Note: I don't own these characters.
Johnson hung his tiny head. Hermione was gripping the frame of his portrait with a grip of iron. "I should sleep with him??!!"
Behind her, Professor Dippet barely bated and eyelid. He knew that Johnson, an ex-Potions Master, was off his rocker. It must be something that he drank, 40 years ago, thought Professor Dippet. Johnson was found dead in his dungeon, a goblet of unidentified liquid of unknown substance by his side. Most teachers have dropped some very obvious hints about chucking Johnson in the bin, but Professor Dippet could not bring himself to do just that. Professor Simon Johnson was an old friend. A little lunatic, surely, but still..
"What makes you think that Tom's even WILLING?" she demanded. "I've bushy hair and my teeth still look a little big. Besides, he's a murderer," she added a matter-of-factly. "I'll never see daylight again, if I shared a dorm with him."
Johnson looked up. He stroked his goatee, and stared at Hermione with the air of a man preparing himself for some serious persuading and convincing.
"Have you looked in the mirror, Miss Gangly?" he asked. "You sound very articulate while rambling about that Volmort of yours, but now you're having second thoughts about putting a halt to his evil doings?" he lectured. Johnson shook his head sadly. "Young people nowadays. All talk and no action."
Hermione frowned. "It's Voldemort, not Volmort," she corrected. "And I don't remember saying that he was interested in me."
Johnson chuckled. "Young lady, Tom Riddle NEVER offers to walk anyone anywhere. Usually, he just pretends that Hogwarts is his. He is cold, arrogant and insolent, especially to muggle-born students." At this Professor Dippet threw his quill down and glared at Johnson.
"Sorry, Professor," said Johnson, winking at Hermione. "I've forgotten that he's your pet, isn't he?" Professor Dippet frowned disapprovingly, but he returned to his work. The parchment that he was writing on magically grew, when his sentences approach the bottom.
"And, I'm most interested about the secret hideout that Tom mentioned. You said that it was the Chamber of Secrets?" inquired Johnson. Hermione nodded.
"Then it is just as I have suspected. There really is a hidden part of Hogwarts that Salazar built. And recently, I've heard some very strange..hissing. There's something lusting for blood, after a long wait," said Johnson. "I've heard the words "Master" and "soon". Do they have any meaning to you?"
Hermione gasped. "Yes," she almost shouted. "It's the basilisk that I told you about. You're a Parselmouth?"
Johnson gave her a wry smile. "Yes. And it's not a gift. I hear things.that are not altogether to my liking. But no one has died yet. You said that Myrtle would be the first?"
Hermione nodded frantically. Finally, she thought. Someone believes me! "It's in the girls' toilet, but only a Parselmouth can open the entrance. I didn't enter, as I was Petrified, and.I felt so useless. But Harry faced the basilisk..and killed it," she said softly. At the thought of Harry, she bit her lip. Was she ever going back?
Johnson stared at Hermione sympathetically. If she spoke words of truth, then the world of wizards was doomed. Massacre, muggle killings and the rise of Dementors. He shuddered.
"Then try your best.to get into the secret chamber," said Johnson. His face was impassive.
Hermione stared at him incredulously. "And then what? Get killed by the basilisk? Why would I want to-"
Johnson held up a miniscule hand. His miniature face looked worried, but he gave her a small smile. "You'll find out why later. For now, it is Tom's trust that you will have to gain."
Hermione walked out of Professor Dippet's office. She jumped a little when Tom rounded up on her.
"So, how did it go?" he asked. His blue eyes seemed eager, and his thin lips smiled a private smile.
"It was fine," replied Hermione shortly. Then she remembered Johnson's words. "But you haven't told me anything about yourself," she said, and gave him a bright smile. I wish I knew how Purebloods act, thought Hermione miserably. Draco Malfoy's perpetually sneering face popped into her mind. She sneered.
Tom Riddled seemed delighted at her change of attitude. The mysterious girl who had appeared out of thin air had intrigued him, more than anyone ever had. She looked..clever, he thought.
"I'm an orphan," he said. For a while, his downcasted eyes and trembling lip almost made Hermione felt sorry for him. Perhaps he wasn't born evil, she thought. Nobody is.
Tom kept his gaze on his shoes, as they walked to the Quidditch field. "My father left my late mother when he discovered that she was a witch," he said bitterly. "He was a muggle, Hermione. I don't think that he understood us at all," he continued. Hermione's heart went out to him, even though she knew.
"Anyway, I grew up in the orphanage, where hunger plagued us, and the elder kids will mistreat the younger ones. Even the carers turned a blind eye on my bleeding nose, that was punched by a 15-year-old. But then..a miracle happened. A letter came, and I was enrolled into Hogwarts. The people at the orphanage considered me a freak, and some set fire to my clothes. Do you know, Hermione, how I dread returning to the orphanage during the holidays?"
Hermione placed an arm on his shoulder. Was that Voldemort's childhood? Famished, bullied and despised? With a jolt, she realised that it was similar to Harry's experience at the Dursleys. God, she thought. I hope that Harry has enough sense to turn his talents towards good things.
"I-I understand how it feels," she said truthfully, thinking of Harry. "Both your parents dead, an unfulfilled hunger for love, wanting to fit in yet looked upon as an outcast. It is terrible,"
Tom turned towards Hermione, his blue eyes sparkling. "You do?"
Hermione nodded. "And I thought that I was alone. Not anymore,"
He smiled. "No, not anymore,"
Back in the 21st century...
"Okay, stop panicking, we'll find her," assured Harry, as he paced around the classroom, where Hermione disappeared.
Ron was fretting like a mother hen that had lost her chicks. "She was right behind us," he wailed. "It's that black diary of hers. I know it is!"
Harry smiled grimly. He frowned and took out his wand. "Then we're going to find her. By hook, or by crook," he said. He pointed his wand at the diary, and clenched his fists resolutely. "Or by magic."
Johnson hung his tiny head. Hermione was gripping the frame of his portrait with a grip of iron. "I should sleep with him??!!"
Behind her, Professor Dippet barely bated and eyelid. He knew that Johnson, an ex-Potions Master, was off his rocker. It must be something that he drank, 40 years ago, thought Professor Dippet. Johnson was found dead in his dungeon, a goblet of unidentified liquid of unknown substance by his side. Most teachers have dropped some very obvious hints about chucking Johnson in the bin, but Professor Dippet could not bring himself to do just that. Professor Simon Johnson was an old friend. A little lunatic, surely, but still..
"What makes you think that Tom's even WILLING?" she demanded. "I've bushy hair and my teeth still look a little big. Besides, he's a murderer," she added a matter-of-factly. "I'll never see daylight again, if I shared a dorm with him."
Johnson looked up. He stroked his goatee, and stared at Hermione with the air of a man preparing himself for some serious persuading and convincing.
"Have you looked in the mirror, Miss Gangly?" he asked. "You sound very articulate while rambling about that Volmort of yours, but now you're having second thoughts about putting a halt to his evil doings?" he lectured. Johnson shook his head sadly. "Young people nowadays. All talk and no action."
Hermione frowned. "It's Voldemort, not Volmort," she corrected. "And I don't remember saying that he was interested in me."
Johnson chuckled. "Young lady, Tom Riddle NEVER offers to walk anyone anywhere. Usually, he just pretends that Hogwarts is his. He is cold, arrogant and insolent, especially to muggle-born students." At this Professor Dippet threw his quill down and glared at Johnson.
"Sorry, Professor," said Johnson, winking at Hermione. "I've forgotten that he's your pet, isn't he?" Professor Dippet frowned disapprovingly, but he returned to his work. The parchment that he was writing on magically grew, when his sentences approach the bottom.
"And, I'm most interested about the secret hideout that Tom mentioned. You said that it was the Chamber of Secrets?" inquired Johnson. Hermione nodded.
"Then it is just as I have suspected. There really is a hidden part of Hogwarts that Salazar built. And recently, I've heard some very strange..hissing. There's something lusting for blood, after a long wait," said Johnson. "I've heard the words "Master" and "soon". Do they have any meaning to you?"
Hermione gasped. "Yes," she almost shouted. "It's the basilisk that I told you about. You're a Parselmouth?"
Johnson gave her a wry smile. "Yes. And it's not a gift. I hear things.that are not altogether to my liking. But no one has died yet. You said that Myrtle would be the first?"
Hermione nodded frantically. Finally, she thought. Someone believes me! "It's in the girls' toilet, but only a Parselmouth can open the entrance. I didn't enter, as I was Petrified, and.I felt so useless. But Harry faced the basilisk..and killed it," she said softly. At the thought of Harry, she bit her lip. Was she ever going back?
Johnson stared at Hermione sympathetically. If she spoke words of truth, then the world of wizards was doomed. Massacre, muggle killings and the rise of Dementors. He shuddered.
"Then try your best.to get into the secret chamber," said Johnson. His face was impassive.
Hermione stared at him incredulously. "And then what? Get killed by the basilisk? Why would I want to-"
Johnson held up a miniscule hand. His miniature face looked worried, but he gave her a small smile. "You'll find out why later. For now, it is Tom's trust that you will have to gain."
Hermione walked out of Professor Dippet's office. She jumped a little when Tom rounded up on her.
"So, how did it go?" he asked. His blue eyes seemed eager, and his thin lips smiled a private smile.
"It was fine," replied Hermione shortly. Then she remembered Johnson's words. "But you haven't told me anything about yourself," she said, and gave him a bright smile. I wish I knew how Purebloods act, thought Hermione miserably. Draco Malfoy's perpetually sneering face popped into her mind. She sneered.
Tom Riddled seemed delighted at her change of attitude. The mysterious girl who had appeared out of thin air had intrigued him, more than anyone ever had. She looked..clever, he thought.
"I'm an orphan," he said. For a while, his downcasted eyes and trembling lip almost made Hermione felt sorry for him. Perhaps he wasn't born evil, she thought. Nobody is.
Tom kept his gaze on his shoes, as they walked to the Quidditch field. "My father left my late mother when he discovered that she was a witch," he said bitterly. "He was a muggle, Hermione. I don't think that he understood us at all," he continued. Hermione's heart went out to him, even though she knew.
"Anyway, I grew up in the orphanage, where hunger plagued us, and the elder kids will mistreat the younger ones. Even the carers turned a blind eye on my bleeding nose, that was punched by a 15-year-old. But then..a miracle happened. A letter came, and I was enrolled into Hogwarts. The people at the orphanage considered me a freak, and some set fire to my clothes. Do you know, Hermione, how I dread returning to the orphanage during the holidays?"
Hermione placed an arm on his shoulder. Was that Voldemort's childhood? Famished, bullied and despised? With a jolt, she realised that it was similar to Harry's experience at the Dursleys. God, she thought. I hope that Harry has enough sense to turn his talents towards good things.
"I-I understand how it feels," she said truthfully, thinking of Harry. "Both your parents dead, an unfulfilled hunger for love, wanting to fit in yet looked upon as an outcast. It is terrible,"
Tom turned towards Hermione, his blue eyes sparkling. "You do?"
Hermione nodded. "And I thought that I was alone. Not anymore,"
He smiled. "No, not anymore,"
Back in the 21st century...
"Okay, stop panicking, we'll find her," assured Harry, as he paced around the classroom, where Hermione disappeared.
Ron was fretting like a mother hen that had lost her chicks. "She was right behind us," he wailed. "It's that black diary of hers. I know it is!"
Harry smiled grimly. He frowned and took out his wand. "Then we're going to find her. By hook, or by crook," he said. He pointed his wand at the diary, and clenched his fists resolutely. "Or by magic."