The House of Salazar

. . . .

Hermione was standing in the Great Hall between Harry and Theo while Draco stood somewhere else, irritating her greatly.

Before they had entered behind, head deputy and head of Gryffindor house, Professor Mcgonagall, Draco had been taunting other first years named Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley and another black-haired boy who went by the name of James Evans

Even when she told him to back off, he hadn't listened. Now he was somewhere behind her with his two dunderheaded friends and some chit named Tracey Davis who followed him since they stepped off the train like a lost puppy. It was disgusting.

While she shared a boat crossing the lake with Harry and Theo, Draco had been too willing to share one with Crabbe and Goyle, snickering and acting as if they were unbreakable. Of course Hermione didn't mind, but he was acting like a complete tosser— it had gotten worse when Crabbe and Goyle had found him on the train.

Before they were sorted, the headmaster, an old fellow with a long white beard and a pointy hat, stood. This was the man that Tom wanted to be rid of? He seemed harmless. He was old and, surely, Tom could've killed him without much of a hassle.

Headmaster Dumbledore proceeded to warn the first years about the dark forest being forbidden and the corridor on the third floor to the right was strictly prohibited to anyone who wanted to avoid a painful death.

Eyes widened in disbelief, Hermione turned to Theo. "What in the world does that mean?"

He rolled his eyes. "It means stay away from the third floor corridor."

Pursing her lips, Hermione was too curious to let that slide. Had it always been off limits? Why was it forbidden? Shouldn't they have, she didn't know, repaired whatever made it so dangerous for students attending, anyway? It was quite odd and Hermione swore she would get to the bottom of it.

"When I call your name, you will be sorted into your house." Professor McGonagall announced, quieting the chattering amongst the first years, her face put out and her voice strict.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl about Hermione's height began to slowly make her way to the stool that sat before the students for everyone to see, her face pale and her eyes wide in horror.

Hermione looked on with interest, wondering how they were to be sorted and was surprised when the hat had shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table cheered loudly as they began to pound their fists against the table.

Surely they didn't base their sorting on a mangy old hat! That was quite absurd.

Hermione turned to Theo, whispering, "really? A hat dictates where we go?"

Theo snorted and whispered back, "ridiculous if you ask me."

"Bones, Suzan!" Mcgonagall called out clearly.

She was also sorted into Hufflepuff to loud cheers and pounding fists as well and Hermione was surprised that, so far, the two to first be sorted were going to the House of Helga.

Granger, Hermione!"

Mildly shocked that she was the third to get sorted, Harry pushed her forward and Hermione blinked, making her way to the stool. Mcgonagall placed the hat atop of her head, hiding her view from the other first year students and everything else in the Great Hall.

'Hello, deary. Well, I'll say, I haven't seen a mind quite like yours before. So many barriers, there are.'

Startled, Hermione slightly jumped at the voice in her head.

'Not to worry. Where to place you, hmmm.'

"How is this possible," Hermione muttered under her breath.

'Quiet now, so I can sort you, yes?'

"Er—"

'You're quite brave, but not brave enough to be sorted with the lions, but you are highly ambitious, I see.'

Ignoring the fact that the hat had basically said she was too much of a coward to be placed with the Gryffindor's, she hissed, "Are you reading my thoughts?!" Hermione panicked, hoping it didn't have the ability to see everything she'd planned.

'You'd do great in Ravenclaw, you know. Very intelligent, you are.'

Sighing, Hermione thought, 'do whatever you want, I'll succeed in any house you place me in.'

'Very well, then, "SLYTHERIN!"

The silence was deafening, not a single sound could be heard. Nodding her head in determination, Hermione took a seat at the end of the Slytherin table. She didn't dare look at her fellow house students, knowing they knew exactly what she was— a mudblood.

"Granger," a boy with spiky blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, tilted his head, examining her. "Dagworth-Granger?"

Hermione shook her head, lifting an eyebrow. "Just Granger."

"You must be a mudblood." The boy said, smirking. "Never met one personally before."

"Then today's your lucky day."

The boy laughed. "Adrian Pucey, third year."

"Pleasure," Hermione greeted.

"You shouldn't chat with filth, Pucey," a boy who had grumbled, seated next to Adrian. He had large teeth with oily black hair that was short and combed forward.

What an ugly wizard.

"I don't think she's all that bad," Adrian shrugged his shoulders. "She's Slytherin, after all. Gotta count for something, yeah?"

The ugly wizard snorted, turning his attention elsewhere.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione faced forward, smiling as Draco sat beside her, nodding his head, a sheepish grin on his face.

"What did you do." Hissed Hermione under her breath, her eyes narrowed.

"Nothing!" He exclaimed. "I did nothing."

"Uh-huh."

Crabbe and Goyle joined the table and Hermione sighed. Not the two most promising in Slytherin house, but she could work around that. Soon after, Greengrass joined along with Hadrian and Theo, the former looking rather put out as he continued to throw sharp glares at the blonde chit. Parkinson joined the fray, followed by Tracy Davis, Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini.

The headmaster stood once again, babbling about one thing or another and clapped his hands. A grand feast appeared on the four tables and Hermione was impressed by the different foods.

There was roasted beef and roasted chicken; pork chops and lamb chops; sausages and bacon; steaks and kidney pie; boiled potatoes and roasted potatoes, along with mashed potatoes; Yorkshire puddings, peas and carrots; gravy and ketchup.

There were different varieties of sweets; ice cream of different flavors, apple pies and blueberry pies; chocolate gateau and other desserts Hermione had never seen or tasted before.

"Granger."

Hermione sighed as she began to make her plate. She decided on roast beef with mashed potatoes and carrots. Once she was done, she picked up her silverware and stared at Parkinson.

"I've never heard of that surname."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No, I don't believe you would have." She smirked. "Until recently, that is."

"So you're a mudblood."

"Merlin, Pansy," Harry snarled. "Lay off, will you."

Hermione began to dig into her plate. She was starving and she refused to have Pansy bloody Parkinson ruin her appetite.

"Why should I? She doesn't belong, Hadrian." Parkinson retorted, slamming her goblet onto the table.

"She's right, you know." Greengrass agreed quickly. "Mudbloods aren't allowed in the House of Salazar."

Theo snorted into his cup. "Neither are the dim-witted," he muttered. "But you somehow managed to be sorted into Slytherin anyway."

"Theodore!" Greengrass shrieked.

"That Evans kid." Draco muttered under his breath to Hermione, ignoring the girls quarreling with the brothers. "Father told me to befriend him."

He glared at the gryffindor table and Hermione looked up, watching the black-haired boy laugh with his house-mates.

"Let me guess," Hermione sighed. "He refused and that is why you're glaring at him?"

"Merlin, he's such a tosser," Draco mumbled under his breath. "Refusing my friendship." He scoffed. "Unbelievable."

Hermione snorted, taking a sip of her drink from her goblet.

"Do you know why your father asked to befriend him?" Hermione asked, taking a bite of her food.

"Father heard gossip in the ministry," he murmured. "Dumbledore has been training him."

"Who is he?" Hermione put her silverware down, observing the boy with newfound interest. "And training? For what?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted quietly. "Father wouldn't say."

Hermione leaned over, trying to get a better view. "He looks familiar, don't you think?"

Draco nodded. "I thought so too."

"Draco!" Tracy Davis whined, grabbing his arm. "What do you think?"

Rolling her eyes at Davis, Hermione made eye contact with Harry. She lifted an eyebrow causing him to shake his head, as he dug into his own plate of food.

Her attention back at the red and gold table, she furrowed her brows as she stared at the dark haired boy sitting between two other boys who were sorted with him realizing it was Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Why was Dumbledore training him? What could he possibly prepare the first year for? It was odd.

Soon after, the feast ended and Hermione walked along with Harry down to the dungeons where Slytherin was housed.

She couldn't stop thinking about her conversation they had on the train. It was obvious he and Theo knew more than they had let on. She wanted to know more. She needed to know more— but how to go about it was the difficult part. She knew if she wanted them to spill their secrets, they would expect her to do the same.

Listen up!" The girl in the front, who looked about sixteen, had shouted. "My name is Isobel Fawley and I am Head Girl. This is the entrance to the common room. The password is Serpent—"

Hermione, along with Harry and Draco snorted.

"—and if you forget the password, you won't be allowed to enter." She swiftly turned as she clearly stated the password.

The stone wall soon began to dissolve, leaving an opening for everyone to enter.

Standing in the common room, Hermione nodded her head in appreciation. There were black leather couches surrounding the fireplace near one wall and three rectangular tables near the other for students to study. Up against the back wall were tall windows, displaying the murky green lake, fishes swimming about.

"There's a giant squid that lives in the Black Lake, you know," Theo whispered.

Hermione snorted. "I know, Theo. I did read Hogwarts: A History."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Why did I ever doubt you?"

"Don't do it again?" Hermione murmured, snickering along with Theo, earning a shush from Greengrass.

Narrowing her eyes at Theo's intended, Hermione scoffed, turning her attention back to the Head Girl.

"Alright," Fawley began, turning around to face the students of Slytherin. "There are a couple ground rules I'd like to go over. First rule, Slytherin house takes care of our own—"

"What about the mudblood?" Pansy sneered, earning nods of agreement and whispered chattering as they began to point and stare at Hermione.

"You'll learn soon enough, Parkinson, that you do not interrupt your elders." Fawley scowled. "And the mudblood is one of us and what I had said still stands, the mudblood included, we look after our own. Does anyone have a problem with that?"

"We all do!" An older boy had yelled out to shouts of conformity.

Hermione rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall. Childish, incompetent, bigoted children that have no idea what the world was like outside their precious pureblood homes. She glared at Parkinson. She was going to have to teach Harry's betrothed a lesson, the trollop.

Shaking her head at the boys, obviously worried for her well-being, Hermione turned away from them as she listened to Fawley.

"Unfortunately," Fawley continued, "I don't give a rats arse. The mudblood is one of us, take it how you like. You don't have to associate with her, but if you attack her or single her out outside of Slytherin, that will be a month of detention— I don't care about the other mudbloods, but Granger is Slytherin, I expect all of you to have her back outside these walls. We are a family once we leave the comfort of our common room. Am I clear?"

Harry leaned over, whispering, "do you want me to take care of Parkinson or do you have the situation under control?"

"I got it," Hermione muttered under her breath. "Wouldn't want you to ruin your arrangement with the chit." She smirked. "What would your father say?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry murmured a sarcastic, "funny."

"First years, curfew is at nine," Fawley continued. "No food in your dorms and there will be an inspection every other week to make sure you're tidying up your sleeping arrangements.

"If you have any issues, take it up with either myself or our head of house, Severus Snape. Do not," Fawley declared. "Go to the Head Boy with your problems. He isn't one of us.

"Study time is a requirement— there will be a list on the wall near the tables and no one is allowed to skip house meetings— if you do, you'll receive more than detention. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a chorus of yes, ma'am around the room and hermione found herself liking the head girl.

"Boys dormitories to the left, girls to the right. You'll find your trunks and other school provisions up there as well." Fawley drawled, picking at her nails. "Do not even think about going into the opposite sex's dorm, the punishment is dished out by Professor Snape, himself, and I'd hate to be confronted with what he has planned if any of you disobeys his instructions.

"You'll receive your timetables tomorrow at breakfast, 7 AM sharp, do not be late." She waved her hand. "Go to bed. Now."

Hermione sighed as she pushed herself off the wall. She nodded her head towards Harry, Theo and Draco as they sauntered up the stairs leading to the boys dormitories.

Turning, she swiftly rushed up the stairs and into the room she would be sharing with the other first year girls; Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis and Millicent Bulstrode.

Noticing her trunk by the four poster bed at the far end of the room, she made her way towards her trunk and claimed the corner hers and began to unpack her things she'd brought from the orphanage. It was nice of Mrs Daniels to purchase her clothings and shoes and feminine products.

"I can't believe we have to share space with a mudblood," Pansy hissed as she entered the room.

"It is disgusting," Greengrass agreed, smirking as she walked in, right behind Parkinson. "Hello, mudblood filth. I noticed how close you are to the Nott brothers."

"Draco too," Davis pointed out, scowling.

Sighing, Hermione finished putting her belongings in the drawer next to her bed. She then turned, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned her hip against the drawer.

The other girls, besides Greengrass, began to situate themselves on their four poster beds.

"One letter to my father," Greengrass continued, "and he'll have you out by the end of the week. You see, my father is close to Mister Nott and Mister Malfoy and I would hate for anything terrible to happen to you."

Hermione yawned. "Are you finished?"

"Not quite." Greengrass sneered. "Stay away from the boys and everything will be great."

Shaking her head, Hermione chuckled. "Do whatever you want, Daphne, and I'll do the same, yeah?"

"This isn't over, mudblood," Greengrass snarled.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned away, assuring Nagini was wrapped around her arm.

Softly, she murmured, "I am so sorry. I promise, I'll let you go in the morning."

Nagini hissed. "Lies."

"No, I promise. Unless you can find your way outside, you're free to go, just don't get caught." Hermione warned. "And you must come back or I'll worry."

"Why are you hissing, you freak!" Parkinson shrieked, her gaze narrowed on Hermione.

What? Hissing? Why would she be hissing? Ignoring Parkinson, she watched as Nagini discreetly slithered down her arm and underneath her bed.

Hermione quickly bent over and whispered, "be fast about it, yeah?"

Once she finished dressing into her nightgown, she quickly reached for the journal tucked in her cloak and slipped it onto her bed. Hermione swiftly slid under her covers and smiled sweetly at her roommates before pulling the curtain around her, hiding her from view.

Closing her eyes, Hermione ignored their whispered chattering, no doubt plotting to bring her down. She'd have to be careful around those four.

Fiddling with the journal's hard cover, Hermione knew it was time to face Tom. Slowly, she flipped the book open and scoffed at what was written.

'I'm assuming you're dead if I haven't heard from you in quite some time. Where are you, little dove?'

Pressing her palm onto the page, she began to feel the slightest tingle before her stomach dropped and she was standing in a dark room.

Squinting, Hermione took a hesitant step forward.

"Tom?" She whispered, taking another small step. "Are you there?"

"Hello, little dove." Tom greeted quietly. "I've missed you, you know."

Hermione snorted. "I'm so sure. Could you please, I don't know, turn the lights on?"

There were two claps that echoed around the room before torches lined up against both walls set aflamed.

"Better?" Tom asked sardonically.

"Much, thank you." Hermione snipped back.

"Come," Tom beckoned, gesturing to the chair seated next to him. "Have a seat."

Gliding towards the chair, Hermione looked around. The room was quite large with books lined up on the stone walls leaving space for the torches. The ceilings were tall displaying the night sky.

"Where are we?" She asked, taking her seat.

Shrugging, Tom fiddled with his wand, a look of pure madness glinting in his eyes. He was angry, no doubt, and Hermione tried her best not to make any sudden movements lest he attacked her.

"Tell me, dove, how was your trip to Diagon Alley?" Tom quiered, his attention solely on his wand.

Hermione cleared her throat. "It was successful." She informed him. "I've met a peculiar friend of yours."

Tom lifted a brow. "Really?"

"Yes," she answered. "Nagini."

Slowly, Hermione watched the anger in his eyes fade away and the corner of his mouth lifted in a genuine smile.

"I've wondered where she'd gone off to." Tom said softly. "How'd you come to find her, then?"

"Knockturn Alley." Hermione answered, smiling herself.

Although she was terrifyingly frightened of her at first, Hermione had grown to like the serpent. Why shouldn't she? Nagini has sworn to protect her. Well, only for Tom's sake but there was plenty enough time to at least befriend her.

"And you speak with her?" He asked, brows lifted in surprise.

Hermione's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Yes? Can't everyone speak with her?"

Tom snorted, shaking his head. "Not really, no. Only Salazar was able to speak with snakes along with his descendants. I believe Merlin, himself, and Herpo the Foul had the ability, also." He narrowed his eyes. "It seems you are able to as well. Must be the horcrux in you."

"Oh." Hermione said, taken back by the revelation of it all. Merlin was able to speak with snakes? She definitely needed to do some research.

It was a good thing she hadn't spoken with Nagini in front of the others. That definitely would have caused her unwanted attention. It also explained why Parkinson asked why she was hissing. She was conversing with Nagini when the chit had asked.

Hermione wanted to bang her head against a wall because she had read in Hogwarts: A History that Salazar Slytherin was able to speak with snakes. It must be a magical trait because Hermione never heard before now that was even a possibility. She'd have to research more on the topic. Realization dawned on her. Tom was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin! Fascinating!

But that wasn't the only thing that had caught Hermione's attention. What did he mean by a horcrux? What the bloody hell was that? Was he referring to the fragment of his soul that was inside her? Did she acquire some of Tom's gifts? She'd have to look into that as well. It was all very interesting to her.

"Take care of her for me, will you?" Tom whispered, his thoughts obviously occupied. "Until my return."

"Of course." She replied.

Hermione knew better than to bring up his ancestors. He wasn't in the mood and she'd bring the topic up at a later time.

"I've been sorted into Slytherin." She told him quietly. "My roommates," she snorted. "Rotten girls, the lot of them."

"I don't doubt it." Tom replied. "Congrats. Slytherin house has gained a powerful witch."

"Thanks to you, of course." Hermione sarcastically added.

Tom chuckled. "There is that."

Hermione glanced around the room in amazement itching to read every treatise on the shelves. Tom was still gazing at his wand in thought and she wanted to know what was going through his mind.

"What news have you of Thoros?"

Nodding, Hermione said, "he has raised the Potter boy as his own and I'm positive he knows he is truly not a Nott."

"How do you know this, dove?"

Shrugging lightly, Hermione sat back in her chair. "The Potter boy let his hatred for Dumbledore known while eating lunch in Diagon yesterday. I just pieced the information together."

"Interesting." Tom said, his eyes shifting away from his wand and his glare penetrating right through Hermione's soul. "Anything else?"

"Well," Hermione started slowly. "I haven't heard any talk about you while I was out, but I did hear about Albus Dumbledore training a boy that was sorted into Gryffindor. His name is James Evans, I believe."

Tom's eyes flashed red before settling into a light blue Hermione was more familiar with. "Lucius had told his son to befriend the boy, but hadn't succeeded— mind you, I've just found this out recently and, really, Lucius telling his son to do this and that is quite tiring— I mean, who has their child do all the dirty work, it doesn't make sense if you were to ask me and—"

"Dove," Tom ridiculed, putting an end to her rambling. "Are you alright?"

"Are you alright? You're acting weird, Tom." Hermione said under her breath. "I don't like it."

He quickly stood and with quick-like reflexes, he was right in Hermione's face, sneering as his arms rested on the armrest of her chair, trapping her in. His eyes stayed focused on her, never blinking.

"You will never disregard me again, Hermione." He snarled, his upper lip curled in disdain. "When I write, you will answer. Do you understand?"

Audibly swallowing, Hermione pushed him back, keeping a look of boredom etched on her face. "I don't answer to you, Tom."

Quickly, he wrapped his hand around her throat, smirking at her evilly. "Oh, but you do. You. Are. Mine."

"Enough!" Hermione snapped, gripping his fingers and throwing his hand off of her neck, controlling the trembles wracking through her. "Haven't we've gone through this before?"

He snarled, jerking away from her as he slouched in his chair. "I don't like being in the unknown."

"And you're not." Hermione assured him, sighing as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you want to do this together or not?"

He scoffed, crossing his arms like a petulant child. It was as if she were walking on eggshells with him. She hoped it was because of his being trapped in his journal for so long, he had forgotten his manners and the reason behind his shite attitude. Hermione needed to find a way to free him as soon as she could because she wasn't sure how long she could put up with volatility. If only he would open up to her and tell her what she needed to do.

But, again, tonight was not the night for that conversation. She was beginning to think any time was the wrong time when it came to Tom unless he sanctioned it.

Treading carefully with what she wanted to bring up next, Hermione thought it best to just jump into it.

"Dumbledore doesn't look all that scary, you know." Hermione said carefully.

"He's more powerful than you think, little dove." Tom snapped. "Don't let his old looks fool you."

Pursing her lips, Hermione nodded. He had a point. She was only eleven and she knew she was more powerful than most in her house.

Refusing to give up, Hermione thought about what Dumbledore had announced before the sorting ceremony. It was better to bring it to his attention now.

"During your time at Hogwarts," Hermione began quietly. "Was the third floor corridor off limits?"

"Of course, not." He said through clenched teeth. "Why?"

Sighing heavily, Hermione was really growing tired of the way he was behaving. Did he have to be so hard to speak with?

"Dumbledore has forbidden any student to go there." She pursed her lips. "Unless they want to die a painful death."

Tom snorted, shaking his head. "You can't be serious?"

Hermione didn't reply.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Tom said, exasperated. "He's hiding something down there."

Nodding, Hermione agreed. "I thought so as well."

Tom chuckled. "That's what you're going to find out, dove." He stood from his chair and began to pace. "I want you to learn more about that Evans fellow."

"Why?" Asked Hermione.

"That was Potter's mother's maiden name; Lily Evans." Tom informed her, shaking his head. "But it doesn't make sense. If she had spawned another child, it would've—" he stopped his pacing and quickly turned his attention to Hermione. "Potter mustn't know, Hermione. He can't know."

Shaking her head in confusion, Hermione asked, "what do you mean, Tom? Of course he doesn't know. He thinks you're his father."

"I believe I have made a mistake." Tom murmured to himself.

"Okay," Hermione said, trying to figure out what he was going on about. "You need to explain it to me, Tom, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure, whatever it is that's troubling you, doesn't happen."

"You were right," he muttered under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. "It seems I have been betrayed and I believe I know exactly who it is."

"Who?" Hermione breathed, her heart skipping a beat.

Tom narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. "Not right now. I'll let you know when the time is right. I need you to focus now more than ever, Hermione. Can you do that?"

Clenching her teeth, Hermione gave a curt nod. It seemed she didn't have a choice in the matter. She didn't want to show how annoyed she truly was of him coming to a conclusion on who the traitor was and continued to keep her in the dark. It wasn't fair.

She itched to seek her revenge. To avenge her family — it was her right — and Tom was keeping that from her just to further his own cause. No matter. She'd play along until he trusted her enough to tell her what he knew. Then she would betray him and he wouldn't be the wiser, the psychopath fool.

After all, she was planning on winning in the long run, it wouldn't hurt her at all if she helped Tom. She had always been patient. Everything would be worth it in the end.

"What do you need me to do?" Hermione bit out, her hands clenched into tight fists.

"I need you to gather any information you can on this James Evans," Tom hissed his name as if it were cursed. "Find out what that fool of a headmaster has hiding on the third floor corridor. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Hermione concurred. "I can do that."

Narrowing his eyes, Tom took a step towards Hermione, slowly. Then another until he was standing above her, glaring down his nose at her.

Tilting her head up to keep steady eye contact, Hermione continued to stare, refusing to back down.

"Is there… anything else you'd like to tell me?" Tom queried softly, his hands placed behind his back.

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "that's all."

"Have you formed," he grimaced, "a friendship with my followers' sons, little dove?"

Scoffing, she quickly rose to her feet, groaning as Tom stood his ground. "And if I had?"

He chuckled, tucking a curl behind her ear causing Hermione to tense. He then lowered his head, his mouth at her ear and whispered maliciously, "would you like to find out, little dove?"

Shoving him away, Hermione stormed past him. "Send me back."

"We're not—"

Swiftly turning, she pointed a finger at him. "Send me back now, Tom."

Rolling his eyes, he lifted his hand and sneered. "This isn't over, dove. If you don't succeed," he shrugged, "then there's no use for you, now is there?"

Before she could reply, she breathed deeply, quickly sitting up in her bed. The journal in her lap, she glared at it as she picked it up, shoving it underneath her mattress.

"The tosser." She muttered under her breath, fluffing her pillow as she laid her head down. "How dare he threaten me."

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

. . . .

Hermione shot up from her bed to uncontrollable cackling from her roommates. Confused, she looked around and gasped. There were long thick curls of hair covering her duvet. Slowly reaching for her mane, she whimpered. Her curls were gone, leaving tufts of hair in different spots on top of her head.

Tears began to gather in her eyes and she hissed in pain as she threw the covers off. Her legs were cut up, the word mudblood etched a dozen times, covering her thighs and legs.

Blind fury engulfed her as she continued to stare at the dried blood on her legs, her thighs and on her bed covers. How did she sleep through the night without knowing what they had done to her? She couldn't have been that deep asleep to not feel anything.

Wiping away her tears, Hermione slowly laid back down, grabbing her covers and gently wrapping it over her— she wanted to lay in bed all day and forget everything for just a moment.

For a split second, Hermione wished she could live a normal life where she wasn't abandoned and alone in both worlds. She wanted to feel wanted just once in her eleven, almost twelve, years of living.

It seemed life had different plans for her and wouldn't give her the break she desperately wanted until her goals were achieved. She was beyond exhausted and Hermione just wanted a small respite from her dramatic life— apparently that was asking for too much.

"Oh, mudblood," Parkinson called out in a sing-song voice. "It's time to wake up. You need to collect your timetable from Professor Snape in the Great Hall."

"Yes, filth," Greengrass tittered. "Wouldn't want to disappoint him, you know."

Covering her mouth, Hermione stifled a scream she so badly wanted to release. She would not give them the satisfaction. Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing as she counted backwards from ten in French.

Although she desperately wanted to kill them all, she knew showing her hand was not the way to go. She couldn't magically let her hair grow, knowing it would bring her attention she didn't want, she was only a first year. She'd have to get help.

My little Hermione.

Hurt them. Hurt them all.

Show them.

Hermione shook her head. She couldn't. Not now. Deeply inhaling, she snapped her eyes open, determined to get through the day. She had been through worse at the orphanage, after all. Swiftly wiping any proof of her crying, she was ready to show them she was unbothered and appearances really didn't matter to her. She'd get her revenge when they weren't expecting it. She'd have to wait them out. She'd wait until they had forgotten what they'd done to her and then, she would strike.

Sitting up and throwing the covers off of her body, Hermione lifted the hem of her nightdress, grimacing as it brushed her thighs and her legs, and yanked it over her head. She then stood from her bed, pulling the curtains.

Sending her roommates the most hateful glare she could muster, Hermione turned around, showing the scars on her back. The laughter came to a complete stop as she stood, wearing nothing but her undergarments. She didn't dare turn around to gauge their reaction, their silence was enough.

Quickly, she stepped into her skirt and gracefully put her white long sleeve button up on. She then wrapped her Slytherin tie around her neck while she slipped into her black shoes, sans the stockings. Grabbing her black robe, she swiftly threw it around her shoulders and grabbed her wand resting in her trunk, slipping it into her robe pocket. She then looked around for Nagini and figured she'd left last night to search for food.

As she grabbed her bathroom kit from her drawer, Hermione made her way to the restroom she shared with her roommates, shutting the door quietly. She began to brush her teeth and wash her face. Once she was done, Hermione finally looked into the mirror and sighed. She looked absolutely hideous. She was sporting bald spots that made her look sickly. Her face was flushed crimson, her freckles more noticeable than before, and her eyes were bloodshot.

"No matter," Hermione told her reflection. "You don't need to be beautiful to rule the world. And once you do, they'll learn soon enough."

Yanking the door opened, Hermione smirked at the witches who looked on with unease. "Thanks for the trim, girls. I was in need for one."

She then walked to her bed, unloading her books into her school bag. Striding towards the door, she snorted, shaking her head. "Pathetic."

Skipping down the stairs, Hermione ignored the laughter from her housemates as she stepped out of the common room. She'd get them too. All of them.

"Mi?" Theo called out hesitantly. "What happened?!"

She quickly stopped her rush to the Great Hall as Theo and Harry stood beside her.

"Who did this?" Harry demanded, his eyes widened as he took in her hair and cut up legs that her skirt wasn't able to cover. "Why hadn't you healed those?"

He then pulled out his wand, the tip aimed at her legs as he began to mutter a spell under his breath. Hermione breathed, relieved the pain had ebbed away. She lifted her skirts, examining her thighs and legs, smiling. The cuts were completely healed.

"How'd you do that?" She breathed, beaming at Harry as she quickly gave him a hug. "You're amazing."

"I know I am," Harry replied, chuckling. He slowly pushed her away, glaring. "Doesn't explain why I had to heal you in the first place." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Merlin, Mi, the cuts spelled out mudblood!"

"What happened, Hermione?" Theo demanded, rubbing her head, grimacing.

Swatting his hand away, Hermione scowled. "I'm handling it. Where's Draco?"

"He's already in the Great Hall with Crabbe and Goyle." Theo told her with a roll of his eyes. "Wouldn't shut up about the Evans boy that was sorted into Gryffindor."

Slowly nodding, Hermione turned to Harry. "How are you?"

They began their trek to the Great Hall and Harry shrugged. "Great if you tell us what happened to you."

"It's nothing, alright?" Hermione said exasperated. "I'm handling the situation."

Nagini then slithered her way towards Hermione on the stone floor in front of them.

"There you are!" Hermione exclaimed, dropping to her knees with her left arm out for the serpent to slither up, its head resting in the crook of her neck— her school robes covering the serpent excellently.

"I still can't believe you have that snake," Theo muttered under his breath as they continued their way to the Great Hall.

"Don't you think we should stop by the infirmary so they could regrow your hair?" Asked Harry, casting Hermione worried looks.

Chuckling, Hermione shook her head. "I think I'll leave it as it is for now."

Theo reared back, grabbing her arm. "You can't be serious? You'll be the joke of the school."

"And it isn't very Slytherin of you to leave their mark on you, you heard what Fawley said last night; drama between housemates stay in the commons room." Harry added, a worried look in his eyes. "We told you that this would—"

"I am fine," Hermione ground out. "I said I am handling the situation, so trust me. Don't worry about Fawley, I'll take care of her as well."

Without another word being exchanged between the three, they made their way to the Slytherin table and sat across from Draco, Crabbe and Goyle.

"M—Mi!?" Draco exclaimed, his face completely flabbergasted. "What happened?"

Goyle barked out a laugh, earning a glare from the four friends. He then cleared his throat and continued to eat his breakfast.

"Mi," Draco said, his voice worried. "You look horrible."

"I know, Draco!" Hermione snapped. "I am handling the situation, alright!?"

"Shite," Adrian walked up to the first years, sitting next to Goyle. "What happened to you, then, Granger?"

Sighing, Hermione ignored him as she began to pile her plate with breakfast food; bacon, boiled eggs and toast.

She didn't have to explain herself to anyone.

"Miss Granger," a voice drew from behind her and she groaned, shoving a piece of toast in her mouth from replying.

The boys around her snickered and she glared at them.

"Although I would compliment you greatly on your choice of hairstyle, I must send you to the hospital wind to fix your error," Snape said in a monotone voice. "A magic mishap, maybe? Doesn't matter, go now, Miss Granger."

Harry elbowed her to stand and Hermione rolled her eyes. She faced the professor and smiled as he handed her the schedule for her classes.

"Thank you, Professor."

He lifted a sardonic eyebrow. "Do not be late to my class, Miss Granger."

Sighing, she nodded her head and trotted out of the Great Hall. Hermione didn't even know where the blasted Hospital Wing was located, how was she supposed to arrive to class on time?

"Granger!" Adrian called out. "Wait up."

Sighing heavily, Hermione turned to face him as he ran down the hall towards her. "I'd figure I'd help you out."

"Why, Pucey?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "What's in it for you?"

"Nothing at all, just a fellow housemate helping out another." He smirked, nodding his head. "Let's go, shall we? Professor Snape will tear you a new one if you're late."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione walked besides Adrian as he guided her to the Hospital Wing. It was quite embarrassing but she quickly pushed that aside. She didn't have time for embarrassment.

"What happened, anyway?" He asked, refusing to look at her.

"My roommates decided to give me a little trim." Hermione replied curtly. "I like it."

Adrian snorted. "Sure you do." He glanced at her. "What're you going to do about it?"

"Why would you assume I'd do anything?"

He paused, his lips pursed. "There's something… off… about you," he murmured. "I'm going to figure it out."

Hermione scoffed. "Good luck."

"The others might just see a mudblood," Adrian voiced. "But I'm not so dim-witted."

"Goody for you, Adrian." Hermione muttered under her breath.

Entering the Hospital Wing, Hermione turned to her escort. "Thanks, but I got it from here."

Shrugging his shoulder, he saluted her and then walked off, throwing a, "see you later, Granger," over his shoulder.

Once Madam Pomfrey beagan to fuss over her and regrow her curls, she sent Hermione on her way.

Sighing, she left the Hospital Wing with heavy steps, taking out her timetable. She had a two hour potions class with the Gryffindors, followed by Herbology with the Ravenclaws.

Rushing down the halls to get to her potions class with Professor Snape, she hoped one of the boys had saved her a seat. She continued to run down stairs after stairs to get to the potions classroom, thankful the moving stairs were working in her favor, that was located in the dungeons. Why was everything so spaced out? Did the staff want children to be late to their classes? It was ridiculous.

Entering Snape's class, she smiled. "Sorry, I—"

"Take a seat next to Mister Nott, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said, glaring at the class, silencing the laughter from the students at her tardiness.

Her cheeks flushing red, Hermione made her way to Theo's table. He gave her an encouraging smile and she returned the smile, turning back to Professor Snape as he resumed his lesson.

Glancing around, she noticed Harry sitting with Draco behind her. Looking across the room, she spotted James Evans, sitting next to that Weasley fellow.

Facing forward, she began to plan a way to speak with him without her house knowing. She had more important matters to deal with than to worry about petty house rules.

Hermione glanced behind her again and noticed her roommates sitting in pairs as well behind Draco and Harry; Parkinson with Greengrass and Bulstrode with Davis.

Catching Parkinson's eye, Hermione smirked, flipping her hair then proceeded to blow her a kiss. The chit sneered, ducking her head, causing Greengrass to turn her attention to her. Hermione winked, her smirk still in place.

Not bothered to catch Greengrass' reaction, Hermione turned back around as she began to focus on the lesson Professor Snape was teaching, running her fingers through her curls that had grown miraculously fast. She would not let what had happened last night happen again. As soon as lunch came around, she would find the library and search for books that would help her with spells to protect her from rats like her roommates.

It was going to be a long year of dishing out revenge and looking out for herself, but Hermione would push through it and she would have everyone in Slytherin cowering before her soon enough.

Yes, my little Hermione.

Patience.