"Block him, Harry!" she hissed under her breath, and she saw him throw up a hasty shield, stumbling backwards at the impact of Voldemort's curse.
This was all wrong! She should be at his side, she and Ron. That's how it had always been, the three of them were side by side, her and Ron helping Harry to the last.
She fought her way through the battle, running and hexing at she went, trying to get to Harry. She tried not to see familiar faces on the dead.
She screamed, seeing a Death Eater approach Harry from behind. "Ron! Do something—!" Her mind yelled—she may have even yelled aloud, too, but she was too far away to be heard, or to do anything herself.
She watched Malfoy raise his wand, but he'd be too late to stop the Death Eater's curse.
She watched as Ron jumped forward, between Harry and the Death Eater, in front of the curse. He fell. She pitched forward, falling to her knees at his side. Was he…?
"RON!" she choked.
She sat up quickly, her face glued in a shocked expression as she looked wildly around the unfamiliar room. After a moment, she remembered, and with a soft moan, sank back on her pillow, hands covering her face.
What she wouldn't give to see them again, whole and happy. To hear Ron prattle on about Quidditch, to nag them about their homework, to sit in the Three Broomsticks and talk about girls they liked…. Even this past year, hunting the Horcruxes together, just the three of them. She hugged her pillow and pressed her face into it, listening to her clock wheezing and snoring lightly, matching her own breathing to its sound.
If she was going to accomplish this, she had to have control of herself.
Her clock snorted causing Hermione to startle. "Oh, wake up, dearie, its almost time for dinner," it said, sleepily, as its hand reverted from "Naptime" to "Dinnertime." Hermione rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling for a second before sitting up again, looking around at her blue and white room.
There were moving pictures of people she didn't know—her friends from Salem, her parents—and she was magically imposed between them. There were post cards from her parents posted on her walls with Adhesive Charms, and a poster signed by the Keeper for the Fitchburg Finches. Random trinkets littered her windowsill and dresser, things that could have been gifts. It was such a normal room, but it wasn't Hermione's. She felt like she was intruding in someone else's room, napping in someone else's bed—she was beginning to feel like she was wearing someone else's skin!
Slipping out of bed, she began to freshen up. She didn't have a bathroom, only a sink and mirror, but she could use the prefect's bathroom just down the hallway on her way to the Great Hall. She splashed water on her face and began detangling her hair.
She'd thought up a project before her nap. She'd research werewolves and attempt to create a preliminary potion to the Wolfsbane. She didn't want to introduce the latter too soon, not knowing what effect the unnecessary changes would have on the future. But she figured that a potion that minimized the effects of the transformation, or allowed the werewolf to keep his or her mind while in solitude, couldn't make too much of a difference. The origins of Wolfsbane and its forerunners was somewhat mysterious, anyway, and it would be interesting to work backwards on the progress of a potion.
She had some time before her target returned to school. For now she simply needed to solidify her credibility. All she had to do was get her facts right, and make people like her and take her background for granted. When her target came, she supposed she would simply learn all she could about him, preferably from him, and then she could decide upon the best course of action to take from there. If she had to kill in cold blood, she would, though she secretly hoped she didn't have to do that, she'd rather spy on him and gather information on how to destroy him. It was possible that she couldn't change what she knew to be real so far, but the outcome hadn't been decided yet, if that was the case.
Just think, if she could give Harry a childhood with his parents, free from Voldemort and the Chosen One business.
She changed into the dark pants and blouse of the American working woman, and took a moment to compose herself, standing in the center of the room with her eyes closed. When she opened her eyes, she would be Hermione Hale, war orphan, academic enthusiast.
She opened her eyes, and headed into the hall, determined to see this through.
"You must be Miss Hale!" said a shaky voice as she entered the Great Hall. A frail-looking wizard smiled at her wanly from the headmaster's chair. Others were in various stages of gathering and sitting down about him. Dumbledore smiled at her from the wizened wizard's right hand side, giving her a small nod, but he let her present herself.
"Headmaster Dippet," she greeted, smiling shyly. "Thank you so much for letting me stay here…." She shook his hand. It was limp and bony.
"We must take care of each other in times like these, Miss Hale. And I hear you will be conducting some research while you are here—very interesting, I'm sure—we're pleased to have you, of course." Hermione had a feeling that Dippet was merely repeating Dumbledore's arguments on her behalf, but she just smiled at the headmaster in mild appreciation. He turned to look around at his staff. "A few of our teachers have returned for term a little early, if I may introduce you…"
"Thank you—"
"You know Albus, then. On his other side, Augusta Andersen, our new Defense Professor." It was the wiry woman who'd escorted Hermione to Dumbledore. She gave Hermione a thin smile and a nod, and though she wasn't overly friendly, Hermione felt accepted by her, more or less. "And beyond her is Horace Slughorn, Potions Professor." Hermione hoped her smile at him didn't resemble a grimace too much .
Dippet cleared his voice and turned to his left. "Ezekiel Frinn is professor of Charms." Frinn wasn't much older than Hermione, and had a friendly smile. "Past Ezekiel is Beral Wyde, our Herbology Professor." Wyde was large and grizzly, but he gave her a quick wink for greeting.
"Introductions aside, do sit and join us for supper, Miss Hale," Dippet offered.
Frinn immediately conjured a chair for her and moved to put it next to his own, but Dumbledore, with an overly twinkling pair of eyes and a small smile, said, "Why don't we sit her with Tom? You young ones will undoubtedly enjoy each other's company much more." Someone else made an agreeing noise, which Hermione only barely registered. She had frozen in place. Tom—surely Dumbledore would have warned her if—
that old codger!
She tried to look at ease and pleasant as she looked to where Dumbledore had gestured. It was him.
Tom Riddle.
He wasn't looking at her, but at Dippet. His face was impassive, but Hermione detected a glint of anger in his look that made her desperately want to hide behind Professor Wyde.
"Now, Dumbledore, that may not be such a good idea," Dippet was saying faintly, looking slightly ill. "I'm sure Miss Hale wants to discuss her research with the professors. Riddle is still a student, I'm sure they…." He glanced uneasily from Riddle to Hermione, and flushed.
It wasn't fear of Riddle, as Hermione might have expected, but more of what might happen if the two of them were to get together and… talk? Hermione wasn't sure. She was intrigued.
Still irritated with Dumbledore for not telling her that Riddle was living in the castle, though she supposed she would have acted suspiciously, she nevertheless found herself smilingly at Riddle and telling Professor Dippet, "Oh, no, thank you, but I'll sit here..." and she sat next to a startled Tom Riddle.
She pretended to be slightly shy so she could avoid looking directly into his eyes while she attempted to get her mind under control. It was screaming This is Lord Voldemort! You know what he's going to do, what he's capable of—run! Stop him! Get away from him!
"Hello… Tom Riddle, is it? Pleasure," and against all of her natural instincts, she put her hand forth to shake his, trying not to look too hard at the glistening black ring on his finger.
Half expecting her hand to light afire or fall off, she missed whatever he said to her and she just nodded numbly.
"Well, what school did you just finish, then?"
"Oh, I went to Salem. It's nothing like Hogwarts so far, but I like it here."
Riddle nodded, looking up and around at the Great Hall as if sizing up its attributes while he chewed. "It's a very… interesting place, I'm sure you'll enjoy being here. It's got a lot of history behind it, from its founding to date."
"Oh, it must! Salem is so young in comparison… Hogwarts' history would be interesting to learn about…."
"Well, there's a book in the library, Hogwarts, A History. It's worth a read, to know a thing or two about the castle you live, right? For example, you can't Apparate or Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds." His voice took on a certain amount of significance, and his gaze darted her way quickly, as if sizing her up without her knowledge. When she didn't react but for a nod, he continued, "Madame Durie could help you find it, or I could, if I'm there. I'm in the library somewhat often."
"I suppose there isn't much else to do, being the only student here during the summer. I have to admit, though, I was in the library all the time while school was in session, too," Hermione laughed.
"Well, the castle and its grounds are really intriguing, too. It's got secret passageways and moving staircases. And our ghosts, of course, that's another thing people don't expect when they come here. This place has got a life of its own," said Riddle. "Many say it is connected on some level to the residing headmaster, and derives its strength from the head of school." Both glanced momentarily at the feeble wizard at the head of the table.
"Salem is nothing like this," breathed Hermione, somewhat wistfully. "It's just a place where magic is learned, it really isn't that magical in itself…."
"What's Salem like?"
Hermione sat up pin-straight and dove into her impassioned lecturing tone, and began rattling off everything she had looked up about Salem. "Oh, well, it doesn't have houses, to start with. Just dormitories based on year. And our Quidditch isn't so structured—its played on a more pick-up basis. Of course, Americans are so wild about Quodpot—I can't say I am, Quidditch seems to take more athletic ability. The institute is also very intermingled with the Muggles—there's less of a campus, its really just charmed to look like one of the numerous 'haunted' houses in the town, and we could walk about in the Muggle parts in our free time. It is an interesting town, more so than even the Muggles realize, since they refuse to believe that the ghosts they see are real…" Hermione prattled on, fully aware that she sounded like an embarrassed girl flustered by the company of a handsome fellow. She was unsure whether having the future Dark Lord think she fancied him was a positive thing or not. She supposed that was better than having him see through her nervousness for the lies she was telling. It was supposed to be impossible to lie to Voldemort.
This is Tom Riddle, she reminded herself, firmly. Not Voldemort. He looked nothing like the red-eyed snake monster that was persecuting all that she held dear in her time. He looked like a normal teenage boy—vaguely like Harry, actually, with his jet black hair. And neither were exactly "normal" teenagers. This seventh-year Tom Riddle was most likely already responsible for Moaning Myrtle's death and his father's by now as well, but he was not yet Voldemort. She resisted looking at his ring again.
Hermione was relieved when Professor Frinn addressed her about her research, even when the entire table turned their attention to her to listen. She'd rather talk to the entire table than to Tom Riddle alone right now.
"So, Miss Hale, tell us a little about your plans for research? Have you chosen a field of interest?" Frinn asked with a slight smile.
"Oh, yes, I hope to explore the interconnections between Transfiguration and Potions. Little is known about their particular correlations, you know, and it's generally an unknown territory. Actually, I'd like to concentrate my research specifically to possible solutions for werewolves." She finished somewhat abruptly, realizing that her research could quite possibly be the basis for further Transfiguration-Potions projects such as the Polyjuice Potion. She felt breathless at the implications.
Professor Wyde made an impressed sound as he put his napkin beside his plate. "That is extremely interesting, Miss Hale, indeed," he said, considering her with serious eyes. "I'd like to speak further with you on that, if you don't mind."
"I'd be delighted," agreed Hermione.
"Revolutionary!" agreed Frinn, toasting her with his goblet.
Slughorn jumped in, as if on cue. "Yes, how simply fascinating, my dear, a young witch in the heavier sciences, bravo!" exclaimed Slughorn. He looked at her closely, and Hermione knew he was wondering if she was really someone worth making part of his web of influential 'friends' or not. Didn't Harry say the Slug Club was enitrely male in that memory? "I will greatly enjoy assisting you to the best of my abilities. You must come visit me, for dinner some time, perhaps. Eh, Tom? The three of us. Such promising youth."
"Oh, that's very kind of you, Professor. I do look forward to picking the brains of this talented faculty, but I'm sure you'll be too busy to personally assist me," Hermione said, sweetly.
The dishes had cleared themselves. Several around her were rising to leave, some approaching to express extra welcome or interest in her subject study. Dippet told her to ask the house-elves if she needed anything, and she bit her lip and nodded, trying to look grateful. Slughorn reiterated another enthusiatic invitation to visit, and Dumbledore gave her a warm smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Your parents would be so proud to see you now, Hermione," he said, softly, but loud enough that those around could hear. She saw Dippet off to the left.
Riddle had escaped the Great Hall, but she accidentally caught up to him on the way to her room.
"Riddle! Hey there." She jogged to catch up to his side. "Where do you stay, over the summer? In your dormitory, or…?"
"Yes."
"It must be very lonely there, so empty, with everyone gone?"
"It's very different from the bustle of the school year, granted, but it's really not all bad. I'd rather be here, anyway," he said, quietly. He looked pensive. She made an assenting noise as it occurred to her that Riddle could possibly be a solitary person, introverted—surely not introspective? In what way? She'd have to mull that over.
"Well, here I am," she said as she reached her door, and she turned to look at him. She felt a sudden surge of unease at the thought that Riddle knew where she slept. "Good night, Tom Riddle."
He nodded to her. "Good night, Hermione Hale." After a brief moment, a scrutiny so quick that Hermione couldn't be sure it happened, he turned on his heel and strode on down the hall.
AN: Cheers! Thanks for all of the reviews! They are great, we get so excited over them. Thanks especially to Maid, because you've given us such great reviews, complete with praise, things to work on, and suggestions to keep in mind as I'm writing. As for the yahoo! group, I'll have to check that out at some point, but I really don't want to subconsciously "borrow" too much from other stories. I'm trying to keep this as original as possible.
As for Hermione's new last name, Hale, I'll give you a hint: it's a "first" in American history.
I put Hermione in the 'dark pants and blouse of the American working woman' because 1) she's been in America 2) woman began working during the war there Rosie the Riveter and all that and 3) I really just couldn't bring myself to stick her in a skirt. If witches and wizards, especially younger ones, are donning Muggle clothing for comfort as opposed to their robes, why on earth would they wear skirts? Perhaps the wizarding world was behind making pants fashionable for women, who knows!
I'm going to be away for a few weeks, and may not have access to a computer. Besides, we all need a break for the sixth book! I only hope not too much changes with respect to this story, that will make things hard. Enjoy reading the sixth book, guys! I know its going to be worth the wait! (I'm extremely excited, I can hardly contain myself!) –End rant before it begins.–
Ta! –Luna
New A/N! Hi guys. I'm home for 2 days and then I'm away again, and again, I don't know if I will have access to a computer. I made some hasty changes to make the story compatible with Book 6. I've been working on an update too, so I'll try to post it, but only as soon as its ready! Quick brag: I was in England when Book 6 came out, so I got it about 5 hours before y'all! HA!
--Luna