Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.

Warning: Mentions of abuse.

Chapter Twenty-One

Pensieve Memories No. 5 (Source: A. P. W. B. Dumbledore) — Conversation With Hermione

Something wrong must've happened to his daughter, Albus concluded when she arrived in his office with a huff and a few creases on her forehead. He watched as she plopped down on her seat across him without even acknowledging him and then proceeded to glare at the flames in the fireplace. Her bushy curls seemed to coil tighter which was a sign of her growing agitation. Albus chuckled as he put his tea on the coffee table with a soft click.

"Hello to you too, my darling daughter," Albus said genially, waiting for her to erupt which she promptly did.

"I cannot believe Fleamont!" She exploded, waving her hands wildly in the air. Albus almost shrunk back as though her short and thin arms would reach him. "Did you know that he told Tom to stay away from me?! The nerve of him! He's my friend but he can be such a prat sometimes! He has no right to tell Tom to stay away! He's my friend!"

Albus watched and listened to his girl, a hole of discomfort growing inside of his chest. Tom Riddle was an odd boy and much as he agreed with Fleamont Potter's sentiments, he also didn't want to gain Hermione's ire. Ever since she saw him in the orphanage, she had grown attached to him in a way that was increasingly alarming to Albus. He knew that his daughter had a habit of aligning herself with underdogs and mistreated creatures due to her bleeding heart but there was something about that boy that alarmed Albus.

Tom Riddle reminded him of another boy in a different time, with ice blue eyes and white blond hair. Albus shivered as he focused his attention to Hermione.

"Slow down, Hermione," he said to his daughter which she followed with another huff. "Usually, when I welcome you in my office with a greeting, I expect for you to return my greetings back." He smiled though, to let her know that there was no ill will. "Now, my dear, tell me what happened? And with pauses this time."

She looked sheepish before she reluctantly began her whole story again. Albus listened with rapt attention until she was over.

"And do you not find any merit in Mister Potter's statements?" Albus prodded gently.

Hermione shook her head. "Of course not, Papa, and those statements are more like accusations. Tom is not a dark wizard. Yes, his magic leans more towards the dark side but that's due to the environment that he grew up in. The orphanage is a dark place, you know that, Papa, so it shouldn't be surprising that his magic has a dark intent to it. But Tom Riddle is not a dark wizard. Magic is magic. There's no good or bad magic but only magic."

Albus nodded solemnly. If there was anyone who knew more about magic than anything else, it was Hermione. After all, the circumstances of her existence was a product of magic. Some might consider her existence dark while others would deem her wondrous.

"Tom Riddle is my friend," she declared. "Fleamont shouldn't have told him to stay away and thank Merlin that Tom has the decency not to listen to him. I care about the both of them but Fleamont is being unreasonable."

"Mister Potter cares about you as well, Hermione," said Albus. "That's why he warned Tom to stay away. He wants to protect you from harm."

"Tom will never harm me," she said full of conviction. "I'm his friend."

And you put too much trust in your friends, Albus thought grimly. One of his greatest fears was someone betraying and hurting his daughter.

"You are far too kind and trusting, my darling," he said tenderly. "But still, do not let either boy, or anyone else for the matter, take advantage of you and take you for granted."

By now, Hermione had relaxed if only barely. "They wouldn't do that. I carefully pick out my friends, Papa. I know that people try to get to me because I am a Dumbledore but I know better. If I don't find someone trustworthy, I stay away. If they're trustworthy, I'll befriend them."

"Ah, yes, but you do have a habit of picking the ones who, you think, need saving." Albus eyed her knowingly.

He knew the friends that she had all throughout the school. Most of them were older and someway or another, most of them had undergone extreme trauma as wel. Say, for example, Abraxas Malfoy who'd been caned and whipped since he was a boy and even up to this date. There was also Thaddeus Nott whose watchful father never allowed mistakes and was mostly ignored by his negligent mother. Then there was Edmund Rosier who watched his mother beaten to death and whose tongue had been cut off by his own father, making him incapable of speech despite of its newly regrown tongue.

He knew that Fleamont Potter was also brainwashed by his father with a black and white view of the world which Hermione would consider a handicap; Franklin Longbottom was a mess especially with his lack of confidence and self-esteem issues due to his harsh and strict father; and even Poppy Pomfrey had a questionable childhood.

All of Hermione's friends had terrible things happen to them and naturally, they gravitated towards Hermione as though she was the beacon of light that could save them. However, only Tom had the potential to do many great but also terrible things. The older Slytherins weren't the ones that he watched out for but it was the boy in the orphanage, whose power was obvious even at his young age.

"I can't save them," Hermione uttered softly, looking at the blazing fire. "Only they can save themselves and if they so choose. All I can do is help them realize that they can be saved and it's not too late."

Albus couldn't help but smile gently. This was his daughter, so wise even at the young age of twelve, and he couldn't be more proud of her at this moment.

He couldn't help but wonder though if Tom Riddle could be saved or if he was a lost cause from the start.

But maybe, Albus eyed his daughter as she finally poured tea into her cup, maybe with Hermione by his side, he didn't need to be saved because he'd already been saved by her.