"Give me my wand," commanded Tom, loud enough for the now silent crowd to hear.

Voldemort laughed. It was a horrifying, haunting sound. His Death Eaters joined in, one by one, smirking and shaking their heads at the unknown young man who had so foolishly walked to his death.

"Since you asked so politely," Voldemort said mockingly, holding out his wand for Riddle to take.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Tom, and Hermione was shocked to see Voldemort's wand almost slip out of this grasp. The Death Eaters stopped laughing abruptly.

"Crucio!" said Voldemort coldly. At the same time, Tom tried again to disarm him, but the two curses meet mid-air, both missing their targets. Voldemort continued to shout curses, but Tom managed to block them all. He grew increasingly frustrated; Tom however, was at ease. In fact, he was soon laughing.

"You dare?" hissed Voldemort.

"You don't understand, do you?" Tom replied, shaking his head. "You can't hurt me with my own wand, Voldemort. Yes, that's right. My wand. You fool - the killing curse did not hit Harry – it hit Hermione."

Voldemort paused.

"Who?" he said angrily, though Hermione could see he knew exactly what Tom meant.

"You didn't kill Harry. You hit Hermione. You destroyed the Founder's necklace. You destroyed whatever little part of me remained inside you," continued Tom.

Suddenly, Hermione realised why Tom was blocking Voldemort's advanced Dark curses with ease…

"My wand has worked for you, not because you won it from me, but because it thinks you are me. But not anymore. Now, I alone am Tom Riddle. You," he said, his voice growing angry again as he raised his wand, "are Salazar."

Voldemort let out a scream of anger.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted both Tom and Voldemort, but Voldemort's wand failed him and his arm was violently thrown back. The curse missed Tom by inches, striking a Death Eater instead.

"No!" cried Voldemort, but it was too late. Tom's burst of green light hit him in the chest. He collapsed on to the ground.

Tom Riddle had killed Lord Voldemort.

Chaos erupted around them – on one side, students were hugging, cheering and rejoicing, while aurors and the Order of the Phoenix rushed to round up the last of the Death Eaters, who were already attempting to flee the school grounds. Hermione, however, had eyes only for Tom as she ran towards him. She could hardly believe what had happened. Tom – Tom Riddle, who she had feared for months, had just killed Lord Voldemort.

"You did it!" she cried, smiling despite the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. She threw her arms around him. "I – I can't believe it! You actually did it!"

But before Tom could reply, Dumbledore was standing besides them. He looked intently at Tom, the characteristic twinkle extinguished from his eyes. It was the moment Hermione had dreaded most. She took a step back, her eyes flickered from her Headmaster to Tom. Tom looked suspiciously at Professor Dumbledore for a moment, before his eyes widened in surprise.

"Professor Dumbledore?" he asked.

Professor Dumbledore nodded in response and Tom paled considerably.

"What year is it?" he asked, looking back at Hermione in shock.

"Tom… It's 1997," she replied, before turning the headmaster. "Professor, please, I can explain – "

"Not here, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore solemnly, interrupting her.

Albus Dumbledore was confused. A young Tom Riddle sat before him, along with the three students who had, until recently, been missing for months. Albus, of course, had long suspected that the three friends had disappeared into the past. He remembered distinctly the events of 1943, in which the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and three students of unknown origin had mysteriously appeared at the castle, only to disappear without a trace months later. At the time, he himself had suspected that Hermione might be the Heir of Slytherin, or that she was working with Tom Riddle to coordinate the attacks. But then, he witnessed Hermione disappear from his very own office using the fabled Whistle of Gryffindor, a relic only the purest of hearts could posses. That was the last time he ever laid eyes on the young witch and her two friends. That is, of course, until the three young students were sorted into Gryffindor one evening, many years ago… and Dumbledore slowly started to piece the puzzle together.

And now, astonishingly, the three of them had returned, not alone as Albus had expected, but with the young Lord Voldemort who, apparently, was not Voldemort at all.

Albus looked back at the broken and blackened necklace that Hermione had laid on his desk. He had, of course, spent hours interview the four students, both individually and then together. Being a rather accomplished Legillimens, he was satisfied that his current students were truthful. The interview with Tom Riddle, however, had been a rather difficult, given that neither wizard truly trusted the other, and Riddle's natural abilities to block access to his mind. Dumbledore did not know what to make of the young man who sat before him.

On one hand, he had killed Voldemort. On the other hand, Albus knew that Tom expressed unusual tendencies, even as a young child, that could not be blamed on the Founder's necklace, nor on the possession by Slytherin. No, Tom had always been a powerful wizard, cunning and exceptionally talented. His years at the orphanage had hinted at a dark inclination, a certain unkindness, though Tom hid it well at Hogwarts. The other teachers, so smitten by the charming and talented orphan boy, did not understand why Albus kept his distance.

And now, here he is, once again, many years later. Not Voldemort, but simply Tom Riddle. The second boy to be celebrated as the Boy Who Lived.

Albus Dumbledore was very confused.

"What will happen to Tom now? We can't send him back to his time, can we?" Hermione asked anxiously. She sat in Dumbledore's office, alone with her Headmaster. After hours of interrogations, he had finally sent Harry and Ron to the hospital wing. Tom had refused to go, and was waiting outside the office on Dumbeldore's request.

"No, I am afraid that would not be possible, given that Slytherin successfully assumed Tom's identify. And, of course, the ministry Time Turners, even assuming you hadn't destroyed them recently or that we could access one, aren't designed to go back that far. No, for now, I believe it shall be best for all if Tom were to remain at Hogwarts, where I can keep an eye on him. Of course, the ministry mustn't know who he truly is – I fear they may cause more harm than good. Few people knew that Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle, and fewer still would recognise Tom for who he truly is."

"Then he can stay here, at Hogwarts? As a student?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"You have feelings for him."

Hermione's blushed furiously, and she found that she could not meet her Headmaster's gaze. She looked down at her hands, which were clenched tightly in her lap. His tone was definitive. Hermione felt her hands begin to tremble, horrified of what the Headmaster must think of her.

"I - I didn't mean to – it just, he and I – I mean to say -" she stuttered, not knowing what to say, not daring to look up.

"You do not need to explain yourself, Hermione," he replied gently. Startled, Hermione found the courage to look up. "You have not done anything wrong."

"But – but Professor – this is Tom Riddle… Voldemort –"

"Haven't you just spent hours trying to convince me that Mr Riddle is indeed, not Lord Voldemort, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, but –"

"And Mr Riddle did just kill Voldemort, did he not?"

"But Professor, you don't understand," she replied. "I – I had feelings for Tom before… b-before I knew…"

She paused, unable to continue. She felt ashamed at her own admission.

"You, like many other young women before you, developed feelings for Tom Riddle, not Voldemort. A charming and talented young man. I can understand how you would be attracted to your intellectual equal. There is nothing wrong with that."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"However, I must impress upon you the seriousness of the situation. Though Riddle is innocent of the crimes of Lord Voldemort, I must ask you to remember his troubled past, and his inclination towards the Dark Arts."

"I understand, Professor."

Tom Riddle was deep in thought when Hermione emerged from the Headmasters office. He looked up sharply when he noticed her. Hermione looked at him, suddenly feeling self conscious and not knowing what to say. Tom broke the silence.

"I can't go back," he said slowly. "To my own time, I mean. The necklace is destroyed, and the ministry has no time turners. Dumbeldore wants me to consider staying at Hogwarts."

"You will enrol, won't you?" Hermione asked hopefully. "Finish your education?"

"I suppose so. Hogwarts was my home. It hasn't changed, not physically," he frowned. "Everything looks the same, and yet nothing is as I remember. I suspect that Dumbledore wishes to keep a close eye on me… he doesn't trust me."

"You killed Voldemort. You have more than proven yourself. Dumbledore might be cautious, but he has no real reason not to trust you. You aren't the person we thought you were."

There was a moment of silence before Hermione continued.

"You'll be famous, you know. You're a hero. Everyone will want to know all about you."

"No."

"Sorry?"

"I am not a hero," Tom said, frowning. "I didn't kill him for nobility, or to save other people. I killed for revenge. I don't want you to misunderstand me, Hermione. Though I am not Voldemort, I have a fascination with powerful magic... including the Dark Arts. And I don't think you really understand that."

Hermione felt her heart sink. Had she been wrong? Hadn't he said that she was unlike any other witch he had ever met? Didn't he feel for her as she felt her him?

"But I do understand… you have a brilliant mind, and you crave knowledge… even if that knowledge is of the Dark Arts. You used a dark curse today, yes. But you used it for good, Tom."

"I am not like you, Hermione."

"I know you aren't like me," she said quietly, "But it doesn't matter to me. I have seen the good in you, even if you don't see it. I – I care about you. I want to be with you. And I thought, I thought you - " she hesitated, blushing furiously.

She met his eyes, silently begging him to understand. He couldn't reject her now, not now that she had no reason to be ashamed of the way she felt?

For a minute, neither of them spoke, and then, in one swift movement, he was kissing her. She closed her eyes and smiled against his lips. Her worries seemed to melt away… in that moment, nothing else mattered. Too soon, Tom pulled his face away from her, and held her in a close embrace.

"I can think of one change at Hogwarts that you might enjoy," she said softly.

"Oh? And what would that be?" he asked curiously.

"You wanted to know how I got 12 OWLS?" she said slyly. "Well, this is your chance to find out."

"Is that a challenge?"

Hermione shrugged in response.

Tom smirked.

"You're on."