Author's note: See? What did I tell you? I posted an update in less than two weeks! And it would have happened even more quickly, except this is my longest chapter yet: over 5,400 words! As you can image, it took a bit longer to write than normal. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and I hope you like it (finally, we start to see a lot more of Tom Riddle in this chapter). So, without further ado...

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The Failed Patronus

That night was one of the worst that Hermione had ever spent at Hogwarts. She felt trapped; as all students were required to stay in their common rooms she couldn't get away from her classmates or really talk to Harry about anything important. Of course, with the news of Julie's death, the general mood in the room was almost unbearable. Some people took to crying and reminiscing about their friend, while others seemed shocked and didn't know what to do with themselves. A few, (the more practical ones, Hermione observed), were worried about the state of the war. They had heard what had happened from the Gryffindor prefects and spent the entire night speculating about what was to come.

This all made Hermione extremely uncomfortable; the talk of death was so depressing, and speculation about the war just gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore; around seven o'clock she tried to get away from everyone by going to bed early. That proved to be just as bad – her roommates had already taken refuge in the dormitory and spent the entire evening sobbing with one another. Hermione, however irritated this made her, couldn't blame them – she remembered how she felt when Fred died, and he was only the brother of one of her best friends.

That got her thinking of Ron again, and how much she missed him, and how she really hoped that he was still alive. Of course, that made her a bit depressed, and then that feeling only got worse when she started scolding herself for feeling sorry over Ron instead of Julie. There's something wrong with me, she thought darkly as she tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep.

Finally, the other girls managed to cry themselves to sleep and Hermione was able to get some rest. The following morning rolled around entirely too quickly, and soon she found herself sitting at breakfast with Harry, discussing the previous day's events.

"You know, Hermione, I find it really funny how annoyed he is that Dippet put us in charge of everything," Harry said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Riddle. He flashed a mischievous grin. "It's very satisfying to have something that he can't."

Hermione scoffed. "Oh come off it Harry," she replied. "Does it really matter?" She stared dolefully at her bowl of untouched porridge. "This whole situation is making me lose my appetite."

He shrugged. "I just feel that if we can't do anything to physically harm him, we might as well get under his skin as much as possible. And if we can make it look as though it's unintentional, I say all the better."

"Oh yeah?" She glared at him. "And push him to the limit? Make him crack and let us feel the consequence? Nice plan, Harry."

Harry smirked. "Well if you ask me, he's already cracked a long time ago."

Just then, the morning post arrived. Hermione usually didn't think twice about this; as they didn't know anyone during the 1940's, they had no reason to ever receive mail. Therefore, it came as a bit of a surprise when, today, they found two folded pieces of parchment dropped on their laps.

"What...?" Harry said, picking his up. "Did they get the wrong people?"

"No," Hermione said, eyeing the two school owls that were leaving their spot at the Gryffindor table. "I know who this is from: Dippet." She ripped open the piece of parchment, and sure enough, a short note was signed with the Headmaster's name.

Dear students and faculty:

We will have our first defense meeting tonight, immediately following dinner, during which the Patronus Charm and the discussed variation will be covered. Additionally, new patrol duty schedules will be passed out to all students and professors.

Armando Dippet,

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hermione looked up and noticed that the professors and students from last night were all currently reading the same letter. She looked back down at hers and considered it for a moment. "...'the Patronus Charm and the discussed variation will be covered.' Dippet said that he's going to want students to help the professors with the lessons – do you think he's going to want us to teach tonight?"

"No," Harry said thoughtfully. "He's going to want you to teach tonight."

Hermione blanched. "What?"

Harry finished scanning the letter and placed it carefully on the table. "Yes, you. I mean, you are the one who showed off with your Patronus yesterday. Am I right?"

"Well still, it's so soon... and I-I don't, I can't teach this very well – " Hermione stammered. The more she thought about this, the more she felt she was going to hurl. Her? Teach everyone else? Including the professors? She couldn't do a proper job on only a few hours notice... and by herself? She would barely consider herself qualified enough to tutor a few students, never mind the entire Hogwarts staff...

"I have to go," she said suddenly, standing up from the table.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Where? It's Sunday."

"To the library."

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Hermione spent the remainder of the day in the library searching for any books that referenced the Patronus Charm. She didn't know nearly enough about the theory to teach others... really, her knowledge was quite informal; she had learned from Harry in the DA, and only read a short passage about it in class.

Thankfully, this particular bit of magic was by no means forbidden at Hogwarts, so Hermione was able to find several helpful books without much difficulty. Before long she had a large quantity of ancient texts piled beside her, and as it was a Sunday, there was no one around to distract her as she painstakingly made her way through each one.

Hermione found this to be rather calming; finally, she was back in her element. The library was, as it should be, helping her with her problem. There was no more nonsense of looking for nonexistent information on time travel or trying to be secretive about searching through the restricted section. She had all the information she needed right in front of her. Though the books were not as helpful as she might have wanted, (the Patronus Charm theory had evidently not been expanded upon yet), they did allow her to systematically make sense of the spell in a way that she could explain to others. This made Hermione feel as though she had control over the situation, and for a while she felt as though she were merely going to an exam that night.

As the day wore on, though, her nerves started kicking in again. Soon, she no longer felt as though she were going to an exam, but rather to her untimely execution. Really, were these books actually going to help her? She could know everything there is to know on the subject and still fail miserably as a teacher. And, as the dinner hour grew closer, she began to feel as though she knew nothing on the subject anyway. She started to speed-read through all of her books again, trying to absorb every bit of information that might be useful.

Finally, she could delay no longer; she was already late for dinner and there was little else she could do to prepare. Scanning a passage one last time, she reluctantly set down her books and made her way back to the Great Hall.

"So how did you make out?" Harry asked as she took the place beside him at the end of the Gryffindor table.

Hermione grimaced. "Well I did find plenty of books on the theory – that charm is advanced, but it is in the Newt-level curriculum – "

"Really?"

"Yes," she said smartly. "And you should know that, by the way. Anyway, so I found a ton of information, but I still feel completely unprepared. I feel like I'm being asked to test on information just covered in class... only this is worse." Butterflies began mounting in her stomach again. "This isn't just regurgitating information, Harry; I have to make sure that others actually understand it, too. There's a whole other level to teaching than just knowing the curriculum."

Harry chewed thoughtfully on a piece of broccoli. "But you taught in the DA before – why not think of this like that? This is almost the same thing. And anyway, if you mess up, I'll try to help you out."

That did nothing to calm Hermione's nerves. If anything, it made them worse: she did not want to think about messing up. What's more, this was not the DA – she would be teaching experienced professors. However, she didn't say any of this to Harry; she was afraid that if she spoke she might lose the little dinner that she had already consumed.

Instead, they sat in silence for the remainder of the meal, Hermione feeling more nervous every minute. Before she knew it, dinner was almost over. Many of the students had already left, and those who hadn't were in the process of taking their belongings and leaving. The professors and prefects all waited quietly for everyone to leave, and, when the last student closed the door to the Great Hall, Dippet stood up and gave a quick flick of his wand. All of the food and plates vanished from the tables.

"Good evening, everyone," he said briskly. "Would you all mind standing up?"

As Hermione stood up with the others, she felt her heart begin to pound. She barely registered the fact that Dippet had raised his wand, banished the tables to either side of the room, and summoned everyone to the front of the hall. Suddenly, she was standing next to Harry and listening as Dippet welcomed them all. She looked around and saw that the prefects looked positively ecstatic to start the lesson. The professors didn't seem to care either way. Then, she saw Tom Riddle standing a distance away from the other students, next to Slughorn. He was listening to Dippet with courteous and rapt attention.

During all of this Dippet must have started the meeting because, all of a sudden, he was talking about tonight's lesson. Hermione's heart began to pound even more furiously than before.

"...tonight we'll start with the Patronus Charm," he was saying. "I figured that will be the most useful at the moment, since we may need to communicate before Grindelwald gets close enough to fight again. Miss Wilkins will be teaching tonight." Then he turned to Hermione. "So Miss Wilkins, would you like to begin?"

Hermione panicked. "Me?" she almost squeaked. With the moment upon her she got a bad case of stage fright. Her mind went completely blank; everything she had learned earlier in the day utterly disappeared. All she could think about was the fact that everyone in the room was staring at her expectantly, and she had nothing to show them. She must make some kind of an excuse.

"Um, you know," she swallowed thickly, "Harry is actually better with Patronuses than I am. I mean, I can communicate with them and everything, but if you want to learn the just the charm I'm sure Harry's the better teacher. It's kind of complicated, and he can explain it much better that I can..." She looked at Harry, pleading with him to take over. She couldn't deal with this right now; the pressure was too huge. The professors – her professors – were expecting her to teach them. If she muffed this up, well, she didn't know how she could face them ever again.

Harry, thankfully, understood the urgency of her plea and stepped forward. "Do you mind, Professor?" he said to Dippet.

The Headmaster shrugged. "Either way doesn't matter to me. I assume you are just as proficient at the charm as your sister."

Harry nodded. "Alright, then," he said, looking around the room. "How many people here know how to produce a Patronus?"

About two-thirds of the adults raised their hands. The students just looked at him blankly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, then..." He turned to the students. "How many of you even know what a Patronus is?"

Only half of the group raised their hands. This, unfortunately, didn't surprise Hermione; although the Patronus Charm was clearly labeled in the Newt Level curriculum, she had long ago given up hope that students retain any useful information from their studies.

Harry looked at Hermione and sighed. "That's what I thought."

"Right. Okay, then..." He looked around the room. Everyone, including Hermione, was staring at him intently, waiting to see what would happen. He seemed to be thinking of how to proceed.

Finally, he spoke. "It's important that you all know what a Patronus is. It's very complicated to explain or learn, but can be extremely useful. It's this... sort of shield that is used primarily as defense against Dementors, but can also be manipulated in other ways. It's a projection of good that comes from you, and every one of you has your own unique Patronus. I know this sounds difficult, and Patronuses can be if you make them. The hardest part about this spell is getting focused, and staying focused on the right thought." He walked slowly across the room, directing his speech towards the group of Prefects.

"To conjure your Patronus, you need to think of a happy thought. I can't stress this enough. It can be a memory, or an image, or something that's going to happen; this doesn't matter, but you have to make sure it's happy." He paused, apparently thinking hard. "But it has to be a certain kind of happy thought. You can't think about how it feels to be riding on a broomstick, or how fun the Christmas holidays may have been. No, those aren't strong enough..."

The entire room was still, watching him even more intently than before. Hermione, glad to be out of the spotlight, had edged her way to the side of the room and was watching Harry through the spaces between people's heads. Her heart rate was finally slowing down to normal again.

Meanwhile, Harry seemed to know where he was going now, and he spoke with more confidence. "It has to be something powerful; something that can trigger a strong emotion whenever you think of it." His expression hardened and a glazed look crossed over his eyes. "It must cause an emotion that can swell up from your stomach and make you feel light-hearted if you concentrate too hard. Once you feel like this, you must channel it in exactly the right way. Imagine it flowing through your body to the tips of your fingers and out through your wand. And when you feel that you have it concentrated as much as possible, you put it into a form that can be used in your defense. You say the words, 'Expecto patronum.'"

Had they been sitting, Hermione was sure that everyone in the room would be hanging off the edge of their seat by now. Harry's speech was, well... there was a reason he was teaching tonight in her stead.

He paused again, surveying the room. His eyes found Hermione's and, grinning, he said, "Expecto patronum!"

A brilliantly white stag emerged from his wand and cantered around the room. Everyone clapped and started talking among themselves. Most of the prefects, having only seen a Patronus one other time in their life, seemed awestruck at the magnificence of Harry's stag. The professors, on the other hand, were whispering excitedly to one another; they seemed to be extremely impressed.

Hermione couldn't blame them, she thought as she stared fondly at the familiar stag. It really was a brilliant Patronus. She didn't know if it was possible or not, but it just seemed so much stronger than her own – brighter, more full of life. It was almost as though the stag had its own personality.

Hermione's thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Harry stepped over to her.

"What do you think so far?" he said out of the corner of his mouth.

Her heart filled up with pride. "Oh, Harry, you're wonderful! You've done such a good job; I never heard it explained so well before!" She smiled at him, truly grateful for what he had done. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you. I'm sorry I just... froze like that."

He grinned. Harry was never one to enjoy the spotlight, but with all the praise he was receiving he seemed to be very pleased with himself. "It's no problem," he said, "none at all." He looked around the room – the stag had slowly faded away, and people were started to quiet down now. "Do you mind if I...? "

"Oh!" Hermione said. "Of course, go ahead. You need to continue."

He smiled again and walked back into the middle of the room.

"Alright, everyone – if you all just remember what I said: 'Expecto patronum!' Don't forget to think of something really happy. Oh, and don't worry if you don't get it right away, or even today. It's a fairly difficult charm, you know. So," he finished, "you can all have a go at it now, if you want."

He didn't have to say it twice. At his word, everyone in the room whipped out their wand and began practicing the charm. Harry and Hermione, along with the professors who could already perform the charm, walked around the room and gave advice to those having a difficult time. (Hermione didn't mind helping at all now that she was no longer the center of attention). Within a few minutes, the remaining handful of professors mastered the spell, and they too helped with the students.

Hermione was strongly reminded of her time in the DA. Everyone seemed so willing to learn and, probably because of this, they were accomplishing much more than they ever would have in a classroom. One by one, the prefects were all getting it – and Hermione couldn't believe this. Even in the DA, it had taken everyone several days of hard practicing for even one person to get it right. But here, the older students had little trouble with the spell.

And their success seemed to be inspiring the younger students, for before long everyone in the room was able to produce their Patronus. The room was filled with a myriad of animals, all barking and squawking at one another, and running about the room. Hermione was still walking about the room, occasionally giving advice, when she realized that one person was quite behind everyone else.

"Come on, Tom, my boy, it's not that difficult," Slughorn said, coaching a frustrated-looking Riddle. "You're just not concentrating hard enough."

Riddle, though, did seem to be concentrating. His face, screwed up rather tightly and turning a fair shade of pink, seemed to be the indication that he really was trying as hard as he could.

"Expecto patronum!"

Nothing happened. If one were to look closely enough they might see the faintest wisp of silver trickle down from the tip of his wand, but it was weak and almost impossible to make out.

"Maybe if you selected another memory, Tom, something really happy this time..." Slughorn seemed determined to see Riddle's Patronus.

"I'm trying, Sir," Riddle said through gritted teeth, "but it's just not working."

"Another memory, then!"

Had he not been speaking with a professor he might have lost his temper right then and there. "I said I've already tried that."

"Well then, try again!"

Hermione, who was nearby helping a sixth year Hufflepuff, couldn't help but overhear their conversation, and somehow found herself drawing nearer. Unfortunately, Slughorn spotted her and summoned her over.

"Now Miss Wilkins, do you have any advice for our Tom, here?"

Hermione would have rather crawled in a hole and died than answer him, partly because she had no desire to see Riddle succeed, and partly because it would be terribly awkward to give the young Voldemort magical advice. Riddle was apparently just as adverse to receiving advice as she was to giving it because he mumbled, "please, Professor, I have it. Just give me a few more minutes."

"Ha!" Slughorn slapped him on the back and beckoned Hermione to come closer. "I'll have none of that! If Hermione can be any help at all, then let her help!"

"Er," Hermione said stupidly. "Um, why don't you show me how you're doing?"

Having no choice with Slughorn standing between them, Riddle again tried the charm. As expected, it failed, perhaps even more woefully than before. Hermione suspected that her presence was causing him to lose his concentration.

She cleared her throat. "Well it's not awful..."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Hermione," Slughorn said, "It's dreadful. It's worse than dreadful – it's nonexistent! Honestly, Tom, I would have thought better of you." He frowned disapprovingly.

If Hermione had known him well, she would see that Riddle was becoming quite flustered. However, she tried to avoid eye contact with him as much as possible, and trained her gaze instead on a leopard Patronus that was prowling the room behind his back.

"Well," she said absentmindedly, "as Harry said before, it really is important that you concentrate as hard as you can, and you must pick the right thought. It's got to be happy, really happy..." Here, had she been looking, she would have seen his face turn even pinker. But Hermione was still pointedly looking away as she spoke. "And also, it might do some good if you put a greater emphasis on the 'o' in 'patronum....'"

"Ah!" Slughorn cried enthusiastically. "There you go! Why don't you try that?"

"Of course," Riddle said stiffly, as if he had known this all along and was simply entertaining Hermione's poor efforts.

"Expecto patronum!" he cried, this time with the emphasis on the "o." Though once again, his Patronus did not form, a brighter wisp of silver flowed from his wand. It was still a shapeless cloud, though (if one could even be as generous as to call it a cloud), and soon dissolved into thin air.

Slughorn, however, seemed to be pleased. "Look at that! See? Hermione did help after all. Look at that improvement!" And he went on for the next few minutes giving advice to Riddle and comparing Hermione's wandwork. She made several attempts to edge away, but every time she moved she was questioned by Slughorn and forced to stay.

"Now what do you think would be the impact of moving his wand like this," – here he made a strange pattern with his wand – "instead of the way you did before?"

"Er..." Hermione didn't know what to say. Honestly, she had never seen anyone work their wand like that for the Patronus Charm, and was about to say so when Dippet cleared his throat and interrupted everyone.

"Congratulations, everyone!" he said happily, clasping his hands together. "I cannot believe the progress that has happened here today. For everyone to do so well on their first day is absolutely amazing! Unfortunately, though, Professor Dumbledore just pointed out to me that we've run out of time. We'll have to get to the second part of this lesson during the week. Hopefully this time Miss Wilkins will be up to teaching us about Patronus communication?"

She smiled awkwardly and nodded; what did it matter if she had to teach next time? She was off the hook for today, and what's more, she could finally get away from Slughorn and Riddle.

"Oh, and before you go, I have your new patrol schedules ready; Professor Dumbledore will be passing them out..."

For once in her life, Hermione was too tired to listen to the remainder of the Headmaster's speech. Instead, she tore herself away from Slughorn and made her way over to where Harry was standing. He was already holding both of their schedules.

"We're on together Thursday nights," he said, handing over hers.

"Is that it?" she asked, scanning the parchment. She was on four nights a week – and they were long shifts, too. She groaned. Then she groaned even harder when she saw that she had one night a week with Riddle.

"Ooh, that's rough," Harry said, looking over her shoulder. "Sundays with Riddle. Good luck with that tonight."

She grimaced. "Thanks; I'll need it."

The next few minutes were rushed and confusing. Everyone began talking loudly about their posts, (or complaining, rather), and Dippet tried to gather everyone that was on duty that night in order to hand out corridors to the pairs.

"Now these assignments are just temporary," he was saying. (Here, Hermione got her hopes up that she would only have to work with Riddle this once). "The corridors will be rotated among the different partners..." (Hermione's heart sunk in disappointment). "If you can, please stay in sight of one another. That's the point of having you stay in pairs; I don't want any accidents..."

Then Hermione received her post – the fifth floor corridor – and somehow she found herself standing next to Riddle. Before she could protest or distance herself, everyone began to leave the room at once. Hermione was then shuffled out of the Great Hall and up the stairs, and quite suddenly the group dispersed, leaving her to walk alone with none other than Tom Riddle.

This was bound to be awkward. Seeing as they were both heading to the same place, Hermione couldn't very well rush ahead of him or linger behind. No, she was stuck walking next to him in an extremely uncomfortable silence. He didn't so much as look at her as they walked together up the marble staircase, never mind acknowledge her in any way. Was he annoyed at what happened before? If not, she was sure he was thinking about it. After all, he was the only one in the entire group that had not managed the Patronus. Hermione was sure that, had it been her, she would have been extremely upset.

Her thoughts about this muddled together, and then, perhaps because the awkward silence was nearly killing her, she felt the need to speak.

"I'm sure you'll get the Patronus next time."

Riddle seemed to freeze at her words. Merlin, she froze at her words! What was she thinking? She shouldn't be talking to him in the first place, and never mind about that. But now she was caught; having initiated a conversation, albeit a one-sided kind, she had to continue. Or at least explain herself somehow.

"What I mean," she rushed on nervously, "is that it's difficult to manage on the first attempt. I'm really surprised that all the other students did it at all; I mean, it took Harry months to produce his. Well, yes, he was only thirteen, and he was practicing on a Bogart in the form of a Dementor. You can only imagine how much more difficult that is, when that foul creature is breathing down your back, forcing you to relive your worst memories... She trailed off awkwardly.

There was an icy silence in which Riddle gave her a look that was so polite, yet so scathing at the same time that Hermione's stomach seemed to drop all the way to the dungeons. The look was enough to make her wish she hadn't spoken at all; surely he was going to explode and hex her into oblivion.

However, he didn't lose his temper. In fact, when he spoke it was in a quiet, strained voice. "Do I look like I care?" he said tersely.

Well, actually, it did look like he cared, and very much so, but she kept her mouth shut. What he said was a statement, not a question, and not one to be answered. Hermione didn't need telling twice to see that.

For a moment she had the urge to say something else and change the topic to something less touchy, but then she stopped. Riddle, who was still pointedly ignoring her, was obviously in no mood to talk. Good, Hermione thought. Who am I to initiate a conversation, anyway? She supposed that her half-hearted desire to talk to the Head Boy had something to do with her subconscious guilt about Harry's outburst at Riddle a few weeks back. Perhaps she wanted to sort things out between them and make sure there were no hard feelings. But, she thought more sensibly, this was Tom Riddle – simply saying something would not put her in his favor. Besides, she didn't want to be in his favor, she just didn't want to be out of it.

Reaching this conclusion, Hermione decided that the best way to approach this situation was to simply not deal with it. So she didn't respond and he went back to ignoring her. They reached their destination in silence, and Hermione began, what she felt was, the longest night of her life.

Having been a prefect for two years, she was more than used to being on watch duty. However, she had never been on duty quite as long as this, nor had she ever been on duty with someone as unbearable as Riddle. Not that Riddle was being unbearable in an annoying way; in fact, he didn't say anything at all.

No, Hermione observed as the night went on, the silence between them was what made the night unbearable – it was worse than if they had been shouting at one another. And to boot, she still felt extremely awkward about what happened before. She doubted that Riddle could possibly be capable of feeling awkward, but he must have been uncomfortable in some way as well. Hermione, for the life of her, just couldn't figure out what was wrong. It was just, well... he kept looking at her. Not that there's anything wrong with looking at a person, but once again, he was employing that scanning sort of stare on her and quite frankly, it was making her feel very uncomfortable.

Hermione tried to ignore it for the longest time. She tried to think of other things – recent books that she's read, what mysteries the veil might hold – but that didn't work for long. She could still feel his eyes on her back. Then, for a while, she tried to amuse herself by making a stream of bubbles pour from the tip of her wand and then popping them one by one until they all disappeared. That only seemed to make the situation worse: Riddle was practically glaring at her by then. So she took to pacing. It made her feel as though she was doing something – she could concentrate on the number of steps she would take in each direction instead of the number of times Riddle looked at her and then looked away again.

Unfortunately, that didn't last long either. Riddle was just being so... infuriating! Really, what kind of person stared like that? Was he actually looking at her or simply staring off into space? And he had no right! Finally fed up with this game he was playing at, she stared right back at him, to see how he liked it. Let him feel self-conscious for once.

For a moment he seemed surprised that Hermione was not, for once, avoiding eye contact. Then – was that a smirk? No, his face went blank as usual and he kept staring. Hermione stared back with equal ferocity for as long as she could. After a while, though, her eyes began to water and she decided that this was, if possible, even more awkward than before. Honestly, two people just glaring at one another like that, neither willing to say a word – who does that? She decided that by staring back at him, (or fidgeting as she had done before), she was just playing into his game. So she lowered her eyes and turned to face the opposite wall, only glancing back once to see if he was seriously still staring at her. He was. Oh Lord, she thought to herself miserably, he does have problems, doesn't he?

Hermione spent the rest of her shift like that, refusing to look away from that stretch of wall. She could still feel his eyes on her occasionally, though as she discovered as the night went on, he was being just like a child. After it became apparent that she was going to ignore him indefinitely he became bored and turned away towards his own corner. That was a bit of a relief, though the time still dragged on painstakingly slow.

As she stood there, thinking to herself in the dark, she decided that she was most definitely going to bring a book next time.