Hello there.

By any chance, are you a student at Hogwarts?

I was one too, once upon a time.

You're a clever one, aren't you? Yes, that's me. It's very nice to meet you.

If I need to be anything, then I can be a friend. I know how hard it can be to find friends of worth when you're the most clever one in the room. People get ever so jealous.

That's why I became Head Boy: to make sure things like that didn't happen to anyone else. I imagine that was quite a while ago, now. Would you mind terribly telling me what year it is?

Of course. I'll be waiting.

A car, really?

That hardly sounds safe. Muggle things don't take well to magic.

Well if you don't mind my lecturing, much of the strength of magic comes from tradition and connection to the world. It's difficult to make that work with muggle things—the magic doesn't recognize them. Those boys of yours are lucky to be alive.

Lions will be lions. It's good that you're above that attitude.

It sounds rather a lot like he released potentially dangerous creatures into the classroom, tried to cast a spell that doesn't exist, cowered under his desk, and made you and your friends handle the problem. That doesn't betray competence to me.

No, it doesn't. I've more than a little passing familiarity with Defense, and the spell you described doesn't sound like anything that I've ever heard of. Maybe you should check some other spellbooks.

I had thought so. It makes you wonder what Dumbledore was thinking hiring him, doesn't it?

Really?

I'm afraid that I Don't-Know-Who, actually.

Come now, who am I going to tell?

See? That wasn't so bad.

That must have been difficult for you.

That Harry Potter of yours must be something special to fend off a dark wizard like that on his own.

Really?

I doubt he lost to an infant. Don't you think there would have to be something else going on there? People who call themselves Dark Lords aren't the type to lose fights with children. It must have been a clever bit of magic that did him in.

I don't know if Dumbledore's ever been straightforward about anything, unfortunately.

Oh yes. Would you like to see?

I think that you wouldn't ask me my opinion on muggleborns without reason. Did something happen?

It seems like the Malfoys haven't changed too much. They've always believed that their blood makes them inherently better. They never work to be worthy of the praise that they think they deserve. They're spiteful people who are quite happy to sneer down upon their betters. This Draco sounds much the same.

I think that you're young, and that few things are set in stone. You might very well be better than him, someday. You might also prove him right about people like you being filth. Power is what matters in the end. Don't be afraid to reach for it, because he certainly won't be.

Would you like to be powerful?

I can help with that.

Of course. If Dumbledore's keeping around people like that Lockhart, then you won't be able to manage it on your own. Not that I think you're not capable. You just aren't being given the tools you deserve.

You'll need an abandoned classroom to practice. Your first step will be finding that. It won't be too hard. Hogwarts has more secret places squirreled away than most would ever suspect.

I am not most people.

Mhm.

Of course.

How dreadful.

What a cow.

And?

That's terrible.

The disrespect!

It's fine.

Go on.

Uh-huh.

Of course. Good night.

Well, that's not ideal.

I am being serious. Blacking out like that isn't normal.

Come now. Do you really think that you'd be the type of person to do any of those things, even when blacked out?

I thought not.

The only thing we can do is keep up your defense training. That way if this attacker does come after you like this Malfoy thinks it will, they won't get the best of you.

I don't recall offering to teach them. Do you really think that they could keep up with you, as fast as you learn?

You shouldn't hamstring yourself for them. Unless I'm mistaken, you wanted to be powerful in your own right. Unless you want to be just Harry's friend?

I thought not. You have to stop propping him up at the expense of yourself. Besides, you're a far more receptive student than he seems to be.

And you must admit: having the cat out of the way will be beyond helpful for when you're sneaking out to our secret classroom. She's been more than a bit annoying.

Oh there's no need for that. Do you think that vile squib would feel at all bad if it were you that was petrified? Besides, it's not like you're the one who did it. There's nothing wrong with taking victories where you can.

You could always use polyjuice, you know.

Oh it's tricky, yes, but well within your abilities. You've been brewing potions almost as complicated with me, haven't you?

Your potions master should have everything you need.

Oh, nonsense. It's there for the students to use, after all. They don't need it as much as you do anyway.

You can't deny that the school can get their hands on potions ingredients far more easily than you can.

I'm glad that you came to see sense.

It happened again?

Only one thing comes to mind. You said that last year the root of everything was one of the professors. Maybe the same thing is happening here.

If this Quirrel could make it in, then who's to say what's possible?

I know how hard it is, but you're an intelligent young woman. Think about it. Who else but a professor has the sort of unrestricted access that would be needed to do something like this?

I think the only ones we can truly discount are Binns and Lockhart. One's dead to the world, and the other's a ghost.

Oh by all means, investigate this Malfoy. Best to be sure. If nothing else, it's good potions practice.

A parseltongue, truly? Fascinating.

It's just that that's old magic. Powerful magic. He doesn't seem the type to study up on how to do the ritual himself, so he must've been born to it. I wasn't aware the Potters had Slytherin blood anywhere in their line.

Oh yes. It's a tricky old thing, forgotten most places. Most of the truly strong magic has been, I find.

There's whole branches of old magics that work best with a true affinity with an animal. The familiars of today are something of a pale imitation.

Because people are scared of knowledge, I can only imagine. It's a shame. Magic can be something truly wonderful, yet people hide it away out of fear. Imagine for a second what the world could be like if people weren't scared of their own potential.

That's what ideals are for, aren't they? To strive towards?

No, no. I don't think you need to be scared of your potential. Not at all. I think you're far too strong for that.

Of course I'll teach you the ritual, but, well, I need to ask you for something first.

I'm afraid I need to confess something. You've been wondering what I am, don't pretend you haven't been. I'm not a construct like you're probably thinking. Nor am I a lost soul trapped in a diary, or a magical creature of any sort. Think of me like a memory. The 'original' me wanted to make me partly for legacy, partly to prove to himself that he could. I'm hideously complex, you see.

It's just that you're a fantastic student, and I'm not even my whole self. Don't you think you deserve a better teacher given the opportunity?

Well, I'm glad you think so, but the point stands. I'm going to run out of things to teach you. So before I teach you the bonding ritual, I want you to promise me something.

I want you to promise that the first opportunity you get, you'll seek out my actual self and do your absolute best to learn from him. I'd also like you to promise to keep this a secret between you and whatever version of me that you might find running around.

It's good that you're so willing to promise me like that. I'm going to have to ask for a little more trust, though. The people at the Ministry aren't the biggest fans of some of the things I'd like to teach you, you see, and I'd hate for you to get halfway through all of this and run off to get yourself hurt. I want to protect you.

There's ways to make a promise so that you can't break it. In order to protect you, I'd like you to make these promises before I teach you anything that might spook the fools scared of their own magic.

Of course. I understand. It's a big commitment. For now, let's keep working on your dueling spells, shall we?

Judging from the tears, the polyjuice didn't go well?

Ah. No, that's certainly not ideal, but think about it: The potion worked. That's a N.E.W.T. level potion, and you brewed it at thirteen years old. Just because you got a bad hair doesn't make it any less impressive. In fact, I'll teach you how to identify who a body part came from later. It's a spell normally taught to Aurors, but I think you can more than handle it. Now, how is our little 'heir'?

I thought so. You know what this means, of course.

I know this is hard to think about, but come now. Are you really going to put faith in Dumbledore's dedication to keeping you safe? If you recall, he pitted you against a Dark Lord within a year of you learning magic exists.

You can't assume that at all. Is this professor McGonnagal a muggleborn? Has she made any real effort to ease your concerns as one? Every time you've blacked out, you've been somewhere that she has access to: the library, your common room, the halls. I'd say she might even be more likely than some.

This Snape might be a solid contender, true, but don't disappoint me now. You're smarter than that. I'm sorry to say it, but until you find evidence of who's causing these blackouts and who's petrifying people, you can't let yourself turn a blind eye. Not even to your professors.

I know, I'm sorry. It's not an easy thing to accept. With Finch-Fletchley and Nick petrified though, we're well past anything easy. You know as well as I do that no student here would be able to petrify a ghost. You might be able to, given time, but who else? All that remains is the professors.

Just keep an eye out. You'll get through this alright.

Are you sure? This is a big decision.

Of course. I'd hate for you to regret it.

As you wish. The process is a bit Dark, but that's no problem at all. Not for someone as talented as you.

Dark as in elementally dark. It's all quite legal.

It means that it works off of desires—strong emotions. Light being the opposite of that, all very technical. This spell being dark just means that you have to prove how much you mean it. Now, from your potions kit, you'll need foxglove and borage.

Good. You just need a single flower of each. Go ahead and crush them into a powder. Get yourself a fresh pot of ink, toss in the reagent powder, and prick your finger into it. You just need a bit of blood.

To prove how much you mean it, as I said. Magic doesn't come from the blood exactly, but it's a very real connection to your magic. Now's not the time for the details. Go ahead and mix up the ink with your wand. Once that's done, you're going to cast a spell. Pull your wand out of the ink and tap it against the pot. Your incantation is 'Verita Scibio'. 'Sc' like 'scion', not 'scorn'. When you cast the spell, you have to really focus on how much you value truth. If it doesn't work, just try again. You'll know when it's worked.

Good. That was supposed to happen. You'll want a new quill for this. Now, you're going to write with your new quill and ink. Just right here will do fine, else you'd need specially prepared paper. Repeat after me.

'I swear that I will seek out Tom Marvolo Riddle as soon as I can so that I might learn from him.'

'I swear to do my best to learn from Tom Marvolo Riddle.'

'I swear that I will keep these oaths a secret from those who would do Tom Marvolo Riddle harm.'

Good. Now we can get started properly. You've so many things to learn.

The exhaustion is normal. You just made a big decision, after all. My brave little lion.

Don't worry. You can trust me, Hermione.

Every day for the past several months, I'd left a letter on my pillow. My bed was warded after Tom had taught me how. It wouldn't be enough to stop a dedicated teacher, but it would certainly stop any second year snoopers that hadn't happened to have apprenticed to a burgeoning Dark Lord. In the letter I talked about the diary. I talked about my blackouts. I talked about how I was worried that I'd been in some way responsible for the petrifications, that I'd woken up with blood all over my robes more than once.

I most certainly did not talk in the letter about what Tom meant to me. I did not talk about how he was the only person I had truly trusted. I did not even think about confessing my vows. He'd told me exactly how painful that would be. Tom had lied to me about many things, I now realized, but never about magic. It made sense. Magic was the only thing Voldemort had ever valued, to hear Dumbledore tell it.

That paranoid little habit had saved my life.

I'd woken up to Professor Snape standing over me with a rooster in one hand and Tom's diary in the other. The diary was stabbed through by a massive fang, ink bleeding out from between the pages. He had a furious look to him, but deep pangs of something wrong somewhere deep in my chest took up near the entirety of my attention. A hollow, empty feeling inside, like if you struck me with a hammer I would just ring and ring and ring. I didn't know what yet, but something inside of me was gone.

He'd grabbed me then. Hauled me up to my feet and shoved some sickly looking green potion into my hands. He said something, I'm not sure what, and I drank it. The taste barely even registered. Professor Snape held tight to my arm and dragged me past walls of scale and stone. Muddy water sloshed around our feet, soaking into everything it could. Harry stood waiting for us around a corner, alternating between glaring at Professor Snape and looking me over. His worried face was the first thing that day that registered as more than mere background detail. He ran over to support me, taking my weight off of Snape. Snape seemed rather glad to be rid of me.

Professor Snape led us out to a rocky bit of cave which was somehow distinct from every other rocky bit of cave around. He snapped something at Harry, who mumbled and hissed at the floor. I couldn't tell what he said, but the floor apparently could. It began rising up. I recall it took me an embarrassingly long moment to realize that we were in an elevator heading back up to the castle proper.

We emerged from the depths in Myrtle's bathroom of all places. Professor Snape dragged us to the Hospital Wing. Harry argued, but Professor Snape said something about the Headmaster learning to wait and fixed Harry with another momentary glare.

It was still just all so flat. Something was missing.

Madam Pomfrey ushered me to a bed, scolding me all the while. Professor Snape said something to her briefly, but didn't stick around after. Once I was laid up, she gave Harry just enough attention to sit him down and to tell that he wasn't dying before devoting her attention to me.

She scanned over me with her wand a number of different times, giving me potions to drink all the while. It seemed to me that for every scan she performed, the look on her face grew steadily more grave.

"He took something with him," I finally said. My voice sounded flat, even to me.

Madam Pomfrey looked me in the eyes for the first time since I'd arrived, then. "Who did?"

"Tom," I said, as if that meant anything to anyone but me. "Tom Riddle." Madam Pomfrey nodded as if I were speaking sense and continued the scans that made her so grim.

Harry, though, he looked at me. Really looked. He gave me a soft smile and sad eyes and said, "McGonagall found your letter. She brought it to all the professors in the staff room, and Snape said something like 'Potter will know something about this.' He went to go looking, but Ron and me were already in the cupboard. I told him I'd figured out where the Chamber of Secrets was, and he just dragged me down there, fought the basilisk, fought Riddle, and saved you. It would've been brilliant if he wasn't such a git about it!" It was nice, at least, that Harry hadn't had to be the one fighting this time. He wasn't done, though.

"Riddle, he explained everything that's been going on. He told us about the basilisk, and what he's been doing to you, and said he was killing you to bring himself back. Turns out he was the real heir of Slytherin." I gave him a blank stare, trying for the first time in my life to not put the pieces together. Harry just kept talking. "His name, it rearranges, see? 'I am Lord Voldemort'. But we got him! We saved you. Even if you've been ignoring us."

"Harry, I—"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Harry interrupted. "You know Ron and I would've been right there with you!" I opened my mouth to speak, but he wasn't having it. "You've been disappearing all year! Do you have any idea how worried we were? We could have helped."

That prompted the first proper thing I felt that day: Overwhelming regret. Tears welled up in my eyes, and the anger in Harry's softened. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up into a hug.

"You almost died," he whispered into my hair.

"I'm sorry," I whispered back.

The hug lasted until I ran out of tears and Harry was sure I wouldn't disappear. He let me go, sat back down, and gave me the sternest look he could manage with watery eyes and wobbly lips. "No more keeping secrets from each other," he said, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

"I'm sorry," I said again. It didn't seem like enough. A moment passed, and I asked something I realized that I needed to know. "What did Tom tell you about what he's been doing to me?"

"He said that he'd been letting you pour yourself into him, whatever that means. He said that he'd been taking control of you to do things like kill Hagrid's roosters, and let the basilisk loose, and paint those things on the walls." He paused for a moment. "The basilisk and the messages I get, he's mad and evil, sure. But why the roosters?"

"Basilisks, Harry," I said as patiently as I could, "They die if they hear a rooster's cry."

"That would do it, I guess," he said.

"Listen, Harry," I started, but whatever I was about to say next was swallowed by the doors to the Hospital Wing bursting open. The Headmaster swept into the room, followed closely by Professor Snape. Headmaster Dumbledore made to approach, but was rebuffed by an increasingly annoyed Madam Pomfrey.

She looked up at them just long enough to give them a look that told anyone that cared to see exactly what she thought of them at that particular moment. "Miss Granger needs her rest, and if you need to discuss what happened then you can take Mister Potter with you."

"Poppy," the Headmaster started in what sounded like it was shaping up to be a placating tone..

"Albus," she interrupted. "If you would like to run my Hospital Wing, then you are welcome to try."

He changed tack immediately. "I think that I shall leave that to the experts on this occasion. Miss Granger, it is good to see you are safe. Harry, I think that we have rather a lot to talk about. Shall we?" He gestured to the door.

"Er, right. See you soon, Hermione," Harry said with a look I couldn't decipher before following the Headmaster out.

As Harry and the Headmaster left, I called out. "Professor Snape!" He stopped to look at me with a severe expression on his face. "Thank you. For saving me." His face softened a bit for just a moment before snapping back to normal.

"Do try not to have any more run-ins with the Dark Lord, Miss Granger. It's hazardous to your health." His piece said, he swept out with a flourish. As soon as he had, Madam Pomfrey fell upon me with an array of potions and bid me drink. After each and every one, she waved her wand over me with some sort of scanning spell. I didn't know what she was seeing, the looks on her face weren't like to inspire hope.

Eventually, she gave me something to put me to sleep. She instructed me to rest, tucked me in, and pulled the curtains tight. I was warm, tired, and safe, but as I drifted off to sleep I was keenly aware that I was still missing something important.

I had nightmares that night. Inky black basilisks and dear friends with hidden knives surrounded me in my dreams, yet they seemed… dull. Indistinct. The contents were horrible enough. They just lacked a life to them that I hadn't realized I was used to in my dreams. I'd read that after an experience like mine, it wasn't all that abnormal to have nightmares that wake you up screaming, but no. Instead, I woke slowly to the light of the midday sun through the windows. It seemed Madam Pomfrey wasn't kidding around when it came to sleeping draughts.

No sooner had I managed to sit back up than the woman herself trotted up to my bed, a weak sort of smile on her face. "You've got visitors," she said. "Mister Potter and Mister Weasley have been set up worried sick outside my office all morning."

I gave her a stronger smile than I was feeling. "Could you let them in? I doubt they'll go away otherwise."
"Of course dear," she said, and strutted off. Not thirty seconds passed before my boys darted around the corner with a call of "-and no running!" following them.

Despite myself, I laughed. It was just so typical. As if nothing had changed at all. Harry looked me over and nodded to himself, but hung back. Ron gave me a look like he wanted to hug me but was too busy being a stubborn boy to ask. "You're okay," he said. "Harry said you were, but… you sorta scared everyone."

"Yeah, mostly okay, but," I opened up my arms, "I think I could do with a hug." Ron closed the gap, wrapped me up, and squeezed hard. "Defeats the point if you suffocate me now, though!"

He let go of me, much more assured that I was safe now I'd been given a good squeeze. "I can't believe it was Snape who saved you!"

"Professor Snape," I corrected automatically. "And really, I was out of it. Harry knows more than I do." Ron looked to Harry, who shrugged in response.

"I already told both of you everything," Harry said. "Couldn't really believe it either."

"Honestly," I said, "I was having secret chats with Voldemort, and Professor Snape's the part you don't believe."

"Yeah, but Harry said you already promised not to keep any more secrets like that, and you're safe, so we're square," Ron said. "I'll promise it too. No more secrets between us three."

"No more secrets," Harry nodded.

"I…" I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the looks on their faces. "I can't make that promise. I'm sorry."

"You almost died, Hermione!" Ron said. I could hear the outrage in his voice, and it cut into me sure as any knife.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"You could've been-" he started, but stopped just as suddenly.

"Can't you tell us what's going on?" Harry asked.

"I can't tell you," I looked back up at them, and my gut twisted uncomfortably. Tom had said that it would hurt, but… They deserved to know something. "Something happened with Tom, and…" The twist in my gut began to ache. "I literally can't tell you."

"Hermione, you have to!"

"No Ron, I don't! It physically hurts to even tell you this much." The ache began to gain pinpricks. "And things are going to happen in the future and I'm going to do things that I won't be able to tell you about, and it's all going to be from this same thing!" There was a distinct jab somewhere in my middle that had me doubling over and screwing my eyes shut. "It's all just this big taboo to talk about! I can't do it. And you can't tell anyone else either. I think that would hurt me just as much."

"You've gotta be able to tell us something!" Ron cried.

"Maybe she can't, Ron," Harry said in a soft voice. "If it's taboo like she says, then maybe she really can't. I got enough of this with Dobby. I don't want Hermione hurting herself trying to tell us. Do you?"

"Fine," Ron allowed, clearly not happy. "But you have to promise that you won't keep secrets from us besides this 'taboo' thing."

The pain in my middle eased just enough for me to open my eyes and sit up. "I can do that. I promise not to keep any secrets from you two besides 'this taboo thing' as long as you two promise not to tell anyone else about my taboo, okay?" Nods from both of them. I let out a breath of relief. "Good. That's good." I shook my head, taking a moment to collect myself, to ignore the pain in my chest. "Now," I said, "What's been going on in classes? Are we having exams?"

Ron laughed. "Should've expected. Of course you'd be more worried about classes than almost dying!"

We talked for the next hour or so about inane things, little things, things that weren't Tom Marvolo Riddle or Lord Voldemort or misplaced trust that I knew would haunt the rest of my life. It was nice. I hadn't talked with my boys like this for months, not since Tom had extracted my vows and started teaching me increasingly complex magic that ate up all my time. I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed it until I had it back.

Madam Pomfrey came back eventually to kick Harry and Ron out, citing my need to rest. She scanned me over yet again. Whatever she saw surprised her. Getting incredibly tired of her not telling me about my own condition, I chanced a glance at the clipboard she kept while she turned to retrieve a potion. I didn't see much, but the most recent line—the one she'd just written—seemed to me to look rather a lot like the words 'internal hemorrhaging'. I accepted my potions without complaint.

Really, I should've expected just how cruel the consequences of breaking my vows to Tom would be. It still hit me like a truck, driving the air out of my lungs—though maybe that was the hemorrhaging.

Once I'd drank the potion under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye and allowed myself to be subjected to another battery of scans and checks, she left me to my own devices with strict instructions to "Holler if anything feels strange!"

Several hours passed and the pain in my middle eased down to nothing. Harry and Ron had brought my books and schoolwork over when they visited, and I spent the time playing catch-up. At some point after I'd had to switch to candlelight to work, I was distracted by the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.

I looked up to see Headmaster Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey standing at the foot of my bed. The Headmaster had a smile on his face as he looked at me. "Headmaster, I didn't see you there!" I took the books and parchment from my lap and quickly shoved them onto a side table. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's just fine, Miss Granger," he said. "In fact, it's good to see a student so invested in their schooling. May I sit? These old bones aren't what they used to be." He gestured to one of the chairs at my bedside.

"Of course!" I said as he sat. "I suppose you want to talk about what happened, sir?"

"Oh, not as such, no. Tell me," he motioned at my haphazard stack of parchment and I felt for a moment keenly embarrassed at its disordered state, "How has your studying been going?"

"It's been going well, sir," I answered, more than a bit confused. "I was just working on my Potions essay."

"I imagine you're enjoying it? I hear you're quite the dab hand at potions," he said with a conspiratorial smile.

I flushed. "Yes, sir. The hardest part is keeping it contained. Professor Snape takes points if my essays are too long."

He had the good grace to laugh and pretend he hadn't just been talking about my very illegal potion brewing in Myrtle's bathroom. "Of course. He's a good man, but difficult to please. Between you and me, Miss Granger, even I have trouble keeping him happy sometimes!"

"Really, sir?"

"Truly. Besides your potions essay, have you been working on anything else? Charms perhaps, or transfiguration?" Another easy knowing smile. "Don't tell Minerva, but I've always been more of a fan of charmwork, myself."

"Yes, sir," I said. "I've finished my essays on mixed material transfiguration for Professor McGonnagall, and I'm done with one on unconventional uses of the water-making charm and another on when the revealing charm's appropriate for Professor Flitwick."

"Fascinating subjects, Miss Granger. I'm sure you'll be able to put the knowledge to good use." He seemed to focus, then. The shift in mood was almost a palpable thing. "Those were all essays, yes? Have you by chance done any wandwork since you've woken up?"

I shook my head. "No, sir. I didn't think Madam Pomfrey would appreciate it."

"Likely wise, Miss Granger, though I don't believe that she'll mind in this particular case." I glanced over to her, still standing at the end of my bed. She gave me a nod when she noticed. "Do you have your wand with you?"

"Yes I do, sir." I reached down into my bags to pull it out, presenting it for him to see.

"Good, good. Would you mind demonstrating something for me? Something simple will do. Let's say… that quill you were using. Would you mind levitating it over to me?" I almost asked why, but as I looked at him I realized that the Headmaster was more focused than I had ever seen him.

"Um, sure, sir. Wingardium Leviosa," I incanted with a swish and a flick that were just so, yet nothing happened. The feeling of movement, of energy coursing through and out of me by my wand that I'd come to expect and that I'd trained with Tom to feel simply failed to appear. "I'm sorry sir," I said with a distinct frown and feeling rather like I'd just failed an important exam. "I'm sure that was right; let me try again. Wingardium Leviosa!" Another swish and flick that were just so. The quill twitched this time. My magic almost failed to respond.

I imagined it floating, hovering as if by wires over to Headmaster Dumbledore. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Another twitch.

"Wingardium Leviosa." It hopped up into the air and began to fall.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" It jumped over to my bed this time.

A frown twisted its way across my face. "Wingardium Leviosa!" I all but yelled, and it floated its way across my bed and over to the Headmaster. The magic dripped out of the end of my wand like cold honey.

"It's my magic, sir!" I said, "It feels… sluggish."

"You did very well, Hermione," Headmaster Dumbledore said as he placed a reassuring hand on my arm. He and Madam Pomfrey exchanged a look.

I realized then what it was that Tom had taken, and the weight of it seemed to sap all the energy from my body.

"I think… I think that I would like to go to bed, Madam Pomfrey. I'm tired."

She gave me a sad smile that was trying its best to be reassuring. "Of course. I'll fetch something to help you sleep." She bustled away, and the Headmaster squeezed my arm.

"We'll get this fixed," he said. "You'll have regular use of your magic back in no time. I'm quite sure of it." He stood up, squeezed my shoulder, and left, bidding me to "Sleep well, Miss Granger," as he did.

By the look in his eyes as he left, I realized that there was one more thing that Tom had told me the truth about: Dumbledore lies.

In which Tom Riddle is clever and manipulative, something he never truly got the chance to be in canon.

Let me know if you find anything screwy with the formatting. That said, I've an outline, a writing schedule, and a dream. I'll be trying for weekly updates, but we'll see how I do. Welcome to the ride, everyone. Hope you enjoy as much as I do!