A/N: Year 5 has ended. Summer. (Had a comment about Tom's appearance: while this may be false, I like to believe Tom only became ugly when he lost his body and was later reincarnated. I'm sorry if you don't agree, but that's how I see it.)

Disclaimer: ION

Voldemort stared at the three lifeless bodies in front of him, his eyes blazing red with his rage. How utterly disgraceful! How humiliated he felt! How dare the tomb refuse him entrance. He who was a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin himself! Tom took a few steps forward until he stood next to the fireplace. The Dark Lord glanced down at the individual gasping for breath at his feet. Soon to be the forth dead body to litter his floor. Voldemort tutted as he eyed the pitiful fellow.

"How disappointing," he sighed with a shake of his head.

Gracefully, the cruel wizard crouched down and examined the body closely. Purposefully, Tom reached out and gathered a few drops of blood leaking from the man's eyes onto his index. Smirking viciously, Tom admired the thick red drops as they slowly ran down his finger.

"So terribly disappointing," he murmured as he licked the blood off his finger. As he did so, the man released his last choking breath before the last of his life slipped away from his body. "Such a waste," Tom commented, his tone cold and showing no hint of regret.

Stretching his body back to its full height, Tom straightened his clothes as he moved towards the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"Malfoy!" He called, summoning his follower.

Said man entered the room and schooled his features into a blank façade as he observed the bodies strewn across the parlour. "My Lord?"

"Clean this mess up. Set a guard around the island. Let me know immediately if anyone attempts to enter the tomb. Whatever you do, do not let them leave. If it's the Delacour girl, do try to keep her alive but if she dies, she dies," Tom didn't even wait to see Abraxas nod in submission before striding from the room.

That young witch had successfully figured out the location of the tomb. It had taken her some time, but she had done it. He had spent decades actively searching for it, but he had still failed. He shuddered at the thought. Somehow this witch had found it. This powerful witch with meaningless blood who had been fortunate enough to be adopted into the Delacour family.

Oh yes, he thought, the Hogwarts' book gave me all the information I needed. A blank slate. He had had the witch investigated and had come up with nothing. Nothing. Until the Delacour man had taken her in, she was non-existent. A powerful witch that came out of nowhere. Tom had no idea what that meant, but he knew it was somehow significant. She claimed she was a Delacour all along after all, daughter of two dead Delacour parents. But the Hogwarts book suggested otherwise. Where had she come from? Tom wondered to himself as he strolled through the mansion. He would find out everything there was to know about the girl and once he did, she would never be able to escape him.

"Albus, Aberforth," Hermione greeted, as the two men entered the Potter kitchen. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, my dear," Albus nodded as he took a seat across from her.

"I had nothing else to do today," Aberforth shrugged.

Hermione took a deep breath as she considered how to broach the topic of Merlin's tomb. They had discussed and researched it in depth but this was the first time Hermione believed them to have an actual chance of finding the grave. The mention of this lake was too coincidental to be anything else. The men had entertained her curiosity, they had even assisted her in her quest, but only as it remained a distant, almost unaccessible goal.

"I believe I've found Merlin's tomb."

The two men froze, their intense staring contest cut short by the young witch's words.

"Excuse me?" Albus exclaimed, choking slightly on his saliva.

"I know where Merlin is buried," she declared. "I think. And I'm going there this afternoon."

While Albus continued to watch the girl in shock Aberforth nodded, slapping his hands down on the table in acceptance and determination.

"Alright, let me just change my socks and we-"

"No," Hermione interrupted with a soft shake of her head. "You're not coming with me."

"Who will, then?" Albus inquired, raising a hand to calm his brother who's face had turned pale at his rejection.

"No one. If what the Founders described of the tomb is true, then anyone with me would die or be attacked by the spells put in place to guard the area."

"But if no one is there to protect you?"

"That's a risk I have to take. If I really have found his tomb, I need to be able enter and if I have people with me that are going to be attacked, then well... I can't be distracted."

The brothers shared a meaningful glance with each other, perhaps even sharing a silent discussion.

"We can stay away from the tomb, just stand close by in case things go wrong."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "It's a risk," she shook her head. "I need both of you here. If this mission goes terribly wrong - and there's a strong possibility it will - I need you two alive and well to finish Voldemort. What with my loss of power and all the mysteries surrounding the Magical Cores we've been distracted by our true goal."

The young witch bent down to pick up the bag resting at her feet. She pulled out a small scroll of paper and a large vial. She handed them to the Dumbledores. "On the scroll there's a list of the locations where Voldemort's Horcruxes were hidden. Some may not be at those places yet, but they can give you an idea about Voldemort's thought process and possibly inspire you to new hiding places."

Albus unrolled the parchment and his eyes quickly skimmed the locations mentioned, appreciating the extra care Hermione had put in by adding what she knew of those locations, with backstories and explanations.

"And that there is some of my basilisk's venom to be used in order to destroy any Horcruxes you come across," Hermione gestured at the vial in Aberforth's hands.

Aberforth clicked his tongue as he placed the vial carefully away from him on the table.

"He's your Basilisk now, is he?"

"Anguis is a misunderstood creature," Hermione defended.

"I'm still disturbed by the fact that you didn't tell us about him earlier."

"I was afraid you would tell me to kill him."

"Well, it would be safest for all residents of the castle," Albus argued.

"He's promised not to hunt humans."

Albus pursed his lips in a show of disbelief. "A leopard never changes its spots."

Hermione opted not to answer the Headmaster, having had the same concerns as him but refusing to admit them. "Now is not the time for this conversation. Things could go horribly wrong today and if they do I need two people I trust with access to the information that can lead us to victory."

Looking most displeased the two Dumbledore men sighed and nodded reluctantly. "Very well, Hermione. You can go on your own. However, you must report to us immediately. I'll be waiting for you to return."

"And I will contact, Guillaume. I've no doubt he'll want to be here for you when you succeed," Albus commented, moving to stand. "I wish you the best of luck, Miss Delacour. I hope you finally find what you've been looking for."

With those words spoken, Albus turned and left the Potter home. Aberforth grunted as he pocketed the vial of poison and eyed the brunette in front of him. He watched her in silence for a while before shaking his head once again.

"You truly think this is the best way to go about this, girl?"

"No, I don't. But I don't know what else to do," Hermione admitted. "I understand the risk of going alone, but- well, there's no one else I would trust with the Horcruxes than you two men. The fewer people know what is happening the less chance there is of Voldemort catching wind of what we're doing. Merlin's the only reason why I'm here and he gave me his Magic for a purpose... but if I can't access his Magic, then I can't do whatever it is he intended for me to do... Do you understand?"

Aberforth raised his eyebrows. "I'm not entirely sure you understand yourself."

"At the very least, I need my Magic and I don't have a whole lot of that at the moment."

"Which is why it's foolish for you to go alone. You're going to be like a sitting duck."

"If we take no risks, we'll loose this war."

The older man nodded, before pushing himself out of his seat. "You'll need to eat before you leave. No point dying on an empty belly," he stated gruffly, effectively hiding his worry for the girl. "I'm sure Euphemia will need access to the kitchen in order to cook you up something nice. Then we'll say you're spending the afternoon with me."

Hermione, disguised as a random muggle girl she had seen during her trip through France, stayed silent as she crouched behind the dead bush. She examined the small crumbling structure before her. The rock tomb was twice as tall as her and about four meters large. Pale white columns and stone knights framed each side of the heavy looking metal doors and the gothic shaped door loomed over her, as if daring her to enter. She chanced a glance around, making sure no one was present. The sun was setting and the wind was picking up, making Hermione uncomfortably cold. She had had no choice but to wait for the sun to set, waiting for all the muggle passers-by to be gone before attempting to break into what the muggles thought was an inane tomb, but was in fact the resting place of an invaluable artefact.

Shifting on the balls of her feet, Hermione breathed in a calming breath and stood up slowly. One wrong move and she could set off a chain reaction of wards, set to destroy any unwelcome visitors. She stepped lightly, being careful to check the ground and trees surrounding her. When nothing happened, she moved with a slight bit more confidence, coming to a sudden halt when four swords were pointed at her chest from different angles. The four stone statues had come alive at her approach and pushed the tips of their weapons into her body.

"Who are you to enter this place?" A bodiless voice demanded, giving away no information on what 'this place' was.

"I am Hermione Granger," she said, knowing it would be useless to give her new name. "I come seeking The Book," Hermione spoke, her voice as strong as she could manage.

"So do all the others who come here, yet none have reached it," the voice claimed and though Hermione could find no face for the voice, she was sure it speaker was smirking.

"I have Merlin's magic within me. It is my right to enter," Hermione declared, unable to stop the nervous ring in her voice.

"We shall be the judge of that," the voice spoke from behind her.

As a guard grabbed her arm and sliced her palm with his metal sword Hermione risked a glance over her shoulder and noticed the female figure formed out of mist. While Hermione had no idea where the mist had come from, she figured it wasn't her main concern of the moment as the stone knight roughly tugged her forward and slapped her injured hand against the lock on the iron gate. Groaning loudly the gate slowly inched open, sounding tired with the effort. The four guards immediately stepped away from her, dropping to one knee on the ground and bowed their heads to the handles of their swords in a show of deference.

"Step forth, heir of Merlin," the figure - who according to the Founders was Morgan Le Fey - proclaimed, her voice as impassive as any Hermione had ever heard.

With a small nod Hermione stumbled forward, feeling her body tingle when she crossed over all the complex Wards. Wards she had never seen nor felt before. Wards that would have immediately killed her had she somehow managed to trick the Blood Wards and been someone other than who she claimed.

As she walked down the uneven stone steps that led to a dark, dank room, filled with only a metal altar carrying a wooden crate Hermione felt a sudden chill down her left arm. Turning to see what was the cause of it, she saw Morgan's ghostly form following her down.

Hermione sneezed due to the layers of dust and waved her hand to clear the passage of old cobwebs. Carefully she approached the chest presented to her. It requested no proof of magic, just her touch in order to open for her. Hermione marvelled at the powerful magic that was required for such a spell. It was the type of spell she could only dream of someday achieving. Minutes passed as she stared at The Book, not even reacting as Morgan moved around the altar, coming to a stand still right across from the young witch.

The Book looked so innocuous one might never suspect it to in fact be The Book. She knew that once she touched it, there would be no putting it back, no leaving this place as if nothing had happened. Hermione hardly dared pick up the small book resting at the bottom of the crate and only found the strength to do so when her gaze met Morgan's. For some reason the calm and impassive way the ghost stared at her encouraged her to finally act. A gust of wind exploded within the small chamber when she finally came into contact with Merlin's journal. No one knew what exactly it contained, just that the knowledge it protected could supposedly change time itself. And that was precisely what Hermione planned on doing.

Suddenly, Hermione was disturbed from her moment of contemplation by the loud crack of stone above her. She clutched the small book in her hands. It couldn't be made of more than a hundred pages and yet, it contained so much vital information. Information that could change Hermione's life and that Voldemort would kill for. Though granted, Voldemort would kill for many things of much less value. The noise of explosions and the shaking of the room around her grew stronger.

"It seems the dark wizard from earlier has returned," Morgan observed, her empty eyes gliding over to the stairs.

"Dark wizard?" Hermione repeated in shock. "Do you mean Voldemort?"

Morgan tilted her head. "I believe that is what he called himself," she acquiesced. "I recognize his Magic."

"Why didn't you tell me he had been here?"

"You did not ask," Morgan stated, floating forward and up the stairs so that she stood by the doors with her hands raised. "You must leave. The wards are deactivating."

Hermione clutched The Book tightly and her eyes widened in horror as she noticed the dark blue cracks appearing on the walls of the tomb. The wards that had prevented people from entering this location for centuries were falling because of Hermione's hold on The Book. She would not be safe here for much longer. However, when she attempted to disapparate, she realised that the wards protecting her also prevented her from leaving through any means of magic. The room shook. Dust fell onto Hermione and covered her face and hair. She wobbled on the tip of her feet, undecided on how to proceed from there. She could attempt to escape by the entrance door but it was currently being attacked by a number of Death Eaters and most probably Voldemort himself. She would not make it out of here alive if she tried escaping that way. There were no other doors and Hermione stared up the stone steps leading to the door in fear when the doors trembled violently, almost flying off the hinges.

She was lucky that Merlin had protected this sanctuary so well, otherwise she would most likely already be dead. She could feel the wards disappearing, no longer feeling the need to protect The Book that was now in the safe, rightful hands it belonged to. In a desperate attempt to flee, Hermione once again tried disapparating only to be prevented from doing so once again, the wards still in place. As parts of the walls around her crumbled Hermione gasped in realisation. It was a risky move but she didn't really have much choice in the matter. As soon as those doors opened, she would be free to disapparate away. She would have to react quickly though or risk being shot with a stray curse. Holding The Book tightly in her grasp, she shut her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, waiting for all hell to break loose.

With a bang as loud as thunder the doors flew open, debris crashing onto the petite witch at the bottom of the stairs. Curses flew around her and Hermione felt pain spread throughout her body as a few curses touched her shoulder. Her eyes shot open as she disapparated, meeting the furious red gaze of the handsome Dark Lord.

Hermione knew where she was going. She hadn't even hesitated before picturing the old, run down Hog's Head. She fell to her knees when she arrived, gasping for breath as if she had been suffocating.

"Hermione!" A loud, deep voice exclaimed in surprise. "Alright you barmpots, ge' outta 'ere!" Aberforth hollered, pushing out his customers.

All complied, grumbling in complaint but knowing they would be back soon, despite the owner's words and actions. Said man gathered the injured girl in his arms and carried her into the basement where one could find his living quarters. He set her down carefully on his large couch and went about healing her in silence. When there was nothing left for him to do, he leaned back in his seat and eyed the girl he considered close to a daughter, caressing his long beard thoughtfully.

"What happened to you?" He asked, softly.

"I needed to have The Book," she explained.

"I know that! You said it was supposed to be safe for you as you are the only one able to gain access to the tomb!" He snapped. "Perhaps we came to the wrong conclusions. Perhaps you are not Merlin's Heir. If you were you wouldn't have been attacked. I knew I should have gone with you! Only a witch or wizard descendant of Merlin himself can ever touch that book. Any other who try die! You risked your life for nothing, you stupid girl!"

Hermione, far from intimidated, shuffled on the couch, pulling out The Book that was now covered in her blood. "Not for nothing, no," she murmured.

Aberforth paled and for a moment, forgot to breathe. "Holy Mother of Merlin," he muttered, eyes wide. "You'll bring death to us all."

"No one but you and I will ever know where it is," Hermione shook her head.

"You trust me with this knowledge?"

"I trust you with my life."

Groggy, Hermione opened her eyes. For a moment she struggled to recall where she was and why her shoulder felt so sore. The young witch released a long breath as she slowly sat up. She rubbed at her shoulder as the memories from the past day returned to her and she felt incredibly grateful for Aberforth's healing skills. She knew she would be in much more pain this morning if he hadn't taken care of her injuries as soon as she arrived. Hermione blinked and looked around the room, trying to get her bearings. She pushed herself onto her feet and wandered into the living room kitchen area.

The Delacour witch offered a small smile to the wizard who was sitting at his kitchen table, chopping up a pumpkin. The man simply frowned at her in response and continued on with his chopping.

"Where is The Book?" She inquired, softly.

Without standing, Aberforth jerked his head towards his couch. Hermione followed the direction of his gesture until it landed on the modest looking book. From here, Hermione would never be able to guess the power it held if she didn't already know what the plain leather-bound journal was.

"You left it there?"

"I'm not touching that thing with a ten-foot-pole, girl," Aberforth snapped, glaring hatefully at The Book. "You can do what you want with it. Keep it with you, hide it – heck, you can destroy it for all I care – just don't expect me to touch it."

Not responding, Hermione moved forward until her toes almost touched the diary. For a short moment she considered The Book before she glanced up at the man cutting his pumpkin.

"Will you protect it for me?"

"You want me to keep it?" He asked with his eyebrows raised in surprise.

Hermione tilted her head. "I would entrust it to Guillaume if he wasn't currently on the run. It's too risky for me to have it with me all the time."

The Dumbledore man sighed as he leaned back in his chair, observing the witch closely in contemplation.

"I will hide it for you, if that is what you wish," he accepted, as he stood and moved to the fireplace in order to light a fire.

"Thank you," Hermione said, extremely grateful.

"There's a lot we'll have a lot to discuss," he stated.

The brunette nodded as her gaze moved to land on The Book once again. "Of course."

"But it can wait," Aberforth relented, noticing how she fidgeted closer to The Book. "You going open it?" He grunted.

Hermione's entire body lurched at his question. "I- yes…" She trailed of, not moving again, her gaze remaining locked on The Book.

"Well you're going to have to move it. You can't leave it there," he huffed, whipping his hands as the pumpkin pieces floated across his kitchen and landed in a boiling cauldron.

The girl's eyes turned glassy as she attempted to convince herself to bend down and hold The Book. For some reason, now that she was free of stress and danger, now that Merlin's Book was within easy reach of her hand, she felt extremely reluctant to actually open it. All the answers she had been looking for were at her fingertips. And she had never felt more nervous. What would happen if she didn't like the answers she was given?

Releasing a deep breath, Hermione finally sat facing The Book. She remained sitting there, simply staring at it for a while with Aberforth discreetly looking at her from time to time, checking to see whether she had progressed at all.

At long last, she bent and picked The Book up with a trembling hand. Her entire body was shaking in fact. How was it possible to both fear and crave something so completely? For a few moments, Hermione observed the bare and used cover. From its appearance alone, Hermione could tell that it had been opened and closed many times due to the fact that its spine seemed ruined almost beyond repair.

With sweaty palms Hermione fiddled with a corner struggling to find the strength to open it. Silently, Aberforth shifted in his seat in an attempt to get a better view point of the young girl. Hermione released a shuddering breath before flipping over the cover and looking at the first page of The Book. As Hermione's eyes flew over the pages her whole body froze. Her brow furrowed ever so lightly as she exhaled loudly, as if the breath had been forced out of her unwillingly. The witch seemed to hesitate as she flicked a page over. Then, her face as blank as stone, her eyes skimmed every single page available to her as her body broke out into a cold sweat.

Aberforth watched as the girl flipped through The Book, her brow furrowing. He noticed how her breathing quickened and her whole body tensed. He saw how her jaw clenched and her eyes became cold. Hermione's fingers clutched The Book so tightly, her knuckles turned white as she looked up at Aberforth.

"It's empty," she announced, her voice was emotionless and stoic.