Author's Note: So, this is what you've been waiting for. Harry's basically gonna tell Hermione all the crazy shit that's been going down. Can you believe we're up to chapter thirteen already?

Welcome to Hogwarts

Chapter Thirteen: Voldemort's Back

Hermione followed Harry to a staircase, where they both sat down. So what if the staircase moved? It wasn't like they had a destination, anyway.

Harry took a deep breath and faced her. "Like I said before, you can't tell a soul."

"Who would I tell?" Hermione questioned. "Whatever you have to say, it's safe with me."

Harry nodded slowly, appearing to be in a trance. He looked at peace with her reply. She briefly wondered how long he had been bottling all of this up. Harry seemed to be to the point of breaking from holding all of this information in. For a short moment, Hermione wanted to tell him to never mind and that she didn't want to know – with that look of dread on his face, it seemed that this story was going to be worse than she'd expected – but she knew that Harry needed this release.

He ran his fingers through his hair nervously and began.

"I lived my whole life not knowing about magic at all. There were legal issues involved that made me unable to attend Hogwarts when I was eleven, just like everyone else."

"Guardians' Rights Laws," Hermione whispered. He didn't get permission, as the Prophet had said. At least they got something right.

"But then I was introduced to magic. Everything changed."

"But how?" she asked. She had to know what made him so nervous around it.

"I'm getting to that," he told her in a cautious tone. She shifted a few centimeters away from him. "A few days before term started, I was walking back home. A man by the name of Peter Pettigrew was disguised as an elderly man. He dropped his hat, but it was a portkey. Of course I didn't know that at the time… I didn't even know what a portkey was. So, anyway, the old man asked me to get it for him. So I did."

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Already, she knew that whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't anything close to this.

"Where did the portkey take you?" she asked quietly, her eyes wide.

Harry paused, as though very, very torn on deciding what to say and just how to say whatever he needed to say. He exhaled and said, "Hermione, I'm assuming you've heard of Lord Voldemort?"

The world around Hermione froze. She knew that Harry must have learned about Voldemort, but to hear that name being referenced right now sent a chill down her spine. Goosebumps emerged on her skinny arms. Her stomach performed twists and turns and sunk to her knees. Whatever Hermione had been expecting, it certainly was not this. She wouldn't have assumed, in a million years, that Voldemort was actually involved in this. Hermione had a dreadful feeling that this was going to be more tragic than she'd expected.

"Y-Yes, I've heard of Voldemort," she said in a shaky voice. She was one of the few students who actually dared to say Voldemort's name out loud. "Harry, why are you mentioning Voldemort? What happened?" she asked quickly.

He looked shocked to see her "I was portkeyed to a graveyard where he was waiting for me."

Oh God.

Oh God, oh God.

Hermione grasped the railing of the staircase. It shook and the staircase moved. Hermione remained sitting there, not sure how to grasp this information. Every part of her being turned to ice.

The normalcy of that staircase moving made her sick. How could anything around her be normal when Voldemort was back? She wanted to scream at that staircase for acting so normal, for doing what it was supposed to do. Why hadn't the entire world stopped and screamed in fear? There were people sleeping in this castle, unaware of what was going on at this very moment… she wanted to shake them awake and yell at them for being so normal and average while an evil man still existed, was still out there, planning devious, unimaginable things…

Voldemort was back….

"Voldemort's back?" she asked so quietly that she wasn't even completely sure that the words actually came out of her mouth. "What? How?"

Harry nodded. "He wants to return to power. He thought that getting to me first would deal with one of his biggest problems. Him defeating the one person who had defeated him would have been a perfect beginning to his return," he said slowly, in a low voice. "According to him, he's been slowly regaining his strength all these years. He wasn't ever really dead…"

"Oh, Lord," Hermione said. Her stomach twisted uncomfortable into eternal knots just at the thought of that god-awful man being back to do terrible, terrible things like he'd done the last time he was in power. Things were going to change from now on. All this time, she had believed that he was slowly returning to power, but so soon? "Dumbledore's been claiming that Voldemort was returning for a couple of years now."

"Well, he was right," Harry said, resigned. There was a shock of redness ringing his eyes.

She shifted her body over so that she could face him more head-on. She choked out the question: "What happened in the graveyard?"

Harry hunched forward and grabbed his knees. "I didn't know a thing about magic at the time, of course. So naturally, it was all really confusing at first. Wormtail – er, Peter Pettigrew, I mean – tied me up to this huge statue. He's like Voldemort's right-hand man, so to speak. His Death Eaters showed up soon after. And for God knew how long, Voldemort told me all about magic… well, it was all biased of course. He talked about how he was the real vanquisher, and he'd rise again, and he promised he'd kill me."

It looked like it pained him to just recall what had happened… and it pained Hermione to hear about it.

"Oh, my," was all Hermione could say. It was difficult to fully understand that all of this had actually happened to Harry. How had this made him afraid of magic? Yes, he'd seen Voldemort and heard the evil man's rants on his biased opinions, but… surely he must have seen magic performed?

Unless…

"Soon after that, he demonstrated magic," Harry said shortly. "That's why I'm so nervous around it."

"Oh, God, Harry," Hermione cooed. The atmosphere around them kept getting colder and colder. Her mind raced. The next few words she spoke were hard to say: "Did he hurt you? Were you… were you tortured?"

He closed his eyes tightly. And then he nodded.

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing: Harry had been tortured by Lord Voldemort.

And all along, Hermione had thought magic was beautiful. But she could see his point now. Harry's first experience with magic had involved being tortured by the evilest man the wizarding world had ever seen. Had that happened to her, she wouldn't have wanted to be ten feet near a wand. That was, without a doubt, the worst possible way to be introduced to magic.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she continued. She felt a tear fall down her right cheek but she didn't bother to wipe it away.

"S'alright."

He looked so fragile and weak that it broke Hermione's heart. Hermione never thought she'd care about Harry so much, but in that moment, she felt very protective of him and wanted to help him as much as she could. Nobody deserved to go through what he experienced. She leaned forward and held his hand. He looked like he was going to pull away, but he didn't. His hand was so cold…

"It's not alright," Hermione said, her brows knitting together. "What happened to you was absolutely horrible. Nobody should ever have to go through something like that."

Harry shrugged helplessly. What happened had happened. The dark circles beneath his startling green eyes looked even darker. "I got out, though," he said weakly, as though he were grasping any possible positive side to this situation.

"How so?" Surely this part of the tale couldn't be as bad. After all, he'd gotten out alive. That was something.

"The portkey was a few feet away from where I stood. Had it been any further, I wouldn't have gotten away. The ropes had just been tied together by magic, but they weren't secured the same way… I think he underestimated me. So, I managed to untie the knots behind me. When Voldemort's back was turned and before he was going to use the Cruciatus Curse again, I went for the portkey. I managed to get out of the graveyard just in time."

Harry sat there breathlessly after his explanation. He removed his hand from hers. He looked at everything else around them except for Hermione until, finally, his eyes glanced at her with the saddest expression she'd ever seen.

"You look like you don't believe me," Harry said, his voice drowning in anguish.

Hermione did believe him, how could he not see that? But before she could say anything, he turned his arm so that the underside of his forearm was revealed. There was a deep gash that traced the length of his forearm. Hermione gasped and another tear escaped. She'd soon begin full-out sobbing if she kept facing the reality of what had happened to him.

"I thought he just used magic…" she whispered, her lips barely moving. This was a mark of Muggle-like torture.

"His servant, Pettigrew, took my blood to restore Voldemort's power," Harry explained. He looked down at the injury with hurt eyes and a frown. "I couldn't have done this myself; I would've passed out, or not even reached the depth that this did…" He looked away from the gash and focused his green eyes on her.

Hermione knew he was trying to convince her that he was telling the truth. She already believed him… she didn't need to be convinced of anything. She reached forward and gently touched the gash. His arm trembled when she touched him. Her thin fingers traced the wound as gently as possible. It was raised in some places from healing, and there were small remains of stitches putting the skin together.

"I believe you, Harry," she whispered.

"Good," he said, relieved. He looked at where her hand blessed his wound with her soft and gentle touch. "Dumbledore's afraid that if this gets out, nobody will believe me and I'll be made a joke. We need solid evidence before warning the public that Voldemort's back."

Hermione pulled away from him, surprised. "But wouldn't you want people to be aware of what's going on?"

"There's an organization out there that's helping the cause," Harry explained. She knew that there was more to this than what he was telling her, but she didn't press him for more information. "It's basically made up of the people that Dumbledore trusts. They believe me."

"Is Professor McGonagall involved as well?" she asked. Harry had told Hermione that Professor McGonagall had been helping him out when it came to getting him used to magic, more so than any of the other teachers.

Harry paused. "Yes, she is."

"Does Ron know, too?"

Harry nodded and coughed. "Yes. You and the Weasley kids are the only other students in the school who know. I plan to keep it that way for now."

"I won't tell anyone," she promised for the second time.

"Good."

"This is a lot to take in, Harry," she told him with a sigh.

Her hands were shaking just from imagining the things that Voldemort could do. It still seemed unreal, the fact that he was back. Somewhere in the world, Voldemort existed, just as powerful as he was before. He'd made Neville have to visit his parents in a special ward at St. Mungo's, he'd made Harry and orphan, and God knew how many other people were affected by his wrath. Everything was going to change from now on.

"I mean, I knew that Dumbledore had been right all along," she continued breathlessly, "but I always imagined Voldemort returning years from now… not so soon." Her voice lowered to a whisper when she asked, "Are you scared, Harry?", because she surely was.

Harry shrugged and nervously sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. "Well, he had me in that graveyard with the intentions of killing me, and I know that he'll come back one day… he'll return and try to kill me again. And he'll keep attempting until he succeeds." His voice was wavering and cracking. "So, yeah, I guess I'm a little scared."

"You need to be prepared, then," Hermione said as confidently as she could. She had to be the strong one, for Harry's sake. She sat up straight, as though that would do anything. "Now I can help you since I know what happened to you and I know why you're scared. Because if – if Voldemort comes back and – and tries to kill you, you'll be ready, H-Harry."

Her voice was faltering and she tried to compose herself as much as she could. She was on the verge of tears. Harry looked so… broken.

"Yeah, McGonagall told me the same thing," he said. His chin trembled. "What's the point, though, if Voldemort is so much more powerful than I am? He'll kill me one day, I know that."

His defeated voice nearly broke her heart once again. Harry really thought that his fate was drawing near and that Voldemort would kill him. His feeling of hopelessness made another tear fall down Hermione's cheek.

"You escaped him before," Hermione reminded him. That was something… it was hope. "You were given a second chance. Use that chance. I can help you. Together, we'll work on getting you used to magic."

"How?" he asked in a small voice. He looked at her with sad green eyes. He looked smaller, not like the fifteen-year-old boy that he really was. Harry hunched over and hugged his knees. "I'm hopeless."

"You're not hopeless," Hermione said tenderly. She leaned forward to touch his shoulder. He shivered at her touch but didn't pull away. He was more solid than she'd expected… Hermione had kind of thought of Harry as a bit scrawny from his over-sized, hand-me-down looking Muggle clothes and loose-fitting school robes, but he actually seemed to have some muscle. Her heart raced and she blushed. She'd never really touched a boy before like this. "We'll figure out a way to work through this. I'll help you."

From his hunched position, Harry quietly said, "Thank you. I don't even deserve your help, but thank you."

"There's no need to thank me."

There was a small silence between them, and Hermione formulated a question. "Is that why you don't sleep at night? Because of what happened?" she asked gently. Her hand was still resting on his shoulder. His breathing was small and steady and weak, and his surprisingly solid shoulder rose and fell with the rhythm of his breath in a sad, harmonic tempo.

"Yes," he admitted. His voice was partially muffled from the way he was sitting. His head was buried in his crossed arms as he was leaned forward. "The nightmares are extremely realistic." Before Hermione could say anything, he looked up at her and asked, "Why do you stay awake?"

For a moment she hesitated, prepared to not tell him a thing. But Harry had told her so much, and so it was only fair that he knew the truth in turn. She let go of his shoulder and sat up straight.

"I've gotten into a habit of staying awake because I didn't want to face the other girls in the dormitories… I – I knew they'd tease me. I always returned to the dorm long after they fell asleep because I couldn't face them. And now it's a habit that I can't break," she told him truthfully. It was strange to finally reveal this to someone… but at the same time, it was liberating and a huge relief. Hermione could suddenly understand why Harry was telling her all he told her; he must have been dying to tell someone what had happened to him.

"I know what Cho did to you a couple of weeks ago," Harry said as a reply. He sounded angry. Hermione froze. He hadn't acted like he knew what had happened. Hermione remembered him acting as though it were any other night right after the incident with Cho. Maybe that's what he had intended; it would have been humiliating to face Harry immediately after what happened. "That was horrible of her. That's why I haven't been giving her the attention she wants… she doesn't deserve it, the bitch."

"Oh."

Cho had been making a few advancements on Harry lately – everyone could see that – but he'd been completely ignoring her. And until now, she never knew the reasoning behind it all. Hermione felt a rush of gratitude towards him.

"I used to be the person pouring buckets of water on people," Harry admitted solemnly.

Hermione snapped her head to face him with wide eyes. "I'm sorry?"

"Before I was introduced to magic, I was the bully. I led a gang around my town… I realize it was stupid, really, now that I'm looking back on it." He laughed humorlessly. "I was just this kid… this kid with nothing else to do and nobody to trust. I turned into a monster. And I didn't realize how horrible it was until I met a real monster."

He was referring to Voldemort. Hermione didn't know what to say, so she remained silent and stared at his conflicted expressions as he continued to explain himself.

"Now I have more things to worry about. I don't care about antagonizing people or making others feel worse just so I can feel better about myself." He looked up at her with those big green eyes. "You probably hate me now because of who I was," he said, sighing.

He glanced away from her, as though he were ashamed of what he had just admitted. The staircase moved again but neither of them had a reaction to it. The staircase could keep moving all night and they wouldn't even care.

"I don't hate you, Harry," Hermione said calmly. "I know you're different now."

She knew Harry wasn't a bully. Maybe he'd been that person before, but Hermione knew that now, he wasn't a bully. She knew how to detect someone like that from a mile away. Sure, he'd beaten up Malfoy but –

"Why did you beat up Draco?"

Harry looked around nervously, as though he were afraid someone would overhear whatever he was about to say. "Draco's father is a Death Eater."

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth. "What? Harry, that's a huge accusation –"

"Voldemort referred to one of the Death Eaters as Lucius Malfoy," Harry said angrily. He gritted his teeth together. "He watched as Voldemort tortured me…"

"Oh my –"

"I mean, you don't have to believe me, but that's what I heard."

"No, no, I believe you," Hermione reassured him with a soothing tone. He seemed so furious just by the mention of Lucius Malfoy, and she wanted him to calm down. It was nerve-wracking to see him angry like this. "I understand why you went after Draco, then. Maybe you were a bit… over the top… but he is a git and he had something coming to him."

"Has he ever done anything to you?" Harry pressed.

This question didn't seem to settle down his anger, so she didn't elaborate when she answered with, "Not really."

Telling Harry that Draco's little snarky comments had slowly evolved into threats of sexual harassment clearly wouldn't calm him down, so she did not feel it was necessary to tell the complete truth when Harry seemed too angry already.

"Not really?" he repeated.

"I mean, he's just sort of a git to everyone. Maybe more so to me because I'm Muggleborn…"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Harry, nobody told you?" Hermione asked, astonished.

How could he have gone a day without hearing that sort of prejudice aimed at someone? "Mudblood" was a common part of the Slytherin's vocabulary; he'd ought to have heard it by now.

"Well, I think Voldemort mentioned something about Muggleborns, or that my mum was one, or something... I know what they are, it's just… why would he be more of a git to you because you're Muggleborn?"

It was refreshing to have Harry's open-mindedness amongst the prejudice that roamed the school. She almost didn't want to tell him what made her different from him (a half-blood) and Malfoy (a pureblood) and others, because his mind almost seemed too pure from those things that she didn't want to mess with it.

"Muggleborns are seen as inferior because we don't have 'magical blood'," Hermione explained to him regrettably.

"Well, that's bullshit," Harry said plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. She half-smiled at him. "You seem like a really good witch. I mean, you get all of the answers right in class."

From calling her pretty to calling her a good witch, Harry was suddenly really anxious to throw compliments her way. Hermione felt heat rush to her cheeks, which was kind of embarrassing. "Thank you."

"So, people will really be mean to you just because you're Muggleborn?" He seemed very surprised.

"That's one of the reasons, yes," Hermione said painfully. Her eyebrows furrowed together when rushes of memories of being teased came at her.

Harry sighed. He seemed deep in thought. "You know, I should have said something to Ron when he snapped at you on the Express," he told her.

That was a few weeks ago. Hermione hated thinking back to that moment. It was humiliating. She had thought that she would become immune to feeling embarrassed after experiencing that feeling so often, but it only got worse as time went on. She shook her head. "You didn't even know me then," she justified quietly.

It was true… what was Harry possibly supposed to do? Step up and be a gallant hero and save her from Ron's torments? Nobody would ever save Hermione… she wasn't stupid, she knew that.

"But now I know you," Harry replied. He gave her the same look that he did when he had called her pretty. Another rush of heat climbed up her neck and to her cheeks. Maybe he could see her flushed cheeks, but if he did, he didn't act like he had. "Ron shouldn't have treated you like that."

"It's alright," Hermione reassured him. She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and bit her bottom lip.

It felt good to just have these things out in the open, to discuss stuff that had been previously unspoken. Hermione hadn't had much closure in her life, but she finally felt like this was a new beginning, a new start with Harry. Everything was being pushed behind them. Hermione had never felt so open with another person before, not even with her own mother.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. He looked at her with an expression of concern flashing across his pale face.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm… fine," she said, flustered. "It's just that this is a lot of absorb and get used to."

"Sorry," he muttered.

She almost laughed at his childish apology, but she stopped herself, because nothing at the moment was funny at all. "Don't apologize… I'm guessing it's a relief to tell someone."

"Oh, you have no idea," Harry said gratefully. He massaged the back of his neck tenderly and shook his messy hair out of his eyes. "Thanks for listening."

"No problem." Hermione gave him a small smile. She looked down at her watch. It was one o'clock in the morning….

Who cared?

"So, do you really think that you can help me?" Harry asked her, as though her offer to help him was too good to be true. "I want to be able to defend myself. I need to prepare. Voldemort won't stop any time soon."

"Of course I can help you," Hermione said. She rubbed her eyes.

"You know, out of all the people I would've told about Voldemort, I never thought it would be you," Harry admitted, almost in a joking fashion.

"I can see how you'd think that," Hermione replied honestly.

Harry stood up from the staircase, looked her right in the eyes, and smiled.

"Friends?" He held out his hand for her to take.

Hermione smiled back at him and took his hand. He helped her to her feet. They then shook hands.

"Friends."

Author's Note: Aww ;)