Hi everyone!

As always, thanks for the reviews!

I'm always really pleased to read them (and I hope the story will live up to your expectations ^^)

Have a nice day,

Perhentian

oOoOoOo

Chapter 26 - August - September 1995

Hermione Apparated directly in the courtyard of the Nox Club. A very select place, that was both a very trendy bar and a casino. She had never been inside before, but she knew that Ginny had dragged Harry there to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary. From what she had understood, it was splendid, but you had to either book a good number of months in advance, or be one of the very few VIPs of the place.

Ginny had spent the previous evening grumbling about how unfair it was that Voldemort was a VIP – to be able to book a slot so shortly –, but Harry had managed to calm her explaining that Voldemort was definitely not a VIP, and that he would surely sneak into the Nox Club the same way they were planning to do.

Hermione was not so sure anymore that Harry had been correct however. Because this morning she had received an invitation that looked perfectly official to go to the club tonight, and if Voldemort had been able to intimidate someone enough to get her an invitation, then he had probably also been able to get himself added to the VIP list if he wanted to. Not that he deserved it.

"Do you have a reservation Madam?"

The voice was polite, and Hermione showed the invitation to the two porters guarding the entrance. They only looked very briefly at the invitation, and bowed respectfully before her.

"Please follow me," one of them said, opening the door for her.

She entered a richly crafted room, and immediately one of the porters went in search of a waiter.

Hermione took the opportunity to observe the main room of the club. It was full of people, all richly dressed, and seemingly having a lot of fun. Hermione nearly snorted. Yeah, sure, no better moment to drown yourself in expensive champagne than when there was a dozen of two times escaped Death Eaters regularly blowing things up.

And talking about Death Eaters... Hermione scanned the room carefully, and indeed recognized several familiar faces. Lucius Malfoy. Nott. Avery. Yaxley. All those who could still wander freely, and who had enough power in the present government to be accepted here.

She also caught a glimpse of Harry, Ron, and Ginny under their glamours, carefully placed to be able to watch the whole room. She did not know what stratagem they had used to get in, but it had obviously worked.

"Madam, please follow me. I'll show you your table," a wizard who had just arrived told her.

He seemed dressed more elegantly than the waiters Hermione had seen, and she noticed the concern that seemed to dominate his eyes as he watched her.

"I haven't given you my name," Hermione said.

The wizard seemed to froze for a moment, before recovering.

"The colour of your invitation is enough, Madam," he said.

Hermione followed him, wondering what Voldemort was playing at.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort had spotted her as soon as she had entered the club. Since he had known they were using aging potions and glamours, it was easy to look for the physical characteristics that they never changed. And thanks Merlin he could identify her features, because else he would have not believed it was her.

He was used to see her in comfortable wizard robes, suited for impromptu duels, and not really paying attention to her outward appearance. And what he knew about Hermione Granger fit perfectly with this picture. A person far too intelligent compared to her peers, but who, instead of taking advantage of it as he had done himself, tried with her stupid friends to fight for the right of every stupid wizard and creature even if it was not in her best interests.

He had only seen her polish her appearance once, when she had infiltrated his office in the Ministry of Magic last fall, and she had then given herself the look of a neat businesswoman, well-off and stern enough not to be bothered.

But this time she had obviously wanted to blend in perfectly in the Nox Club, and she was dressed as richly and perfectly as the most elegant purebloods. Her hair – very dark – was immaculately coiffed, her dress looked like a tailor-made creation from Twilfitt and Tattings, and even her haughty expression was spot on. And she moved with a grace that he had only seen her display previously during their duels.

He had to admit that she had piqued his curiosity.

oOoOoOo

The wizard led Hermione into the main room, and she wondered if he was not the manager of the establishment, or something similar, as some people seemed to look at them with surprise and envy. When the wizard directed her towards the sumptuous staircase closed to the public leading to a private room with a balcony overlooking the main room Hermione nearly rolled her eyes. She now had no doubt that the figure there in the shadows was Voldemort under some kind of glamour.

Hermione could not care less about this display of Voldemort's power and elitism – as if it changed anything that he had managed to threaten the poor workers of the Nox Club enough to get the most luxurious seats –. All that mattered to her today was to get him to stop his stupid strategy, and make him understand that the situation was critical.

"After you, Madam."

Hermione stepped into the room and Voldemort got up gallantly, even though his face reflected utter boredom. He had the appearance of a tall, chestnut-haired man, but Hermione could easily recognize the aristocratic features of his original face.

"How many people have you killed to book this?" Hermione asked acidly as she sat down.

He had not even spoken yet, but his detached attitude was already annoying her. Unless it was his ease to seat above everyone else as if he had been born to reign over everyone and did not even need to make any effort to look regal.

"None, I own this place," Voldemort said as he sat down again.

Hermione nearly chocked on her saliva. Ginny would be furious to learn that.

"Really?" she asked.

She had never heard of the fact that the Nox Club belonged to Voldemort, and had difficulties understanding why Voldemort would own it. As a financial investment perhaps.

"Not me me of course," Voldemort said. "An alias."

Then he stopped with a gesture the wizard who had led Hermione here as he was discreetly leaving.

"I'll have a glass for firewhisky reserve 1965," he said. "Helen?"

"A glass of red wine for me, please," she said.

"Do you have a specific chateau in mind, Madam?" the wizard asked.

"Anything will do," Hermione answered, all her thoughts already focused on the upcoming discussion.

The wizard seemed even more nervous after her answer, but finally left them alone.

"What did you want Hermione?" Voldemort asked after casting a few spells around them.

Hermione added her own spells over his, before staring straight into Voldemort's eyes.

"We would like you to stop your attacks. To stop threatening the wizarding population," she said seriously.

"Make me," Voldemort answered mockingly. "I see no benefits for myself in doing so."

Hermione sighed. She was about to answer, but closed her mouth sharply when she noticed the waiter was back with two glasses that he put in front of them. They stayed utterly silent until the waiter exited again. Neither Voldemort nor Hermione touched their glass, still staring at each other, before Hermione sighed again.

"If you continue, there won't be enough wizards left to deal with what's coming," she said.

Voldemort looked dubious.

"Don't even try to make me believe you're a seer, that would be ridiculous," he snapped.

He had leaned slightly towards her saying that and Hermione could not help but notice that she could tell exactly what were the features of his face he had slightly modified.

"I'm not a seer, no," Hermione said. "Divination has never been my forte, I must confess. But you have long suspected that we are not what we seem."

"Have you finally decided to speak then? Is that why you're here?"

His tone was ironic, as if he did not really believe her.

"We know what's going to happen, because we've seen it," Hermione said. "I am Hermione Granger, but I'm not fifteen years old. I'm seventy-four. Just like Harry, Ron and Ginny. I won't say how, but we came back in time."

"Prove it," he demanded.

But his gaze was no longer mocking, as if he had already considered that something as incredible and as impossible as that could have happened.

"If we reach an agreement, I'll make an unbreakable vow that will guarantee the truth of what I'm telling you," Hermione said.

It seemed to satisfy Voldemort, and Hermione knew that she now had his full attention.

"We've already lived for a long time," Hermione said. "We've been children. We've grown up, became adult, had our own children. But the world collapsed around us, and we could not stop it. In forty-five years, almost all the magical population will be wiped off the surface of the planet."

"The Muggles attacked us," Voldemort wrongly deduced.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You'll be quite smug to hear that, wouldn't you?" she answered. "But no, the Muggles have no link at all to the catastrophe. It's one of the magical sources who got out of control. So we went back and we're trying to fix that. Your war is not helping."

"One of the magical sources? That's why you were researching them?"

Hermione nodded, and Voldemort seemed taken aback for a few seconds, as if he could not believe such a disaster could happen.

"But haven't you already found all your answers regarding the magical sources?" Voldemort asked. "You've left quite in a hurry last winter after all."

There was a slight trace of irritation in his tone.

"Not really," Hermione answered. "I've found my answer about why the magical source has become unstable, but we have not found yet how to mend that."

"And why has it become unstable?" Voldemort asked curiously.

Hermione began to explain the connection between the source, Njörd's ritual, and the relics, but Voldemort quickly stopped her with a sharp hand gesture, his face frozen in barely restrained anger.

"Hermione, do stop me if I'm wrong, but if Njörd's ritual had actually been used on the founders' relics, then your little resurrection ritual could not have destroyed them."

Hermione sighed. She should have known that he would make the connection very quickly. He was the smartest person she had ever met after all.

"It didn't," she confessed. "The Cup, the Diadem and the Locket were not destroyed by the resurrection ritual."

"Give them back," Voldemort ordered.

His tone left no room for discussion, but Hermione had far more important things to care for than the childish demands of the mighty Dark Lord Voldemort.

"We still need them," Hermione replied.

"I don't care," Voldemort said icily.

Hermione felt her exasperation rise. It was quite hypocritical for him to not care.

"You don't care?" she repeated slowly, anger dripping in her tone. "It's quite a shame, since you're the reason this whole catastrophe is about to happen. Because Njörd only supports pure objects. No dark magic. And guess what? You put Horcruxes in three of the four relics keeping the source stable, you idiotic moron!"

Suddenly Voldemort burst out laughing, and Hermione stopped short. She looked at him suspiciously as a condescending smirk appeared on his lips.

"You know something we don't," Hermione realized.

"I do," Voldemort confirmed.

"If it is the fact that we need the blood of an heir to repair the relics, we already know," Hermione said.

"It's something else," Voldemort assured.

And for the first time since the beginning of the evening, he took a sip of his firewhisky, looking perfectly content to be there. As if he had the situation under control again. It almost made Hermione even more furious, but if he really knew something that could help them...

"What do you want?" she asked wearily. "For this information, and for you to stop the raids of your Death Eaters."

"My relics, and an answer to all my questions regarding your first life," he stated.

"It's quite a lot," Hermione commented.

"I won't settle for anything else," Voldemort answered with a satisfied smile.

She wanted to throw her drink in his face to make his irritating smile disappear, and Voldemort seemed to understand her struggle as his smile grew even more unbearable.

"We'll think about it," Hermione finally said.

"Wonderful."

Pursuing her lips, Hermione stood up and walked out of room without another word.

oOoOoOo

"His conditions are unacceptable!" Ginny roared.

"Of course they're unacceptable," Harry grumbled. "Were you expecting a fair game? He has stopped his attacks for now, but he knows very well that we have to cooperate with him if we want this truce to continue when we'll be at Hogwarts."

All four of them were currently packing up their things at Grimmauld Place – Hermione having spent the last few days there –, getting ready to catch the Hogwarts Express under the watchful eye of a squad of Aurors that should arrive shortly. The situation was both very close and very far from their first fifth year. Fudge was as much a coward as before, and Dolores Umbridge was going to be a teacher at Hogwarts – and Hermione hated Voldemort for not giving them enough time to deal with Umbridge this summer with his stupid Death Eaters on the lose –, but at the same time Harry was not shunned by the wizarding population, since the rumours about Voldemort's return were not coming from him, but rather from some journalists wondering about the pictures taken during the Death Eaters' arrest and the following events.

There were still many speculations about who the four wizards who fought against the potential Lord Voldemort were, each more preposterous than the other. It was not an issue though, since no one knew who they were. And the Ministry would have anyway a very hard time to try to prove that four Hogwarts students were accomplished duellers.

"We cannot flatly refuse his conditions, but we can set limits," Ron said.

"Hey kids, hurry up! We need to leave!" Sirius yelled from the ground floor.

"Has anyone seen my Quidditch socks?" Ginny asked, looking under Harry's bed.

"Why would your Quidditch socks be under Harry's bed?" Ron asked with fond exasperation.

"Can we focus on what should I tell Voldemort?" Hermione asked, raising her voice.

It had been hours since she had finishing packing her things, and she really wanted to send an owl to Voldemort before leaving for Hogwarts. She did not want to give him the opportunity to take advantage of their departure to do any kind of action on the pretext that they had taken too long to answer him.

"Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, we really need to go," Remus's calm voice reached them.

"Tell him we accept," Harry said. "But that we will only give him the relics if he agrees to fix them, and that we won't answer any questions about how we managed to come back. He must reduce his attacks, and any harm coming to our families will be considered a breach of the vow. And he will keep the Dementors on a tight leash."

"Sounds good," Ron agreed.

Hermione wrote a few lines furiously on a parchment before handing it to Hedwig, who seemed to snort with disdain when she saw the address on the envelope. Hermione then cast a spell to pick up everything that was still lying in the room, and Harry stuffed the few clothes her spell recovered into his trunk after Ginny had checked that there was indeed her Quidditch socks among them. It was time for them to start their fifth year at Hogwarts.

oOoOoOo

The beginning of the year went relatively smoothly. There was Umbridge's dreadfully boring speech of course, but at least she had no reason to attack Harry in class, or anyone else really, which made her an appalling teacher for sure, but not a torturer as she had been during their first life.

Or at least, not yet a torturer. And Hermione would know when Umbridge would start abusing her students, since she had taken care to break into her office with Ginny on the first day of the year – with an ease Umbridge should be deeply ashamed of –, to make sure that if she tried to use blood quills on the students, it would always be her own blood that would be used.

Umbridge still refused to have them practice spells however, and the high number of students who attended the first session of the D.A. was proof enough of the poor opinion everyone had of her.

Hermione had refused the prefect badge, as had Ron, as they both had better things to do than to patrol corridors at night. She had felt sad to let the distinction go, but it was a hassle that was not worth it in the grand scheme of things. Dumbledore had then proposed to Harry to replace Ron, but he had of course also declined, and it was finally Neville and Parvati who now were the Gryffindor prefects, to the surprise of everyone including the new prefects.

They heard nothing from Voldemort during the first two weeks, but there were no Death Eaters raids either – both the Ministry and the Order failing to understand why – which was good enough for the four friends. And some things followed their original paths: Fleur Delacour had just joined the English branch of Gringotts, Karkaroff was on the run no one knew where, and the Minister was as useless as ever.

Then, contrary to what Hermione might have thought, Voldemort did not bother to contact them by owl, nor did he wrote anything in the communication notebook they shared, but he simply materialized on Hogwarts' grounds a Tuesday evening just after the curfew. They noticed him coming out of the Chamber of Secrets just as they were looking at the Marauders' Map to secure their own way to the Room of Requirement, planning to use it for their evening research as they always did.

"I hate the idea that he can just waltz in here as he pleases," Ginny said with a scowl.

"I can guarantee you that his range of spells is quite limited if he wants to avoid detection," Hermione assured. "Though I must admit that the mere idea of him roaming the hallways freely is giving me chills."

"At least this time we know why he's here," Harry sighed. "Let's go meet him, I don't want to give him the excuse to harm anyone before joining us."

"Isn't it strange for him to come here?" Ron asked as they headed towards Voldemort. "Can't we easily defeat him if he indeed cannot use most of the spells without alerting Dumbledore?"

"He knows we need him to repair the founders' relics," Hermione explained. "And let's not forget that he can Apparate out of Hogwarts easily, as he did last spring."

She still did not know how he had done it, founders' heir or not.

"He's right behind this hallway," Harry warned as he tucked the map into the pockets of his robe.

And indeed when they turned into the next hallway they found themselves facing Voldemort in all its splendour. He had not even bothered to hide his perfect face behind a glamour. His ego had obviously no limit if he was thinking he was safe so deep inside Dumbledore's territory.

"Voldemort," Hermione greeted him half-heartedly.

"Granger, Potter, Weasley...s," Voldemort drawled.

Then there was a long silence, Voldemort acting as if he had all the time in the world. Hermione was pretty sure his attitude was mostly there to try to rile them up.

"Do you agree to our amendments?" Ginny finally asked dryly.

The glare that Voldemort sent her was somewhere between pity and utmost disdain.

"My proposal for the vow," he said, sending a parchment towards them.

Ron grabbed it, and read it carefully, crossing out a few words to replace them with others, before sending the parchment back to Voldemort. He took his time to review all of Ron's proposals, before accepting grudgingly. The vow was far less restrictive than the previous ones they had already swore, due to certain conditions being too vague to be able to build something constraining upon them. But the risk was shared by both parties, and it was anyway the best they could come up with.

The amount of vow between them was starting to get alarmingly high, and Hermione suspected that Voldemort must be looking for a way to nullify them. Just like they were.

The vow itself was then sworn in a few seconds, and Voldemort immediately demanded to recover the founders' relics. Hermione took the Locket, the Cup, and the Diadem out of her bag, and he accio-ed them to him before she had the time to send them across. Immediately, Voldemort cast several spells on the relics, and his carmine eyes were soon ablaze with displeasure.

"I did not think their condition would be so dire," Voldemort commented.

"Your soul pieces had taken quite a toll on them from the inside," Hermione said. "I guess it's due to Njörd's magic they could not coexist with, and to…"

An irritating 'Hem, Hem' was heard, and they all turned towards its origin.

"Well, well, what do we have here, students out of their dormitories after curfew?" Umbridge asked with her usual horrible sweet tone.

Hermione suddenly wanted to bang her head against the nearest wall for having forgotten to cast several warning charms around them. Or better, bang Umbridge's head against the nearest wall. They could have really done without her during this conversation.

"And who are you, sir?" Umbridge asked, turning to Voldemort. "It is forbidden to enter the castle without the authorization of the Ministry."

"I find it nearly admirable how she shamelessly forgets Dumbledore," Ron commented scornfully.

"What is she doing here?" Voldemort asked.

He was looking at Hermione, while designing Umbridge with a disdainful hand gesture.

"I'm Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts professor sir!" Umbridge answered, appearing both outraged and full of herself at the same time.

"The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?" Voldemort repeated, as if taken aback.

He was still looking at Hermione, and she could see that Umbridge's patience was wearing thin.

"Yes," Hermione said, "She's the employee the Ministry has mandated to Hogwarts to hinder Dumbledore and to make sure nobody will spread false rumours about Voldemort's return."

Umbridge made a strangled sound when Hermione said Voldemort.

"Don't say this name, you thoughtless girl!" Umbridge yelped. "You-Know-Who is dead!"

Voldemort burst out laughing, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"She's the one Fudge sent? To teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Voldemort asked, laughter still present in his voice. "She barely knows how to use a wand!"

He had said the second part slowly and only Hermione heard it.

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly why Fudge has send her," Hermione whispered back. "It's not like he is any better with a wand. I hate her even more than I hate you."

The corner of Voldemort's lips rose slightly, and Hermione nearly smirked back.

"I forbid you to ignore me!" Umbridge suddenly lost it, and pointed her wand at Voldemort. "Detention for the four of you, and go back to your dormitories right now!"

Neither Hermione nor Harry, Ron, or Ginny moved while Voldemort finally deigned to acknowledge the witch, raising a quizzical eyebrow in front of her attitude.

"Raising your wand Madam Umbridge, really?" he asked with false detachment. "Do you even know how to duel?"

This time Hermione could not restraint her smirk.

"I would not bet on that," she commented snidely.

"How dare you!" Umbridge shouted. "I'm more than enough qualified!"

She was fuming.

"Why haven't you done something about her?" Voldemort asked, without bothering to lower his voice anymore.

"You're under arrest sir, for disrespecting a Ministry's delegate! And the four of you are getting a week of detention!"

"And how are you going to arrest me, Madam Umbridge?" Voldemort asked disdainfully.

"Accio wand!" Umbridge cast.

In a split second she was disarmed, immobilized and silenced. Voldemort had not even pulled out his wand.

"Don't tell me she doesn't even know how to properly cast an Expelliarmus…" Harry grumbled, appalled.

"Why haven't you done something about her?" Voldemort asked Hermione again, ignoring Harry. "She's the embodiment of incompetence and annoyance."

Hermione pursued her lips.

"I wanted to get rid of her before she even set foot here, but someone has made sure that we were busy all summer."

"He's making a good point though," Ron said. "Don't tell me you cannot find at least five different ways to get rid of her in a minute of time, so why haven't you acted before Hermione?"

Hermione sighed.

"I wanted to make things a little more just and legal than simply delivering her to a horde of furious centaurs," she admitted.

"A horde of centaurs?" Voldemort repeated.

"That's what I did the last time around," Hermione clarified. "They are not big fans of what she thinks of their kind, and she is stupid enough to voice her thoughts to their face."

"You knew she would insult them?' Voldemort asked curiously.

"I was hoping she would," Hermione admitted.

"Hum, I'm nearly impressed…"

Hermione glared at Voldemort as he approached Umbridge, still immobilised.

"Who are you?" Umbridge asked as soon as Voldemort ended the silencing spell. "If you do not free me right now, I promise you you'll be in Azkaban by tomorrow!"

"Azkaban?" Voldemort scoffed. "I wouldn't even need a minute to get out of there. After all, it only took me half an hour to get a dozen of my most faithful out of there, and they were barely standing."

Umbridge's inability to grasp the seriousness of her situation was palpable.

"Are you part of Dumbledore's anti-governmental organisation?" she asked.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed at Dumbledore's name and Hermione nearly chuckled. She was now picturing Dumbledore offering a lemon drop to Voldemort.

"I have no idea how you could have tolerated her presence for the past two weeks," Voldemort told Hermione.

He scowled slightly when he noticed that she was trying to suppress her laugh.

"Aren't you working with her at the Ministry?" she asked.

"I've managed to avoid interacting with her as much as possible," Voldemort said. "I have little tolerance for incompetence."

Ginny coughed something that vaguely sounded like Crabbe. Then Goyle. Then Pettigrew. Voldemort's glare was deadly, but Ginny simply smirked.

"I command you to release me!" Umbridge shouted.

Voldemort's attention immediately returned to her, and Hermione was once against abashed by Umbridge's stupidity.

"You have no idea of who I am," Umbridge threatened. "I can guarantee you that you would be in serious trouble very soon. Cornelius…"

"Oh, I can guarantee you that Cornelius won't do anything against me, Madam Umbridge. He's too busy denying my return to do anything about me you see."

"You're lying!" Umbridge nearly pleaded. "You can't be… You-Know-Who is dead!"

"Ah, but I'm feeling quite alive, Madam Umbridge."

Umbridge's body began to shake in terror.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged. "I'm a pureblood. A descendant of the Selwyn line. I hate Mudbloods. I…"

With a wave of her hand Hermione silenced Umbridge, wondering briefly why she was helping the detestable witch not to get killed.

"Pathetic," Ginny grumbled. "It's not like it's hard to find out that her mother was a Muggle. Ungrateful bitch."

"Since it's obviously impossible to discuss calmly, I'll come back later," Voldemort said. "Do take care of wiping out her memories."

Then he turned and walked away towards the Chamber of Secrets.

"Hey, wait," Ron stopped him.

"Yes?" Voldemort asked, his voice dripping with contempt.

Ron ignored Voldemort obvious disdain.

"Can't you just remove the curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position? It's kind of annoying to end up with professors like Umbridge."

Hermione shook her head. No way Voldemort would agree to something that would benefit them.

"Why should I do that?" Voldemort answered. "The old coot only need to find a competent professor for the curse to stop."

"A professor more competent than you," Harry corrected. "According to your own criteria. So, no one except you."

"How unfortunate."

And Voldemort disappeared around a corner. The four friends remained silent until Ginny spoke again.

"Am I the only one worried by the fact the he said he would come back later? Without saying when?"

oOoOoOo

AN: next chapter in two weeks.