Ultima ratio

by Winterblume

Ultima ratio - the last resort. At last the day of the Final Battle against Lord Voldemort has come. Harry, Ron and Hermione fight bravely against their nemesis - but then something goes wrong. And Hermione finds herself alone in a precarious situation.

37. Chapter Thirty Six: It's Like Magic!

Title: Ultima ratio

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter Thirty Six : It's Like Magic!

The maps and blueprints, lying on the metal surface of the table showed the key plan of a complex of buildings and the immediate terrain around the facility. Five men were bent over the maps, scanning them intently. A cone of light, coming from a brightly shining orb floating over their heads, illuminated the table; otherwise the room was dived in semi-darkness. Only a small window in one of the bare concrete walls allowed a little bit of sunlight to fall into the room. Aside from the metallic table, the room was empty. The five men didn't care for the dreariness of their surroundings as they were still studying the maps. Four of them wore some kind of uniform. They were all clad in olive shirts, black combat trousers and black boots. Their wands were stored away in leather holsters attached to their belts, making them look less like a wizard's tool but more like a weapon.

The only exception to this military conformity was the last man of the group. He wore grey slacks and a dark brown vest over a white shirt. While his comrades were ready to defend themselves with their easy accessible wands, this man didn't seem to be armed at all. He did not visibly carry any wand. In contrast to the other men in the room, who were tall and had a muscular build, this man was at least a head smaller than them and rather thin. His golden coloured hair was dishevelled, thus again separating him from the other men with their short haircuts, and it fell slightly into his eyes as he was bent over the maps. While there were serious expressions on the other men's faces, the blond man's eyes twinkled as they wandered over the map, looking as if he was amused by the information he found there.

After some time, the blond man asked in a soft but firm voice without looking up from the maps, "What did recon come up with?"

One of the men clad in uniform swiftly answered, "That they've heightened security by hiring external personnel."

The soldier hesitated to go on, still looking at the blond man. He obviously contemplated whether he should give his personal opinion. The blond man seemed to notice the other's hesitancy and raised his head. He scanned the other man expectantly.

The soldier took that as permission to continue so he said, "They seem to be acting without thinking. They're like headless chicken. The additional guards are clearly just a precaution. They don't know anything about our plan. But it still poses a problem."

The twinkle never left his eyes as the golden haired man said, a lopsided grin tugging at one corner of his mouth, "Well, problems are there to be solved, ain't they?"

"Yes, sir," Soldier replied immediately.

The mischievous smile was still on his face as the blond man bent over the table again and his eyes wandered over the terrain, depicted on the map. He pointed with his finger on a spot on the blueprint

"Considering the increase in their protective measures, to attack from here would be a suicide mission," the blond man said in his soft voice while running his finger over the map. As his eyes wandered over the map, the soft twinkle left them completely. They grew hard and cold.

All jocoseness had left his voice as he continued, "We should change our plan accordingly. We attack from here and here," he commanded in a sharp voice while gesturing on different points on the blueprints. "We need to be in and out quickly and quietly. We always knew that their forces would be on high alert. They would be idiots not to expect an attack, considering who their clients are. So, if we attack head on, we will be engaged in a full blown battle and the fight would drag out unnecessarily, only drawing unwanted attention towards us."

"And we would be caught by ministry officials with our knickers down," one of the other man in the room supplied. He had dark red hair and wore glasses which looked out of place on the hard features of his face.

The mischievous smile crept back on the blonde's face while he still looked at the map in front of him.

"Exactly," he said as he bent up and smiled at the man with the glasses approvingly. "Exactly so, Rousseau." The twinkle was back in his eyes as he added, "And we don't want le Ministère to rain down on our parade, now, do we?"

His gaze unfixed from Rousseau and wandered over the other men standing around the table. Admiration and respect shone in their eyes as they attentively listened to their leader. The golden haired man grinned at them and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. Then he said,

"Gents, never forget this is not yet a full scale war. All we want to do for now is spread a little chaos and fear among those-who-do-not-belong and their sympathizers." The grin left his face and an icy cold sheen appeared in his eyes. "We want to let them know that we are still here and that we will not let them continue to undermine le Ministère. We are not going to allow them to destroy this country and our society."

He stepped a little away from the table. There unmistakably was an air of authority surrounding him as the golden haired man started to pace, his hands behind his back, while he still scanned his men, "I know for a fact that many ministry officials lean to our side, but that doesn't mean they would tolerate open acts of war."

"Sir, why don't we just drop the pretence?" Rousseau asked, his voice low and respectful. "Sooner or later the officials won't be able to ignore us anyway."

The blond looked at him, considering his suggestion. He didn't seem to be offended by Rousseau's inquiry. Instead he answered,
"That is true. At one point in time we will have to antagonize the ministry, that's for certain. But that day has not yet come. We need patience."

"Yes, sir," Rousseau replied. "But do we need the Ministry?"

A grin took form on the blonde's face. Then he said, his eyes twinkling, "In fact we do."

"Sir?"

"Right now le Ministère de la Magie is the only thing protecting us from all the other forces which want to destroy us," the golden haired man elaborated, not in the least bit annoyed with having to explain himself in front of his men. "So far, even the minister himself has turned a blind eye on us. I know that, in secret, he is endorsing our cause. But if we start to act too blatantly, the minister will soon have no other choice than to strike back. He cannot risk losing credibility in the eyes of the British, German or Spanish. His position already is weakened due to our actions. If the minister should decide that we are a threat to his position, he will not hesitate to mobilize all his forces. He cannot risk discord with the other countries. So, he will try to disband us."

The blond man stopped his pacing and grinned at his men, just as if this whole situation was amusing to him. "Le Ministère is strong. You know the strength of the French Auror divisions, do you not, Rousseau? And very quickly we would be high up on their shit-list."

"But our forces are a match to the Aurors," another of his soldiers now interjected cautiously.

"Obviously." The golden haired man grinned, his eyes twinkling at the man. "Don't worry, Morel. I still think that a confrontation with the Ministry is inevitable. You will get your chance to fight them. But I want to protract the moment the Ministry steps in as long as possible. That gives us more time to operate freely."
"So, until the day we step out of the shadow and into the light, our operations need to be deniable. Otherwise we will soon have to fight a war at two fronts." The blond man chuckled softly then looked back at his men, a playful smirk on his face. "Don't forget, often wars are won by politicians not soldiers."

At this point in time a knock on the only door of the room abruptly stopped the conversation. Without having to be ordered, Morel walked over to the door and opened it. A man, wearing a black shirt and olive trousers and equipped with a wand holster at his belt, stood in the door. Morel was just about to demand an explanation for this intrusion, as the blond man commanded,

"Let him pass."

Immediately, Morel stepped away, letting the other man enter the room.

"At ease," the golden haired man ordered as the soldier had reached him. The twinkle was back in his eyes as he then inquired, "Have you been successful?"

"Yes, commander," the soldier replied duteously.

"Any reportable events?"

"No, sir," the soldier continued readily. "We could complete the mission as ordered. Our spy is still in position behind the castle's walls."

A triumphant grin broke out on the golden haired man's face then he asked, "The portkey?"

"Delivered and ready to be activated at your command," the soldier answered concisely.

"Nice work, Girard," the golden haired man said. "Take your men and re-join your squad team. You are dismissed."

"Yes, commander Grindelwald."

The soldier saluted before his commander then left the room with military pace, his polished black boots clacking softly on the floor. Grindelwald ran a hand through his already mussed blonde hair and stared for a moment into blank space, seemingly pondering something. His hand reached for a pocket in his grey pants and he pulled a wand out of it. His eyes almost lovingly wandered over the polished wood.

After a while Grindelwald's eyes lost their glossy look and sharpened. He grabbed the wand tighter and put it back into the pocket before he stepped to the table with the maps. He again scanned the blueprints as he noticed his second in command glancing at him questioningly. Rousseau obviously wondered what this little interruption was about. Normally, Grindelwald was very open with him, so this episode had managed to spark Rousseau's interest. Still, he would never have been so insolent as to ask his commander about his actions. As Grindelwald noticed Rousseau's curiosity, he chuckled amused.

"Not to worry, Rousseau." Grindelwald's eyes twinkled serenely as he scanned his second in command. "This mission has nothing to do with our plan of action. It is just a little past-time of mine."

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Hermione walked slowly down a corridor in direction of the dungeons. It was Monday again and she really didn't want to go to classe. The first class would be potions and she dreaded to go there. It was finally time for her getting rid of that darn age estimating potion. She had to foil it. She should have hurled a Reducto curse at that potion a long time ago, Hermione thought ill-tempered as she stomped down the corridor. It would have saved her a lot of trouble. But no, Hermione rolled her eyes. She had to be sly and cunning, so that no-one would suspect her of having sabotaged the potion. Especially not her seat neighbour.

Involuntarily, her right hand wandered to the bandage which was wrapped tightly around her forearm. Her fingers skimmed over the material of the bandage. There was a deep painful gash on her forearm. In fact, there were gashes on both her forearms, Hermione thought while her upcoming anger was now interlaced by a heavy sombre feeling. She balled her hands into tight fists and instantly a sharp pain seared through her forearms. She slightly shook her head. It didn't matter. There was no reason to feel so despondent all of a sudden. After all, she had a plan. Hermione relaxed her hands again and continued her way towards her potions class room. Today they would finally do the finishing touches to the Ortus potion.

Not if I have a say in it, she thought determined as she readjusted her school bag on her shoulder. The potions kit in her bag contained the ingredient she needed to finally ruin the Ortus potion. One of the last ingredients added to the potion was hemlock. The step in itself wasn't very difficult. No-one would expect any mistakes to occur here. The only difficulty was that Hermione needed to replace the hemlock from the potions cabinet in the classroom with the one hidden in her bag. For the potion to work, it was necessary to add hemlock that was collected during the first night of the waning moon. Any other hemlock would ruin the potion. That was why the herb in her bag had been collected in plain daylight. No moon involved at all. If she added that to the potion, the potion would never work and her year of birth would remain to be a secret. Yes, she thought determined, today she would finally solve her problem with the Ortus potions.

That would be one down on her rather long list of problems. Hermione sighed. Actually, there was something else she had to straighten out today. Dumbledore still wanted to speak with her. But for that, too, Hermione had a plan. Lately, she was full of those, wasn't she? she thought cynically. Really, plans were nice. They put order into things which were totally messed up …and they were a good excuse for doing things which were despicable, Hermione thought darkly. It's not me, you know, it's the plan…

Well, whether she liked it or not, she had decided what to do with Dumbledore's request to see her. It was easy, actually. Now that she had thought of it, she was surprised it hadn't grazed her mind sooner. Her initial plan was to unite the Deathly Hallows and then use their power to return into her time. By now she had managed to acquire the Invisibility Cloak from Harry's family. But she still needed the wand from Grindelwald and…

The stone from Tom. Hermione closed her eyes and had to swallow hard as she was once again overwhelmed by her emotions. But she couldn't afford them anymore.

The Elder Wand, she knew, would eventually fall into Dumbledore's possession. When that happened, she would strike. She would take the wand from him. It was still easier - or at least less dangerous - than to steal the wand from Grindelwald himself. To get the wand from Dumbledore, she would need to be close to him. So, she would need to be in his good graces again. At the moment, he didn't trust her at all and thought she was a dark witch. If she now tried anything with him, she would surely lose. Dumbledore was too strong a wizard. She would never be able to equal him in a duel. To get that wand from him, she needed to first convince him of her innocence.

The next Hallow was the Resurrection Stone. That stone was right now set into the Gaunts' ring which was in Tom's possession. Now that Tom thought she was not even worth the air she breathed, he would never give her the stone. Problem was that just like Dumbledore Tom was an incredibly strong wizard. Hermione had reasonable doubts she would be able to take the stone by force.

So, those were her two problems: Dumbledore didn't trust her and Tom didn't even consider her to be a human being. Both of them were too strong for her to beat them and each of them had one Hallow. This brought her back to Dumbledore's request to see her. A guilty knot formed in her stomach as she once again went over her plan. It wasn't pretty, but it would clear both obstacles in one go. She really was left with no other choice, Hermione told herself, trying to dispel that unpleasant feeling in her stomach.

He left me with no other choice!

Dumbledore had requested to speak to her today. All those weeks ago she had saved Tom from getting expelled by blackmailing Dumbledore. She had threatened to release the story of Tom's mistreatment at the hand of a Muggle, thus sparking hate in the magical community. Dumbledore now knew that she was a Muggleborn. He would question her actions. The moment he did that, Hermione planned to call the bluff. She would tell Dumbledore how she had lied and how she would never endanger anyone. She would tell him how very sorry she was, and that she had made a big mistake. By confessing all of this, Dumbledore would surely believe her. He was a man who liked to give second chances. Thus, she would re-gain his trust and with that she was a step closer to getting the Elder Wand.

Two down, one to go. She was still short of one Hallow: the Resurrection Stone. Tom would never give her the stone and she would never be able to re-gain his trust. In his eyes, she was now nothing more than a bothersome insect. To get the stone by beating him magically, was a risk she was not ready to take. So, how to get the stone? As the next part of her plan unfolded in her mind, Hermione could feel her stomach clench painfully. All of this didn't sit right with her at all. She hated what she had to do. But then again, why should she feel bad about this? If Tom was in her position, wouldn't he do the same?

She was going to get Dumbledore's trust by taking back her threat. But this very threat was the only thing that kept the professor from expelling Tom. Accordingly, after her confession, Dumbledore's next action would be to throw Tom out. Hermione was not going to convince him to do otherwise. In fact, she would even tell Dumbledore how Tom had forced her to lie. Tom would lose his wand, and he would have to return to the orphanage. That was when she intended to strike. Back in the orphanage, Tom would be weakened and he would be wandless. It shouldn't pose any problem to get the stone from him.

A sickening feeling of guilt coursed violently through her, as she entered the corridor where the potions classroom was situated. Hermione just clenched her teeth and squashed the unpleasant feeling. Her eyes wandered over the students standing in the corridor. Obviously, Slughorn had not yet arrived. It wasn't long and her gaze landed on Tom. He was staring back at her. Hermione had to swallow hard as she was once again confronted with that evil glint in his eyes. His grey eyes slowly wandered over her form, and Hermione could see disgust and aversion. Then he just looked away from her and continued talking with Malfoy. Feeling vindicated in her decision to get him expelled, Hermione turned her back to Tom and walked over to her friends.

"Hey, Mione," Weasley greeted her, smiling at her.

"Morning." Hermione beamed at her friends.

Longbottom stepped towards her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Ready to finally finish that horrible potion?" he asked her mischievously.

Hermione smiled up at him, thinking, You have no idea how ready I am.

"Sure," she answered. "How about you?"

Longbottom just grinned down at her and shrugged his shoulders. "You'll have to ask Amarys," he declared happily. "I had no idea what we were doing right after we started the potion."

Lupin, who stood beside Weasley sighed tiredly and shook his head at his blond friend. Before he could say anything, though, Slughorn finally showed up and opened the class room door.

"Now, in with you," he said in his usual booming voice while smiling at his class.

As Hermione walked into the classroom, Longbottom still by her side, she again got a glimpse of Tom. His cold grey eyes wandered over her and then to Longbottom's arm which was still wrapped around her. Tom's gaze snapped back to her, and Hermione furrowed her brow as there was an eerie red glint in his eyes. What was his problem? Unless, of course, he didn't like this interaction between a pureblood and 'Muggle filth', as he had so fondly called her the other day. Longbottom unwrapped his arm from her and bent down to her.

"Good luck with the evil git," he whispered in her ear.

Hermione stared at that angry red colour which still swirled in Tom's eyes, and she thought that she could really do with a little luck. She nodded at Longbottom and then hesitantly walked over to her place. Hermione didn't say anything as she arrived at her table and settled down right beside Tom. He elegantly lounged in his chair and watched her intensely. She ignored him and pulled her stuff out of her bag. There was a nervous shiver running down her spine as she placed her potion kit on the table. The hemlock was safely stored inside the kit. She risked a peek at Tom. He was still staring at her through narrowed eyes. She stiffened as he leaned towards her.

"Didn't take you long to find a replacement," he hissed maliciously into her ear.

Tom's cold words had been spoken with so much venom that Hermione stared at him in confusion. Then his eyes darted to the table her three Gryffindor friends were sitting at. The red colour viciously flared up in his eyes as they wandered to Longbottom. Then Tom looked back at her.

"Of course, it's not like you can be choosy," he spat derisively. "Now, that everybody knows about your dirty blood."

Hermione felt anger burning up in her as she heard that demeaning streak in Tom's voice.

"Don't you think that's a bit conceited, coming from a halfblood?" she asked him in a low voice.

The crimson colour in his eyes intensified, but before he could have retorted anything, Slughorn started the class.

"Settle down, settle down," he cried over the rustling and chattering. "I hope you all had a nice weekend."

Splendid, Hermione thought dryly while ignoring the death glares her seat neighbour was sending her.

"Today, we will finally finish the Ortus potion," Slughorn continued while he waved his wand at the blackboard.

Immediately the instructions appeared on the black board. Hermione only shortly glimpsed at it. She already knew everything about that horrible potion by heart.

"I advise you to follow the instructions carefully," Slughorn continued, winking at his students. "And don't be disappointed if your potion doesn't turn out to be a success. The Ortus potion is quite advanced." Then he clapped his hands and said cheerfully, "All the same, give it your very best."

His beady eyes wandered over Tom and Hermione saw the professor smile proudly. Well, let's see what happens when his star pupil fails, Hermione thought a little gleefully. Then she watched Malfoy walking over to the potions supply store to get all the ingredients they would need for today. Tom completely ignored her, started to prepare their work place and kindled off a fire under the cauldron by waving his wand. The flames immediately began to lick at the cauldron with the Ortus potion. Malfoy came back to their table with the ingredients. Hermione instantly spotted the hemlock, lying innocently among the other ingredients. She went closer, intending to get the hemlock. She needed to somehow swap it with the hemlock in her potions kit. Then, she was safe.

Malfoy looked at her, seemingly disgusted by her close proximity to him, and stepped a little away from her. Hermione just sent him a glare, then she leaned over and inspected the ingredients. Her eyes wandered to the hemlock, but then she saw the gilly weed, lying right beside it. A memory broke down on her. A small smile appeared on her face, as she remembered how Harry had used it in their fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament. It was a pity that she had missed it. At the time, though, she had been unconscious and very deep down in the Great Lake. She chuckled softly as she remembered how embarrassed she had been after she found out that Victor had, at that point in time, thought she was the most important person in his life. She wondered what had become of Victor. In the last letter she had gotten from him at the end of her sixth year, he had told her how he was going to marry. Back then, she had been surprised but also happy for him. Actually at that point in time, many people had married seemingly a little rushed. Maybe because of the war that had already threatened to break down on them.

The happy glimmer in her eyes was considerably dimmed as she looked at the gilly weed. After that letter, she hadn't heard anything from Victor anymore due to the fact that she had been engaged in the war. Even if he had written her more, his letters would never have reached her. She wondered if he had managed to marry, in contrast to herself. Her fiancé had died before they could have married.

Hermione reached for the gilly weed, which had managed to invoke such memories. Before she could touch it, though, a hand grabbed her forearm tightly. Hermione winced slightly as there still was a rather deep cut in her arm. She looked up and found Tom glaring down at her.

"What are you doing?" he snapped at her angrily.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and opened her mouth to retaliate something. Before she could say anything, Tom's hand tightened around her arm, making her clench her teeth in pain.

"I won't let you ruin the potion with your incompetence," he said in a deadly cold voice.

Then Tom took the gilly weed and narrowed his eyes at her. Hermione stared up at him enraged but didn't contradict him. She knew why he was saying this. Preparing the gilly weed was probably the most difficult part of today's tasks. Obviously, Tom didn't think a Muggleborn was able to do it. Hermione died to hiss something in return, but she had to hold herself back. After all, this was quite beneficial to her plan. She just averted her eyes from Tom, not returning anything. Thinking he had won over her, he let go off her arm and stepped away from her.

Hermione suppressed an evil smirk from taking form on her face and reached for the hemlock. With the plant in hand she returned to her own space at the table. She put it down on the wooden worktop and opened her potions kit to retrieve her knife but left the kit open. Hermione peered inconspicuously at her two group members. Tom was occupied with cleaning the gilly weed and Malfoy was bent over the simmering potion, from time to time stirring it with clock-wise turns.

Now or never, Hermione thought as she felt her heart beating painfully fast. She again reached for her potion kit, while still observing the other two out of the corner of her eyes. She found the prepared hemlock and quickly pulled it out before she placed it on her workplace. Then she took the original hemlock and cautiously hid it in her potions kit. A relieved breath of air escaped her as no-one had noticed her actions. She now hastily closed the lid of her potions kit. A smile played around her lips as she began to cut the hemlock.

Almost an hour later, Hermione again peered at Tom. He was now cutting the gilly weed into exactly two inch long pieces. Actually, he had been tending to the gilly weed since they had started today's class. He had had to wash it cautiously to get all dirt and sand off the plant, and then he had had to meticulously un-tousle its many leaves so that he would be able to cut them. Hermione almost had pity on him as she knew that all his work would be for nothing. …almost, she thought with a small smirk on her face.

Now, though, Tom seemed to be satisfied with his work. He laid his knife down and carefully piled the cut gilly weed into a bowl. Then he stepped over to the cauldron and stirred the bluish potion. Satisfied with the potion, he laid the wooden ladle away. Then he looked up and his cold eyes landed on her. Hermione couldn't help but stiffen. He hadn't noticed anything, had he?

"Where's the hemlock?" Tom now asked in a commanding voice.

Hermione felt like choking as she saw his eyes now wander to the cut hemlock, lying on her working place. She prayed that he hadn't noticed anything of her act of sabotage. Her heart rate sped up as his gaze now snapped back at her. His grey eyes were hard as steel as he looked at her and Hermione had to swallow nervously.

"Bring it here," Tom ordered harshly, obviously expecting her to just do his bidding.

As she heard him, a triumphant smirk begged to take form on her face. Hermione suppressed it. Instead, she averted her eyes from Tom, took the cut hemlock and walked over to him. She forced all malicious joy from her face as she then hesitantly looked up at Tom. She offered the hemlock to him and said in a soft, timid voice,

"Here."

There was an ice-cold sheen in his grey eyes as they wandered over her, and Hermione held her breath, still offering him the hemlock. After a moment, Tom reached out and accepted the hemlock from her. Hermione would have liked to dance in joy as he then added the cut pieces of hemlock to the simmering potion. Its blue colour didn't change, but it wasn't supposed to anyway. Hermione was sure that her eyes now glinted with triumph, so she had them downcast. Tom shouldn't see that.

Another half an hour later, the potion had simmered enough, so the other ingredients could be added. Malfoy had prepared the sulphurous acid which Tom now added before he slowly put the cut gilly weed into the boiling potion. As he cautiously applied the ingredients to the potion, Hermione had to fight to suppress a smirk. Really, he doesn't need to be so cautious, she just thought scornfully. After Tom had added all the ingredients, he again stirred the potion. It was now supposed to turn into a crystal clear, odourless liquid. And it did turn clear, Hermione noted, though there was an unmistakable whitish touch to the colour. It wasn't perfectly clear. Now, the smirk really broke out on her face, and Hermione was very lucky that Tom was occupied with glaring at the potion and didn't pay her any attention.

That was the moment Slughorn clapped his hands and declared, "Class is almost finished. I'll now go around and check on your results. The ones of you, who managed to brew the potion correctly, will then have the chance to test it with their blood."

Hermione's gaze wandered from the beaming professor back to Tom. She could see him cursing under his breath as he still glowered at the potion. It made her want to sing in joy. Chatter had broken out in the class room after Slughorn's declaration. Hermione looked at the other students in the room. Obviously, there were very few with halfway acceptable results. The potion Lupin had managed to produce, though, seemed to be perfect, Hermione noted contently. Weasley and Longbottom stared at him in awe, their mouths fallen open. She smiled at them.

"Now, let's see what we have here." Her attention was brought back to her own potion.

Slughorn had walked over to their table, a smile of pleasant anticipation on his face. He obviously expected his star pupil to have managed the potion. The smirk was back on Hermione's face. She was unable to suppress it anymore. In contrast, Tom's face was a blank as he now stared at the professor. Hermione, thought, could tell that he was definitely furious. Slughorn bent over the cauldron to have a look at the potion. Hermione watched as the smile slowly drained from the professor's face and was replaced by an unpleasant frown. He now stirred the potion carefully as if he hoped to somehow make it work, but nothing happened. The potion's colour remained to be milky and just wrong. Slughorn shook his head in disappointment as he straightened up again. The frown was still on his face as he now looked at Tom reproachfully. Hermione almost laughed out loud as she saw Tom clenching his jaw, seemingly fighting for composure.

"I'm afraid this is not the result I had anticipated" Slughorn said, this time without a smile, as he eyed Tom almost accusingly.

"No, sir," Tom managed to grind out.

"Very unfortunate," The professor sighed while he still looked at Tom, disappointment evident on his face.

Then distaste took form on his face as he looked at the ruined potion. He faced Tom again and said in a grave voice, "I can only give you an Acceptable for that work. It's certainly not good enough for Exceeds Expectation."

"I understand, sir," Tom fumed through gritted teeth.

Hermione silently celebrated while observing the whole thing. She didn't even mind that Slughorn completely overlooked her and Malfoy. They had worked on the potion, too, after all. Slughorn again let his eyes slowly wander over Tom, obviously deeply dissatisfied with him. Hermione could see Tom's hand twitch as if he longed to reach for his wand. But who he would curse, she wondered idly. Himself? The smirk was back on her face. Though she had to quickly hide it again as Slughorn now turned to her and Malfoy.

"Ms DeCerto, Mr Malfoy," He began slowly. "I'll give you, too, an Acceptable for the potion."

The accusing touch had by now left the professor's voice again as he no longer spoke with his favourite student. Malfoy nodded politely at the professor, his face his usual blank. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile sweetly at Slughorn.

"That's okay, professor," she almost chortled at him cheerfully.

Merlin, I need to pull myself together, she thought half-heartedly. Slughorn cast a last disappointed look at Tom, then he turned around and continued grading the potions. Hermione started to clean up her work place and the instruments she had used.

After a while, Slughorn exclaimed in his booming voice while looking at his golden pocket watch, "Look at that. Time has flown by." Then he turned his eyes to the class and said, "Now, I want everyone who did not succeed in creating the potion to write an essay as to where you think the mistake occurred."

Hermione stuffed her potions kit into her bag, and got up from her table. Then she turned around and waved at her three Gryffindor friends, signalling for them to wait for her. Before she walked over to them, she glimpsed a last time at Tom. He was still staring angrily at the potion as if it had insulted him. Hermione just turned around and left him.

"Hermione." Longbottom positively beamed at her. "You won't believe what happened."

She just smiled up at him. Not even the death glares Tom was now sending her way could dim her smile.

Longbottom then continued, "I really got an Outstanding," he told her enthusiastically. Then he added, looking as if he not even believed it himself, "In Potions! Mind you."

Hermione grinned up at him and said, "Well, congratulations."

"Yes, I'll have to send mum an owl right away," The blond Gryffindor continued, a broad smile on his face. "She won't believe it!"

Hermione laughed at him merrily and didn't notice how the glare, Tom was sending their way, grew steadily darker. Instead, she now continued her way towards the exit of the class room, still laughing gaily.

"How about you?" Lupin asked her as she stepped out of the class room.

Hermione turned and smiled up at him. Then she said happily, "Oh, I got an Acceptable."

She again had to laugh out loud as all three boys now stared at her wide eyed. Then Weasley exclaimed nonplussed, "You got an Acceptable? Whatever happened?"

"Yeah," Longbottom conceded astounded. Then he seemed to consider something before he added slowly, "Wait… does that mean Riddle got an Acceptable, too?"

Hermione just grinned and nodded. Now a smile broke out on Longbottom's face and he scoffed, "Can you believe it? Mr Perfect-Grades got an Acceptable. While I, on the other hand, have an O."

Longbottom then high fived with Weasley. Hermione couldn't help but still grin at them.

"Sorry, you got only an Acceptable," she heard Lupin's composed voice. "But it's not that bad. The Ortus potion is really difficult."

Hermione turned around to him. He was smiling at her, obviously trying to soothe her. "Don't worry," she answered mirthfully. "I am very content with my grade, actually."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was only a few hours later that Hermione's cheerful mood had completely vanished, leaving behind an anxious feeling of tension. She breathed in deeply to get her nerves under control. It did not work in the slightest. Right now, she was standing outside her transfiguration teacher's office, and she really didn't want to speak with Dumbledore. She knew what she had to do, there was her plan, after all, but that didn't make the thing any the easier. Hermione again tried to calm herself down. She needed to concentrate now. It didn't seem to work, but she couldn't wait any longer. It was already five minutes after six, so Hermione raised her hand and knocked at the door.

"Enter," Came Dumbledore's reply.

Hermione sighed softly then she opened the door and stepped into the transfiguration professor's cosy office. She didn't pay his office much attention, though, as her gaze quickly wandered to the man, sitting behind the desk. There was a hard glint in Dumbledore's eyes as he scanned her, and Hermione was quite proud of herself for not flinching under his scrutiny.

"Please, sit down, Ms DeCerto," Dumbledore said and Hermione was not surprised to hear that the kind touch in his voice was completely missing again.

She walked over to his desk and sat down on the chair, standing right in front of his desk. Dumbledore's penetrating gaze was still directed at her, and it made her want to squirm. Hermione pulled herself together, though, and stared right back into those light blue eyes. In that moment, she actually yearned to tell him the truth. She wanted to confide in him. Tell him the truth. The whole truth about her time travel and how she was trapped in the past. She wanted him to solve everything. She wanted to be saved.

But Hermione remained to be silent. She had to stop hoping someone would save her. She needed to solve her problems alone. Dumbledore truly was a wise man, but he had his own problems at the moment. He actually had a whole war to deal with. Sooner or later, he would have to confront Grindelwald. He needed to end that disgusting war, taking place in France. Hermione wouldn't want to distract him with her time travel predicament.

The transfigurations professor still imprisoned her with his scrutinizing gaze, suspicion clearly visible. It made her stomach flop that Dumbledore didn't trust her. He considered shortly before he straightened up on his chair and asked her,

"Ms DeCerto, may I inquire where your parents are? You never explicitly told us when you enrolled at Hogwarts."

Hermione stiffened as she heard his question. He had obviously opted for an open approach, hadn't he? She looked at him and could still see suspicion in his wary eyes. Hermione felt suddenly weak and exhausted as she saw that mistrust on his face. She couldn't stand it and averted her eyes from him. Her right hand rubbed nervously over left forearm, and she felt how dry her mouth seemed to be.

Without looking up at him, she answered, her voice sounding as weak as she was feeling, "They… they died…"

Dumbledore's tone was very gently as he commiserated with her, "I am very sorry to hear that."

Hermione couldn't answer she just nodded shortly, still without looking up. Dumbledore continued, the gentleness never leaving his voice as he inquired gingerly, "I assume they died in the war?"

Hermione knew he was talking about the war in France. That was her cover story after all. 'Hermione DeCerto' came from a small village in France. Still, she didn't have to lie as she replied in a very soft voice,

"Yes."

As he didn't instantly answer anything, Hermione slowly raised her head to look at him. Her eyes widened in surprise as she didn't find the expected cold look of mistrust on his face. Instead, there was earnest sympathy in Dumbledore's blue eyes.

"War is a terrible thing," he said severely, though his sympathy still wrapped comfortably around her.

"That is true," Hermione replied, her voice suddenly curt and hard.

Dumbledore seemed to be slightly taken aback by the steeliness seeping through her words. A sad glint in his eyes, he told her kindly,

"I see you had to go through more than I would wish for anyone to have to face."

Hermione held his gaze unwaveringly but didn't answer. The sad glint even intensified as he looked back at her. After a moment, though, a warm smile took form on his face. Then he stated, his eyes twinkling at her, "Though I am a teacher, sometimes the school's rumours even reach my ears. Your parents were Muggles I take it?"

Hermione blinked surprised. For a moment, she had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. She had been distracted by that familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes," she whispered softly, not seeing why she should deny her parentage any longer.

She had to raise her eyebrows in surprise as Dumbledore smiled at her amused and said, "You have tricked me, Ms DeCerto."

Hermione frowned and then asked, "I don't know what you are talking about."

Though she did know. Dumbledore now wanted to talk about her attempt to blackmail him. The kind smile on his face had shortly distracted her, but now she needed to be strong again.

The old professor said, "If I had refused to let Mr Riddle stay at Hogwarts, would you really have told the public how a Muggle mistreated him? Thus fuelling the hate against Muggles?"

Hermione stared into his clear blue eyes. Her plan still danced around her mind. Then she answered meekly, "Never."

The smile on Dumbledore's face even widened as he exclaimed, "You are a good actress, Hermione. I for one, believed you."

"I know," Hermione said in small voice, feeling miserable. Then she balled her hands, lying in her lap, into fists and inquired in a firmer voice, "Are you going to send Tom to the orphanage, now that you know I wouldn't pull through with my threat?"

Dumbledore considered her pensively. When he replied his voice was sombre, "I take it you do know how dangerous Tom is. It is a risk to let him stay here."

Hermione could see where Dumbledore wanted to go. Her old threat was rendered useless. He obviously wanted to go back to his old plan of expelling Tom. She stared into his clear blue eyes. There was regret in them. He didn't seem to be happy with the decision he had to make, but she could also see determination. Dumbledore didn't want to give up on Tom, but he knew it would be pointless to try and change him. Hermione could only agree. Tom would never change. Here it was, her chance to get the Resurrection Stone from Tom. She only had to tell Dumbledore to get rid of Tom. Tom would have to go back to the orphanage, and he would be defenceless there. Then she could apparate there and get the stone from him. He would be powerless to stop her. Hermione breathed in deeply as she suddenly felt very sick. Tom really didn't deserve to be at Hogwarts, did he? Everything he had ever learned here, Tom would misuse. He was already a dark wizard. There was no place for him in the magical world. They all were better off with him gone.

Hermione leaned a little forward in her chair and looked at Dumbledore. She was opening her mouth to tell him to expel Tom. It was her plan and the only way. Just as she was about to tell Dumbledore how evil and twisted Tom was, and that he needed to be thrown out of school, an image seared through her head. She tried to push it away, but it was ever persistent. Hermione could see Tom, curled up on cold concrete floor, while blood was seeping out of deep wounds on his back.

She hesitated and stared at Dumbledore. Then she shook her head, trying to get rid of that image. This needed to be done. It is the only way, she told herself determinedly. She was going to encourage Dumbledore in his plan to commit Tom to that horrible place again.

But as she opened her mouth, other words came out, "Please, don't expel him, sir."

Hermione's eyes widened as she said it. Why did she still want to protect Tom? He hated her now. That much was clear. If their places were reversed, Hermione was fairly sure that he wouldn't do anything to help her. He would even laugh while he watched her going down. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to put everything right, and to be able do that she had to deliver Tom to that orphanage. The plan! Remember the plan! an angry voice hissed at her.

Her determination was broken again as more images burned up in her mind's eye. She could see Carter, how he mercilessly beat Tom. He had hurt Tom so much. Then she could see Tom, sitting under that old willow tree by the Great Lake. He had been clinging to her tightly as he had told her in a broken voice how he couldn't go back to the orphanage.

Her eyes flew open. She didn't want Tom to return there and have to suffer through it again.

"Don't send him back," she implored Dumbledore, now with more conviction in her voice.

The professor raised his eyebrows. "I have to admit I am surprised," he said gently. "I had the impression you and him were not so close anymore."

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line. "You were right."

Why was she doing this? Hermione thought in panic. Her breathing was fast and her head swirled.

"I can only guess how Tom reacted after he heard you are Muggleborn, Hermione. But I guess that is the reason for your break-up?" Dumbledore inquired gingerly.

"Yes," came her soft reply.

"But you still don't want me to expel him?"

She did want Tom to be expelled, Hermione thought frantically. He needed to go. Again, she was unable to voice this and found herself replying something completely different.

"No," she said weakly.

Dumbledore sighed while his penetrating gaze was once again on her, "Why are you still helping him?"

She didn't know. She just didn't know. Tom did not deserve her help. "Because he needs all the help he can get."

Dumbledore scanned her pensively. Then he said cautiously, while conviction laced his words, "Tom is well on his way of becoming very dark. You do know that. How can I let him stay here and endanger other students?"

"I know," Hermione replied. Then she looked at him pleadingly. "But still, you can't do this to him."

"It would be foolish to risk so much for Tom," Dumbledore said while scrutinizing her. Hermione's heart sank as she saw that determined expression on his face. "I know this solution is far from perfect, but I don't see any other way out of it. Tom is dangerous, and he is a threat to the other students. Certainly, you can't deny that." Sadness appeared on his face as he continued, "As much as I would like to let him stay and give him another chance, how am I going to justify my actions if he again decides to hurt another student? I can't watch over him all the time. The incident with Mr Bowett proved that again."

Hermione considered him for a while. She knew all too well how right he was. Tom shouldn't be allowed to stay. Still, the images of how she had found him in the orphanage burned through her mind. He had been badly hurt. This was just wrong. Her plan lay shattered at her feet as she stared into Dumbledore's eyes and said,

"It seems I will have to tell you the truth."

_._._._._

Earlier that very same day, Tom could feel his angry magic rushing through him. He glared irately at the cauldron, standing right beside him. He still couldn't believe that he had failed the class. How was that even possible? He wondered incensed. He got an Acceptable? An Acceptable? Never in his life had he gotten less than an O for anything. Even Dumbledore had to grade his essays with straight Os, even though the old coot hated Tom from the bottom of his heart.

But now this! he thought as he glowered furiously at the stupid potion. He just couldn't get over it. How could that have happened? Where had be gone wrong? It was a complete mystery to him, and that fact was enraging him even more. He hated it not to know things.

It was then that Tom saw Slughorn pulling his golden watch out of the pocket of his silk waistcoat. "Look at that," he said while studying the clock. "Time has flown by. Now, I want everyone who did not succeed in creating the potion to write an essay as to where you think the mistake occurred."

As he heard that assignment, Tom could feel his anger spiralling up. He couldn't believe that he had messed up the potion. Now, he was one of those idiots who had to write the stupid essay. He was furious as he gathered his things and threw them angrily into his school bag. He never failed any class. His gaze fell on Hermione and his temper got even worse. That witch seemed to be extremely happy. Tom narrowed his eyes at her. Perhaps an Acceptable was enough for a Mudblood, but he was certainly not satisfied with that low a mark.

Another flush of anger now hit him as he saw Hermione conversing with those Gryffindor idiots she called her friends. She seemed to be completely happy and content with talking to Longbottom. Now she even smiled up at that git. Tom couldn't help but feel confused as he was sent into another fit of temper as he saw Hermione together with Longbottom. Why did he care? He didn't understand that anger. But as the Gryffindor berk smiled flirtingly down at Hermione, Tom could feel his angry magic almost leaving his body. He needed to concentrate to not send a peak of his magic towards the blond Gryffindor. And Hermione just continued smiling cheerfully up at that guy. Did she like how he flirted with her?

A dangerous red sheen flashed through Tom's eyes at those thoughts and his infuriated magic gave another powerful budge. He shook his head angrily and unfixed his eyes from Hermione. He just Did. Not. Care. what the dirty Mudblood did, Tom decided enraged. He grabbed his school bag and turned towards the exit of the class room. He could still feel his magic bubbling angrily inside of him. It was really about time he got out of here, because he needed to get rid of that pent up anger.

Before he could leave the class room, though, Slughorn's annoying voice held him back, "Tom, could you, please, stay behind?"

Tom grinded his teeth and the red sheen tinted his eyes again. It took him a lot of self-control to get his temper back under control. He schooled his features into a polite mask before he turned around to the potions professor.

"Of course, sir," he answered blandly, casting an empty smile Slughorn's way.

He slowly walked over to Slughorn's desk with each step trying to get back his lost composure. As he reached the professor, Slughorn beamed at him and then waved his wand and conjured up a chair.

"Please, have a seat."

"Tom, Tom." Slughorn shook his head at Tom. Then he sighed, "What is wrong with you lately?"

Tom really needed to restrain his dark magic now. It wouldn't do to hex his head of house. So, he schooled his face into an innocent mask. He needed to play the dutiful student.

"Sir, I am sorry about that potion," Tom said contritely. "I really don't know where we went wrong."

"Well, it is the first time you ever failed in my class," Slughorn replied, a touch of disappointment tinging his voice which churned up Tom's angry magic even more.

"Yes, sir," Tom said, letting his head hang. Though he only did that to hide the furious glare which he by now couldn't suppress any longer. Why did that damn potion not work? "It won't happen again. I promise, I'll be more attentive from now on."

"Of course, Tom," Slughorn said indulgently. "I know that you are an exceptional student. This little incident won't affect your grade at all."

He paused here and Tom's suspicion grew as the professor now eyed him oddly. Then Slughorn said cautiously, "I'm just a little concerned about you."

"Sir?"

Slughorn locked eyes with him then he asked in a grave voice, "Is there something troubling you?"

The only thing Tom had trouble with was maintaining that polite smile on his face. He still managed to ban all hostility from his voice, though, as he said blandly, "No, sir. Everything is fine."

Slughorn still eyed him, concern now very evident on his face. Then he said, carefully choosing his words, "Normally, I don't stick my nose into my students' affairs." Here Tom nearly choked on a not so polite comeback. Fortunately, Slughorn didn't notice and continued, "But as your head of house, I couldn't help but notice that you are not quite yourself lately."

By now, the angry magic, running through Tom, was just too much for him and he wasn't able to reply anything. He might have just cursed the fool. As he didn't answer, Slughorn continued in a sort of fatherly voice, "I know that you are under a lot of stress. You are taking quite a few classes this year. In fact, I think your time table is the maximum of what is even possible. On top of that you have your prefect duties."

Tom clenched his jaw. What was Slughorn insinuating? That he couldn't handle the work load?

The professor continued in his horribly soothing voice, "You might want to consider dropping a few classes next year." He looked pensively then added, "I actually shouldn't tell you that… Dippet would have my head if he knew I told you… but it's almost certain that you will be Head Boy next year. Though it, of course, is a privilege, it will also mean a lot of additional work for you."

Tom was surprised himself as he did manage to suppress his fury but answered quite politely, "Sir, it would be an honour to become Head Boy. But I don't think I'll need to drop any classes. I'm sure I can handle."

Another fit of temper almost made Tom crack as Slughorn now eyed him, scepticism clearly visible on his face.

"Well, you don't have to decide that right now. Just give it a thought," he told Tom indulgently. "But now back to my initial question." As Tom rose his eyebrow in confusion Slughorn elaborated, "If it's not your classes, then what is troubling you, Tom? Could it be something concerning your private life?"

"No, sir, I'm really fine," Tom grinded out.

To his horror, Slughorn winked at him in a conspiratorial way while saying lightly, "Ah, there's no need to be embarrassed about anything. You know how small this castle is. News even reach my humble ears." Slughorn demurred and smiled at Tom. "I take it that you and Ms DeCerto are not longer a couple?"

Tom couldn't help but his eyes widened slightly. His magic raged inside of him, and he fought to contain himself.

"No," he finally replied, his voice now icy cold.

An infuriating look of sympathy took form on Slughorn's face. Then he said solemnly, "That is a pity. I can understand that a broken heart can be quite distracting." He smiled encouragingly, sending Tom into another fit of rage. "Once, I've been young, too. I know how it is."

"Sir, I assure you, this will surely not influence my school work," Tom managed to grind out.

Slughorn waved his comment away with his hand, "Yes, yes." Then he leaned a bit towards Tom and considered him for a while before he added, "I have no idea what made you two break up, Tom, but whatever it was, you should reconsider."

"What?" Tom asked, honestly surprised.

"I just want to give you an advice, m'boy," the professor continued. "Not as your teacher, but as a man, who has a bit more experience than you." He again leaned back in his chair and eyed Tom attentively. Then he seemed to come to a conclusion and continued in a serious voice, "Ms DeCerto is something special. You shouldn't let her slip away so easily. I haven't had the privilege to teach her for long, but I can already see that she is a very talented young witch. She might be Muggleborn, but she is still very powerful. And she seems to be rather quick witted, too. Now, some people might tell you, that that is not important in a woman, but I say, they are wrong."

A disturbingly knowing look crossed his face then he added, sounding very convinced, "You surely don't want to endure a marriage with a featherbrain." He shook his head and continued while looking at Tom intently, "Not only is Ms DeCerto quite bright, no, on top of that she is pretty, too. With all that said, Tom, I really think you should try to get her back. You might regret it if you don't. If you don't make a move, others surely won't hesitate."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, now a sharp edge in his voice.

"Ms DeCerto is very popular with the boys," the professor replied and Tom could feel an inexplicable wave of anger hit him. Slughorn continued implying things Tom didn't want to hear at all, "Whenever I see her, she's surrounded by admirers. She won't wait forever for you to change your mind."

Tom forced away the strange feeling in his stomach and narrowed his eyes in anger at his professor. Why should he want to get that Mudblood back? This was as ridiculous as it was disgusting.

His now ice cold eyes wandered back to Slughorn and he said in a completely controlled voice, "Thank you for your help, sir. I will consider it."

Slughorn beamed at him contently. Then Tom got up from the chair, intending to leave this place as fast as possible. Before he could turn around, though, a thought suddenly hit him. There was a calculating touch in the disarming smile which now played around his lips. Then Tom asked in an innocent tone,

"Sir, can I ask you a favour?"

Slughorn raised his eyebrows, but still smiled at Tom. Then he said, "Sure, Tom, m'boy. Whatever you want."

_._._._._

"The truth?" Dumbledore asked while his clear blue eyes wandered over her.

Hermione stared back at him, her face schooled into a calm mask, while her thoughts frantically scudded through her head. If she really wanted to, at some point in time, be able to get the Elder Wand from Dumbledore, she needed to re-gain his trust. Her plan of going home hinged completely on her being able to unite all three Hallows. If she wanted to get back Dumbledore's trust, she would have to offer him something in return. That would either be Tom or…

…the book!

"Yes, it's time I tell you," Hermione replied calmly.

Okay, I need to pull myself together, she thought. This was important. Inexplicably, she did not want to send Tom back to the orphanage and to Carter. So, she had to convince Dumbledore that she was no evil dark witch without using Tom as a bait, while simultaneously saving him from getting expelled.

Good luck, a nasty voice hissed at her sceptically.

Hermione breathed in deeply. Then she locked her eyes with Dumbledore before she said in a firm voice, "Sir, I've been fighting in the war for a very long time."

A sad glint appeared in Dumbledore's blue eyes as he looked at her. But he didn't seem to be particularly surprised to hear that she had to fight in a war. He had obviously guessed it by now. A weak smile appeared around Hermione's mouth as she scanned that sombre expression on Dumbledore's face.

Then she continued, and her voice was again so horribly cold, "I never understood how people could develop so much hate. They committed many atrocities, all in the name of 'blood's purity' – whatever that means."

Hermione looked up at Dumbledore. The sad glint in his eyes had even intensified. He didn't interrupt her, so she continued, a dark tint in her voice, "I hated them! I hated them so much that I wanted to hurt them, just as much as they had hurt their victims. I wanted to kill them."

Hermione swallowed hard and had to fight to get her emotions back in control. As she continued the dark tint had left her voice, leaving it behind hollow and empty, "… and I got my wish. I fought them and I killed some of them …my hate, though, didn't go away."

Both her arms lay on the arm rests of her chair and her hands clenched tightly around the wood. Then she said, her voice a mere whisper, "The war progressed, and I lost a lot. My family, my friends; they died. I saw many good people die. And somehow, during all of that, my hate left me, and I got tired of fighting. I wanted it to end. I wanted to go home. I was desperate and stupid, and I might have made mistakes while trying to get home."

She locked eyes with Dumbledore, then she said in a firm voice, "Sir, I stole the Peverell manuscript from Flamel. And I broke into your office the last day before the Christmas break started."

She could see surprise flooding Dumbledore's expression. If the situation hadn't been so severe, it would have been almost funny. Hermione stared at the old professor and prayed that she wasn't making a big mistake here.

"That was you?" Dumbledore asked while scanning her intently over his half-moon spectacles. "Why would you do that? Why would you steal Peverell's book?"

Hermione looked at him. So far, the truth had been her companion, now she needed a lie.

She opened her mouth and began to explain in a strong voice which didn't reflect the chaos of emotions inside of her, "I've been fighting in that war for almost two years. But I couldn't change anything and we were losing. Grindelwald and his soldiers are too strong." There now was a sharp and angry touch in her voice as she continued, not thinking about Grindelwald but about the Death Eaters in the future, "I did not want to accept their predominance. I couldn't understand how those racists could win this."

She pulled herself together and forced her emotions back again. Her voice was composed again as she now spoke, "During those years I fought in the war, I managed to gather a lot of intel on Grindelwald's army and on Grindelwald himself."

Hermione glanced at Dumbledore. He still seemed to follow her intently. So, far he hadn't thrown her out of school, and she took that at a good sign. She still didn't know why she was doing this. Why risk so much for Tom? It was stupid.

"As I was searching for a way to bring him down, I heard many rumours, whispers and, sometimes, lies," Hermione proceeded cautiously now. "People were saying that Grindelwald truly is invincible. That when he raises his wand, victory against him is impossible."

"I did not believe in those stories. A Dark Wizard who is so strong that no-one would ever be able to defeat him? I needed to find out more. I needed to find his weak spot. But the more I searched, the clearer the picture became. He is so strong, he even managed to make a whole country bow before him. Grindelwald seemed to truly be unbeatable. Still, I could not believe that. So, I tried to find the source of his power. And last year, I succeeded. I found a clue, an explanation for his incredible strength."

Hermione looked at Dumbledore and she could see a bit of scepticism in his eyes. He did not really believe that she had found anything of importance concerning Grindelwald, did he? Surely, Grindelwald knew not to tell anyone why he was so incredibly strong. It seemed that she now had to play her trump card.

"Grindelwald is the owner of the Unbeatable Wand," Hermione said in a steady voice while she stared at Dumbledore.

She could see his eyes widen slightly. There was even a touch of nervousness flitting through his eyes. He clearly hadn't expected anyone aside from Grindelwald and himself to know about the wand.

"You think he uses the Unbeatable Wand?" he asked cautiously.

"I am sure he does," came Hermione's reply. "As I found out about the wand, I tried to find a way to destroy it. And I thought, the best way to go about that would be to ask the creator of the wand. That's why I travelled to England and why I enrolled into Hogwarts. I knew you had the manuscript Peverell had written."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at her, then he cut in, "You knew I had the book? How?"

Hermione hesitated. She didn't want to say this as she knew it was something the professor wasn't very proud of. But now she needed to use it.

"Sir, I tried to collect as much information on Grindelwald as I could. So, I discovered that you have been close to him." Here she could see Dumbledore's eyes widen slightly. "I thought it would be wise to learn more about you. So, before I knew about the wand, I had already found out about your interest in Peverell. As I later learned about the Unbeatable Wand, I remembered your interest in Peverell and how you had obviously acquired a book written by him. That's why I went to England, adopted a new name and entered Hogwarts."

"So, this is why you used a pseudonym," Dumbledore said as he scanned her, a sharp glint in his eyes.

Hermione's eyes widened and she stared at the old professor. "You already knew that?"

"You did not think that this school would accept new students without checking their identity first."

Hermione breathed in sharply.

"The headmaster actually asked me to check your family background right after he got that letter from you, asking for a place at this school," Dumbledore continued while eyeing her attentively. "I ran into a few problems in finding any information about you, Hermione. That was when I realized that your name was most probably a cover. Though, I did not tell Armando about this. I assumed you, coming from a war zone, had good reason to hide your true identity. And as I met you the first time, I did not think you a danger."

He hesitated shortly but then said in a grave voice, "It was only after that spectacular threat you delivered the last time we spoke, that I changed my mind about you."

"But then…" Hermione stuttered weakly. "… then why did you let me stay? You knew I was lying, why did you still cover for me?"

"Because, Hermione," Dumbledore said in a serious voice. "I did not want you pulling through with your threat."

"I see," she replied quietly.

Dumbledore looked at her sharply then he inquired, "So, you found out about Gellert's wand and about the manuscript. Why this play of hide-and-seek? You could have simply asked me."

"I did not trust you," Hermione answered. "I come from a war zone, trust is very rare and shouldn't be given away lightly. For another thing, I did find out that you once were friends with Grindelwald." Hermione didn't want to bring this up again, but the sharpness in his eyes forced her to. "They say that you once were on Grindelwald's side. How was I supposed to know that you weren't still working with him?"

The pain flitting over Dumbledore's face made her feel disgusted with herself, so she continued quickly, "I did not want to take the risk of confiding in you. Very soon I learned that you did not have the book anyway, but gave it to Nicolas Flamel. I knew what to do next; I had to get the book from Flamel. I used the Christmas break to travel to London and find Flamel's flat."

"I heard about your endeavours after the break," Dumbledore told her. "Nicolas told me about the theft of the book. I was very surprised by it. I hadn't expected anyone to know that I found the book. I actually thought, Tom was behind it."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at him. "No, for once, he is innocent."

She was relieved that Dumbledore seemed to believe her story so far. Maybe this was really going to work out well. "This brings me back to the reason I tell you all of this. As I was in Flamel's flat, I got surprised by Grindelwald's soldiers."

Concern was flooding Dumbledore's face now and he asked sharply, "They knew about the book, too?"

Hermione nodded and continued in a grave voice, "Yes, I don't know how they found out, but just as I had finally gained the book, they charged into the flat. I was completely outnumbered. So, I fled. But as I tried to get away, I ran into Tom."

Dumbledore furrowed his brow, obviously surprised by that information, but he didn't interrupt Hermione.

"We managed to get away from Grindelwald's men, but they have seen Tom's face," she told him.

The fingers of his right hand now thrummed absentmindedly on the surface of his desk as Dumbledore slowly said, "So, they might think he helped you."

"Yes," Hermione quickly conceded. "But there is more. A few weeks ago, as I was in Hogsmeade, I got attacked."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her, silently asking her to continue.

"They cornered me in some back street," Hermione explained. "It were Grindelwald's men again. They had found me and wanted the book. I refused to give it to them. So they attacked me. They would have defeated me, but then Tom showed up."

As she saw that surprised expression on Dumbledore's face, Hermione continued to explain, "That was before he left me. Tom beat them easily and saved me."

"But they have seen his face again," Dumbledore mused in a soft voice, his fingers tapping at the desktop.

Hermione inclined her head. "Yes. They've seen him together with me twice now. First in London and then in Hogsmeade. They now surely assume that Tom is working with me."

"Which he is not?" he asked suspiciously, the sharp glint back in his eyes.

"No, sir. I never told him anything about my task," Hermione quickly negated. Then she added in a dark voice, "It was for the better, it seems."

She shook her head slightly. Then she raised her head and looked Dumbledore in the eyes. "You see, you can't expel Tom. If you send him away, he will be in great danger. Grindelwald will surely order his soldiers to get him. Then they will try to force all information from him."

This part, Hermione mused, could very well be true. Though, the true danger may lie in the fact that Tom might want to join Grindelwald. They had the same aims, after all.

Dumbledore brought her out of her dark thoughts, "You risk a lot by telling me all this, when you still think you cannot trust me. Just to save Tom?"

Hermione smiled at him sadly. Then she said, being, for once, honest, "I do trust you now. I know that you would never choose Grindelwald's side. And I think it is partly my fault that Tom is in trouble. I don't want him to get hurt just because of me. Sir, are you still going to expel him?"

Dumbledore scanned her for a very long time. Hermione shuddered as she found herself under his scrutiny. She held her breath now. How could she have risked so much? Just for Tom? This was insane. She should have stuck to her old plan.

After an eternity, Dumbledore said in a severe voice, "Hermione, I know that you did not tell me the whole truth."

Hermione stiffened involuntarily as she heard it. Dumbledore continued hitting her with a penetrating gaze then he stated, "There is a lot that doesn't add up. And I think you left out a few important details."

Hermione's heart was beating incredibly fast as she stared back at Dumbledore's eyes. He didn't believe her! She shouldn't have done it after all. She shouldn't have helped Tom. Now, she was going to pay for it.

"Professor, I-" she started to say in a weak voice but Dumbledore interrupted.

"You didn't tell me the whole truth," he repeated in a grave voice and Hermione's stomach flopped.

Dumbledore removed his half moon spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Then he sighed tiredly, "But I still believe you." A small smile played around his mouth as he added, "It seems you are a very fierce interceder."

Hermione stared at him incredulously as she asked in a weak voice, "You are not going to send Tom away?"

"No, I will have to let him stay," Dumbledore sighed.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "But don't be mistaken, Hermione. If Tom again endangers other students, I will have no other choice but to expel him."

"Yes, sir." Hermione quickly nodded.

Dumbledore again sighed as he looked at the relief on her face. There was a kind touch in his voice as he said, "Tom is very lucky to have found someone like you." Sadness leaked int his tone. "Though I doubt he appreciates it as much as he should."

Hermione didn't comment anything on that, but just stated, "I will return Peverell's book to you, sir. I am truly sorry I stole it."

"I would appreciate that," Dumbledore replied. "Did you find it, by the way?" as Hermione raised her eyebrows in question, he elaborated, "A way to beat the wand's power."

"No," she sighed. "No, I did not."

Dumbledore scanned her for a moment considering something, then he asked, "Do you still want to find a way to defeat Grindelwald?"

"That's difficult," Hermione replied slowly as she was thinking not about Grindelwald, but about her wish to return to her time period. "Over the past few months, I've experienced life here at Hogwarts. It's so peaceful and safe. I started to like it."

There was a kind twinkle visible in Dumbledore's otherwise hard eyes. "Maybe you should rest, Hermione. It is not your duty to fight against Grindelwald. Hogwarts is indeed a wonderful place." He paused shortly, a wistful look crossing his face. "You know, I've been a student here myself. I liked it so much, I would have preferred to stay even during holidays."

Hermione smiled at the professor and asked, "What house were you in?"

The merry twinkle in his light blue eyes intensified. Then he said mischievously, "Already caught up in our house system, aren't you? Though, I can give you a hint: Out of all four houses my house was, certainly, the best."

The smile on Hermione's face widened then she replied reproachfully, "Sir, you can ask any student, coming from any house, and they will say the exact same thing."

"That is true." The merry twinkle in his eyes was quickly stifled as a grave expression appeared on his face. Then he said, "Hermione, why don't just try to forget about the war. Leave it behind. You can stay here. It's save. You might even start to enjoy school."

A wistful smile played around Hermione's mouth. It was very tempting to just stay here in the past. Forget about the war in the future, about all the things she had seen. Just as she was lost in that pleasant dream she could suddenly see smoldering red eyes. They had found her, even here. There was no way for her to run from the hate.

She looked at Dumbledore and replied in a firm voice, "I don't think I can just let go like that."

Somehow it touched her how there was now a look of regret crossing the old professor's face as he heard her answer.

"I know that you had to live through a lot," he said in a grave voice. "It is terrible to have to face war, especially for someone so young. But despite all the horrible things that happened to you, you are still alive, Hermione. I know how one can suffer from war and despair of the darkness that sometimes steps into our lives. Now, though, you are safe here in Hogwarts. Nothing will happen to you. You can try to leave all those things behind. Try to start anew. Don't abandon hope, for there will come better times."

A sad smile danced around her lips as Hermione replied, "Maybe you are right. God, I hope so. But I think I'm not ready yet." Then the smile dropped from her face, and she stared out of the window. "Darkness is still everywhere."

"I see." Hermione's eyes wandered back to Dumbledore and found him looking at her sadly. "But you have to trust me when I say, it will get better."

She could feel a lump in her throat but she desperately tried to ignore it and smiled faintly at him.

"Thank you," she said softly, meaning it.

Then she slowly got up from her chair and walked over to the door leading out of the office. Before she could open the door Dumbledore said, "You do love him, don't you?"

Hermione turned her head and looked at the professor. She knew whom he was speaking about.

"I think so," she replied slowly, surprising herself with her answer. Then she added in a dead tone, "But it doesn't matter anymore."

Dumbledore was looking back at her unsmiling then he said in a severe voice, "Never say that, Hermione. It matters a lot, even if Tom doesn't understand it."

She scrutinized him for a moment before she said, "I'm sorry for lying to you, professor."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was the next day, a Tuesday, that Hermione sat in her Charms class room, buried deep in her thoughts and hardly listened to professor Merrythought's explanations. She still was surprised that she had gotten away with the explanations she had given Dumbledore yesterday. There had been huge chunks missing in her story. Dumbledore surely had seen that, but the essential part he had believed her: she was no evil dark witch. Somehow, Hermione was very glad that he no longer believed her to be evil. It might help her getting the Elder Wand from him, but it also just made her feel better.

Hermione sighed softly as her thoughts involuntarily wandered from the wand to the Resurrection Stone. Her gaze slid to her seat neighbour and stopped at Tom's right hand. He still wore the golden ring and Hermione eyed its black stone. She really needed to have that. It still was a mystery to her what had gone wrong as she had talked with Dumbledore. She obviously had temporarily lost her mind. Why did she have to protect Tom again? Why did she have to play the honourable Gryffindor? Hermione rolled her eyes, then glared at Tom, who seemed to pay professor Merrythought his utmost attention. He would deserve to be chucked into that orphanage, wouldn't he? After all the things he had done to her. Hermione quickly averted her eyes from Tom as she felt a painful knot in her stomach. She sighed softly as she realised that she would probably save him again if given a second chance to talk with Dumbledore. Obviously, she was a sentimental idiot.

"-with those Charms you can manipulate the four elements." Professor Merrythought's voice cut into her chain of thought. "With the Unda Charm, for example, you will be able to manipulate water and change its state from frozen to liquid and to gaseous."

Hermione barely raised her head as she watched the professor performing the Unda Charm. The bowl full of water standing on professor Merrythough's desk first changed into a block of frozen ice before it turned into a cloud of steam. Hermione already knew those charms. This was basic magic, really. So she wasn't listening to professor Merrythought as she explained more about the wand movements. Actually Hermione hadn't paid any attention to the class so far. To tell the truth, she hadn't paid attention in class for the last week.

Somehow grotesque, she thought wryly, Hermione Granger not trying to be best in class.

Really, she couldn't see why she should bother with school. She already knew most of the things they taught here. And she didn't need to have good grades to fulfil her mission. School work would only distract her. She needed to find a way back home and she needed to find it fast. She had to detach herself from this world. It wasn't hers. She had been caught up in it for far too long already. Her world lay somewhere else.

"Now, my dears, I want you to practice the Unda Charm." Hermione only remotely heard professor Merrythought's words.

She looked up and found bowls full of water had appeared on every table. With a quick glance to her right she made sure that Tom had his own bowl of water. She breathed out relieved. It would have been unbearable if she had been forced to work with him. Hermione flicked her wrist and her wand landed in her hand. She frowned shortly as she noticed that her wand felt somehow different in her hand. It felt as if something had changed, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It was an unpleasant feeling. She still waved her wand in the familiar movement at the bowl of water in front of her while she whispered,

"Undovo."

She expected the water to instantly change into ice. But nothing happened. Hermione was confused. That charm wasn't very difficult so it should have worked. Maybe her wand movements had been too sloppy, she reasoned with herself. She again waved her wand, this time paying more attention.

"Undovo."

Again nothing changed. The water remained to be in its liquid state. Now Hermione was alarmed. This time she had really concentrated. The charm should have worked. What was wrong? Clearly her magic was somehow not obeying her. She closed her eyes and tried to summon it. It came to her. But Hermione shuddered as she realized that her magic had changed from a strong current of power to a weak tickle. Her eyes shot open and panic ripped at her. What had happened to her magic? It had been fine yesterday, hadn't it? Though she had to admit she hadn't used much of it lately.

Hermione ran a shaky hand through her hair. She just needed to concentrate more. Her magic surely was not gone. It was just not her day today. She again summoned her magic. It still was just a frail flicker. She tried to maintain this small trickle of magic before she decided to call the Elder Magic. It followed her call but only reluctantly. As the Elder Magic wrapped around her Hermione felt how weak it was. Something definitely was wrong with her, she thought frantically.

She tried the charm again and waved her wand. With the support of the Elder Magic she could feel an actual charm leaving the tip of her wand. The moment the magic formed into the charm Hermione let out a soft cry of surprise. It had hurt. Not very badly but there had been a stabbing pain in her chest as the magic had left her.

There was now a layer of ice on the water in the bowl. She prodded it with one finger and quickly broke through. Under the thin layer of ice the water was still liquid and not even much colder. Her charm hadn't worked the way it should have. Not even with the help of the Elder Magic. This was basic charm work. She shouldn't have any problems with it. Hermione stared at the bowl with wide and frightened eyes. Then she saw movement in the corner of her eyes and she quickly banned all fear from her face and covered it with a mask of boredom. She glanced at Tom. Had he noticed something? There was a block of frosty white ice inside of his bowl. Hermione let out a relieved breath of air as she found Tom still ignored her. He hadn't seen her failing to do this simple charm.

For the rest of the class, Hermione was unable to follow professor Merrythought at all. She could feel her hands trembling as fear consumed her. What had happened with her magic? This certainly was not normal. As the professor finally ended the class, Hermione instantly stuffed her parchment and quill into her bag and almost fled from the class room. She didn't care about lunch or her History of Magic lesson afterwards. She hadn't even told her friends where she was going. Instead, she hastened through Hogwarts' corridors in search of solitude. In a rather secluded part of the sixth floor she finally opened a door and stepped into a dark class room.

Without further ado, she pulled her wand. Her hand shock violently as she again felt no reaction at all coming from her magic. She squeezed her eyes shut and called upon her magic. Like in the Charms class room, it was a mere trickle. There was almost nothing left of that irresistible force that normally pulsed through her. Hermione still tried to concentrate of what little she had left of her magic. Then she raised her wand and brandished it in the familiar wand movements. No curse left her wand's tip, and she could feel herself slowly breaking down in panic as there happened just nothing.

This is not good at all. She took in deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She stood in the middle of the abandoned class room and had her wand in her hand while she stared at the stone wall opposite of her. Hermione again waved her wand in the same wand movements and spoke the incantation out loud,

"Reducto!"

She moaned in pain as she could feel a sharp stab in her chest. This time, her magic reacted to her curse, but it left her wand's tip as a weak, fickle light. The curse soared through the air, but soon it got slower and slower while it flickered and lost all power. Before it could even reach the wall the curse completely died down.

Not good! Hermione stared with huge eyes at the wall and now she couldn't stop the panic taking hold of her. Her magic didn't work like it was supposed to, her chest hurt and she felt slightly dizzy. She closed her eyes and forced her messy thoughts back under control. She tried to call upon the Elder Magic. But however hard she tried, that steady, powerful flow inside of her didn't want to come back. The only thing she got was another painful stab in her chest.

Hermione stuffed her wand back in its holster and hastily left the class room. She had no idea what was going on here, but she needed to find out. She rushed down the corridors of Hogwarts in direction of the one place which had always supplied her with answers. It wasn't long and she stood before the huge wooden doors that led into the library.

"Hello, Ms DeCerto." Hermione was greeted as she stepped into the library.

She blinked but then cast Ms Peters a small smile. "Good day, Ms Peter," Hermione said in a soft tone.

"Really," the librarian chastised her gently. "There are so many other things you could do than wasting away such a nice day in the library. You are here way too often. Why don't you enjoy your free time outside with your friends?"

"There's still so much work I have to do," Hermione answered.

"All right, Ms DeCerto," Ms Peters said while winking at Hermione. "But don't take too long or I'll come and personally drag you out of here."

Hermione smiled at the librarian and nodded before she entered the huge library of Hogwarts. There were not many students sitting at the tables. Probably due to the fact that classes weren't yet finished. In fact, Hermione missed her History of Magic class, but right now she couldn't care less. This was much more important, she decided as she began to search through the many sections of the library. She quickly needed to put this right. Her magic couldn't be gone.

It was several hours later that Hermione still sat in the library. She had read through many books by now, but hadn't come across anything that could help her. Fear threatened to consume her completely. She could still feel her magic as that small trickle, running through her. Instead of getting better, it seemed that by the minute the force behind her magic was diminishing. Hermione felt sick and a little dizzy. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the vertigo. Then she again concentrated on the book before her. Magical Maladies its cover read. So far, she hadn't found anything that could help her. Even in this medical standard work there was just a very small paragraph dealing with the loss of magic. Hermione reread this paragraph.

Loss of magic: The complete loss of a person's magic (further referred to as CLM) is a very rare occurrence. The pathogenesis of this progressive disease is insufficiently studied, though the symptoms seem to always be the same. First systemic symptoms include vertigo, appetite loss, weight loss and somnolence. A final diagnosis is not possible until the first signs of magic loss occur. In most cases these first signs are quickly followed by the gradual loss of magical power until the end stadium is reached, where the patient is unable to use any magic.

There are three primary causes known to induce CLM:

In most cases (more than 50%), CLM is a psychosomatic disorder. If CLM was initiated by a mental illness or a traumatic event, the patient should be referred to a psychologist or psychoanalyst.

Many poisons as well as pre-existing illnesses are known to cause a temporary loss of magic. These poisonings and diseases are so serious that CLM can be classified as a secondary symptom. (For a listing of CLM inducing poisons and diseases see annex B IV)

If the first two causes for CLM can be eliminated, there is the possibility of a destructive curse being the disease-causing agent. All curses that can lead to CLM are rated as Dark Magic. Due to the fact that a listing of dark curses does not exist, a therapy can be very difficult or, in some cases, completely impossible.

Hermione groaned as she read that part again. This was not helpful at all. At least she now knew that her predicament wasn't caused by some strange disease or other. Otherwise she wouldn't be able to sit her calmly in the Library, but would obviously lie in the Hospital Wing. But, according to that book, this still left two possible reasons for her lost magic. She didn't know which one was preferable. Either her magic had stopped working because she had been hit by Dark Magic or…

Hermione closed her eyes and again sighed tiredly.

…or because I'm finally growing insane.

Lately, she had had contact with a lot of Dark Magic. So, this definitely was a possibility. It was just a few days ago, that Tom had hurled quite a few very dark curses her way. Even if Tom's attempts to kill her weren't the reason for her problem, there still was the Elder Magic. Peverell's creation was dark in itself. That dark force had been inside of her for months already. Hermione shuddered as she realized that. Who knew what that evil magic had done to her. Maybe it had been slowly devouring Hermione's own magic until there was nothing left.

What if it wasn't the Elder Magic or Tom's curses, but a 'mental illness' or a 'traumatic event'? Well, there were quite a few traumatic events in her life, Hermione thought wryly. She had fought in a war, had seen people being tortured and murdered, and she had been forced to kill. In the end she had even been ripped from her own time period and had been hurled into the past.

If that isn't a traumatic event then I don't know what is, she thought cynically as she stared down at the book. Though, there was another incident that had had a huge impact on her emotional condition. Hermione's hands tightly grabbed the book and she pressed her mouth into a thin line as she tried to suppress her upcoming emotions.

But it was true, wasn't it? Tom had broken up with her and his rejection still hurt her very much. He hadn't just left her, but now despised her. She shuddered as she remembered that expression on his face whenever he now looked at her. He was disgusted by her. Hermione felt incredibly dirty when Tom looked at her like that. She knew he was wrong, he had no right to judge her. In her time period Hermione often had had to fight against prejudices and racism but it had never been as bad as it was now. She had never felt this worthless or ashamed as she did now. Hermione was angry with herself for feeling this way because there was no reason to be ashamed of her parentage. Maybe that was the final straw that had sent her over the edge? Mental illness, after all?

Hermione was thinking these gloomy thoughts as she noticed someone sitting down beside her. She looked up and to her horror found Ledo Avery sitting beside her. He was lounging leisurely in the chair and leered down at her. Hermione shuddered as she saw his gaze wander greedily over her body.

"Hello, Hermione," Avery said in his oily voice. "What are you doing? Homework?"

Hermione saw his eyes scanning the books in front of her, but he obviously was much more interested in her chest.

She shut the book in front of her with a loud thud before she said in a cold voice, "No, I'm finished."

She abruptly got up from her chair, took the book and walked away. She walked down an aisle until she reached the spot where she had found Magical Maladies. She put the book back on its place in the shelf and turned around. Hermione jerked as she found Avery standing behind her. He smirked down at her evilly.

"Get out of my way," Hermione hissed at him as she tried to push him away to get out of the narrow aisle.

"No need to be so unfriendly," Avery purred at her.

Hermione stiffened as he suddenly wrapped his arms around her. One of his hands quickly wandered down her back until he reached her buttocks. Then his hand grabbed her hastily. Hermione struggled against his disgusting embrace.

"Get your dirty hands away from me!" she spat at him enraged.

Avery just laughed and pressed his body harder against hers.

"I know you like it, Hermione. I'm sure Riddle already had you," he said with a hoarse voice. Then he continued, "How about I take his place now?"

"Get off!" Hermione yelled indignantly.

She felt his hand still grabbing her, and she tried to push him away. Unfortunately, he was a lot stronger than her and didn't let go of her.

It was then that Avery whispered with a husky voice into her ear, "Now that Riddle lost interest in you, you need someone else to protect you." Hermione shied away from him as she could feel his breath on her skin. "How about you become my little pet?" he said, lust clearly lacing his voice. "I promise, I'll take good care of you."

That twisted desire in his tone made Hermione sick, and she growled at him threateningly, "Get away from me or I swear I'll curse your sorry ass off!"

Avery chuckled at her, seemingly not impressed by her threat. He pressed her tighter against his chest and whispered derisively, "As you wish."

He unwrapped his arms from her. Hermione seethed as she had to thrust past him to get out of the narrow aisle.

"If you change your mind, dear, you know where to find me." Avery's mocking laughter followed her some distance.

Hermione just tried to get away from him as fast as possible. She was furious. How dare that idiot grab her like that? she thought enraged. Anger was still coursing through her as she reached the exit and stomped out of the library. Now that she walked down the corridor, white hot anger still swirling through her, Hermione could feel something else. Underneath that hot temper of hers was something else.

Hermione was scared. Right now, as Avery had grabbed her and pulled her against him, she wouldn't have been able to do anything against him. Her magic was weak, she couldn't have cursed him. Physically, Avery was way stronger than her. Without her magic she was unable to stop him. Hermione nervously bit her lip as her furious steps had slowed down. It now hit her how defenceless she was without her magic. And it wasn't particularly Avery she was afraid of now.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

It was a few days later, a Friday, that Hermione stumbled blindly down a corridor. The piercing pain in her chest intensified and she could feel a ripple going through what was left of her magic. She started to panic. It felt as if her magic was dying. It was almost gone already and now it seemed the last bit that was left disappeared, too.

There was a painful stab in her chest, making Hermione whimper softly. She felt dizzy and sick as she stumbled down the corridor. Her school bag was clutched tightly in her hand and she swayed as she walked. Classes were over for today, and Hermione just wanted to lie down and wait for this vertigo to go away. The corridor was quite crowded with other students as she staggered forwards. Hermione's vision was so blurred now, she couldn't make anything out any longer. She could just hope to be able to make it to the common room. Hermione took another step as she felt something trickling down her skin. She raised her hand to her nose, and it came back covered in blood. Obviously her nose was bleeding.

As she took another step, she tumbled over her own feet and lost her balance. She must have fallen against somebody because she could feel arms wrapped around her. Involuntarily, Hermione felt herself relax as those arms were so reassuringly slung around her. Her eyes were closed, and she leaned into the body supporting her.

She needed some time to get her ragged breathing back under control, but it was then that she noticed that those arms around her felt wrong. As if something was missing. The body she leaned against was very tense. Then Hermione took notice of a familiar scent. She stiffened. Her eyes shot open and slowly, reluctantly, she raised her head. She threw in a sharp breath of air as her gaze finally landed on a pair of grey eyes. But they were not completely grey; Hermione could see a dangerous red gleam in them. Quickly she disentangled herself from Tom and took a step away from him. He stood there in the middle of the corridor and looked as handsome as ever, and Hermione was again hit by the hate hidden behind. Tom was looking at her coldly and the aversion and disdain was written all over his face. She could see that his hands were balled into tight fists as if he tried to restrain himself from doing something. Hermione didn't have to guess to know what exactly he wanted to do. Luckily there were a lot other students in the corridor.

Tom broke eye contact with her and slowly looked down on himself. Hermione noticed with horror that there now was a dark stain on his green, sleeveless pullover where she had leaned against him. Her hand shot up at her face and she realized that her nose was still bleeding. She tried to stem the flow with her hand and looked with wide eyes back at Tom. Her breathing quickened as there was a look of revulsion on his face as he stared at her. He seemed to be utterly disgusted by the whole thing. Hermione felt like worthless scum as he looked at her in this way.

Then she heard another voice call out for her, "Hermione!"

It cost her effort to look away from Tom even though his fierce stare made her feel so painfully inferior. She turned her head and found Longbottom hurrying towards her. There was a mixture of concern and anger on his face as his gaze wandered to and fro between her and Tom. As Longbottom reached her he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and Hermione was quite thankful for that as she was still feeling very dizzy. She looked up at Longbottom and found him glaring darkly at Tom. Tom, on the other hand, had covered his face with a mask of boredom as he eyed Longbottom. Then he just turned around and walked away, without ever looking at Hermione again. She could feel her stomach clench as she watched his retreating back. It hurt so much how he was treating her.

Get a grip, Granger! she chastised herself. She only numbly noted how Longbottom was starting to lead her away. Hermione just followed him. Her hand still covered her nose, but there was now blood seeping through her fingers. Longbottom eyed her and the concern, glinting in his eyes, even intensified. Then he offered her a handkerchief which she accepted and pressed it against her bleeding nose.

"Did he hit you again?" Longbottom asked her in a soft voice.

There had been a time as Hermione would have been filled with indignation by the mere suggestion that Tom would ever hurt her. Now it just seemed to be a fair question.

"No," she whispered.

"You should go to the Hospital Wing," Longbottom told her. Hermione wasn't sure if he believed her previous statement.

"It's only a nosebleed." She almost shuddered as her voice was so cold. "I'll just have to lie down a little."

Hermione was sure he would object but Longbottom said, "Okay. I'll bring you back to the common room."

Then he pulled her closer to him, and Hermione was quite glad that she could lean against him. The dizziness had gotten even worse, and she could feel the last bits of her magic slowly disappearing.

_._._._._

Tom stomped down the corridor, and he had trouble holding back his angry magic from lashing out at random people. He was furious. He again looked down at this abominable stain on his pullover. It disgusted him to no end, this filthy Muggle blood, contaminating him. As he had seen Hermione, walking towards him in that corridor, he had instantly noticed that something had been off with her. But he hadn't given a shit about that. Until she had suddenly collapsed into his arms. If the corridor had been less crowded, he would have just let her fall down on the stone floor. What did he care anyway? But as there had been so many witnesses, he had felt obliged to maintain his perfect façade and had caught Hermione. Which was the reason there now was this nauseating Muggle blood on him. Tom breathed in deeply to control his rising temper.

He balled his hands into tight fists as he remembered how Hermione had felt in his arms. It had been so warm and familiar as he had held her. He had even smelled a faint scent of lilac again as she had been so close to him. For a second he had enjoyed being able to embrace her.

Enjoyed holding a Mudblood!

That moment of weakness, of stupidity disgusted him now. How could he enjoy being near a Mudblood? That was preposterous. It made his blood boil with anger now. There was no way he could ever like it to touch such a filthy creature. Just as he had that thought, there was an annoying jab in his stomach which only infuriated him more. What was that dirty witch doing to him?

Suddenly, he remembered how Longbottom had turned up. He had stomped up to them and had stood right beside Hermione. That git had even wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if he took it for granted. Had Longbottom tried to protect Hermione? From him? Tom sneered disdainfully. As if that idiot could protect anyone. Tom's magic once again threatened to boil over as he remembered how Longbottom had held Hermione protectively and had pressed her against his body. How could that boor dare to touch Hermione?

Tom nearly wanted to scream out in frustration as he realized the direction his thoughts had wandered off to. What the hell did he care that Longbottom had touched this Mudblood? 'Ms DeCerto is very popular with the boys.' Slughorn's inept words came back to Tom and sent him into another frustrating fit of temper. He didn't understand why he was so strongly reacting to the situation. Right now, he would have loved to curse Longbottom into oblivion. Since Tom had broken up with Hermione, Longbottom was constantly around her. Tom had no idea why this unsettled him so strongly but it did.

His anger hadn't cooled down at all as he reached the Slytherin common room. He entered and instantly marched over to the stairs leading down to his dorm. He could see a few of the Slytherins cowering away from him. They had probably seen the dangerous scowl on his face or had felt Tom's furious magic in the air. Whatever it was, Tom didn't care. So, he walked down to his dorm. As he entered he saw Malfoy sitting on an armchair, obviously trying to do his homework. He had looked up as he heard someone enter. Tom narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, then he hissed at him,

"Get out."

Malfoy was wise enough to immediately obey. He hastily gathered his stuff and hurried out of the dorm. As Tom heard the door being shut again, he instantly slipped out of his green uniform pullover. He held it up before him and glowered at that dark stain on the green material. With an angry growl he flung the pullover away. Then he walked over to the bath room. He really needed to wash this Muggle dirt away from him. He felt disgustingly contaminated.

Maybe a shower could also help him to get rid of that hollow sensation in his stomach that haunted him ever since Hermione had ended the embrace between them. Tom could feel his magic give an angry twitch as he had this particular thought. He had certainly not enjoyed it how he had held Hermione.

This is disgusting, he decided irately as he slammed the bath room door shut behind him.

It was a while later, after he had showered and calmed considerably, that he left the dorm again and stepped into the common room. He still felt disgusted and incensed by his previous thoughts, but he had regained at least a little composure. It was ridiculous, really, how that stupid incident had managed to annoy him like this. He had held that Mudblood for a few seconds, at the most, why had that unsettled him so? Tom wondered aggravated as he had settled down on one of the black leather couches in the common room.

"Hello, Tom," a sultry voice whispered into his ear.

Tom turned his head and immediately narrowed his eyes in anger as he found Melanie Nicolls, sitting right beside him on the couch. This was the last thing he needed right now. Nicolls smiled at him.

"Melanie," he acknowledged, forcing his voice to be polite.

To his increasing annoyance, she slid closer to him on the couch. Her hand ran lightly over his arm while she looked up at him. Then she even had the nerve to cuddle against him and leaned her head against his shoulder. Tom could smell her heavy perfume in the air and would have loved to pull his wand and hex the hag off his arm. Nicolls, though, raised her head and smiled up at him, obviously trying to be seductive. Tom almost shuddered as he saw the lust in her eyes while she scanned him. Nicolls' eyes were brown. It struck him how very much this colour resembled Hermione's eyes. But Hermione's eyes were very pretty and glinted invitingly, Nicolls' were just empty and cold.

Tom inwardly shook himself as he had that repulsive thought. That disgusting Mudblood was a lot of things, but certainly not pretty!

"Did you hear that Diana Potter's family got robbed the other day?" Nicolls started to chatter away in her pesky voice.

She seemed to be desperate to maintain a conversation. Tom, on the other hand, wasn't very keen on talking with her, so he just shrugged his shoulders. He really wasn't interested in the latest gossip.

"No, I didn't," he replied bored.

Nicolls took that as an invitation to tell him more, and Tom groaned inwardly as she continued to rattle on.

"Yes. I heard it from Daphne, you know, the Ravenclaw. She's a good friend of Lucia, a dorm mate of Diana. Obviously, the Potters got robbed when they were here at Hogwarts, at Parents day," she said enthusiastically, smiling flirtatiously up at him. "Diana's brother has even seen the thief. And guess what? It was a woman."

Tom was contemplating on how to best get rid of her as he stared down at Nicolls. Maybe he should just curse her. Seriously, who would care?

"A woman?" he asked softly, not really seeing why this was something special.

Nicolls nodded at him, seemingly happy that he was responding to her. Tom could feel an upcoming head ache as she continued to chatter, "But she seemed to have been quite stupid. She only stole a worthless old family heirloom of the Potters."

A small spark of curiosity woke up in Tom. A family heirloom? And a female thief?

He furrowed his brow at Nicolls, then asked suspiciously, "Do you know what that heirloom might have been?"

Nicolls slid even closer to Tom and smiled up at him. "Daphne told me. Obviously, that heirloom was just an old cloak."

Tom breathed in deeply. Then he asked loftily, but there was a dangerous tint in his voice, "An old cloak? What kind of heirloom is that? Was it at least magical?"

"Yes, rather pathetic, isn't it?" Nicolls simpered inanely. "But it was magical. Hm, Daphne said it was some kind of Invisibility Cloak." She rolled her eyes and added derisively, "Pff, as if they are so valuable."

But Tom wasn't listening anymore. He clenched his jaw tightly. He could probably make a fairly good guess now as to who had stolen that cloak. He remembered how the Mudblood had obviously disapparated from Hogwarts on Parents day. Back then Tom had waited forever at the edge of the Forbidden Forest for her to come back. But as she had arrived back, she had refused to tell him anything. Could it be that Hermione then had stolen that cloak from the Potters?

Is that cloak a Hallow? Tom wondered. Anger washed through him at the thought that the dirty Mudblood had managed to gain yet another of the Deathly Hallows. The anger even grew as he noticed an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. Why hadn't Hermione confided in him about the Hallows as they still had been together? She had never trusted him, had she?

"Say, Tom," Nicolls whispered to him in a low voice while her eyes glinted greedily as she looked at him. "Are you busy now? We could go outside a bit…"

Tom wasn't really listening to her pathetic attempts to seduce him. His thoughts still danced around Hermione. She had always lied to him and hadn't trusted him. That Muggle had only played around with him. There was an odd aching feeling in his chest. He had that since Hermione had collapsed into his arms. He remembered the feeling of her in his arms. It had been strangely nice.

Tom shook his head in anger. How could he, even for a second, consider her to be anything but an ugly, repellant piece of dirt? She was a god damn Mudblood! For Merlin's sake! Tom felt his magic boil in him unrelentingly. How could he have enjoyed holding that Muggle in his arms? He must be insane.

"You know…" Nicolls was rather persistent as she now grabbed his arm even tighter and cajoled. "You had to work so much lately. How about you take a break?"

Tom's eyes wandered back to Nicolls. She looked up at him and smiled flirtingly. He almost rolled his eyes in face of her obvious offer. He wondered how someone like her had managed to end up in Slytherin. Then again, Nicolls was a pureblood. Unlike Hermione… Tom pressed his mouth in a tight line as he noticed how his thoughts again threatened to wander back to the Mudblood. Why did she continue to ghost around his head? He didn't want her anywhere near him. He had broken up with her!

Tom's gaze grew dark as he stared at Nicolls, still clinging to his arm. He would prove, once and for all, that he did not feel anything for Hermione, Tom decided coldly as he glared down at Nicolls. Then slowly a smirk took form in his face. It was hard and devoid of any emotion, but Nicolls still reacted to that smirk. Her eyes lit up as she smiled up at Tom, obviously blind to that evil glint in his grey eyes.

He did not miss Hermione, Tom thought, mercilessly stifling that odd feeling in his stomach. No, it was something more carnal he missed since he had broken up with her. Yes, that's it. Nothing more.

He grabbed Nicolls' hand while still smirking down at her. His other arm snaked around her waist then he stood up from the couch, pulling Nicolls with him. Nicolls clung tightly to him and there was a triumphant smile on her face as Tom led her out of the common room.

_._._._._

Hermione felt slightly dizzy again. It was about time that she ended this, she thought as she looked down at the hateful book in front of her. She had no idea why she had showed up here at all. Hermione shuddered as she once again noted the absence of that steady pulse of magic inside of her. Ever since she had collapsed into Tom's arms in that corridor, her magic was completely gone. Everything of it. Even the weak trickle was gone. She had hoped that a few hours of rest in her dorm would bring some of it back, but it hadn't helped at all. She didn't know what to do without her magic. Maybe that was the reason she had showed up here, Hermione thought as she tightly grasped the quill in her hand. She hadn't wanted to think about her lost magic anymore. Hermione closed the book with a loud thud.

Without looking up at her, Legifer who was sitting at her desk, once again grading essays inquired exasperated, annoyance tinting her voice, "What seems to be the problem now?"

"Nothing," Hermione replied innocently. "I'm just finished."

Legifer looked up at her and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Finished?" she asked in a sceptical tone.

Hermione forced a polite smile on her face before she handed the parchment over to the professor.

"I've read every single one of those fifty-eight chapters, professor," Hermione added, a fat smile on her face.

Legifer looked down at the parchment in her hand then her gaze wandered back to Hermione. There was a sour expression on her face.

"Well, what do you want? Praise?" Legifer said snippily. "You should have been finished with that months ago."

As a response Hermione just shrugged, the smile never leaving her face. She really didn't want any applause here. She was just extremely happy that those detentions were over now. Legifer didn't seem to want to say anymore, so Hermione stuffed her quill into her bag and got up from her chair. Then she turned around, intending to leave the office as fast as possible.

"Wait, Ms DeCerto." Legifer's sharp voice held her back.

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, silently begging Merlin to bestow her with patience, then she turned around to the professor. Legifer held the hateful book in her hand and offered it to Hermione.

"I want you to keep it," she informed in her clipped voice.

Hermione frowned at her. She was just going to open her mouth and tell the professor how she thought that book should be locked away in some dark place, as Legifer cut over her.

"I'm not at all convinced that you really took everything in," she said acridly. "I see that Mr Riddle is still refusing to take you back. Of course, I can understand him. He can easily find a replacement for you. But I told you before, that he might very well be your only chance to save yourself from a life alone. You really need to swallow your misplaced pride and finally apologize for whatever you did. Mr Riddle is a fine young man, I'm sure he will forgive you."

"And I'm not sure I want his forgiveness," Hermione replied in an icy cold voice.

Legifer continued to fix her with a glare. "Ms DeCerto, stop dreaming about things which will never come true anyway. You shouldn't run away from your duty."

Hermione couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in confusion. "My… duty?" she asked while furrowing her brow.

"Yes. Your duty as a woman," Legifer elaborated curtly. "You are supposed to marry, Ms DeCerto, and become a mother. Your duty is to support your husband and look after your family. Even if that implies that you have to give up some of your dreams."

"…duty…" Hermione whispered in a soft voice which sounded as if she were speaking to herself. Then her eyes flashed back at Legifer and she said louder voice, "I already gave up a lot of things, professor. I don't think I will sacrifice more."

Legifer huffed at her, "I have never seen you being anything but selfish. You need to learn a little humility. Especially towards Mr Riddle."

Hermione could feel her temper flaring up dangerously, and she had to pull herself back from yelling at the professor. "I think submissive servants is the one thing Tom has an ample supply of," she finally replied stiffly. "I'm sure he can do without me."

Legifer shook her head in annoyance. "Now, we finally agree in one thing," she declared. "Yes, Mr Riddle can do perfectly fine without you. He won't have a problem in finding a young lady who would be willing to become a good wife for him. But you, Ms DeCerto, you'll never find anyone if you don't change your attitude. You'll be alone."

Hermione stared at the 'professor'. She couldn't believe that she was discussing something like this. There were a lot of other problems she had to deal with. She didn't need Legifer's insanity. Still, her words stung. 'You'll be alone.'

"So, you want me to go to Tom and apologize, even though I didn't do anything wrong?" Hermione' voice became clipped. "And then what? Marry him? Have his children?"

"If you can convince him to give you another chance that would be at least one step in the right direction," Legifer replied in her strict voice.

Hermione laughed a completely humourless laugh, then she said darkly, "You have no idea how improbable that is. In many ways actually."

She felt almost a little touched as Legifer tried to smile encouragingly, completely misinterpreting her last statement. The smile failed anyway, then the professor suggested, "Just speak with Mr Riddle. He will listen to you. He might even accept your apology and forgive you."

It was comical, Hermione decided. Forgiveness certainly is no very prominent character trait of Lord Voldemort. She shortly wondered what would happen if she really accepted Legifer's insane advice. What would Tom say if she asked him to forgive her for being descended from 'lowly Muggles'.

Probably: 'Crucio', she concluded dryly.

A shiver ran down her spine as she once again realized how incredibly vulnerable she was without her magic. Hermione looked back at Legifer. She really didn't want to discuss with the woman anymore. This was leading nowhere. Even if Legifer's view of the female gender hadn't been completely twisted, she still had no idea who Tom really was. So, Hermione now just nodded at the professor.

"Thanks for your help," she managed to press out, almost chocking on her own words.

"I hope you take it at heart," was Legifer's sharp reply.

Then she again offered the horrible book to Hermione. Seeing no other way out of it, Hermione walked over to the professor and reluctantly took the hateful book from her. Then she grudgingly stuffed it into her bag, swearing she would never open it ever again. After a quickly muttered and very much lied 'Thank you', Hermione was glad to leave Legifer's office. She crossed her fingers, hoping to never have to enter that office ever again.

Hermione ltook off in direction of the Gryffindor tower. As she walked down the many corridors she checked her watch. It was nearly eight o'clock she noticed surprised. She hadn't realized that it was this late already, she had neatly missed dinner. Not that she would have been able to eat anything anyway, she thought. The dizziness still made her feel slightly sick. She had no idea how to deal with this situation. She needed her magic; otherwise she would never be able to get back in her own time period.

Calm down, Granger, you've been through worse, she tried to soothe herself. There surely was a way to get her magic back. She just hadn't found it yet. Her magic had started to dwindle four days ago. So, Hermione hadn't yet had the time to search through all books in the Library that could help her. There still was the Restricted Section. Maybe she could slip in there and search for an answer there. Hermione climbed the moving staircase, carefully avoiding the trick-step. As she reached the next floor she entered a passageway . The Gryffindor common room wasn't far away now. She was tired. Maybe she could sleep this whole problem off? Maybe tomorrow her magic would start to recover.

As she rounded the next corner, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and stared with wide eyes at the scene in front of her. All thoughts about her lost magic were forgotten as she saw Tom standing in the corridor. But he wasn't alone. He leaned with his back against the wall. His arms were snaked around a girl, pressing her against him, while he kissed her rather fiercely.

Hermione's stomach clenched and she suddenly felt very sick. Obviously Tom had noticed that someone had entered the corridor as he stopped kissing that girl and looked up. Hermione flinched as his hard gaze hit her. His face was an impenetrable blank but his eyes were hurling his disgust and hate undamped at her. Hermione felt herself starting to tremble as his eyes wandered unemotionally over her form. It was then that she got a glimpse of the girl in his arms. It felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach as she recognized Melanie Nicolls. She was staring at Hermione with an unbearably triumphant smirk on her face. Then Tom just bent down to Nicolls and started to kiss her again. He completely ignored Hermione. As if her existence was not worth his time.

Hermione turned around and hastened down the way she had come from. Her breathing was ragged and she bit the insides of her mouth to stop herself from sobbing. Since Tom had left her he had treated her like dirt, insulted her, hurt her and cursed her. But this! Kissing another girl. Embracing another girl. Now he had obviously torn all ties that had ever existed between them. She had run down a few corridors and her heart still hammered at a ridiculous speed, but Hermione slowed down.

You are pathetic! she told herself brusquely. Tom had left her a long time ago. This was nothing but another proof of that.

A little later, Hermione entered her dorm. She had taken a detour to avoid running in Tom again. She walked over to her bed in the dorm, sat down and drew the covers around her shut. Rose and Lucia were sitting on a bed while chatting and eating their way through a whole box of chocolate frogs. Hermione ignored their chatter but pulled her wand. Panic was mounting up inside of her as she stared down at the black wand in her hand. Since she had almost lost consciousness earlier this day and had thus fallen into Tom's arms, she hadn't tried to do any magic. She was scared. She raised the wand and waved it shakily at her pillow.

"Wingardium leviosa."

There was no reaction at all. No spell left her wand. Hermione wasn't able to feel that weak trickle of magic anymore. It was as if her magic had been ripped from her. Not even the Elder Magic wanted to come back to her. Everything was gone.

Hermione slowly removed her wand holster from her right forearm. Then she discarded both her holster and her wand under her pillow. She always slept with her wand under her pillow, but now the close proximity of her wand didn't manage to calm her anymore. Hermione was left behind completely defenceless and alone.

Unbidden, the image of Tom kissing Nicolls burned up in Hermione. She had no idea why it hurt her so much. Seeing him kissing somebody else shouldn't faze her like that. Not anymore. She trembled slightly as she curled up on her soft mattress. Her red Gryffindor quilt was wrapped around her but she still felt icy cold. Hermione closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would take her soon.

Hermione didn't know where she was. It was dark and the stone floor, she was lying on, was icy cold. She sat up and scanned her surroundings. There was nothing to be seen, except the darkness, which seemed to envelope everything. Hermione shuddered. It was so cold. She was completely alone in the darkness.

Her hand wandered to her right forearm and shock seared through her as she didn't feel her wand holster under the fabric of her blouse. She was alone and powerless. Her eyes gazed into the impenetrable darkness. Again she was met only by black void. An inexplicable fear slowly built up in her. She didn't want to be here. It was wrong. Something lurked there in the darkness, waiting for an opportune moment to attack her.

Hermione quickly scrambled to her legs. Then she hastened away. She tried to escape the darkness by fleeing into it. It didn't work. Her heart thrummed away in her chest. She dashed through the dark and sensed more than she could hear that someone was following her. Something evil hunted her.

Hermione's flight was stopped as she ran into something solid. She gasped in shock and pain as she tipped over and fell on the ground. Panic stopped all rational thought. She raised her head and looked up at what she had just now collided with. Her eyes widened and incredulity washed over her as she stared at the person, she had ran into.

"Ron?" Hermione's whisper was barely audible.

But it was him. Hermione knew that face so well. The freckles. His mouth that always looked as if a laugh played around it. His ginger hair. Everything was exactly like she remembered him. He was Ron and he was right here. Hermione's face lit up. She felt so relieved and unburdened. Ron was here! Nothing bad was going to happen to her when he was around. Joy, happiness, serenity and bliss hit her and Hermione just beamed up at him. She felt like bursting from all those feelings. She wanted to giggle.

But as she was so overwhelmed by her feelings, suddenly something odd hit her. The happy smile melted from her face as she realized that Ron hadn't reacted to her at all. He still stood there and hadn't moved to help her up. He just looked down at her. Hermione felt apprehension building up in her as she spotted a cold glimmer in his eyes. His hard gaze wandered over her. As he scanned her, the icy cold glint in his eyes only intensified. Hermione felt herself starting to tremble as his eyes locked with hers, and she could spot a distanced look on his face. Ron looked down at her and his hate-filled eyes bored into her.

"Ron?" she said, her voice trembling and weak. "What's wrong?"

He didn't reply anything but just continued to eye her, a dark and merciless expression on his face. Hermione's breathing was shallow.

"Look, something is here!" she told him in a scared, breathless voice. "You've got to help me out of here. Please!"

Still, he didn't react. Her panic and fear didn't seem to touch him at all. Then he opened his mouth and hissed at her. His voice was full of anger and hate. Hermione jerked as she could hear accusation tinting his words.

"If you need to hide behind something, why don't you use this?" Ron sneered at her.

After that he threw something at her. The object landed with an oddly muffled sound right in front of her. Hermione continued to look pleadingly up at him, but Ron just turned around and walked away. She started to tremble as she watched him abandoning her. In the blink of an eye Ron was absorbed by the darkness, and she was completely alone.

With a shaky hand she reached for the object Ron had thrown at her. She picked it up and stared at it. In her hand she held a white mask.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Weeks went by, April turned into May and slowly the Scottish weather got distinctly warmer. Hermione, though, didn't take any notice of this because she had a lot of problems to deal with.

Since her magic had stopped to work, she had somehow fallen in a state of constant panic. She desperately tried to find a way to bring her magic back. But whatever she did, whichever book she read, she couldn't find a solution for her problem. Her magic was gone, and she could barely hide it in class. She even temporarily stopped her attempts to find the Hallows in order to get her lost magic back.

Without her magic she felt horribly vulnerable. Especially when she had to face all the hostility coming from the Slytherins. Since they had learned about her parentage, the Slytherins made her life as miserable as they could. They threw her disgusted glances whenever they saw her. When there was no teacher present, they would even hiss insults at her or forego the niceties completely and just curse her. Hermione had to constantly watch her back when she was wandering the many corridors of Hogwarts. With her magic gone, she couldn't fend off any curses and had to rely on her reflexes to dodge them.

On top of that, she still head to somehow deal with Tom's behaviour towards her. She never let it show but his aversion still hit her hard. She did know how wrong he actually was. She hated Tom for reducing her to this, but she couldn't help feeling worthless when he looked at her in that demeaning way. Hermione had always been proud of her parentage and she still was, but Tom managed to make her feel dirty. She just tried not to think about him too much. But it was difficult.

As Hermione was frantically trying to regain her magic while evading the handsome Slytherin prefect, she failed to notice that Tom seemed to have a little project of his own.

_._._._._

Tom stared in disbelief at the beakers, standing in a row in front of him. Each one of them was filled to two-thirds with a dirty-green liquid, except for one. Its content was bright yellow. A sharp frown appeared between his eyebrows as Tom reached for that beaker. He picked it up and swerved the beaker as he looked in confusion at the yellow liquid.

"Hemlock?" Tom whispered in bewilderment. That didn't make any sense. He shook his head slightly before he placed the beaker back on the wooden laboratory bench. This didn't add up. At all.

Right now, Tom was in a small laboratory which was situated right beside the potions classroom. It was Slughorn's private working place. A few weeks ago, right after that damn Ortus potion had refused to work, Tom had asked the professor to let him use the laboratory. It had really irked Tom that the potion had not worked properly, so he had been quite determined to find the reason for his failure. He just didn't make mistakes, so the Ortus potion not working really annoyed him. That was the very reason why, over the last weeks, he had spent a lot of his time in this laboratory.

The Ortus potion actually consisted of thirty-four ingredients. Any one of those ingredients could have ruined the potion. So, Tom had taken the remains of the faulty potion and had tried to test it on every single one of those substances. This had proven to be quite time consuming. The complexity of the potion had made his endeavour rather frustrating, and to Tom's annoyance it hadn't supplied him with any results. He had actually considered giving up the whole thing, but, strangely, something had held him back. Something didn't sit right with him, and he wanted to find out what it was.

Why the hemlock? Tom wondered, disbelief washing over him. He again let his gaze wander over the many beakers, standing in front of him until he stopped at the one filled with yellow liquid. He actually didn't know why he had even tested the potion for hemlock, but after he hadn't come up with anything so far, he had gotten desperate. Though, he had never expected to get any results from that. The result was indisputable, though. Obviously, the reason that the Ortus potion had malfunctioned was the hemlock.

But that is impossible, Tom thought confused. How was it even possible to mess up with the hemlock? He knew that it was one of the last ingredients added, but it was an easy step. There was no special way to cut the hemlock nor anything else. It just needed to be added to the simmering potion. Not even its quantity was that important. It only got critical if there was added more than a hundred gram. Tom knew that something like that hadn't happened. He could actually picture it very well. Back then, he had been occupied with preparing the gilly weed, which was a little tricky, so he had wanted to do it himself. In the mean while, Hermione had cut the hemlock.

At that thought, Tom's body froze and his eyes widened. Hermione had worked with the hemlock? It hadn't been him nor Malfoy. No, it had been the Mudblood. A dark look crossed Tom's face and a red sheen flamed up in his eyes as he continued to stare at the beaker with the yellow fluid. Not even a dirty Mudblood could be incompetent enough to mess up with the hemlock. It was just not possible to make any mistakes here. But still, here it was, proof that exactly this step of the potion had ruined the result. So, if this couldn't have been a mistake…

Then it was intentional! an icy cold voice hissed at him, and Tom could feel his magic starting to swirl through him furiously. That disgusting Mudblood had intentionally sabotaged the potion? There simply was no other explanation.

Why would she do that? It didn't make any sense. Did she hate him so much that she risked her own mark in potions, just so she could make him look like an idiot? Tom's magic danced around him furiously. The force behind that power made the beakers vibrate dangerously. Then his temper snapped, he pulled his wand and angrily waved it. Immediately, the beakers burst, so that glass shards and liquid blemished the wooden surface of the work bench.

Tom continued to darkly glare at the chaos he had created, while trying to control his temper. He glared at the shattered beakers and the remains of the failed Ortus potion before he brandished his wand. The shattered glass disappeared, as did the remains of the Ortus potion. Tom cast a last angry look at the laboratory, then he grabbed a small vial, standing on a side board and stuffed it into his bag, before he turned around and left the small room.

Shortly later, Tom entered his dormitory and furiously slammed the door shut behind him. He wasn't going to bear the company of his stupid dorm mates. If any one of them dared to enter now, Tom wouldn't hesitate to curse them. In fact, he even wished for one of them to try and enter. Then he would at least be able to release some stress.
He walked over to his side of the dorm and sat down on his bed. The anger was still cursing through him. How could it be that the Mudblood spoilt his potion? How dare she? Frustration flooded him as he thought about all the time he had spent brewing that potion. Why would Hermione do it? It seemed so pointless. Why addle with the potion? If that potion hadn't been a group project, Tom would have understood her actions. But they had worked on that potion as a team, so she would get a bad mark, too, if she sabotaged it. It didn't make any sense, Tom thought furiously.

Unless…

A thought crossed his mind, and he abruptly got up from his bed and strode over to his desk where he had deposited his satchel before. He produced the small vial out of the school bag. He had taken that vial from the potion laboratory. He held the inconspicuous looking glass vial in his hand while he looked at it pensively.

Unless, this is a threat to her…

He needed to make sure, Tom decided as he scanned the colourless liquid in the vial. This idea would most probably not come up with anything, but he wanted an explanation for Hermione's rash behaviour. It wasn't like her to do things without a reason.

To test his theory, though, he would need her blood. Tom's index finger tabbed absentmindedly against the vial as he tried to find a solution. It would be rather difficult to steal blood from the witch. She was, after all, surprisingly well-trained for a dirty Mudblood. Thus she would notice if he tried anything. Tom placed the vial cautiously on his desk and then started to pace around the dorm. He really needed a sample of her blood. He needed her disgusting, repulsive blood. Tom suddenly stopped mid-step as a thought struck him. He whirled around and quickly stepped over to his trunk. He opened the lid and shuddered involuntarily as the first thing he saw was the ragged grey shirt he had to wear in the orphanage.

All of Tom's clothes and other possessions where either stored in his wardrobe or the shelf. The trunk, though, he only used to keep the things he really didn't need at all. Like this disgusting tunic, he thought as he pushed it away and rummaged through the other things. He quickly came upon a dark-green sleeveless pullover and pulled it out of the trunk.

Tom held it up and looked at that dark stain on the chest area of the pullover. He remembered the incident when it had gotten sullied. That was a few weeks ago. Hermione had staggered down one of the corridors, looking sick, while her nose had been bleeding. Somehow she had lost her balance as she had passed Tom. He had caught her. Tom shuddered disgusted as he remembered how her blood had then seeped into the material of his pullover.

He wondered why he hadn't just cast a cleaning charm on it, but somehow he hadn't wanted to wear it anymore after it had been stained by her disgusting blood. Which now proved to be a lucky coincidence. He put the pullover down on his desk. Then he pulled the stopper from the small glass vial before he drew his wand. He waved it over the stain on the pullover. Instantly the dried blood liquefied again, and with another wave of his wand, the blood came off of the material. It followed his wand movement, and Tom directed it into the small glass vial. The moment the blood made contact with the liquid in the vial, its colour changed from clear to an almost black blue. Tom closed the vial and cautiously churned it until the liquid was completely mixed with the blood. Slowly the colour changed again. The dark blue disappeared until the potion was again crystal clear. A small smile appeared on Tom's face as he watched that change of colour. It seemed the potion did work. Well, whatever one could say about Slughorn, he was quite competent at brewing potions.

Tom sat down on his chair before he pulled a piece of parchment from his satchel. He put the parchment down in front of him then he reached for the vial. He shortly glanced at the potion, swirling in the vial. A strange nervousness assailed him. He pulled himself together and warily let a few drops of the potion fall down on the parchment. As soon as the potion touched the parchment it was sucked into it, leaving nothing behind. Tom frowned down at the empty parchment. It was only after a short moment that slowly letters appeared on the parchment. Tom raised his eyebrows. This effect was quite spectacular. Maybe he should somehow use it, he thought, but then refocused on the writing on the parchment.

September 19th

It now read. Frustration washed over him. He had expected something more exciting. Why else would that witch have gone through the effort of foiling the Ortus potion? Tom just wanted to throw the parchment away in anger as more characters took slowly form. 'One' and then 'nine', obviously the year of birth, Tom realized bored. But then he drew in a sharp breath of air as the potion finally finished its magic and Hermione's year of birth was written down completely.

1979

Tom stared at the number with wide eyes and felt dizzy as his world shifted around him.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

Author's note: So, a new chapter. It was probably the most difficult one to write. I have no idea why. There are some parts I don't like at all. The scene with Dumbledore for example. I think I wrote three different versions of that. But I still don't like it. Well, I'll let you be the judge of it. ^^

So, in this chapter Grindelwald had his first appearance. I hope you can like my take on him, because there is very little we know about him from canon. But due to the fact that he and Dumbledore were once close, I didn't want his character to be anything resembling Voldemort.

Thank you very much for all your reviews. It certainly is very nice receiving so many reactions to my story. So, thanks:

randomnessxme, Millyca, Chrysanthemum Malfoy Riddle , Frivolous Fiction Fantasticate, Kate, E-magination, Tea42, jkl, Marissa, YumKiwiDelicious , Speechwriter , Crack Head Crazy , Summer Leah , Kichigai17 , PassionateLover15 , Jen103 , mary, Vinwin, ilovefireyredheads , nakyangel, HENRYFAN , desirable69 , minaseiko1 , xXRosexScorpiusXx , seriana14 , Dee, QueenReeBee, sexy-jess , Alrauna , cherrylilly , Relatela , Tyffanie. T , AKEMI SHIKON , Shakari , hellsgate696, abcdreamer , VampireLoverForever27 , Ceralyn , BottledCoke , EriEka127 , satoz , sarahr85 , peoplhi, Elliesmeow , FlowerChild67 , Ankoku Dezaia , angel0fdestiny , sweet-tang-honney , Starrgirlfish , belove, MissImpossible , thisobsessioniscontagious , gwennygrail , TomRiddleCrazy , LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL , Buckbeak-ate-my-wand , OfCakeAndIceCream