When the term resumed, it was hard for the students around Hermione to return to the mindset of going to classes and learning. The first few days of the second half of the term, the other children talked about how their Christmas holidays went. While Hermione enjoyed her Christmas holidays, she looked forward to returning to classes and studying.

Hermione was careful not to ask Judith about how her Chanukah went. When they had met at the school, she appeared awfully ill and refused to see the nurse – Madam Magnolia Seabrooke – until at Frances' insistent urging.

All of which did not go unnoticed by one Gladys Bancroft, unfortunately.

"Oh dear," she had said loftily the day when classes resumed. "The poor little Jew fretting over her uncle. Well, if he had been a decent person…."

"Bite your tongue over things you don't know about, Gladys," Hermione spat. "Better yet, don't speak at all."

Judy, fortunately, was able to return for classes in the middle of the day. Though her ears were steaming due to Madam Seabrooke prescribing her Pepperup Potion.

Tom's Slytherin friends never gave her a hard time about her coming from a Muggle family after that incident in the library before the Christmas holidays. Hermione had a suspicion that Tom had something to do with it, and when she had asked him –

"I had told them that every time they make a comment about your blood status, even in jest, they are to pay me fifty Galleons," he said. "Of course, they don't want to risk their families of being furious with them over handing their allowance over to a boy with a Muggle-family, even if they are aristocrats."

"Fifty Galleons?" she had asked, raising her eyebrows. Then she said in a whisper when she made sure that no one was around, "why not simply mention that the Heir of Slytherin would not tolerate condescending remarks towards his friend?"

"I did," he whispered. "That they are to pay Salazar's Slytherin's heir fifty galleons should they utter any condescending remarks."

Hermione had shaken her head. "Slimy Slytherins," she couldn't help but mutter. Not caring if Tom had heard it. He had and seemed to smile in response.

Winter had melted into spring. The aroma of freshly blossoming flowers seeping into the school as the prospect of revising for exams drew nearer. The teachers didn't even need to say anything for Hermione to begin outlining her notes. Writing out revising schedules.

One of the most significant contributing factors to her drive to revise was the rumors of German aggression towards other countries. Even if they were simply rumors, there was still that possibility of war with the Nazis.

Tom seemed to be on the same page as her, for they had spent all their free periods with their textbooks open on the table. Plowing through their notes and memorizing how to use the levitation spell, how to brew complicated potions…

To the point where it flustered some of Hermione's house mates.

"You and that boy from Slytherin are always in the library revising for exams," said Euphemia. "Exams aren't for a few months yet."

"Tom and I would rather be a few months ahead and prepared than not be," Hermione had pointed out.

"Well, the professors don't seem to be on the same page," Euphemia sniffed.

However, the professors did seem to be on the same page as Hermione. To the point where they had spent their Easter holidays revising and doing the homework that was assigned to them ("I do believe that Merrythought wants to kill us," complained Felix McLaggen one spring afternoon. "Barely a foot into my essay and my head is pounding."). For most of the Easter weekend, Hermione and Tom had spent that time in the library. Reviewing their Transfiguration notes and memorizing the steps of making complicated potions.

On one such afternoon, the two of them decided to revise outside the very first fine spring day. Favoring a handsome oak tree to revise under as the branches slightly swayed from the wind. Hermione had gone back and forth between her notes and her copy of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Doing her usual underlining and circling when from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Tom allow a small snake to slither around his fingers. His brown eyes gazed at the snake in his fingers as it was one of the most exciting things he had ever seen.

"You know they won't you keep a snake as a pet," Hermione had broadcasted. For she could get an idea of what he was thinking about. One of the things she knew about Dame Cecelia Riddle was that she despised snakes and anything else that she deemed atrocious. "Dame Riddle isn't fond of snakes."

Tom shrugs. "What she wouldn't know wouldn't hurt her. I'd prefer a much bigger one, but that might come later."

Hermione had shaken her head. Yes, it was a side effect of his lineage to Salazar Slytherin and his ability to speak to serpents. However, it was without a doubt the nature of a boy to have an affinity to like things considered gross.

After revising with Hermione outside, Tom put the garter snake in his pocket as he made way his back to the Slytherin common room.

Dame Riddle isn't fond of snakes, Hermione had said.

Well, it wasn't a big one. He wasn't going to allow his stepmother's aversion to snakes to stop him from bringing this snake home with him. What was the point of being the descendant of Salazar Slytherin if he didn't own a snake to communicate with him?

It was around bedtime when he found a small box for it to sleep in. Placing his new pet snake on his nightstand next to his bed before slipping under the cozy, green covers of his four-poster. Pulling out a book that he had recently checked out from the library.

"I saw you studying with that Granger girl today," vocalized Gaius from one of the beds across from him.

"Is that still a problem?" Tom demanded, not looking away from his book. "I thought I told you they'll be problems if you have problems with it."

"Not that we have a problem, Riddle," said Abraxas. "You two seem tight since we arrived back in September. Besides, I think she's cute."

"Are you daft, Abraxas?" Antonin said as Tom shook his head. "She's a-she's from a no magic family? Granger is not even on the list of Pureblood families."

"I know, but she's still cute," chimed in Abraxas.

"Talk more like that one more time, or I might very well try out this hex on you," Tom threatened. What business did Malfoy have speaking like that? They were only eleven – well, Tom was twelve since New Year's Eve 1938 – so girls shouldn't be in their fancy yet.

If you like, I can nip them for you, his companion from the crate offered. It was rather tempting. As some of his acquaintances were annoying him with this sort of talk.

No, he hissed. They are not worth it.

Supposed Professor Dumbledore would somehow get wind of this and tell Headmaster Dippet. The latter might very well write to his father and stepmother about it.

"I might say, Riddle," said Avery. "It's going to have to get used to. Hearing you talk to snakes."

"Has he had any peculiarities, Mary? I mean, it is said that those people were a bunch of inbreds."

"He was with us over Christmas, and we had no problems of the sort, Victoria. He's a charming boy. Painfully modest as well, I must say."

Cecelia Agnes Riddle nee Bradshaw left her mother-in-law and her friends to it. Taking both Tommy and Louisa to the vast back gardens of the Riddle estate. Emmeline and Edwina joined her for a cup of tea under the shade as their young children played in the rose bushes.

"Tommy seems to be doing well," Edwina noted. "His coloring is better than what it was in New Year's."

"Yes, it is," Cecelia replied, putting her cup back on the saucer. "He always does better in the warmer weather."

"Anything on your mind, Ceci?" Emmy had asked her. Brown eyes flickering with concern.

Well, there was a particularly prominent topic on her mind. One involving a certain twelve-year-old boy that had entered their lives in early September. Her dear Tom's son from that….travesty, as she would call it, never given her any problems. Never caused so much outrage in the house. He asked the right questions and never spoke out of turn.

However, she could sense that deep down, he never seemed to like her and Tom. Natural, one would say. That he'd resent his father for not knowing about him sooner. That he'd resent her for taking the place of his mother. What did not help was his biological connection to those inbred maniacs. Who knows what sort of mental abnormalities he'd might have inherited from them?

"Well, I'm worried about Tom, my stepson," she clarified. "Yes, we never had problems during the Christmas holidays. Yet, it does not help that he's related to that family. Who knows what anomalies he might have inherited?"

"Amelia has told me of troubles with the other orphans," Edwina vocalized. "Then again, children are not apt to get along with each other all the time."

"There's always going to be a barrel of bad apples," said Emmy. "Even if Tom might have some blemishes, so far, he's doing well. Hopefully, he'll have no problems down the road."

"Here's to hoping," Cecelia said with a smile. Deep down, though, Cecelia wasn't sure. There was something there, and it wasn't like it was anything good. Though she hoped it was nothing. That this feeling stemmed from that awful experience her husband had with that woman and all the other stories of that family that circulated the village of Little Hangelton.

She guessed that only time would tell.

"Just last night, the latest intelligence from the Ministry has reported that the situation in continental Europe is no better than it was last year," droned the reporter as they all sat in their dormitory before bed. Hermione tried hard to concentrate on the essay in front of her as Daily Prophet Radio (one of the stations under the operation of Wizarding Wireless Network) reported on the latest on Grindelwald and his Acolytes.

"Interesting," said Euphemia. "Grindelwald is tearing across the continent, but he's not touching the isle. I wonder what's holding him back."

"If only we had something that would hold Hitler back," said Judy, with a nervous chuckle. "He's already seized a portion of Europe, and they say that he has his eyes on Poland."

Poland. There were rumors that if Hitler took Poland, it would lead to a second world war. He had already breached the Treaty of Versailles more than once. With the current language and aggression that the Germans were giving to Poland, Hermione wouldn't be surprised if she woke up the following day to hear that Hitler did take Poland.

That night, Hermione was beholden to frightening images of the streets of London decked out in the red, white, and black flags of the Nazi party. The German motorcades moving down the streets just like in those newsreels.

She tried her best to eliminate those images as they sat at the table for breakfast. Having propped one of her textbooks against the milk jug to prepare for her examinations to keep her mind off them. Well, she intended to focus on her studies to avoid what was happening in the outside world anyway.

May had signified the end of spring, and summer had officially arrived with the arrival of summer. Indicating the start of the examination period. The older students – the fifth years who were revising for their OWLs and the seventh years their NEWTs – had become decidedly cross on the younger students if they felt their revising time was disturbed.

Mildred Quimble had threatened detention to the younger students if they were too loud or even so much turned on the radio. What Tom had to say, the older Slytherins were not so much better. In fact, they were worse. With one fifth-year Slytherin had begun cursing the younger students left and right until Tom persuaded them to stop.

"I told him that we'd have no chance for the house cup if he kept it on," Tom admitted one sunny June afternoon as they were revising for their Transfiguration examination. "I think what really sold it was when I told him that it won't look good for house fraternity if one curses another from one's own House."

If it weren't for Tom's lineage and that he was a friend, she would have thought it was an embellishment on his part. It was no exaggeration that he seemed to have most of Slytherin House wrapped around his finger.

She'd seen the way the older Slytherins seemed to defer to him. As if he was some revived deity that was gracing them with his presence. Which showed how idolatrous the Slytherins were towards Salazar Slytherin. Tom pretended not to notice, but he seemed to adore that sort of attention with how he spoke.

Hermione was certain that Gryffindor never resorted to that ridiculousness.

The week of the exams was marked by a week of nonstop rain. Which made it all the easier to focus on the examinations laid out for them. No one was ever distracted by the view from outside or even had the inclination to skive outside to enjoy the weather.

Professor Slughorn had all made them brew a Forgetfulness Potion in a stifling hot classroom. With the uniforms sticking to their bodies with sweat, though Hermione assumed that the fire from under their cauldrons added onto the heat.

For Transfiguration, Professor Dumbledore set them to try to turn mice into a snuffbox. Points were given how nice the snuffbox was ("If it has whiskers, I'd have to take a point," he said mournfully. "Even if they'd make the snuffbox appear adorable"). In Charms, Professor Bottlewick had them try to levitate a pile of books, and should a book drop, they'd lose a point for their point.

As much as Hermione liked the particle exam, she was eager for the written exams. She supposed she had written more the required feet needed for her exams. Especially the written exam for History of Magic.

On the last day of examinations, Hogwarts woke to an overcast sky. Though the dark shade of the clouds strongly suggested that there would be rain that day. It didn't start to rain until the Gryffindors sat for their last examination. The rain battering the windows when Professor Binns had told them to put their quills down after Hermione had written the last line.

"My essay was missing a few inches, but I hope that Professor Binns might approve of it all the same," Judy said as they left the classroom.

Hermione had left her books in the Gryffindor dormitory before setting off to the library. If Tom wasn't going to be in the Slytherin common room, he would be in the library.

The library was without a doubt packed, for no one would go outside in this pouring rain. It wasn't hard to spot him. For he was with his usual entourage of Malfoy, Mulciber, Avery, and Lestrange.

And it didn't take too long for him to notice her as well. She could see him leave the table and gesture towards the bookshelves he was entering.

"How was your examination?" she whispered after following him into the European Magical History section.

"It went well," Tom had answered. "I believe I gave Professor Merrythought one foot more for that essay she made us do. What do you think Dame Riddle would like when I come back? Abraxas said that mothers like it when their kids give them flowers."

"I'd think she'd like them," Hermione said, hoping he was getting to like his stepmother. "You're not resentful anymore."

"No, it's just that people like having their egos stroked," he said. "It's best to let someone keep their semblance of pride if you want something."