Identity of the brother
Hermione could feel the questioning stares on her from her friends and from a good portion of the Slytherin table.
Fleur smiled sadly at the brunette's caution of her. "You are not happy with this, are you, mon cheri?" She asked.
Hermione tried not to feel put off. But said nothing.
Fleur sighed, nodding. She leaned forward and kissed Hermione's left cheek, causing Hermione to gasp and Fleur whispered softly to her, "I understand that you're frightened, ma belle, but give me time, please. I can show you that you have nothing to fear about your independence. I just wish to protect you."
Hermione shivered, half tempted to ask, "And who's going to protect me from you?"
But she didn't say that, tempting as it was.
Seeing that she wasn't going to get any response anytime soon from Hermione, Fleur got up, and left the table, her eyes never leaving Hermione, her soft and endearing smile never leaving the blonde's face as she left and joined her sister at the Ravenclaw table.
As soon as Fleur joined her fellow Veelas, several of the girls and young women around her began to cluster close, giggling, looking excited for Fleur having found her mate, at last.
Hermione glared at the table where Fleur and the other Veelas were, turning away. She recognized a few of those Veelas from the soulmate dreams she'd had of Fleur. She knew a few of those Veelas' names too.
Lucille, Camille, Colette, Madeleine.
Those were the names she knew.
And since they were all Veelas, she distrusted them all.
Dumbledore then moved to the middle of the steps before his podium and said, "Now, we shall entertain our guests in the best way we know how," and he pulled his wand out and Hermione almost dropped her head against the desk.
And here came the anthem of the school.
Normally, she'd delight at the ridiculousness of the upcoming song and that all of them, including the students as old as seventeen, were expected to sing the song with upmost enthusiasm, but right now, she could only feel discomfort.
Dumbledore summoned a floating banner with several words forming lyrics across it, which would be changing soon. And Hermione and her friends got up and as the school anthem began to be signaled to them, they all started singing, and Hermione was trying hard not to groan.
They belted the lyrics out, "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy, hoggy Hogwarts, teach us something, please!"
They continued singing and Hermione tried so hard to join in her friends snickering at the song.
And normally, she would. Because really, with the grand entrance of the Beauxbaton school and the showing off of the Durmstrang school, and this was the best they could offer up as entertainment?
But all she could do was just sing the lyrics, sounding like a robot, not even smirking at the enthusiasm that Vincent Crabbe was showing as he sang and the disgusted look Malfoy threw at Crabbe as Crabbe sang.
After that embarrassing incident was over, the students then sat down again.
The feast began, and as they ate, Peeves started to harass some students, until the Bloody Baron came along and Peeves instantly quieted and left.
Hermione smirked, unable to help but be amused. One thing she could appreciate the Bloody Baron for, was how he put Peeves in his place.
Hermione noticed at the end of the hall, where the table with all the teachers were sitting, was, that Igor Karkaroff and Severus Snape were seated next to each other.
Hermione mentally cursed Dumbledore.
And he thought the two former Death Eaters sitting next to each other, was a good idea?
Hermione watched as Snape and Karkaroff shared a suspicious look with each other, but averted their gaze and said nothing.
Hermione tried not to snort. She almost could picture what they were non-verbally trying to communicate to each other.
'Hey, Snape, remember the good old days when we could rape and kill as many muggles and muggle-borns as we wanted-'
'Shut up, Karkaroff, we need to look good in the eyes of Dumbledore, or we'll be carted off to Azkaban.'
Because, really what other reason did Karkaroff and Snape have for behaving in general?
Certainly, not because they had "reformed." You couldn't reform people like that.
There was no "reforming" a Death Eater.
No, Karkaroff and Snape were only being "upstanding citizens" now, because they knew there were consequences to their actions.
The feast went on and Hermione tried not to feel self-conscious, both with Fleur and the other Veelas' eyes on her, and with her friends all tossing curious glances her way, not sure why she wasn't happy she'd found her mate.
Eventually, Pansy asked a question. She said, "You've had the dreams about Fleur, right? Did…did she say or do anything that upset you?"
Hermione tensed, then shook her head. "No, it's not like that," she said, "Just…it's complicated, is all."
She huffed out then, "What about you four? Haven't the dreams started for any of you, yet?"
Millicent shook her head. "Not for me," she said, "Not yet."
"Me neither," Pansy said.
Hermione nodded.
Daphne spoke up, "I've been having dreams, but they don't make sense."
Astoria nodded as she said, "The same with me. I'm not sure I understand who my mate is. Or where they are."
Hermione frowned. What did that mean?
Seeing Hermione's confused expression, Daphne supplied, "I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I think our mates live in the muggle world."
Hermione's eyes widened. Oh.
"They're muggles?" She asked quietly, making sure her voice was almost silent, worried that the Slytherins would judge, which they would.
Daphne shook her head. "No," she said, "They're both definitely magical. But they live in the muggle world."
Hermione nodded then, feeling like she understood. Muggle-borns.
Astoria said, chuckling, "Yeah, you'd think that would explain a lot. But it doesn't. These people, they know how to use magic, but they do it without wands. And it's almost like they're professionals at it."
Hermione's eyebrows lifted. That was…interesting.
Hermione asked, suddenly worried about the Greengrass sisters' parents, "What about your mum and dad?"
Daphne and Astoria both looked awkward at that question.
Which told Hermione everything.
"You haven't told them yet, huh?" She asked sadly.
Both Daphne and Astoria shook their heads.
Hermione's sad smile stayed on her face. She couldn't blame them for that, could she?
"I'm sorry," she said to them.
"It's okay," Astoria said and Daphne nodded.
Daphne said, "I'd like to think that mum and dad aren't as narrow-minded as a lot of other purebloods are. But you know…I just don't know if we should say."
Hermione grimaced. She understood that.
Contrary to a great many muggle societies, the "same-sex" relationships, and interracial relationships, weren't a problem in the witch and wizarding world. So, if Astoria and Daphne's mates were girls, or individuals with different skin colors from Daphne and Astoria, or both, it wouldn't be an issue. The big problem here, was that the magic users in question were muggle-borns.
"What are their names?" She asked, "Do you know?"
"Yeah," Astoria said, "They're both older. Daphne's mate's name is Chloe. My mate's name is Noah."
Hermione's grip on her fork almost became a steel grip. Two older kids, muggle-borns, most likely, and their names were Chloe and Noah?
The shock must have been apparent all over Hermione's face, because both Daphne and Astoria's eyes widened.
"Mione," Daphne said, "Are you okay?"
"I," Hermione said, taking a breath, her mind desperately trying to ignore her thoughts of Cromwell, the labs, the breakout, all the guards and the dead kids-it was a coincidence. It had to be, "I'm fine."
Seeing that none of her friends believed her and Hermione, shooting a glance at Luna, who, regardless of the young girl's age, had a look that said, "you're not fooling anyone," Hermione went on, ignoring her self-conscious feelings, "I'm very happy that you found them and you know who they are."
Daphne and Astoria both smiled, but Hermione could tell from the looks in their eyes, that they were not going to let this go.
Hermione tried to ignore how her stomach turned.
If the "Chloe" and "Noah" who Astoria had mentioned, were the Chloe and Noah from Cromwell's labs, and if they were having dreams about Daphne and Astoria, too? Then that meant that they knew about Hermione by this point, as well.
Of course, that was only important, if Chloe and Noah remembered who Hermione was.
Chloe and Noah had been older kids. Hermione had been one of the younger kids.
Who knew, maybe neither of them had even bothered knowing who she was.
Maybe they had no idea who she was now, even if they had dreams of Daphne and Astoria, and by proxy, saw Hermione, as well now.
Hermione tried to ignore her unease, holding the left side of her robes close, feeling the reassuring shape of Tom's diary, against her.
Dumbledore then made the next announcement, that the goblet of fire would be opened soon, and if someone who was not underage, wished to take part in the Triwizard tournament, all they needed to do, was throw their name into the fire on a piece of paper.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't have to look at other people at her table, or at other tables, to know that several of the underage kids would make a try at throwing their names in the fire.
It wouldn't work. She didn't doubt for a second that Dumbledore had made it so that it wouldn't work.
But she didn't doubt either that several underage kids would try.
Hermione still didn't turn to the table where Fleur was, not wanting to face the blonde Veela.
She just listened to the others talk.
Astoria was mentioning things about her mate, Noah. About how she was positive that Noah identified as "they/them," and that Noah knew that a lot of people in Britain didn't like that, but they didn't care.
Daphne occasionally would mention that Chloe was really strong-willed and that she and Hermione probably would have a lot in common.
Hermione tried not to laugh at that part. Because if Hermione was right about who Chloe and Noah were, then yes, she'd have a lot in common with the both of them.
Including childhood.
When it was time for the students to go off to their dorms, the kids got up from their tables and filed out of the Great Hall. Hermione hurried along quickly, hoping not to run into Fleur and her pack.
She felt Fleur's eyes on her the whole time and tried not to feel tracked, like a deer being followed by a wolf.
She quickly moved, ignoring her friends' worried looks. Luna told them that she was very pleased to see them and that she wished the "nargles" wouldn't bother them for the rest of the year, before skipping off to her dorm.
This finally brought a chuckle from Hermione, and from her friends.
They reached the dorm, and they settled in for the night.
Hermione tried not to let that dread in her chest that had been building up since she first saw Fleur in the Great Hall, put Tom's diary under her bed, and went under the covers, about to sleep, hoping she didn't dream of either of her mates. Especially not Fleur, not now that Fleur was at the school.
She drifted off to sleep.
Thankfully, the dreams were brief. Flashes of Fleur and her friends and Fleur's sister, Fleur trying to speak to her, then the images fading in and out, and going to the woman in that prison cell, but still, Hermione couldn't see the woman's face.
Then she woke up earlier than expected.
Hermione lifted herself up out of bed, yawned and checked out the stained glass window.
She could see that the sky was getting somewhat lighter, but not that light.
It was early in the morning.
She half thought of trying to get back to sleep, and just as she laid back down, her mind began to wander.
Her mind went to the muggle-borns that Daphne and Astoria were tied to, then her mind for some reason went to Tom and his mate, Ella, then to the two dead people that were found hung from the bridge.
As soon as she did, her eyes snapped open, and she shot up out of bed, startled.
No. No way that could be the case.
She shook her head, looking into the dark. No. Tom…he wouldn't, would he?
But she thought about it, what would seeing his mate, Ella get murdered by her own parents, do to him?
Merlin, whatever her feelings were about soulmate connections, what would it do to her if she saw Fleur or that woman in the prison cell get murdered?
Making up her mind fast, Hermione got out of bed, reached under her mattress, grabbed Tom's diary and went to the common room, ignoring hearing Crookshanks and Amelia's meows from behind her.
She got to the common room and opened up the diary.
Tom's image came shooting up out of the pages and Hermione sat down on the sofa chair in front of the fire.
"Hermione?" Tom asked, looking at Hermione's pajamas, "Is it even morning?"
"Very early morning," Hermione said, "I know this is going to sound like a strange question, and I'm sorry for opening up this wound for you again, but I have to know…did you do something to Ella's parents after she died?"
Tom's eyes widened at Hermione's words that couldn't be taken as anything less than an accusation.
Tom was silent for several seconds, before he lowered his head and confessed, "Yes, Hermione. I did. After Ella was murdered, and after I graduated, I tracked Frederick and Catherine Taylor down, tortured them and murdered them. Hung their bodies from the Westminster Bridge."
Hermione stared at Tom, stunned.
He was actually admitting it?
Cold horror spread through her, realizing that.
And that certainly explained where she had heard the names "Frederick" and "Catherine" before.
At Hermione's disturbed expression, Tom sighed again. "Hermione," he said, "Think about this, for a moment. I have been alone most of my life. Certainly, since childhood. I never thought I'd really meet anyone who could love me. I was an orphan my entire young life, before adulthood. I had no one. Then I met Ella? I thought my life was finally starting. Then a pair of bigoted self-righteous Christian muggles murder her and call us magic users monsters. I just…I needed to avenge her. To avenge my own pain too."
Hermione stared at Tom, and hated how much his reasoning made sense.
To torture someone to death and hang their bodies like that?
Inhuman, without question.
But so was murdering one's own daughter, and blaming it on that daughter's soulmate, who just happened to be different.
A soulmate who also was an orphan.
Treating an entire population of the world with magic as freaks and monsters, was also inhuman.
If Hermione had been in Tom's place and Cromwell in Frederick and Catherine Taylor's place, would she have reacted any differently?
What if Cromwell had murdered her mother?
Hermione ignored the twisting in her belly as she thought of that. She would have killed him. Even if she'd been very young back then and Cromwell most likely had an army of guards at his back, she would have done everything she could, to kill him.
And she knew she wouldn't be ashamed of it and wouldn't regret it. Not for a second.
Hermione sighed, feeling the words coming out steadily, "We're a lot alike, Tom."
Tom smiled sadly at Hermione's insight.
"We are," he agreed, "I won't make assumptions about how you grew up. But I know you've been through a lot. I can tell. Now, imagine you were in the same situation as myself, and you saw someone you loved being murdered, because someone considered you a freak because of something you can't help, nor should you want to change. What would you do?"
Hermione swallowed, feeling the pain of that scenario play out in her mind.
He was right, of course.
Because if anyone she loved; her mother, Daphne, Astoria, Millicent or Pansy got hurt, or if Tom possibly could get hurt the way he was now, she knew she would make whoever did it, pay. Even if she wasn't as close with Luna and Harry as she was with Daphne, Astoria, Millicent, Pansy and Tom, she knew she wouldn't take it well if anything happened to them either.
And then there were Fleur and that woman in the prison cell.
If anything happened to any of them, if anyone even threatened them? Hermione didn't think she'd be able to keep her anger in place.
Hermione huffed out sadly, anger and sadness roiling in her over what had happened to Tom, and how much she identified with him, "You were completely alone…"
"Well, almost," Tom said, "I had the…I suppose you'd call them "fake friends," Abraxas and the others. And one other."
At this, Hermione frowned, curious, though still sad for her friend.
Tom elaborated at Hermione's questioning expression, "There was…..I suppose you could call him a staff member that worked at Hogwarts. His name was Marc Gunderson. He befriended me, close to my third year. I know that it probably would be seen as inappropriate, since Marc was a full-grown man. I was a thirteen-year-old. But I appreciated his presence. His presence made me happy. It was like having a father. Salazar knows that Dumbledore certainly wouldn't step in for that role. And neither would my absentee father or his family, or my poor mother's murderous brother. So, I was glad for his presence."
Intrigued by this information, Hermione asked, "This Marc Gunderson, who was he? A teacher?"
"Not exactly," Tom said, "A wizard that I don't think was supposed to be at the school, but decided to stay there because I don't think he had anywhere else to go. I believe the common word referred to people like him, is 'homeless.'"
Hermione's eyes widened. Some homeless wizard had ended up here? Usually, they ended up at Knockturn Alley.
Then again, she admittedly didn't know of every homeless witch or wizard in the world, did she?
"What happened to this Marc, anyway?" Hermione asked, curious.
It sounded like a lot of bad things happened to the people in Tom's life. His girlfriend and mate, Ella Taylor, murdered by her own father. His mother dying in childbirth. His father, and the rest of his father's family being murdered by his mother's psychotic brother.
Tom answered, "I'm not quite sure. We talked on and off throughout the years in the castle or in the Forbidden Forest, keeping out of other peoples' eyesight. I promise you, there was nothing untoward. Marc never saw me in that way. I think he just wanted a friend. And I think I might have been the closest he had to family. He said that his family had died when he was very young. A long time ago. You might think that Hogwarts helped me learn a lot of the things I know now. But it was Marc Gunderson that taught me the spells that I know today."
Hermione stared. This was all strange information for her to take in. A random wizard, whom she had never heard of before, had been in contact with Tom for years and years, in this very school. And no one had known.
The Marauder's map hadn't even been invented yet, because this was before James, Sirius, Remus and Peter's time.
So, as far as she knew, there was no way to keep track of this Marc and Tom and their interactions.
A sudden thought entered Hermione's mind. If Tom had met Marc when Tom was thirteen, then…
Hermione asked, uneasy now, "Was this Marc the one that taught you legilimency? And helped you kill Frederick and Catherine Taylor?"
Tom smiled sadly. "You're very perceptive, Hermione," he said, "And to answer your question? Yes. He taught me everything. Everything. And yes, when I told him of what happened to my Ella? When I wept before him, he offered me vengeance. And he would not allow me to wipe my hands clean. He said that if he was to do it, I would have to take responsibility and be there too. But I want you to understand this, Hermione-I wanted to do it. I was more than happy to do it. To torture both Frederick and Catherine Taylor to death for what they did. So, I went with him and tortured both of them to death for what they did to my Ella."
Tom's voice was heavy and angry by the time he finished and Hermione sat there, stunned into silence.
Because how else could she react?
There had been a wizard, who had been involved in Tom's life, and from the sounds of it, had been an intensely negative influence in Tom's life, and yet? He had done more for Tom than anyone, save for Ella Taylor, who was murdered.
What was Hermione supposed to feel about that?
Hermione felt herself say the words quietly, "I'm sorry. I don't have the right to judge, do I? I think if I were in your position? I'd do that too."
And she knew it was the truth. Again, the gut churning mental image of Percival Cromwell murdering anyone she loved, ran through her mind, and she knew, with unflinching hate, that she'd torture him to death in seconds, as soon as he just might do that.
"Thank you for understanding, Hermione," Tom said, smiling.
When Tom went back into the diary and Hermione went back to her bedroom, storing the diary away again, she made a decision, her mind going to that possibility of Cromwell harming someone she loved, she grabbed her clothes, changed into her robes, grabbed her wand and went out of the Slytherin dorm rooms, going through the halls of the castle, staying out of Filch's sight, and getting to the library.
She cracked some of the darker tomes open and began searching more information up on legilimency.
If she wanted a way of destroying someone like Cromwell? Then, she'd better find out what she could about legilimency.
She made a mental note to look up the last name "Gunderson" later.
In a few hours, after she absorbed much information, she put the book back and ran back to her dorm, and she saw her friends awake, looking around for her. When they saw her, they watched her, worried.
"Hermione," Pansy said, "How long have you been up?"
"Don't worry about it," Hermione said, and the looks she received let her know that they definitely were going to worry, "Let's just get to class."
Hermione went to her bed, grabbed the diary and hid it under the floorboards under her bed, then she and her friends ran to class.
After the first few classes, between Hermione's lack of sleep and her worries about Fleur Delacour being here, she barely was able to focus through most of her classes and she knew her friends noticed.
Thankfully, they said nothing personal at all.
When they went to the Great Hall, the goblet of fire was there, standing at the end of the hall, between a couple of tables. The fires roared and flicked.
Many students gathered around it, gawking.
Many mumbled about trying to throw their names in, but didn't dare.
Hermione and her friends sat down to eat, watching the circus that was unfolding.
Those two ridiculous Weasley twins, Fred and George took a potion, making a whole show of it and jumping into the circle around the goblet, able to do so, thanks to this potion they took, and tossed papers into the goblet, those papers presumably had their names on it.
Suddenly, there was a blast from the goblet and both Fred and George were sent flying away from the goblet, onto the floor, wincing and their red hair becoming white and white beards sprouting over their faces.
They started arguing about whose fault it was and started rough housing, even throwing a few punches.
Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes.
"Idiots," Daphne remarked wryly.
"Agreed," Millicent said.
During their time in the hall, several figures went in and tossed their names into the fire.
Amongst these many people, were Cedric Diggory, a seventh year Hufflepuff.
Another was Viktor Krum himself, stepping up to the goblet, and tossing his name in. The large young man looked over at where Hermione and her friends sat and Hermione tilted her head as he turned and walked back out of the Great Hall.
Then after a few more people went on to throw their names in, someone else walked in that caused Hermione to freeze up.
Fleur Delacour herself.
Fleur walked up to the goblet, not looking at Hermione the whole time, but Hermione knew that Fleur knew she was there. Hermione could see it in the way the tips of Fleur's mouth just twitched, like she was having a hard time not smiling. The Veela lifted her hand and tossed a piece of paper into the goblet. As soon as she was finished with that? Fleur turned and went back down the hall. Right before she exited out of the hall, she only then looked in Hermione's direction and smiled at her.
Then she left.
Hermione sighed, shaking her head, trying to ignore how every inch of her felt like it was on fire.
"Need some time to recover, Mione?" Pansy chuckled.
"Shut up, Parkinson," Hermione grumbled, earning a few laughs from her friends, trying to ignore how her face heated up, thinking about Fleur.
Of course, now she had a new worry. What happened if Fleur's name was picked out of the goblet of fire? How much danger would Fleur be in while in the Triwizard tournament? The answer was a lot.
She would be in a lot of danger.
But Hermione tried to reassure herself by reminding herself that it was unlikely that Fleur's name would be coughed out of the goblet of fire. What were the chances where almost anyone could be chosen from the Beauxbatons school and Hermione had seen multiple students from that school throw their names in, that Fleur would be the one that was chosen?
This wasn't a matter of ability-Hermione had no doubt that Fleur was a powerful witch and Veela, but this was a matter of probability.
She'd seen at least sixteen students from Beauxbatons throw their names in, and that wasn't including Fleur. Not to mention there were probably several other students who had thrown their names in that she hadn't seen. So, wasn't there a probability that one of them could be chosen instead too?
So, she was certain that it was alright.
She also made a mental note to go down to the Chamber of Secrets and check on the basilisk. She had to make sure that it stayed where it was. That thing could kill someone just by looking at it.
It was a terrible thing to think, but she wasn't sure she wanted to let that thing live.
It was terrible to think, because, well, the basilisk was a very rare creature. It was an endangered species. And it was magnificent.
To kill one of them, would be like killing a jaguar. Something beautiful and endangered.
It would be completely and utterly unforgivable to do.
But the basilisk had already killed at least one person. And as long as it was around, anyone that met its eyes, was in danger.
That was why basilisks were endangered in the first place.
Because as soon as one was found, witches and wizards would kill it instantly, before it could turn to them and kill them with its eyes.
Basilisks were considered dangerous for that, because they were dangerous for that, so, they were always killed with the killing curse, on sight.
So, there weren't that many of them left.
She walked with her friends to their next class, and after that class, she snuck away, went to the girls lavatory, where Moaning Myrtle tended to be, snuck in, used Parseltongue to open up the sink, took her wand out and levitated herself down the tunnel, to the underground caverns.
She went through the tunnels and reached the circular door of the Chamber of Secrets, and used Parseltongue again.
The snake locks slithered back and out of the way, the door creaking open slowly.
Hermione sucked in a breath, feeling unease, and walked through the doorway. Time to see the gargantuan reptile that she somehow could command.
Honestly? The fact that she could control the basilisk, didn't bring her comfort. It actually made her more nervous. Because of what it entailed. That she was somehow the descendant of Salazar Slytherin.
Her, a muggle-born, who Salazar Slytherin himself, had hoped to keep out of Hogwarts, and if this chamber was anything to go by? Built in order to get rid of muggle-borns.
In a way, she supposed there was a type of justice with her being a muggle-born and being the heir of the bigoted Salazar Slytherin.
His legacy fell upon the shoulders of a muggle-born.
There was something satisfying about that, she had to admit.
But there was still a question of what to do about the damned basilisk.
Honestly? Hermione was surprised that the basilisk had survived this long throughout the centuries.
Then again, it might be an entirely different basilisk.
She had no idea what the mating habits were of a basilisk. Maybe there was only one in here, or maybe they could asexually reproduce. Who knew? She'd heard that there were a few reptiles that could do that.
She stood before the colossal stone face of Salazar Slytherin, and she spoke the Parseltongue language, ordering the basilisk out of the huge stone mouth of Salazar Slytherin.
The mouth parted and Hermione watched the murderously large snake head emerge from between those big stone lips.
Slowly, the basilisk exited out of Slytherin's mouth, "slithering," essentially out.
When the large snake with gigantic fangs and yellow eyes was fully out of the stone face and loomed over her, looking at Hermione and again, much to Hermione's unease, it bowed its head to her.
Hermione took a breath and spoke, her voice trying to carry some authority, despite looking up into a nightmare of a face.
Why couldn't it just have been a dragon that was in the Chamber of Secrets? She could handle that.
In fact, she would have been delighted over that.
But she spoke as well as she could, "Show me where you've been getting your food for the past years."
She avoided saying "centuries," because she had no idea if centuries were as long as basilisks lived.
What happened next, Hermione had not expected.
The basilisk opened its horrid mouth, and to Hermione's shock and horror, it spoke!
A slow and hissing, reptilian voice spoke from the basilisk's massive throat. It said, "I can do more than that, young master. I can tell you."
"What the-?!" Hermione gasped out, stepping back, gawking up at the basilisk.
The almost smiling face of gruesome creature, made her shiver, but she still couldn't help the words, "You…you can talk."
"Yes, young master," The gargantuan reptile responded, "Now, would you like me to tell you what I've been eating?"
Hermione swallowed, her mind having a hard time grasping this. The basilisk could talk.
And you know? Somewhere in the back of her brain, Hermione realized she shouldn't have been surprised by that.
Because well, she was a parseltongue and the basilisk was a great big snake.
Really, she should have realized that she could communicate with the basilisk.
"No," she said, taking a breath, "That's fine. Just tell me honestly, okay? Have you been eating any humans?"
The snake shook its massive head. "No," it hissed out, "I have not. Even if perhaps my previous master, wanted me to."
Hermione froze, staring up into those very deadly golden eyes. "Your previous master?" She echoed, "Who was that? A boy, right? Who was he? Did you know his name?"
"I did not," the basilisk said, almost solemnly, "I just know that it was a boy. And eventually, a man. With dark hair, brown eyes. He was in Slytherin. Like you. Eloquent. Commanding. But I never learned his name. He wouldn't tell me. But I know what name he chose for himself."
"The name he chose for himself?" Hermione asked, voice shaky, "What was it?"
The snake never tore its gaze from Hermione as it spoke plainly, "Voldemort."
Hermione gasped, stepping back. She should have seen it coming. But she hadn't.
In made too much sense, though. The timing fit.
She had thought that the person who controlled the basilisk to attack people, had been Abraxas Malfoy or someone like that.
But she hadn't realized that…that it had been Voldemort.
And Hermione comprehended what that meant.
Voldemort had been a student at Hogwarts.
Well, because of course, he had been.
Because there were very few magical schools in Britain. And unless Voldemort had originated from another region of the world, what other school would he have attended in his youth to learn magic?
Voldemort had been a student here at Hogwarts.
And he'd been…..in Slytherin.
Suddenly, Hermione shuddered, remembering all the horrible things people said about her house. How every witch and wizard that ended up in Slytherin, turned out bad.
She told herself that it wasn't true. It couldn't be.
But still….Snape, the entire Malfoy line, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black, Regulus Black, and so many other Black family members, the Lestrange brothers…and now Voldemort, himself?
Hermione swallowed, ignoring her growing discomfort. She looked at the basilisk again and asked, "Can you keep track of time? How long ago was this, when you last saw your previous master?"
The snake didn't even move in all the time that Hermione was taking in this information. It just loomed there, staring at her.
Which made the huge snake look…all the creepier, honestly.
The basilisk answered, "I can keep track of time, very well, thank you. This was several decades ago. If I'm calculating correctly, it was about fifty-one years ago."
Hermione gaped. She hadn't really thought about how old that would make Voldemort.
However, something then clicked in her mind.
There were times when Hermione actually hated how observant she was. How she could leap into logic and realize things she didn't want to realize.
And she had that exact moment, just then.
She could do the math in her head. Fifty-one years ago?
That was around the 1940s, right? Right around the time when Tom Riddle went to school, right?
She tried to tell herself that it just meant that Tom had avoided being killed by Voldemort, but that was just what she was telling herself.
She could feel her mind already making the connection.
It was like a terrible game of "connect the dots."
Voldemort most likely had come from a pureblood family. Tom had come from a pureblood family, even if they had rejected him completely.
Voldemort had gone to Hogwarts fifty-one years ago, in the 1940s. Right around the time Tom was there.
Voldemort, according to this creature, wore Slytherin robes. And Hermione knew that Tom had been in Slytherin.
Tom had "caught Hagrid" years ago and had claimed he set something loose on the school and attacked a student with it. But was that because he was looking for someone to blame, so that he himself wouldn't get caught?
And weren't the attacks from this basilisk, right around the time Tom had been here?
Hermione tore her mind from that train of thought. No, no, no, no, no, no! She couldn't think something like that.
She just couldn't.
A thought then hit her. She said, "Wait, this boy who was your last master, did he say anything about his family?"
The snake paused, then answered, "In a way. He was obsessed with what he called 'pure blood.' But then, many of the previous masters of this chamber, have been. He was obsessed with finding out if he was related to a pureblood family. So, he tracked down a book that would help track his family down-if the family was pureblood, that is. It only tracks people who are descended from pureblood families. And he hid it here in this very chamber. It was called 'The History of Pure Lineage.'"
Hermione's eyes widened. Oh. It was that book that Pansy had told her about in her and her friends' previous year.
A new question entered Hermione's brain. She asked, "Why would your previous master be interested in a book like that? Didn't he know who his family was?"
"No," the basilisk said, sounding almost pitying, "He was an orphan, you see."
Hermione felt her heart become filled with liquid ice.
No….
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!
Tom had been an orphan.
Voldemort, apparently, had been an orphan.
There were just too many parallels.
It might not explain how Tom ended up in that diary, but all this felt like it just might explain a few things about Tom in general…..
And now, Hermione thought about one last thing. Harry had said that he'd had a dream of her, and he was looking through someone else's eyes. That someone else had been Tom.
Now why would something like that happen?
Unless, something had happened involving Tom, that had somehow tied him to Harry.
Something like, say, maybe a killing curse gone wrong when Harry was only a baby?
"Master?" The large snake asked Hermione, "Are you alright? You're crying."
Hermione shook, memories searing through her head as her breathing became shallow and she realized that there were hot tears indeed, streaming down her face.
Cromwell and his guards. The mistreatment, being told that no one would love her and the other muggle-borns, just because of what they were.
That people would never really be friends with them, even if they made it out of the labs, that anyone who made friends with them, would be lying.
Hermione felt sick, and she took several deep breaths, trying to focus on her mother's breathing technique.
She breathed out in an even breath, trying to match them mental count in her head.
1.
Breathe.
2.
Breathe.
3.
Breathe.
4.
Breathe.
5.
Breathe.
Finally, Hermione's breathing started to even as she lifted herself up from where she'd bent, trying to control her breathing and she exhaled deeply, raising her right hand and wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I'm fine," she lied and she was sure the snake knew she was lying. "I'm fine. Thank you. I just needed a moment."
The snake, thankfully, said nothing.
Hermione took a breath and said quickly, needing to get out of there, now, "Thank you for your time. I need to go. But there's one thing I have to ask. Did your previous master ever say anything about someone named Marc Gunderson?"
The snake actually appeared puzzled by this, before saying, "No, master. He did not. Why?"
"Never mind," Hermione said, breathing out weakly still, "I need to go. Thank you. But the same order applies like before. Stay here. And don't show yourself to anyone. Keep eating things that aren't human, only."
"Yes, master," the snake said, "Not that I haven't been doing that for the past thirteen years already."
Hermione paused. Was that sass?
As Hermione neared the exit of the chamber, she said, "Do you have a name?"
"Yes, master," the snake said, "Shagshic."
Hermione nodded. She was positive that if anyone else had heard that name, they'd make some derogatory joke, but alright. Shagshic.
"It's nice to meet you, Shagshic," she said, though she wasn't sure "nice" was what she'd call the word. She added, "I'm going to ask you about the book later, do you know where it is?"
"I do," the snake said, "It's in the mouth of that snake head."
Shagshic was looking to the right, to the very first head of the snake that she was closest to, that flanked the hall.
Hermione frowned and moved to that metal head of the snake, looking inside.
The tongue of the snake was out and on the floor. But yes, it appeared that something had been placed right behind the tongue.
The large snake, Shagshic, slithered up back into the mouth of Slytherin and disappeared into it. The mouth closed up.
Hesitantly, Hermione reached into the snake mouth of the metal snake head, and wrapped her hand around what was inside.
It indeed did feel like a book.
She pulled her arm up out of the metal snake head and held the book up in front of her.
The book was large, old looking, and to Hermione's surprise, had a metal binding and a metal cover of some sort.
There was a large metal tree on the front cover, with long, metal vines coming out of the tree.
And written across the cover, was the title, "The History of Pureblood Lineage," by someone named Lukas Halifax. Whoever the bloody hell that was.
She could safely say that in all the books she'd read from the magical world, she had yet to recall reading that name. Lucas Halifax.
After staring at the cover of the book for a long while, she began to move with the book, to the chamber's doorway.
Hermione got out of the chamber, locked the chamber up and levitated herself out of the tunnels, making sure the sink was back in its place.
She reached the corridors, keeping the book under her robes as she moved and got to the Slytherin common room, trying to ignore how her stomach turned the whole time.
She put the book under the floorboards, next to Tom's diary, and spent a solid four minutes, staring at that diary.
Could it be true? Could it really be true?
Swallowing the bile in her throat, and desperately trying to keep herself from crying again, she quickly grabbed the diary and put it in her robes, then put the floorboards back into place and lifted herself up from under her bed.
She couldn't risk leaving the diary under the floorboards under her bed.
Not if Tom was who she was beginning to believe he was.
It was too risky that someone might find it. She was keeping the diary on her person at all times.
She checked the time on the mantel of the fireplace when she went into the Slytherin common room again. And her eyes widened.
She was late for her class. She had to go now.
She gripped the diary close, and ran out of the dorm and headed for her next class.
The whole time, she tried to ignore the horrid and chaos in her mind, the feelings of betrayal and fear chasing each other around.
Trying desperately to ignore the reality that the entity, who she had come to love as her brother, might just be one of the darkest wizards who had ever lived.
She had no idea how she could face her friends like this.
Her next class would be Defense Against the Dark Arts.
With "Mad Eye Moody."
All Hermione could think as she walked down the hall was, (Oh, Merlin, maybe Daphne was right about Tom, all along.)
Author's note
Okay, several things to keep in mind.
Number one: I mentioned in a much earlier chapter, that there were prophecies not just about Hermione and Harry, but also about Fleur, Viktor and Cedric. As you may have guessed, Cedric lives in this. And all three Fleur, Viktor and Cedric, play a much bigger role in this than in the books. I know that's to be expected with Fleur, but keep Viktor and Cedric in the back of your minds too.
Number two: The man that I mentioned, who knew Tom, "Marc Gunderson," no, Tom didn't make him up. He's an actual character that I created. And he did in fact teach Tom everything that Tom knows. So, think about that, there's a wizard that Tom learned all the dark arts from. Just keep that in the back of your mind. Just keep the name Marc Gunderson in the back of your mind.
Number three: So, finally, Hermione is beginning to strongly suspect who Tom is. Finally. When is there going to be a confrontation? You'll see.
Number four: And the book, the book about bloodlines and all, has been found and it was an idea given to me by Wheelie91 on Archive of our own. And so was the idea that Hermione could have a conversation with the basilisk, and the basilisk's name is Shagshic.
Number five: That thing with Daphne and Astoria's mates? We'll get to them later. We'll get to Chloe and Noah later. And yes, I made Noah non-binary, because Rowling's "morality" about gender, is completely fucking bullshit.