink it to its original size, and placed it back into the tattered black box. He took out a piece of parchment and a quill, and started to write a letter.

After finishing it, he sealed the letter tightly, and placed it inside the tattered box. He than flicked his wand once and the box was now wrapped nicely in brown paper.

"Fawkes, come here," he whistled, and the dozing phoenix immediately flew down from his perch on the top shelf.

"Take it to the Heads' Dorms, will you? Put it under Ms. Granger's covers, and make sure nobody noticed you."

The phoenix gave him an understanding look, and extended his legs for Dumbledore to tie the parcel which he had just wrapped in brown paper. Dumbledore smiled, and patted the bird, before looping a thread around its leg, and tying the parcel to it.

"Off you go," he said, and Fawkes flew out of the open window, in the direction of the seventh floor towers.

He walked to his desk, and sat down heavily once more on the armchair which he had vacated earlier. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. He placed the tips of his fingers together and began to turn over possibilities in his mind. He would have to do more in depth research, it seemed, as the books in his private library do not help much. There was no mention of other alternative methods of time travel, other than the normal way, i.e. using a time turner. He would have to research it using other outside resources, he gathered. He would also have to find more about Harperlindo McKenna's Draught of Destiny.

Dumbledore was just starting to summon another stack of books from another shelf which he had not browsed through yet, when he heard running footsteps outside the corridor. At first, he thought that it was probably some students running about after the lessons have ended. However, the footsteps eventually grew louder and louder, and he heard panicked voices screaming as the footsteps thundered passed his office, fading away in the other corridors. He wondered what had caused the commotion. Curiously, he got to his feet, and started to approach the door to his office.

He had just put his hand on the doorknob when there was a quick and loud knock on the door.

"Come in," Dumbledore said, quickly stepping back, and opening the door. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw Minerva McGonagall and Charles Potter standing outside his door, with scared expressions plastered on their faces. They looked tired from running, and were panting slightly. Minerva gasped for breath, before managing to choke out, "Professor, come with us. Quick."

Potter was in no better condition. His jet black hair was messier than ever, as though he had just been blown away by a strong gust of wind, and his eyes were betraying terror. His face was as pale as Minerva's, and he was tugging on Minerva's sleeves frantically, leading her away from the corridor.

"Charles, get a grip on yourself. Can you please let go of my sleeves now? You're tugging on it too hard," Minerva said, slapping his hands away, and giving Dumbledore a worry look.

"Ms. McGonagall, do you mind telling me what happened?" Dumbledore interrupted before Charles was able to open his mouth to protest. Dumbledore eyed both of the students curiously through his half-moon spectacles, and gave them a questioning look.

"Merope…" Charles started to say, still panting from running so hard just now.

"What about Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore asked, beginning to feel uncomfortable. He hoped that nothing terrible had happened to the girl.

"Professor, can you please come with us?" McGonagall's voice was more frantic than before. "We'll explain on the way to the classroom."

"Quick! There's no time to spare! She's already turning white when we left, Mini!" Charles started to run ahead of them, panting loudly as he stormed hurriedly across the corridors.

Minerva turned, and started to run after Charles.

Still puzzled, Dumbledore started to follow them down the corridor. "Alright. What is the problem, Ms. McGonagall?" he inquired, after they had walked for a few more minutes in silence. By now, the corridor was deserted and quiet.

Charles started to explain the situation to Dumbledore. Dumbledore listened and grew tense as the story developed. Riddle, it seemed, had performed the unforgivable curses in front of the whole class, as Professor Merrythought had asked him to replace her class for the day. Merope Granger had lounged out to protect a spider ["and it's just a spider after all. I don't know why she's so frantic…"], was what Charles told him. After finishing the story, Charles finally took a deep breath and sighed. They had now reached the DADA classroom on the fifth floor corridor.

Dumbledore sighed. He was sure that something like this is bound to happen. Anger was welling up in him. How could Riddle possibly do this again? He would have to confront him later, Dumbledore decided, together with Dippet and Professor Merrythought. He was not prepared to let Tom Riddle harm another innocent student, especially when she was just a time traveler; the consequences would be unknown and he would not dare to face it himself, as he did not know what McKenna theory was like yet.

Dumbledore looked around him. The corridor was now deserted. All the other students had fled in hurry just now, Minerva informed him. Rubbish were scattered everywhere, as dustbins were knocked down by the students in their hurry to get out of the place.

"Where's the Head Boy?" he inquired.

"No idea. I bet he's in the Headmaster's office. Alphard Black tried to drag him there just now, but Riddle had told him off and shouldered his way pass the crowd just now. He looked like he's going to faint any time. Professor, I suppose he panicked after seeing what he had done," Charles said, with a disgusted tone. Minerva gave his shoulders a gentle nudge.

"What? I'm telling Professor Dumbledore…" Charles started.

"Shhh!" Minerva said, "I think we can deal with Riddle later."

"But Mini…"

"Hush, Charles," Minerva said, turning to Dumbledore. "Professor…"

"Never mind about that for now. I'll take care of him later," Dumbledore said, smiling at both students. "Ms. Granger required my attention for now."

With another long sigh, Dumbledore stepped into the classroom, and began to approach the limp figure sprawled on the cold stone floor. The girl lay still on the ground, with her eyes closed. Her bushy brown curls were all tangled up, and gathered in a heap on the floor. Her face was pale, as all blood and colour had drained from it. Her breathing was shallow and irregular.

Cautiously, Dumbledore lowered himself onto the ground beside her, and crouched down. He took her hands in his, and feels for a pulse. Her skin was icy cold, and had turned pale. Dumbledore's smile returned when he was able to sense a faint throbbing in her veins. He bent down and pushed a few locks of brown curls away from her face. Cold sweat was still trickling down her forehead. Dumbledore took out an orange handkerchief from his robe pocket, and wiped it away. He took out his wand, and began to wave it in a complicated pattern around her body while muttering a string of spells under his breath.

He traced her forehead with his wand in a circular motion, and continued to chant the same spells which he had uttered before. Colour was beginning to return to her face after a few more minutes, and her breathing was returning to normal again. The pale tinge on her skin had begun to regain colour again.

With a final flick of his wand, Dumbledore straightened up, and dusted off some speck of dust from his purple robes. Then, he turned to the classroom, and waved his wand once. The messy classroom was immediately as neat as before.

Dumbledore pocketed his wand, and turned to the two students who were still there, whispering softly to one another.

"Is she alright, professor?" Charles Potter asked, with hope in his voice.

"Yes, she'll be alright in a couple of hours. Can both of you take her to Madam McCarthy at the hospital wing? Ask the matron to give her some potions which she thought necessary."

"No problem, professor," Charles said, walking towards the still unconscious form of the Head Girl. Minerva walked closely behind him. With a flick of their wands, they levitated the body out of the classroom.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said quietly to both of them. He then walked out of the classroom himself, and closed the door quietly behind him. He then headed straight to the Headmaster's office.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Tom sat on the couch in the commonroom, deep in thought. He had just returned from the Headmaster's office.

He took a deep breath, and leaned back on the soft leather. What was the problem with the Head Girl, he wondered frustrated. She was behaving more and more funny as the days passed.

He had seen the disgusted look on her face when he announced that he would be conducting the class for the day. He pretended not to notice it, as he had gotten used to it by now. The disgusted look on her face remained there for the rest of the lesson.

Then, when he started to talk about unforgivable curses, she seemed to turn pale. He reasoned that she was shaken by the experience last night. He felt secretly proud and happy about this; at least he still had some effect on the girl. He decided that he would have fun watching her expression when he performed the curses later. He chuckled softly to himself, before briskly turning to face the class and began the lesson.

Most of the students save Granger and a few others cheered when he finished the Imperius curse. Some of the Gryfindor students even gave him thumbs-up. However, the three students at the front row seemed unenthusiastic at all. McGonagall and Potter had turned white, and that good-for-nothing Brown girl was giggling stupidly. Tom cringed inwardly with disgust. These were stupid students, in his opinion. They were ignorant and weak and could not stand even the most harmless unforgivable curse. He scoffed inwardly.

When he performed the Cruciatus curse, Granger merely clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Tom did not bother at all. The girl was probably angry at him, for throwing the curse at her yesterday. Tom did not give a damn at all. As long as he was concerned, he did not care whether the girl liked it or not. This was his school, and people living under the same roof with him would have to obey him. He would not tolerate any fight or disagreement over what he had planned. If the girl was unhappy about certain things, she can sulk and clench her fists all she liked; he would not stop her. He figured that she would not dare try anything funny with him at all, after his warning. In fact, he was planning to teach her another lesson again tonight, wasn't he? He was just going to tolerate her for just a bit more. Then, all would be over and end well. He would have his Head Boy rules and ways, and she would not dare to cross him.

He concentrated on what he was saying hard. The students were now scared. He tried to put up a façade, pretending that he regretted his actions dearly. His insides were bubbling with glee and pleasure; torture and killing was simply so fun. Suddenly, Merope Granger laughed. He looked up, and saw her laughing softly, but the cackling laughter grew slightly louder a few seconds later. McGonagall and Potter just stared at her, and whispered something into the girl's ears. The girl immediately tensed, and quickly whispered something back to both of them. She immediately covered her mouth in embarrassment, but Tom could tell that she was trying her best to hide something from her friends. He would have to remember to force it out of her during the session tonight.

Finally, he lifted his wand to perform the killing curse on the spider. He could not wait any longer; excitement overtook him. After pretending to be remorseful for the second time, so that the rest of the class would believe that he really was regretting his actions, he lifted his wand.

And then, the Potter boy, of all people stood up and confronted him. Anger was welling up in him, and Tom tried as best as he can to control his magic, which was crackling around him dangerously again. With great effort, he managed to control his voice, and told Potter straight off. Potter seemed taken aback, and Tom was pleased with this. He ordered the boy to return to his seat, and the boy did so without any further comments. Riddle could tell that Potter was angry, but he did not care at all. He was in control now, and he would manipulate this opportunity the best as he can to gain what he wanted.

"Avada kedavra!" the two favourite words left his mouth without hesitation, and he flicked his wand lazily.

The jet of green light started to move towards the spider, and he watched it with pleasure.

"Stop it!" the scream made him jump. "No!"

He looked around, and saw Merope Granger, springing up from her seat. Things happened quickly after that. The classroom were filled with horrified screams, as the girl lounged forward, and tried to grab the spider away from the desk.

For a moment, Tom just stood there, shocked. Why would the girl behave in such a way? After all, it was just a stupid spider, and those were disgusting little creatures, in Tom's opinion. The girl groped around until her hands reached the spider. Tom watched from the corner of his eyes as she clenched her fists tightly over the spider's body and started to draw away. The jet of green light was moving towards her now.

"Good," Tom thought, "I can kill two birds with one stone, it seemed. I can eliminate that stupid girl once and for all, and pretend that this was an accident. No one would suspect a thing. After all, she lounged forward herself, and no one can stop her."

From behind him, he heard Potter screamed, and leapt up from his seat. McGonagall pulled him away firmly by his collar, and Potter started to protest. Tom took another look at them, before turning back to face the girl.

It seemed that she had just realized what was going to happen next. Tom expected that she would scream and try to dodge the curse, but surprisingly, she just stand there, closing her eyes. Why was she behaving like this, he asked himself again. Was she willingly to die just like that, without any struggle at all?

He looked into her eyes, which were now closed tightly. She started to relax, he noted and her body began to fall forward. The jet of green light was just inches away from her back.

Suddenly, without knowing what he was doing, Tom quickly reached out, grabbed the girl's waist, and pulled her away from the path of the jet of green light. The girl did not seem to notice anything at all. A loud blast sounded, as the curse impacted with the teacher's desk. The desk shattered into pieces, and more screams can be heard. Students were beginning to flee the classroom, pushing hurriedly out of the door, and bumping into each other. They murmured quick apologies to each other, before hurrying away from the classroom. Their voices faded as they rounded the next corner, and headed down the opposite corridor.

Tom stood there, transfixed. He was still holding on to the girl's waist. She was beginning to tremble. Why had he acted that way, he asked himself furiously. What had caused him to do it? Wasn't he planning to finish off the girl once and for all?

He was beginning to get angry now. He stared at the girl. She had opened her eyes, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She unclenched her fist, and gazed down at the spider, which was trying to crawl away as best as it could. She managed to smile weakly before throwing the spider onto the floor gently. The spider, free from her grasp, crawled away and disappeared under one of the desks.

A disgusted look crossed Tom's face. He still could not understand why the girl had willing to throw her life away, just for a good-for-nothing spider. At the same time, he mulled over what he had just done. He tried to think of a logical explanation for his action just now.

"I'll want to maintain my good Head Boy reputation, wouldn't I? Saving her would be a great cover story to tell Dippet. After all, all the other students were here, and I just can't simply let her die right here."

Satisfied with this reason, which he thought was the most probable and logical explanation for his action just now, he smirked. No one would even suspect him of anything now.

Suddenly, pain shot through his muscles again. He quickly let go of the girl's waist, and clutched his side. His heart was beating quickly now, and his ribs were starting to throb painfully. His whole body felt as though he was on fire, and Tom doubled over. Perspiration was beginning to form on his forehead. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tightly. He managed to take a few gulps of breath, before the tightness of his chest begins to take effect. He couched for a few times, and closed his eyes. His breathing was becoming shallow and ragged.

"Oi Riddle!"

Trying as best as he can, he opened his eyes, and looked up quickly. Alphard Black was standing behind him, with his fists clenched.

"Aarrrgh!" he managed to grunt softly.

"Riddle, what's up with you? Get up this instant!" Black's voice boomed. Tom was beginning to get angry. How dare this boy take that tone with him? He admitted that he did not like Black much, as he was different from the others. That was why he never included Black as one of his followers; he did not want to take the risk. He found that Black was not trustworthy at all, and did not seem to behave like a proper Slytherin pureblood. Unlike Malfoy, he was never one to brag about his bloodline and his family's wealth.

The pain in his body had ceased slightly now, and Tom managed to push himself up from the ground.

"What do you want, Black?" he asked, trying to regain the strength he usually had in his voice. He would not allow Black to detect any weakness in him now. He looked around the classroom. It was deserted, save for the limp form of a certain brunette, sprawled on the ground. When had she passed out, Tom wondered. He had not noticed it at all. Perhaps she passed out during his seizure just now, he decided.

"What are you doing on the ground just now? Are you trying to find that spider and kill it?" Black asked, his blue eyes glaring daggers at Tom.

"Black, I advised that you do not take this tone with me, as I'm the Head Boy here. I can give you detention any time, and I'll have no trouble persuading one of the professors about it. As for what I was doing just now, it was none of your business."

"Oh? How about going to Dippet's office with me? After all, the recent incident would need to be explained. We'll see who gets the detention first, shall we?" Black smirked, and started to grab Tom's collar.

Before he managed to touch him, Tom grabbed the boy's arm, and turned him around. He pushed the boy hard, and shouldered past the remaining students, who had returned to collect their bags, which they had left just now in their hurry.

"I'll be glad to handle this myself, Mr. Black. There is no need for you to tell the Head Boy what to do," he managed to force out. Black tried to chase after him, but was stopped by another fellow Slytherin.

Tom stormed out of the classroom, after taking a last look at the brunette on the floor. Her face had turned pale, and her hair was messier than before and plastered to her forehead. Some locks of it had fallen onto her face, and her eyes were tightly shut together. A sudden pang of regret washed over him. He felt sorry for what he had done to the girl. However, as quickly as it came, the feeling of guilt disappeared. What was he thinking all day? He could not go on like this for the rest of the year. He would have to shut all thoughts of the girl away from his mind. He could not let her haunt his thoughts for the rest of the school year.

Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth to control the pain which was now beginning again in his sides, he quickly walked out of the classroom. Heb walked briskly until he reached a deserted corridor. There, he leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. He waited for the pain to come again, and this time he would be more prepared for it. However, it never came. The throbbing at his sides had ceased, and his body was slowly regaining strength again.

After resting for a couple of minutes more, he straightened up, and started to walk away. Just as he was turning the corner leading to the staircases, a firm hand was placed on his shoulders. He turned around, and found a pair of twinkling blue eyes staring straight at him. Abruptly, he averted his gaze, for fear that the old codger would suddenly use legilimency to attack his thoughts and found out about his emotions.

"Good afternoon Tom," Dumbledore said in a pleasant voice.

"Good afternoon professor," he replied in a slightly clipped tone.

"I believed that we need to discuss something right away, Tom. May you be so kind as to follow me to Headmaster Dippet's office? Professor Slughorn is already waiting there." Dumbledore offered him a half smile, before turning and walking in the opposite direction.

"Of course, professor. As Head Boy, I'm obliged to give my explanations to Headmaster Dippet and my Head of House for the incident that occurred just now. In fact, I was heading there myself when you cornered me just now." He forced this out in a voice which he hoped was not too annoying. After all, the old codger always irritated him, and he was not prepared to endure another round of it for now.

"Very well then. Follow me." Dumbledore led the way to the Headmaster's office with Tom trailing behind him. They did not say another word to each other on the way.

When they stepped onto the landing after climbing up the spiraling staircase, Dumbledore knocked on the door of Dippet's office, his strict expression which he had plastered on his face earlier never disappearing.

"Enter," Tom could hear Dippet's voice from within.

Dumbledore pushed open the door, and stepped aside.

"After you, Tom," he said.

Tom stepped past Dumbledore, and entered Dippet's office. Dippet was sitting behind his desk as usual, his face slightly pale. Slughorn sat opposite him, tapping his fingers on the big mahogany desk agitatedly.

"Ah, Albus. I see you've brought our Head Boy along too. Come in, come in. Sit down, Tom," Dippet said. Tom could sense the slightest note of disapproval in Dippet's voice. He walked to the desk, and pulled out a chair beside Slughorn. He sank down on the seat and leaned back in the chair, looking straight ahead of him. He would not give Dumbledore the satisfaction he had wished for, he decided. He doubted that Dippet would be suspicious about him, as he had already had a plan formulated in his head. He knows just how to pull the ropes, and he was just going to do that now.

"Ah, Tom. I hope you know what the purpose of coming here is," Dippet started after clearing his throat. Dumbledore had stepped into the room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He stood beside Slughorn, eyeing Tom with a quizzical look.

"Yes, professor," Tom started to said, trying to sound regretful.

"I think that a little explanation is needed here, m'boy," Slughorn prompted. "Perhaps there is some misunderstanding, eh? After all, I dare not believe that you would do such a thing, m'boy."

"I'm sorry, professor. I only did what was asked of me. Professor Merrythought had given me instructions to conduct the class for this week, as she cannot make it back to Hogwarts yet." He pulled out the slip of blue parchment from his pocket, and placed it on the desk.

"Ah, yes," Dippet said, "I remembered Merrythought telling me about it. I've approve her request after pondering about it. She said that it was just for once, and I personally thought it would be a good idea, exposing the students to a bit of dark magic, given the current situation."

"Merrythought asked you permission to teach the unforgivables to seventh year students, Armando?" Dumbledore asked, his eyebrows slightly rose.

"Yes indeed, Albus. I thought that it would be best for the school. I do not know that it would turn out so badly," he said, sighing.

"I wasn't expecting this either, sir. I felt uncomfortable myself when performing those curses. All of this is uncalled for, sir. However, I do not wish to let Professor Merrythought down. After all, she had high hopes on me," Tom started, emphasizing the regret in his tone of voice as best as possible.

"I understand, Tom," Dippet said, "And I daresay that Ms. Granger, our Head Girl, was not thinking straight when she acted so rashly just now. After all, she had been through a lot. The war had no doubt impacted greatly with her life." Dippet's eyes clouded over with sadness.

"I really did not expect she would go all out just for a spider, sir. I really have no desire to harm her at all. In fact, I was lucky that I managed to pull her away just in time before the killing curse hit her," Tom said, trying to fake a half smile.

"Oh Tom, m'boy," Slughorn said, "I'm glad and proud of your actions just now. You did the right thing. I believed that you do not have the intention to harm other students, isn't that it, Albus?"

Tom watched the old codger from the corner of his eyes. If he was offended, Dumbledore did not show it. He merely winked at Tom, before turning to Dippet.

"Armando, I must say that we cannot leave matters as such. After all, Tom must be partly responsible for his misconduct. If matters were leave as such, I'm afraid other students would take this lightly," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps they would have more daring plans, and I'm afraid that the school…"

"Oh Albus, come off it. Why do you always seemed so keen on this matter? Tom already admitted that he was in the wrong. We can just leave matters at it is now, couldn't we?" Slughorn cut in quickly before Dumbledore was able to finish his sentence.

"Yeah, I agreed with Horace. Albus, I know you're considerate in thinking about other students. I'm sure Tom here is very sorry for his actions indeed. I'm sure that nothing like this would ever happen again. I'll have a word with Merrythought when she returned from the Auras' Office later," Dippet said.

"I'm really sorry for my conduct just now, sir. I'm ready to receive any form of detention as it pleases you," Tom said, directing the last sentence towards Dumbledore.

"Oh Tom, M'boy. Relax. Nothing would happen again. You'll not be blamed for this," Slughorn said, giving his shoulders a light pat.

"Yes, there's no need to worry, Tom. And now, as this is settled," Dippet said, beginning to shuffle papers around on his desk, "I better be off. I've a meeting with the Ministry of Magic in thirty minutes. Albus, will you kindly keep an eye on Ms. Granger and ensure that she is all right?"

"Certainly, Armando. As Head of Gryfindor house, I'm obliged to take the welfare of all my house members into account," Dumbledore said. "She's currently in the hospital wing. I've monitored her just now, and she was in no critical condition. Madam McCarthy is currently attending to her."

"Good," Dippet said, getting up from his seat, and heading to the back of his office. "In that case, I'll ask all of you to excuse me. I've to get ready for my meeting with the Ministry now."

"Good day to you, Armando," Dumbledore said, walking towards the door. Slughorn followed behind him.

Trying as best as he could to hide his trademark smirk, Tom pushed himself up from the chair, and turned around to leave too.

"Good day, sir," he called out to Dippet, who merely grunted in response from the back of the office.

"After you, Tom," Dumbledore said, holding the door open for him. Tom immediately crossed the threshold and stepped onto the spiraling staircase. After emerging into the corridor again, he turned, gave Dumbledore a half smile, and started to walk away.

"Good day to you, professor," he said. Slughorn had already walked away towards his office by now. Dumbledore just give him another look before turning away.

Tom stretched on the couch. The meeting had ended well, as he had expected. There was not a single smear on his reputation after all. He would deal with the problem of the girl later, he decided.

Tiredness overtook him suddenly. All the events of the day had definitely tired him out. He could not help wondering whether his latest condition had taken a tow on him. To top this off, he still did not know what had caused his second seizure just now. He had no time to find out about it yet. He reasoned that a trip to the hospital wing would be necessary. He could secretly ask Madam McCarthy about that kind of pain, without mentioning that he had suffered it himself. She would easily believe him, given their close relationship. In fact, she often called him her assistant, as he knew a lot about healing, and was creative enough to create some new recipes, which he would share with her sometimes.

With this thought in mind, he smirked satisfactorily, and he sprawled out on the couch. He was going to take a nap, he decided. The pain in his muscles had ceased, but he still feels exhausted. He closed his eyes, and immediately drifted off to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How's she doing?"

"Oh, she's just fine. I've just given her another doze of dreamless sleep potion and calming potion. I'm sure she's being fine in the morning."

"Can we stay here, Madam McCarthy?"

"I don't think that is advisable, Mr. Black. Ms. Granger needs to rest well. Perhaps you can come back later, when she wakes up."

"Yeah, let's go to the Quidditch pitch to practice for just a bit, Alphard. We can come back later."

"Charles, I don't think…"

"Oh come off it, Mini. I know you don't have a soft spot for Quidditch. I'll not bother to bring you along, in case you're wondering."

"Charles Potter…"

"Shhh! That's enough. She needs her rest. Please don't raise your voices in here, Ms. McGonagall and Mr. Potter."

"Sorry, Madam McCarthy."

"Let's go, Charles."

Hermione moaned softly, and stirred. The voices which she had heard earlier were beginning to grow more and more distant. She moaned again, and tried to move.

She blinked, and opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was the whitewashed walls of the hospital wing, and the neatly made up beds, which were arranged neatly in a row, as usual. She grunted, and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"Oh, you're awake," the smiling Madam McCarthy approached her bed, pushing a trolley, which holds various potions.

Hermione gave the matron a warm smile, before slowly leaning on the bedpost. She flicked away a few locks of hair which had fallen into her eyes.

"How are you feeling, dear?" the matron asked, starting to perform a body check on Hermione. She scribbled away on her clipboard, and ticked off certain details listed on the piece of parchment pinned on it.

"Better," Hermione said her throat slightly dry. The events of the past hour flashed back before her vision. She remembered lounging forward to grab the spider before the killing curse hit it, and she also remembered someone pulling her away from the curse.

The last thing she remembered before passing out was the strong pair of arms holding her let go quite suddenly, which had caused her to stagger a few steps forward before collapsing on the floor. She now wondered who that was. Could it be Charles? No, she reasoned, as she had seen Minerva pull Charles away when he tried to lunge forward to pull her away. Perhaps it was Alphard, Hermione decided. She would ask him later, she gathered.

For a fleeting moment, she felt stupid. Why must she act in that manner around Riddle? After all, it was only a spider; she had seen worse during her time. "It must be the stress and having to live through the past again," she murmured softly to herself, as the matron was busy examining her.

"Take care of yourself, my dear. I believe that you're too stressing up, with all the studying and stuff like that. Furthermore, you've to live through the war. I understand how it is, my dear," Madam McCarthy said, placing a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulders and giving them a light squeeze.

"Yeah, I know," Hermione said, "thank you for your concern, Madam McCarthy."

"Now, enough of this, my dear. You'll drink this and go straight to bed. After all, you still need your rest. I'll tell your friends to come back later if they come around soon. Maybe they can see you tomorrow instead."

"Oh no," Hermione started to protest. She would like to see Minerva, Charles and Alphard straightaway. She was curious to find out what had happened after she had passed out. Most important of all, she wanted to know how that bloody psycho had reacted.

At the thought of Riddle, shudders ran down her spine. She was still not prepared to face that bloody psycho. He would definitely curse her again, to get the truth out of her, after her reaction in his class today. She had no doubt embarrassed him in front of the other students, and knowing him, Hermione doubt he would take it lightly. She would definitely have to pay the price for what she had caused him today.

"Nonsense. You need your rest. Professor Dumbledore had asked me to take good care of you, and I'm obliged to do that. Now, drink this and take a rest, my dear," Madam McCarthy held out a goblet full of a clear liquid towards Hermione.

Hermione took the goblet from the matron, and looked into it once more before putting it to her lips. The potion was sweet and tempting, and she gulped it down quickly. The bittersweet taste still lingered on her tongue for a few seconds after that.

"Nice, isn't it?" Madam McCarthy asked.

Hermione nodded, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What is it? I've never tasted anything like this before? It's…it's…oh, it's just wonderful!"

"Ah, my dear. This is one of our greatest inventions. It's a mixture of the dreamless sleep potion and calming potion. We've just perfected it last summer. In fact, this was what I gave you yesterday," the matron said, smiling at Hermione and taking the empty goblet from her hands.

"Oh, I see. I haven't tried it yet. I'm too occupied and too tired yesterday. I never had any nightmares at all," she lied quickly. She had not have the chance to try it, as that psycho had crucio-ed her yesterday, and she was in no condition to move about yesterday, as the pain in her muscles was unbearable.

The matron looked at her, and smiled. As Hermione was too curious, she could not help asking the matron another question which had been nagging her thoughts for a long time. She wondered whether the matron would tell her about it, but she decided to give it a try.

The matron had repeatedly talked very highly of her partner, who had helped her to create more new recipes. Hermione wondered who that person was. Perhaps she can ask the matron about the theory of mixing potions, as it would no doubt help her understand more about McKenna's theory. At that thought, Hermione's jaw dropped. She had not yet read McKenna's journal and the three books which she had duplicated from Riddle earlier. She would have to hurry, before the time was up and before that psycho discovered that she had stolen the journal without his knowledge.

Pushing this thought to the back of her mind for now, Hermione mustered all her courage, and faced Madam McCarthy, who was now busy arranging various potions on the shelves opposite her bed.

"Err…Madam McCarthy?" she started timidly.

"Yes, my dear?" the matron turned and looked at Hermione, giving her another bright smile.

"I was just wondering…err…you could tell me about your partner. You know, you said that you've work out all of this with another partner of yours. I was just wondering…"

"Ah," the matron's face immediately lit up, and Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Indeed, he is a charming young man, my partner."

"Oh?" Hermione said.

"I believed that you've already met him," the matron continued.

"Huh?" Hermione could not hide the surprise note in her voice.

"How do you find our Head Boy, Merope dear?"

"Riddle?" Hermione asked. Why the matron had steered the conversation towards this direction, she wondered. And then, realization hit her. She tries to hide her surprise and disgust at the same time.

"Are you telling me that your partner is none other than Tom Riddle, the Head Boy?" Hermione managed to choke out.

"Ah, yes indeed. Charming, isn't he? He has a lot of brains too. All of the new recipes were his inventions. I merely helped him to mix them. Sometimes I contributed my own ideas too," said Madam McCarthy.

Hermione's insides cringed with disgust. Tom Riddle had not only managed to wrap his fingers around all the other professors in the school, but he had also managed to have an influence over the matron of the hospital wing. No wonder the school did not suspect him for the injuries of the students mentioned by Alphard in the library yesterday; they would not believe that he was such a bad person after what he had done.

Hermione quickly masked her disgusted look with a half smile at the matron. She quickly made a mental note to throw away the dreamless sleep potion which she had obtained earlier from the matron. She was not going to use it, if it was made by that psycho although she doubted that he would dare to slip any poison in them. She would not consume anything related to him at all, she decided.

"Yes, he is quite charming. I find him a very responsible person too," Hermione quickly said, trying as best as she could to hide the disgust in her voice.

The matron smiled at her. "So, I see that both of you got along quite well? I wonder…" There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Hermione, realizing where the matron was heading, quickly faked a yawn and stretched.

"Oh, I see you're tired, my dear. Forgive me; I should not have talked so much. Now, lie down, and rest well."

Hermione quickly lie down on the bed. The potion was very good indeed, she admitted reluctantly. It was beginning to take effect as her nerves were getting calm again, and she felt warm and drowsy. The matron tucked the covers up to Hermione's chin, and patted her on the shoulders gently. Then, she pulled the curtains shut around the bed, and started to walk away towards her office.

Hermione pulled the covers around her more tightly, and let out a long sigh. She settled herself more comfortably on the bed, and dosed off to sleep.

When Tom opened his eyes, it was already beginning to get dark outside. The cold autumn wind was still blowing in through the window, and Tom shivered. He must have overslept again, he gathered. He could not help wondering why he often felt so tired for the past few days. Perhaps he had more things on his mind now, he reasoned. He had to figure out how to tackle his other counter part, how to make more hocuses and how to maintain his good reputation around the whole school. Besides, he also needed to do some research on his current state of health, as he still could not explain what had caused his seizure.

He looked out of the window thoughtfully. The evening sky was so peaceful to look at. Soon, there would be stars when night falls. He loved the beauty of nature very much. At times, he would stay up late into the night, gazing into the night sky and let his thoughts wander on their own accord. This helped him to clear his thoughts sometimes.

Tom yawned, and sat up. He had missed dinner again, he noted. He sighed inwardly. He would have to go to the kitchens to get some food again tonight, if he feels up to it. He was not very hungry now, he decided.

Remembering what he had planned to do earlier, he get up from the couch and headed for the room upstairs. After taking a quick shower, and putting on fresh clothes, he headed out of the commonroom.

He headed down the quiet corridors towards the hospital wing. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear voices from inside. He gathered that there were at least three persons in there, judging by their voices. He leaned casually on the wall across the door, and tried to listen in on the conversation. He hated to go in there when there were other people around. He would only go in if he needed to, when other professors were around so as to maintain his good student façade.

"But…" he heard a girl's voice.

"Oh, shut up, Mini…" That must be Potter and McGonagall, he noted with disgust. They must have come to visit Granger. He wondered how the girl was doing now. He hoped that he was all right, as his Head Boy image would be badly affected if he suffered some form of terrible trauma or something like that. He had no desire to undergo another round of grilling from the old codger. He doubted that the old codger would take things lightly if anything more happened to the girl.

He screwed up his face in disgust. The girl was really pissing him off. She had only been in his life for less than a fortnight, and yet she had done enough damage already. He would have to put a stop to all of this as soon as possible before things started to spur out of his control.

"We'll come back later then," he heard another voice which sounded very much like Alphard Black.

"But Madam McCarthy promised…"

"Charles, get a grip on yourself," he heard McGonagall's voice again. "Merope is tired. She's resting now. Let's don't disturb her just yet. We can come back tomorrow."

"Yeah, mate. Let's go," Black said.

"All right then," he heard a reluctant Potter said.

"Now, that's quite enough, students. Ms," he heard Madam McCarthy's voice.

"Okay, okay. We're leaving already. Good evening, Madam McCarthy," he heard Potter's voice. Then, he heard footsteps approaching the door. He quickly straightened up, and pretended that he had just turned into the corridor. He walked a few paces away from the wall, and started to look around him.

The double doors opened, and three figures walked out. It was indeed McGonagall and her clan, he noted.

"I'm telling you…" Potter started to say.

"Good evening, guys," he said, in his smooth and silky voice, cutting into their conversation.

The three of them looked up, and locked gazes with him. They seemed just to have noticed him.

"Oh, look who's here," Potter started to said, but McGonagall nudged his shoulders. Potter flinched at this.

"Riddle," Black said, in a clipped tone. "What are you doing here?"

"Planning to kill someone else, I suppose," Potter spat out forcefully, glaring daggers at him.

"Charles…" McGonagall put a hand on his shoulders. Potter slapped her hand away gently and straightened up, pulling himself to his full height.

"I'm warning you, Riddle. Don't you dare harm another student again? I don't care whether the professors had given you permission to do whatever nonsense you planned to pull, but I'm warning you all the same. Don't ever harm another student again, or I'll…"

"Charles, that's quite enough," McGonagall said, her voice slightly trembling.

Black advanced towards him. Tom pulled himself to his full height and looked straight at him.

"Mr. Potter is this the way you speak to your Head Boy?" he started to say, in his smooth and silky voice.

Potter started to open his mouth to protest, but Tom cut him off quickly.

"May I remind you that good manners are required during a conversation, especially when you're conversing with someone who had the authority to manage some aspects of the school?"

"Riddle…" Black started, realizing where he was heading next.

"And this goes to you as well, Mr. Black," Tom cut in again.

Black just stood there, glaring straight at him. Potter's face had turned red, and Tom could tell that he was itching to punch him right away.

"As Head Boy, I have the responsibility to ensure that students behaved well in the school, and never break any school rules at all. I do not command your respect, by the way. In fact, I'm quite prepared to accept the fact that some students seemed to hold a grudge towards me. However, I cannot tolerate this behaviour continuously, as everybody had a particular limit of patience, and that limit would somehow burst when that person had had enough. The same goes to me as I'm also an ordinary person with emotions." He paused for a while, waiting for his words to sink in. The three students just looked at him, without saying a word.

"I advise both of you to think back on what you've done, and make sure not to repeat this again in the future. As for now, I'll tolerate this behaviour just for once more, before I lost my patience, and give both of you detentions. With much regret, I'll take fifteen points from both Gryfindor and Slytherin for now. I hate doing this, you know, but both of you leave me with no choice. If I let this matter go lightly, it seemed that other students would take this wrongly, and I daresay that this is indeed a very bad example for them. Wouldn't you think so, Ms. McGonagall?" He eyed the girl who was standing between the two boys questioningly.

She gave him a disgusted look, before turning away. Ah, he had finally hit a nerve. He smirked satisfactorily. Oh yes, he knew very well how to play the game nicely!

"As for the events this afternoon, I really regretted my actions. I've no idea that this will affect our dear Head Girl greatly. Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet had understood well about this, and I'm willing to offer my apologies to Ms. Granger later and made up for my conduct this afternoon." He continued in his smooth silky voice, watching the three of them, and waiting for their reactions.

"Do you understand?" he asked, after a few more minutes of silence.

The three of them nodded, before starting to back away from him.

As an afterthought, he quickly added: "Oh, just to ease my conscience and to put your thoughts at rest, Mr. Black, as Head Boy, it is my duty to patrol the corridors for the week. As the Head Girl is unavailable for now…I decided to shoulder all the responsibilities myself. I've just finished on the floor above, and was heading down this corridor when the three of you came out from there," he gestured towards the hospital wing. "I hope you are satisfied with my answer."

"Come off it, Riddle," Potter started to said, but McGonagall kicked him hard. "Ow, Mini! Okay, okay."

"Fine. We understand, Riddle. I aapologise for what Charles and Alphard had said earlier," McGonagall finally forced out unwillingly, he noted. He smirked. Finally, he had created the effect that wanted on the three of them.

Black straightened up, and cleared his throat. "If you'll all excuse me, I've an essay to complete. I'll see you for Quidditch practice tomorrow, Charles. Good night, Mini."

He started to turn and walk away without another look at Tom.

After a few paces, he turned again, and said in the same clipped tone, "And sorry about my rude behaviour, Riddle. I hope you don't take it to heart. After all, Slytherin house cannot afford to lost points just because I misbehaved, eh?"

Tom was irritated. How could someone be so annoying like Black? Black then smirked before continuing down the corridor.

"Good night, Alphard," both McGonagall and Potter chorused.

McGonagall straightened up, and started to pull Potter away in the opposite direction.

"We're not done with you yet, Riddle. Just wait and see," Potter muttered under his breath, before taking McGonagall's arm.

"Ah, we'll see about that, Mr. Potter. Tsk, tsk, I'll ask you to control that temper of yours. It'll scare charming young ladies away easily; don't you think so, Ms. McGonagall?" Tom mocked.

Potter clenched his fists and brandished them at Riddle. "Leave her out of this, will you?"

McGonagall had blushed at his comment just now, and was now tugging on Potter's sleeves nervously.

"Charles, please. Let's drop it, all right?" she finally said, with a pleading tone.

"Okay, Mini. Let's go," Potter said, trying as hard as possible to control his temper. He unclenched his fists, and gives Tom a disgusted look before turning away.

"If you'll excuse us, Mr. Riddle," Potter started to said, turning slightly to look at him, "we've some things to attend to. Good day to you." He noted that both of them throw him another disgusted look, before stalking away hurriedly.

"Good night to the both of you," he called after them, gritting his teeth satisfactorily.

He smirked and turned back towards the door. He did not care whether those stupid people liked him or not. As long as he was concern, most of the school thought very highly of him, and he would not let three ordinary students ruined it for him. He would have to get rid of them if they continued to piss him off. He would let things turn up just as it is for the time being.

Quietly, he pushed open the door of the hospital wind, and stepped through the threshold. Madam McCarthy was still in the room, arranging potion bottles on the shelves opposite the beds.

"Good evening, Madam McCarthy," he said, plastering a smile on his face. The matron turned and her face lit up when she saw him.

"Ah, Tom. I was expecting you sometime today," she said, giving him a warm smile.

"I'm sorry. I was too busy today. I've just clear things up with Headmaster Dippet."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll understand, Tom. After all, it's not your intention of harming her, right?"

He grunted in agreement, and smiled at her.

"Poor girl, the war had taken a great tow on her life, I've noticed that the first time she walked in here. I hope you don't feel too disappointed with yourself, Tom. Nobody blamed you for her actions. She admitted to me that he was not thinking straight at that time. She just thought that you were going to kill someone else, after witnessing what you did. It brought back her past."

"I see," Tom said. So, the girl's story was indeed true. He was sure of it now, after seeing what she had done that afternoon. He felt a bit sorry for the girl, but the feeling quickly disappeared. She had irritated him for quite some time now. He did not care whether she had a bad past or not, she still need to learn her place here at Hogwarts. He would not be too easy on her, he decided.

"How is she?" he pretended to ask, faking concern in his voice.

"She's fine. She just dozed off after I gave her the potion you invented last year."

"The dreamless sleep potion?"

"Yes, and she liked it very much. She told me it tasted great and she had never tasted anything like that before."

Tom smiled. Of course she hadn't, he noted. That was his very own recipe. He had researched it in the library, and planned to modify the potion so that it would be more effective than the normal one.

"The margarita pteria really worked well, I guessed," he muttered.

"Ah, yes. I think it was in fact a very good herb. Who would think of Chinese medicine in potion making?" the matron smiled at him encouragingly.

"Oh yes," Tom said, "I've just found out about it when I was reading some books in the library, and thought of giving it a try."

He had tried to obtain the particular herb from the apothecary back in Diagon Alley, but the owner did not even know of its existence or what it was. He had then gone to Knockturn Alley. He was surprised to find a shabby little shop there, selling all kinds of herbs, mostly Chinese herbs. No one would guess that Chinese herbs have such a great potential in their uses. He had found various useful ingredients to make dark potions too. The margarita, for instance, was an herb with very great potential indeed. He gathered that it can cure disharmony of the heart, and may help in calming nerves. So, he had tried it out by mixing it with the dreamless sleep potion, and it worked well. He had tested the potion himself, and it had managed to create the results which he desired. It was then that he had shared his findings with the matron, just for the sake of impressing her and gaining her trust. He figured that he might some day use her for his own purposes if it was necessary.

He noted that it would be better that way. No one would suspect a thing if he used the potions on someone else, if he want to test them. In fact, he had successfully fooled a few silly girls in consuming dark potions which he had created, during the last term. No one suspected a thing, and Madam McCarthy could not even explain what it was that caused the girls' condition. It was he who had healed them himself, after pretending that he knew some healing and asking whether the matron would be so kind as to let him assist her in healing the students. It was then that their relationship started to develop. He had shared most of his findings with Madam McCarthy, and she had thought him a lot about healing. However, he was clever enough not to share certain information with the matron, especially information concerning dark potions and certain uses of Chinese herbs which he thought not wise to let her know.

"Maybe we can add more margarita in our next batch," the matron's voice jolted him from his thoughts. She was now standing a few feet away from him, observing him with her arms crossed.

"I don't think that's wise. It'll have other side effects, I daresay," he quickly cut in.

"Oh, I see. In that case, it's the same proportion as the last batch then?"

"I think that'll do just fine," he said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. The matron pulled another chair over from the side of one of the beds, and joined him.

"So, what are we going to do today, Tom?" she asked, excitedly. "What do you have to show me? I thought you mentioned a particular herb before summer."

"Ah, yes," he said, pulling out a small box from his robe pocket. The matron's eyes twinkled with excitement.

"What is it? Come on, don't keep me waiting. You're full of surprises, you know?" she chuckled.

He gave her another smile, before lifting the lid off the box. Inside the box were a few dry white flowers, which were very small. He lifted these out of the box, and placed them in the matron's hands.

Madam McCarthy looked down at the flowers, and sniffed it.

"Ah, what have we here?" she asked. "It had no smell at all. Another Chinese herb, perhaps?"

"Yes indeed. I was lucky to come across it during one of my visits to a particular place during summer," he said. He had obtained it in the same shop at Knockturn Alley that summer.

"Oh, I see. I wondered where you get all of these, boy. You never failed to amaze me. Come on, what is it?"

He smiled and cleared his throat.

"This," he begins, "is one of the most amazing herbs that I've ever come across. It is known as Hera hedyotic diffuisa. It is dried and cleaned before using. Usually it is collected during summer, that's why I cannot show it to you before the break. I was lucky that my supplier had just got it ready in time when I arrived. It's actually related to Anndrographis paniculata, you know."

"Oh?" Madam McCarthy's expression betrayed her enthusiasm. "So, the healing properties are basically the same; it can cure sore throat, heatiness and also snakebites?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied, smiling at the matron again.

"Oh, very nice name indeed. What else can it do?" Madam McCarthy said, beaming at him.

"I've not fully researched on it yet, to tell you the truth. So far, I gathered that it can be used to cure poisonous snake bites, especially venomous snakes, just like the Anndrographis Paniculata. I'll try to read up more on it during my free periods. I've actually got a few books on this herb already."

"Wow!" the matron was getting very excited now. "I think this would be an interesting herb. Who knows if we can add it to certain potions?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking about that too. Perhaps Professor Keddleburn can use them during Care of Magical Creatures too, but I doubt we'll be dealing with snakes." He chuckled lightly.

The matron laughed. She fingered the white flowers thoughtfully.

"You better keep this," she said, taking the box from him and putting the flowers back into it. "We'll work on it later if there's time."

With a half smile, he took the box from her hands, and slipped it carefully into his pocket.

Now, he had just one more thing to settle before he excused himself. He would have to try and ask the matron about his seizure. He tried to think of a way to phrase his questions, so that the matron would not suspect that something was wrong with him.

Madam McCarthy had got up from her chair, and was now pacing the room. Tom took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself.

"Madam McCarthy?" he started.

"Yes, dear?" the matron turned, and looked at him questioningly. The smile on her face never faltered.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly, my dear," she said.

He swallowed hard before continuing. "I was wondering whether you can help me out on something."

"Oh? What is it, dear?" she asked him, "I'll see what I can do about it. Just tell me."

Just as he was about to reply, he heard rustling sounds from one of the bed. It grew louder and louder. Then, he heard pounding sounds too. He blinked.

Madam McCarthy looked up.

"Oh dear!" she said, running towards one of the beds. Tom got up from his chair, and followed her. By now, he could hear screams coming from one of the beds; the same screams which he had heard a couple of days ago. Merope Granger was having a nightmare again.

"Oh, poor girl," the matron muttered, approaching the bed. She started to pull the curtains apart.

"No! Please! Don't do that!"

"Merope…" Madam McCarthy began to shake the girl softly. Tom stepped close behind her. The girl was lying on her back, thrashing and twitching violently. Her body shook and tears were streaming down her face, which was half hidden by the pillow that she was lying on. Her fists were pounding the bed furiously.

"Harry! Harry! Quick! Run! He's coming!"

"Merope, dear," Madam McCarthy said, shaking the girl harder this time. "Wake up, wake up. It's just a nightmare."

The girl continued to thrash about.

"Harry! No! You can't die now! We need you!"

Tom watched this for a few more minutes, before walking towards the shelves. With a flick of his wand, he summoned an empty bottle from the top shelf, and walked towards the matron's office. "I'll be back in a minute," he muttered to the matron, who gave him a questioning look.

Tom smiled at her and held up the empty bottle in his hands. She looked at for a moment, and then nodded in understanding.

"Harry!" he heard the girl screamed. Harry? Who was Harry? Was he one of her friends whom she had lost during the war?

"Shhh," he heard Madam McCarthy's voice before he closed the door behind him.

He headed for the long table at the center of the room, and sat down. He took out another box from his robe pocket, and emptied all its contents into the bottle. The margarita had already been crushed into powder, and he started to shake the bottle for a few times, before flicking his wand. A jet of water shot out from his wand into the bottle. He mixed the concoction quickly, and added a few drops of dreamless sleep potion and calming potion into the mixture. He hoped that this would be strong enough for the girl. He could not explain why he had a sudden urge to help her. It was as though he had been pulled by a certain force which had stirred his conscience, and he felt sorry once again for the girl.

He cringed inwardly with disgust. Who was she to him anyway? After all, she had irritated him enough already, and had almost ruined his good student reputation with the incident today. He tried as best as possible to think of a valid explanation of his actions now. He reasoned that he could not stand her screams any longer, as it would make him sick. Satisfied with this explanation, he smirked, capped the bottle and stood up. He headed out of the office, holding the bottle firmly in his right hand.

The girl's screams had ceased, and he saw that she was awake. She was sobbing violently, and Madam McCarthy was putting an arm around her.

"Shh, everything will be okay, dear. I'm here. We'll help you. Just calm down," he heard the matron's soothing voice, as she started to rock the crying girl.

"He took everything away from us," the girl managed to choke out between her sobs. "My parents, Harry's parents, Lupin, Thonks…Harry could have died…"

"Shhh, dear. Everything is over, you're safe now," the matron continued to rock the girl.

"I hate him. I want to kill him, and I will. I will kill him," the girl continued to choke out.

Tom raised an eyebrow at this. Who was the girl talking about? She was planning to kill someone, he gathered from the tone of her voice. She must have hated that person very much. Perhaps it was Grindelwald. He scoffed inwardly at this. Who did she think she was? Killing Grindelwald was definitely the greatest joke that he had ever heard. Did she think that she could do it, he wondered. He laughed inwardly at this. The girl must have lost her mind! Killing Grindelwald was never a simple task. Tom secretly planned to do that himself, if he managed to do so. He would have the chance to take over the wizarding world if he succeeded.

"It's all right, Merope," the matron said, rubbing small circles on the girl's back. The girl buried her face deeper into the matron's arms, and sobbed.

After a few more minutes, girl's sobs subsided. She hugged the matron tightly, and wiped away her tears on her nightgown. She then looked up and saw him. The disgusted look on her face returned. She quickly turned away, and fixed her gaze on the opposite wall.

Madam McCarthy looked up, and followed her gaze. She smiled when she saw Tom, and beckoned him forward.

"Ah, have you brewed it?" she said, eyeing the bottle in his right hand.

"Yes," he said, uncapping the bottle, and conjuring a silver goblet using his wand. He poured all the contents of the bottle into the cup, and held it out to the matron.

She took it and walked towards the opposite side of the bed. Granger had turned her back on him, Tom noted, and was busy twirling a lock of hair around her fingers. He could just make out her tear-stained face under the locks of brown curls that had fallen onto her forehead and covering her face.

"Merope dear, here you go. Drink this and everything will be all right," the matron said, putting the goblet to the girl's lips.

For a moment, the girl hesitated, and glanced sideways at him. Tom quickly looks away, not wanting to meet her gaze again. Then, she turned back, and gulped down the potion.

"Good. Now, try and get some sleep."

The matron laid the girl down once more on the bed. The girl let out a long sigh and closed her eyes.

Tom started to walk out of the hospital wing. He would ask the matron about his seizure later, he decided. Now was probably not the appropriate moment to do so.

"Ah Tom, I see you're leaving," the matron said. "What is it that you want to ask me just now?"

"Oh, it's nothing important, I assure you. It can wait until another time," he said, plastering another smile on his face.

"If you said so, my dear. I guess you better be off. It's getting late, and I would not want to keep you here for the night. You need your rest too," she said, smiling back at him.

He leaned against the door, and dared a glance at the bed where Merope Granger laid. She was fast asleep, he noted, with the covers tightly pulled around her. "This is all Granger's fault," he muttered irritably under his breath. "If only she could save her nightmare for another minute, I would have found out what I wanted to know."

He sighed, and turned away. He opened the door, and stepped out into the corridor.

"Good night, Tom," he heard the matron's voice behind him.

"Good night, Madam McCarthy," he said before closing the door quietly behind him, and heading back to his dormitory.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione spent the rest of the evening and the next day tucked up in bed in the hospital wing. After her nightmare that evening, Madam McCarthy had insisted that she was not fit yet to attend classes, and had talked her into staying another night at the hospital wing.

"You still need to rest, Merope. You almost scared the daylight out of me yesterday. Your nightmare was the worst that I've ever seen before. Luckily young Mr. Riddle was quick enough to brew the dreamless sleep potion for you."

Hermione's insides cringed with disgust at this. The matron reminded her of the events of last night, and the more she thought about it, Hermione felt more and more uncomfortable. She had one of her terrible nightmares again, and in her state of grief, she had blurted out some important things during her breakdown yesterday, in the presence of the bloody psycho. He had looked at her questioningly, before backing away after handing Madam McCarthy the dreamless sleep potion.

Hermione tried to suppress the disgusted look on her face as best as possible. She had no choice yesterday, she figured. If she did not take the potion, the psycho will definitely be more suspicious about her. She could not afford to turn up his suspicions further. She had already slipped up for a few times, and she was intended to cover up for all that as best as she could manage. Thus, after weighing her options carefully, she gulped down the potion. After all, she still liked the bittersweet taste of it; she had never tasted anything like that before. She did not care whether the psycho had brewed it or not, she reasoned. As long as she was able to get back to sleep as soon as possible, the better it would be. She would have time to ponder her options and clear her thoughts before making her next move.

Minerva, Charles and Alphard had visited her the next afternoon, bringing along notes for that day's lessons and her homework. Madam McCarthy looked disapprovingly at them, but nevertheless let them in.

"I'll give you forty-five minutes, and that's it. Merope needs her rest," the matron said, before bustling off into her office.

"I'm fine, Madam McCarthy," Hermione started to protest.

"Oh, don't give me that, Merope. I would not let matters rest until I'm sure you're fit enough to leave here. I wouldn't like to see anymore nightmares, mind you."

Hermione let out a defeated sigh, and turned back to her friends. Alphard offered her a wide grin.

"So, all Os as usual, eh?" Charles said, putting down the stack of parchments which he was carrying.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"All your essays are with me now. All the professors were impressed. You got all Os," Charles said, handing the stack of parchment to Hermione.

"Oh," she said, smiling. "This is nothing at all."

"Oh, come on, girl. Don't be modest," Charles said, slapping her shoulders playfully. "Just admit you're intelligent."

Minerva smiled at this. Hermione blushed, and quickly covered her face with her hands.

"Can I borrow your essays, Merope? I just wanted to have a look at them," Charles said after a few more minutes of silence.

"Certainly," Hermione said, holding out the stack of parchment. She smiled at the memories where Harry and Ron would bug her to lend them her essays to copy. At the same time, a pang of sadness washed over her. She missed her friends very much. She wanted to see them again so badly.

"Make sure you don't copy them," Hermione added, "in case you've haven't do your homework," she joked. Charles blushed at this.

"Well…" he started.

"Charles Potter, don't even think about copying other people's work…" Minerva started. Charles gave Minerva a playful slap on the shoulder, and Minerva just pushed his hand away.

The four of them continued to chat about school work and lesson for a while, before steering the conversation towards another direction.

"So, how are you feeling, Merope?" Alphard asked, after Hermione suppressed her giggles. Charles had just cracked a joke, and Hermione was laughing herself crazy at it. She felt that she had not been so happy for quite some time now. She reasoned that she would not allow her sadness haunt her any longer, as she would be able to get back after completing her task. So, she started to cheer up and laugh along with the others.

"Better," she said. "By the way, what happened after I passed out?"

Alphard sighed, and started to recount the events of yesterday to her. Hermione's listened intently. She was shocked to find out that it was none other than the psycho himself who had pulled her away from the curse. Why was he doing this, she could not help wondering. Wouldn't my death make things easier for him?

As though he was able to read her thoughts, Alphard said: "Perhaps Riddle wanted to maintain his reputation as a good student. After all, it would not look good at him if you're dead."

"Yes, that's it," Hermione thought, agreeing with Alphard. "After all, why else did he act like this? He's Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort never did anything which did not benefit him in some way."

"Did you see his face when he left?" Charles cut in, the displeasure evident in his voice. "I was just leaving for Dumbledore's office with Mini when he bumped into the both of us outside the corridor. He looked scared."

"Probably thinking what cover story to throw at Dippet," Alphard interrupted. "Did you see his stupid arrogant face when he confronted us last night?"

"Yeah," Minerva said, "I think that it's best to stay as far away from him as possible. After what he did yesterday, I'm scared as hell."

"Oh Mini, don't worry about that. We can teach him a lesson some day," Charles cut in, punching the air with his fist. "He thinks that he is Head Boy, which made him superior, eh? Let's show him that he's wrong some day."

"Yeah," Alphard said, grinning mischievously. "I think we can pull something on Riddle, but we would have to be careful."

"Guys…" Minerva tried to say, but Charles laid a finger on her lips.

"Guys, listen to me," Hermione said quietly.
"Don't mess around with him. He's terrible."

"Oh yeah, we know that," Alphard started to said.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, and tried again.

"Charles, chill down and listen to me carefully. I know Riddle. I've been working with him for the past two days, and the experience is not pleasant at all. He wouldn't even talk to me, and he did all the work himself. He even tried to curse me, you know. I was lucky to get out of his way quickly," she quickly said, telling them half the truth.

Alphard looked concerned.

"Did he hurt you, Merope?"

"No, of course not. He wouldn't dare, I guess. I'm his other counterpart after all," Hermione said quickly, plastering a smile on her face. She hoped that her friends would not take it wrongly, and go and hex that psycho for her sake. She had no desire of getting them into trouble.

"If he does that again, remember to tell us," Charles said. "We'll make sure he regrets what he did."

"Be careful around him, Merope," Minerva said, looking worry.

"Don't worry, I will," she said.

"Oh, by the way, I just remembered something," Alphard said. "I noticed that there was something off with Riddle when he left yesterday. He kept on clutching his sides, and I gathered that he looked slightly paler."

"What?" Hermione asked, with her eyebrows raised.

"Come to think of it now, he doubled over after he pulled you away, Merope. That's why he let go of your waist. At first, I thought that he was looking for the spider, but after giving it a more careful thought, I figured that this was not the case. He was suffering from something, I think."

"Oh?" Charles cut in excitedly. "Why didn't you tell us this yesterday, Alphard?"

"I just thought about it," Alphard said. "When I asked him about it, he quickly said that it was none of my business at all. I was too pissed off with him to notice anything at first."

What the hell was this all about, Hermione wondered. The dark lord in pain? Harry had never told her anything at all. Perhaps the dark lord had indeed suffered some kind of illness before, which they had no knowledge about. She itched to find out more about it, but thought better about it. Why would she care about that anyway? After all, she was here to kill him, and this would only make her task easier. She smiled at this thought.

"Let's find out about it," Charles started to say.

"How?" Minerva asked.

"We just have to do so snooping around, if you know what I mean. Just follow Riddle and find out what is he hiding from us. Who knows if we can use his weakness against him?" Charles said in a conspicuous tone.

Alphard and Minerva finally gave in and agreed with him after a long bickering session, which Hermione did not have the heart to stop. She would just let them had their way for once. After all, it would also be an advantage to her. She would be able to concentrate more on her task, and use the information that her friends were able to obtain [if any] to her advantage. This only makes things easier for her.

When they were done with the planning and plotting [which was done in a hurry, Hermione noted], they chatted for a while about other things, before Madam McCarthy emerged from her office, and announced that it was time for her friends to leave. Hermione bid them goodbye, and smiled at them. The three of them promised to meet her for breakfast at the Great Hall on tomorrow.

"I'll be out of here on tomorrow, right?" Hermione asked Madam McCarthy, with a hopeful look in her eyes.

"Oh yes, my dear. We'll see how things turn up. If all is well, I'll allow you to leave on tomorrow," the matron replied.

"So, see you tomorrow, Head Girl," said Charles, before walking out and closing the door behind him. Minerva and Alphard waved at her, and Hermione returned their wave with a big grin.

"Okay," she managed to call out before the door closed completely.

Hermione spent the rest of the evening going through the notes which Minerva had lent her. She had bugged Madam McCarthy to lend her some parchment and quill so that she can copy them. She preferred to copy them, instead of making a copy using her wand. She thought that it would be easier to remember what she had read by this way, and she would not have much trouble writing all of that down again during examinations. She loved her style of studying. Harry and Ron had always teased her for memorizing every word of the textbook and her notes.

"Hermione, I think I've find a nickname for you at last," Harry had said one day, while they were in the Gryfindor commonroom. She had given him a stern look.

"Well, what is it, mate? I only know her as the Insufferable Know-It-All, thanks to Professor Snape," Ron said, chuckling.

Hermione had glared fiercely at him.

"Hermione, you're a regurgitator," Harry said, and burst out laughing. Unable to contain herself, Hermione had thrown a pillow at Harry, and the three of them started to laugh after that. When she thought about it now, she was beginning to like the new nickname. After all, she was so used to regurgitate all she had learned.

At this memory, she smiled. Harry and Ron were really her very best friends, and she would not let them down. She would complete her task, and go back to join them. The three of them will be happy again, and the whole wizarding world would have a brighter future. The cause would be stopped at its root; she would make sure that Lord Voldemort will never have the chance to rise to power.

With this thought in mind, the rest of the evening passed on swiftly for Hermione. She talked to Madam McCarthy, ate her dinner and then went to bed. She wanted to be up early on tomorrow to attend lessons. She does not want to miss another day of it anymore.

"I see you're progressing quite well, my dear. I think you can be out of here on tomorrow," Madam McCarthy said, before tucking Hermione into bed, after giving her another glass of dreamless sleep potion.

Hermione smiled at the matron and pulled the covers up to her chin. She would be back on track tomorrow, and her plan would have to be carried out as soon as possible. She was still turning possibilities in her head now. She had no idea how to kill the young dark lord without raising any suspicions at all. With these thoughts still lingering in her mind, Hermione drifted off to sleep, as the potion began to take effect on her. She slept peacefully that night, without any nightmares at all.

The next morning, she felt fresh and was ready to leave. Madam McCarthy bustled about her bed, giving her another body check. When she was done, she smiled satisfactorily.

"There, you're fit to go now," the matron said, giving Hermione a final pat on the shoulders.

"Thank you, Madam McCarthy," Hermione said, getting up from the bed and stretching. She took off the hospital gown, and changed into her school uniform, which she had summoned from her trunk the day before.

"Take care of yourself, dear. I do not wish to see you in here again so soon," Madam McCarthy said, giving her another broad smile before walking into her office.

"Don't worry. I'll take good care of myself. Good day, Madam McCarthy," Hermione said, making her way out of the building.

The morning sun was just beginning to rise, and the day was getting warmer. The cold autumn wind was not as chilly as the past few days, and Hermione enjoyed her walk down the corridors of the castle which she had called home for many years now. She turned into the seventh floor corridor, humming softly to herself. She was going to get her schoolbag in her dormitory first before heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

As she approached the portrait of the Pink Lady, she remembered what she had planned to do earlier. She was going to try and ask the Pink Lady a few more questions. She was sure that the portrait had something to do with her task.

Cautiously, she approached the portrait. The Pink Lady looked down at Hermione with warm brown eyes, and smiled her dazzling smile.

"Password, dear?" she asked in her soft melodic voice.

"My lady, can I ask you something?" Hermione said, after clearing her throat several times.

"Well, certainly, my dear. What would a lovely young lady like you want to know?" the Pink Lady offered her another of her dazzling smiles. Hermione noticed that the pink pearl in her left hand gleamed more brightly than before, as the rays of sunlight from the small window on the opposite wall reflected on it.

"My lady, if you don't mind, I would like to know whether you're related to Harperlindo McKenna?" Hermione asked, looking enquiringly at the portrait.

The Pink Lady's smile widened. She gazed at Hermione for a long time before answering.

"Ah, you never give up, do you?" she asked. "My dear, how I wish that I can tell all about it now."

"Tell me what?" Hermione said, started to get excited.

"Ah, but I think it is not possible to do so. When the time is right, I'll be sure to tell you all I know."

"Know what?" Hermione was getting frustrated.

"Patience is what you need, my dear. Just focus on what you have, and try to figure out what is your task. This is all I can tell you for the time being. When the time is right, you've all the answers you need in your hands."

The portrait offered her another smile, and lifted the pearl in her left hand higher into the air.

Hermione let out a deep breath.

"Fine," she said in a defeated voice. "Can I ask you another question then, my lady?"

"Ask away, my dear," the portrait said.

"Was that the Pearl of Destiny that you're holding?" Hermione asked, trying to calm her nerves. Her heart was racing at a very fast pace now. She hoped that the Pink Lady would not let her down again.

"Ah, my dear. Again, I'm afraid that I cannot answer your question, as time does not allow me to do this just yet. I'm so sorry." The Pink Lady gave her an apologetic look.

Hermione's face fell. She would have to wait for goodness knows when before she was able to get the answers she wanted.

"Okay, I understand, my lady. Now, can you be so kind as to let me in?"

"Of course, dear. Once again, I hope you accept my apologies. How I wish I can do more to help you." The portrait let out a long and deep sigh.

"I understand, my lady," Hermione said, trying her best to smile.

"Password?" the Pink Lady said, her face brightening up with another smile.

"Caput Draconis."

The portrait immediately swung aside, and Hermione stepped into the commonroom. She looked around the room. The fire had died down, and the fireplace was cold. She walked passed the couch and climbed the staircase leading to the room.

She pushed the door open slowly, and stepped quietly into the room, just in case the young dark lord was still inside. She heard running water coming from the bathroom. She gathered that he must be in the shower. She quickly walked to her side of the room, and gathered up her things. She had no desire to face him here, especially when they were alone. She had no desire to be tortured, just in case he was planning to do it when he saw her. After all, she had nevertheless ruined his reputation and spoilt his day yesterday.

She was just about to leave when she remembered something else. Hastily, she pulled McKenna's journal out of her trunk, and stuffed it into her beaded bag. After darting a few more glances towards the bathroom door to make sure that the young dark lord was still inside, she quickly locked her trunk again, and shoved it under her bed once more. Then, she slung her schoolbag over her shoulders, and walked out of the room as fast as possible.

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** This is only the first part of the chapter. I decided to split this chapter into two parts, as it was a very long one, and I hate to keep you guys waiting. The other half of the chapter has already been written, waiting to be typed out. I'll try to upload the other half as fast as possible. Please bear with me, as I got carried away while writing this chapter! The flow just continued, and I'm having difficulties ending it!

** The herbs I mentioned just now are real Chinese herbs. I thought of putting them into the story, adding a few magical properties to them. You can find out more about their uses if you liked. I thought it would be fun to include things like this in the story, to make it more interesting. Hope all of you liked it. Please read and review, and let me know what you think about my story thus far.

** Once again, next half of this chapter will be uploaded soon!

^^ Hermione Hean Fui ^^

He stretched, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX