Title: Estranged Memories

Author: xXCrackRomanticXx

Pairing: Tom Riddle / Hermione Granger

Rating: T

Summary: "Nothing is left of the world I once lived in. No one I know and love is there, because the war is over and the dark side won. But I'm not there to view the results. Because I'm stuck in a time fifty years earlier, trying to stop it before it all occurs." - TR/HG

Chapter: II. Interests Piqued

Word: 6545

Disclaimer: Everything that has been previously mentioned in the Harry Potter series does not belong to me and belongs to JK Rowling. All original characters and the plot idea belong solely to me.

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Previously:

I guess I didn't really truly understand the consequences that may come with me doing so but at that point in time, with no one left, I didn't bother to think of them. I didn't want to think of them because I was willing to go anywhere with anyone if I was able to escape the torment of what would have surely befallen me. So I did the only thing I could think of to do at the time.

I reached out and took hold of his hand.

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The chill of icy fingers wrapping bout mine was not what caused my throat to feel as if it were nearly torn and ripped to shreds; oh no, it was the cascade of frozen tingles that assaulted my body and my senses, the feel of something so horribly treated permeating my mind, that caused the scream to tear itself from the pits of my lungs outward to acknowledge it to the world about me. Every nerve that still lingered beneath the layers of my skin was trembling as my eyes squeezed shut, the muscles of my face contorting into a grimace as I tried at the last moment to wrench myself free of the grasp the being had upon me. This movement though, only proved to cause more pain to edge along the nerves of my skin and another scream was torn from my throat as my head flew back. Never before had I felt this much pain, as if my skin were being carved away by knives, ice shooting upward through my veins to surround the inner crevices of my head, my skull feeling as if at any moment it would break away in two uneven halves. My throat was rapidly becoming raw from each renewed scream that launched from it as my breath would no longer come forward from lungs that stung and felt as if they were filling with that of dust. Even through the pain, I registered the dampness that now adorned my cheeks and vaguely the thought that I was sobbing hard and fast flew through my mind. The sobs though were drowned out of my head by a chanting that had risen up all about us, much like the unearthly screams that had flown with the wind earlier except this time, they were not ear piercing , hair curling notes that I had never known could be reached. These cries were musical.

The cries rose up all around us and it was the sound of the myriad of voices that caused my eyes to fly open and only a sight that can be described in one word, astounding, met my eyes. Gusts of wind that had once whipped and lashed at the softness of my skin and the cloth of my already haggard robes were now a swirling tornado of leaves that were illuminated by a silver blue hue. I knew a gasp passed my lips at the sight of the leaves as well as the random spurts of ethereal green that blew about also as the chanting became louder in sound, words becoming more depicted to my ears then they had at once been. "Misula mi craont pikisha, rewaqu disaon. Misula mi craont, pikisha, rewaqu disaon. Alibna quine ealn, xail le ponquist mahleon. Aliba quine ealn, xail le ponquist mahleon." A shiver overtook my body as for one brief moment I shut my eyes. The words were so eerily familiar, almost as if I had heard them before but yet as I wracked my mind for some thought as to where I possibly could have heard them said, nothing would conjure itself at my demands. Once again, the power of the voices grew as cinnamon colored orbs revealed themselves to be captured and enthralled in the piercingly, glowing silver blue gaze of the figure that I gripped. Fingers that had once appeared translucent were now hole, digging into the skin of my wrist and when I glanced downward, breaking the gaze, I saw blood bubbling there and once again I was made aware of the pain that still coursed through my body.

But this time as I parted my lips to relinquish a scream that had holed itself at the base of my throat, nothing would come forward and the tears now turned bitter as I realized that this fate was much worse then the ones that would have awaited me had I gone along silently. My body began a struggle that I knew was positively futile, my free hand reaching out to scratch at the fingers that appeared so solid upon my skin but only resulting in further damage to the slashes that resided there. A sense of hopelessness overcame me and for the briefest of moments I almost gave up but then a voice, one that I could have sworn came from beside me brought itself present in my mind and the swarm of memories that the Dark Lord had released swept over me once again.

"DO NOT GIVE UP! You are the last hope for us all, we are the last hope and to give in to the loss of hope would be admitting defeat! Remember, we have only been defeated when all of us have either relinquished to the enemy of we are all dead and buried or left to rot. But one thing though, is made clear to all of this Order. DO NOT GIVE UP!"

As the words resonated through the recesses of my mind over and over, not even pushed aside by the pain and the harsh reality that this was happening and it was not a dream, a realization dawned on me. Harry had stood strong, not because of the fact that he had to – that was our poster boy and mainly our mascot, but because of the fact that he had truly believed we had a chance at victory. He believed that we could defeat Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters if we believed that we could do it and that was what had pushed him onward to become the leader that he had before he had been stripped entirely downward by a single spell as men had held him, releasing him at the order of the once upon a time man that had become too twisted to even be recognized as that of a human. My tears had come to a halt as I realized that even if I was to die now, there would still be those that rose up against the forces in the future to rebel. The sight of hope, the grasp at the chances that maybe one day we would be free, would never truly die no matter what happened. Even if the Order became a mere thought of the past and nothing more, there would always be those that fought back for their beliefs and the chances of freedom that came their way. It was these thoughts that caused me to grit my teeth and bear the pain. If I could withstand this, then there was the chance that I could be one of those that led them to the dream of freedom. If I could withstand this, then I could make Harry's dreams of a bright future come true and make it so that his name would not die in vain. But the first step was surviving the ordeal that I had thrown myself into.

Pain once again laced through my veins, fire and ice seeming to engulf me from within as I held myself stoically still but even that proved to be fruitless as the burning sensations increased with the bold movement that the figure that held me made next. Arms that felt so strong and real grasped me to a chest as I felt my feet leave the ground and panic shot upward through me as for the briefest of moments I forgot my resolution. The fear of flying that I had held had not diminished over the years but had merely grown and it sky rocketed upward right then as cries of a hysterical note left my lips even through the increased volumes of pain that exploded through my body causing colorful images to blossom in my mind's eye. The blossoms of color quickly evaporated only to be replaced by new ones as my entire body twisted against the figure's in some attempt at escape but the iron clamp he had on me only became one of steel. All air that had once upon a time occupied my lungs was no longer there and the blossoms were now beginning to invade my actual vision. As air was no longer passing through my air pipe, I found my lungs feeling as if slowly they were shriveling into small nothings as I tried with all my might to gasp for air. A dull roar took its presence in my ears as the chanting loudened itself once more in some attempt for me to hear it, it seemed. "Misula mi craont pikisha, rewaqu disaon. Misula mi craont, pikisha, rewaqu disaon. Alibna quine ealn, xail le ponquist mahleon. Aliba quine ealn, xail le ponquist mahleo. Andraongi trean le wersin, underula ocatva. Andraongi trean le wersin, underula ocatva."

My eyes flew open wider as I heard five clear words although they were spoken at the exact moment that I found blackness swallowing me, I would not automatically recall them. It would not be until much later in a moment in which I relived the final battle that I would remember them and realize that they held some significance to what was occurring in my life. Right then though, as I felt the grasp relinquish itself as my eyes rolled backward in my head, I expected to fall only to feel my entire body feeling as if it were being sucked into some tight space. A loud pop resonated through my ears as the five words echoed once more through my mind just before all became forgotten due to the pitch black abyss I found myself lost within.

"You are our only hope."

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At some point in time, how long I do not know, I became aware of the fact that I could sense things that were happening about me that normally I would not able to sense whilst in the abyss of unconsciousness. But yet, here I was, floating along just awaiting for my awakening to come and suddenly I realized that I could hear the lowest of noises that sounded like a light wind wisping by. Trying as hard I possibly could beneath the conditions – it seemed that I was unable to open my eyes or to see anything – I strained my ears for any sound further then that and found myself beginning to hear the same voices that had surrounded me before I was rendered unconscious. The words were muddled together at their current volume but it was the fact that I could still hear them that shocked and baffled me as I was certainly aware that the sluggish feeling that had gripped my body could have only resulted from the fact that somehow I was still unconscious but yet aware of what was happening about me. My mind would not register this thought process though, and so instead I merely tried to focus on any sound that I could possibly grasp with my limited ability to hear. The light wind noise was growing louder and as time passed, I became aware of the light caress of something against the skin of my cheek. To say the least, I was increasingly alarmed.

At the moment that I felt the brush of it against my cheek, my mind was sent reeling. My senses were hyper alert to anything that happened about me it seemed which was why I was more then ready to just send myself back to the entirely unaware that generally was accompanied with the state of blacking out. Unfortunately it did not seem to wish to leave as I began to feel a dampness residing upon my cheeks, which I decided must be my tears due to the fact that slowly I was beginning to realize that the light caress of what I thought to be wind was not only that but gusts of wind that was lashing rather violently at my skin. My eyes were burning with the salt tears that also streamed down my cheeks and the whistling of the wind in my ears was not doing wonders for me either. Once more my head felt as if it were being cleaved in two due to the large throbbing that had taken residence there and even as I willed myself to move, I found that while my senses were given the ability to reactivate, my body was not. The voices that had once surrounded me were now echoing through my mind, bouncing off the walls there and I took note that while the same words from earlier were repeated, there was much more to the chant then I had realized.

"Misula mi craont pikisha, rewaqu disaon. Misula mi craont, pikisha, rewaqu disaon. Alibna quine ealn, xail le ponquist mahleon. Aliba quine ealn, xail le ponquist mahleo. Andraongi trean le wersin, underula ocatva. Andraongi trean le wersin, underula ocatva. Elison, beyeoa travi cert alabde mitsaiga. Elison, beyeoa travi cert alabde mitsaiga. Le mistrohe yukoil wrea tristof. Le mistrohe yukoil wrea tristof. Poen xlains traveranz zilui luli le quean. Poen xlains traveranz zilui luli le quean." The words began to repeat themselves and as if just as if I knew from instinct, I knew another sentence of chanting would be added and it was only then it dawned on me that these voices, to whomever they belonged to, were saying the activating charm for a ritual. Fear flared within the bowls of my stomach and even though a whimper wished to pass from my mind, I knew it would not and so I held it in check. Whilst my emotions and it seemed my senses were allowed to work, my body was still not permitted the function that it had been created to do. The wind continued to lash against me and the voices were now roaring within my ears. Confusion laced through me also, entwining with the fear of the unknown and the constant sensations of anger and indignation mixed with curiosity that boiled within me. Right then for what was not the first time in my life, I despised myself for being who I was. Constantly wanting to know about everything that was occurring about me, needing to have a rational explanation for everything, the thirst to know about it. It was a burden, a curse, but yet also a blessing and a passion that few were given in life and I knew I should be grateful but yet I was as ungrateful as one could be to have such a gift.

Throughout my entire life I had been one to want to know everything. When I was a mere toddler, the time that normally was spent playing by other babes, was not spent that way for me. According to my parents later I would find out that I would be quiet and merely look at those around me as if trying to absorb what they were doing and as I continued to watch them I would begin to mirror their actions. They had taken it as a game that I liked to play but when I taught myself how to walk and how to talk, they realized that it was not a game, it was a thirst that I had to learn. During primary school I was always trying my best to one up anyone who was above me which was generally the student who was worshiped by those outside of the classroom. It was the primary way in which I managed to exile myself early on and it did not help that I did not share the same loves that the other students had. While they were participating in much more physical activities, I had been the one soaking up word after word from whatever book I was currently focusing my attentions upon. Unfortunately this was a trend that continued upward even into my years in Hogwarts and it was drilled into my skull so permanently that if I wished to rid myself of it even now, I know that I would be unable to. It just became who I was, the need to learn and the will to do it at all times. It was during my third year that I first came upon the traces of hatred that I did not know I housed for it but that was also when the teasing from Malfoy increased a fold but as quickly as the feelings had revealed themselves to me, they were gone. They showed up rather spontaneously over the last four years and like now, they were strong in the way they took hold.

But all thoughts of the suddenly spawned hatred were driven away by the mere fact that the chanting was now accompanied by that of an eerie song. The chants were blending into it slowly, the words now carrying themselves much more musically and harmoniously. Power began to close in about me and even before I could really tell what affect it was having upon me, I could feel it permeating my skin gently. Images of what had happened earlier, the silver blue illuminated leaves blowing roughly bout me in a circle came to mind as well as the eerily strange feeling of the hand on my arm, the enclosing of fingers on my wrist. A shudder passed over my body and I felt my nerves tremble as ice and fire once again shot upward through my veins and then finally a sound was escaping me, a scream that would tear the inner skin from my vocal cords and leave them raw and swollen for weeks to come. On some level I knew that my body was fidgeting and twitching as I convulsed with a pain that was stronger then that of any other I felt. Hot pokers felt as if they were trying to dig their way out from beneath my skin while knives stabbed themselves deeply into limbs to remain seated while my flesh felt as if it were being peeled away. As the voices continued to rise in their chorus of ancient words, the pain increased a fold with each piercing note. It seemed as if it were the power that resonated from somewhere beneath these words that caused the horrific pain that graced my body. How it was, was beyond me at this point but as the myriad at it grew in its range, its power, I could not help but continue to announce my anger and pain to the abyss that had once been a home for me. Pain ripped and tore at every nerve of my body, causing even the smallest to tremble in the wake of the power that surged through my veins and along my skin. If I could have died at that moment, I would have chosen to done so for the pain was worse then even that I had experienced while under the Cruciatus Curse.

Suddenly though, and to my complete and utter shock albeit relief, the pain vanished, my entire body wilting in the weary grip that ceased about me. Just as I also noticed that the chanting of the voices had ceased and I found that the ability to open my eyes had returned. As I tiredly flicked them open, I instantly wished I had not for all around me I found the swirling mists of translucent figures surrounding me and encircling me much as the leaves had before I had blacked out once more. To feel the gaze of piercing silver blue glowing eyes upon me cause me to shudder as I squeezed my orbs shut once more, trying to hide the view of these...creatures away from myself as I was already unnerved enough as is. But yet upon feeling the icy touch of fingers upon my cheek, I gasped, my mouth parting and my eyes flying wide open just as a mouth descended upon mine. The rattling breath that echoed through my mind as a suction began against my lips brought voices to my mind that caused me to emerge on the brink of an emotional and physical breakdown. My entire body was met with a tremble as fingers came up to claw at the being that gripped me but quickly slacked in their actions on greeting air. Once more I was unable to touch the being that grasped me with a fierceness that caused my voice to raise in a cry but yet no one heard. No one could help me because no one was left that would dare to help the mudblood scum as I was sure I had been dubbed. And in this state of mind, in this "world" that I was in, I knew there would be no help coming for me. I was to die a worse death then the one that had originally awaited me. Or at least that was what the things that happened next led me to believe.

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"Hermione! Don't give up! You can do it!" The cry was one that came from none other then that of a caramel haired woman who stood cheering along the sidelines of a football game. A young child, no older then six, turned to face her, giggling and laughing before dashing back down the field where the ball had been dribbled downward to. Cries rose from the stands as the youngsters battled over control of the ball, their faces set in ones of glee and determination, often intermingling with one another. The young girl growled before delivering a side swipe to the ball with her foot and tripping the other as she stole the ball cleanly from the tyke before proceeding down the field. It was the shouts and praises of her father and mother that pushed the girl onward to pummel the ball into the net just short of the goalie who pouted and let a yelp of dismay pass her lips. All those in the silver and blue jerseys let loose a tumult of victory shouts as they all collided on one target, a bright and smiling Hermione.

Breaking free of the hugs and the chants, the small girl who had delivered the deciding kick of whether victory would be theirs or not, moved outward to fall into the waiting arms of her mother and father. With words of praise washing over her, a toothy grin lit her face as a laugh that was one of pure childish delight left her lips. Never had she felt more proud of herself. She had done the one thing that she had strove to do since she could remember. She had made her parents proud.

FLASH!

"AH!" The clatter of large pots and pans falling, soup splattering across the kitchen, and of a little girl beginning to sob quietly filled the large kitchen of the Granger house. A girl who could be no older then ten looked out across the mess of tomato soup that now stained the tiled floor with wide eyes as the door was pushed open and a groan of dismay passed her mother's lips. Tears filled the girl's eyes once more as her chin began to quiver before she stood and rushed to the corner of the room. She hadn't meant for it to happen but she knew that her mother and her father were both stressed enough as is. She had merely wanted to help by finishing lunch for the three without their being another fight between them. But now as her mother glowered down at her before it softened lightly, she knew the fight was inevitable, especially from the way her father was stomping down the stairs at that moment. With wide eyes, the girl of ten years old slunk into the recesses of one of the cabinets just as the door slid open and her father stood in the doorway. Silence spread thickly over the scene as her mother ignored the man that stood there gazing at the scene silently while the caramel haired woman went about cleaning up the mess. No words were spoken as he joined her but as soon as the last drop of the soup had been swiped away, the sentence came that would begin the beginning of a series of events.

"Your mistakes are growing tiresome, Annette."

The look of shock that crossed her mother's face was obvious from the way the woman froze in her retrieval of the pan in which the sauce had splattered from. As she straightened to regard her husband with icy eyes, she whispered, "Maybe it isn't my mistakes that are breaking apart this family, Eugene." The words were whispered but deadly, especially in the effect that they had upon her father. In the blink of an eye, he loomed over the woman that he now regretted marrying. His hand raised just as the small figure dashed out of the cupboards crying outward her opposition of the raised hand.

"NO! Daddy, stop it! It wasn't mommy's fault! I was the one who did it!" As always she could not help but let her head drop in shame as she felt her father shake her off his leg. The look he threw her was one that mingled with pity and sorrow but yet the overall emotion present as that of anger laced with...disgust? It was unclear for the expression was gone as quickly as it had come and the small child was left with confusion as his hand descended on her head in a pat as a sigh passed his lips.

"It's all right, Hermione...just...go to your room." With that said, Hermione drifted to the edge of the kitchen, glancing back only once to find both eyes of her parents upon her before pushing through the door and disappearing up the stairs as the sound of yelling began. This time though, tears drifted down the curve of her cheeks for she knew that she was the cause of this fight and no one could dare to deny it.

FLASH!

"MOTHER! NO!" Even as the words fell from full lips, the young woman to which the voice belonged to, knew it was futile. The arch of the colorful and magical missile was headed straight for its target, the young woman's mother's back just as the woman began to turn. But it was far too late as it struck, causing the woman to gasp and her eyes to widen as she was shoved backward by the force of the spell. Tears caressed down the curvature of Hermione's cheeks but yet she found herself unable to rush to her mother's side as her eyes remained fixated on the unreal sight of her body laying lifeless upon the concrete of the basement of their home. She knew that she was gone, that the spell that had been used would soon lacerate open the small of her back and drag out the intestines of her mother's body. It would slowly pull each of her major organs from her body till she had none left and they would all be hidden away because this spell had a counter hex and that was if all organs were brought back within a week's time of her death, then she could be revived. But Hermione knew, that the organs would hide themselves away as it was a Death Eater who cast the spell, a Death Eater who controlled where they hid, a Death Eater who would want her to stay dead to weaken one of the Order's most prominent members.

The one thing that she wanted to do right then was rush to her mother's side as she saw her struggling for her breath, knowing that right then it would feel as if an invisible knife were working from the inside out to cut through her. Her tears merely increased though, as the brainy witch fell to her knees and hands, her own breath fighting against her sobs to work its way in and out while she crawled forward to reach out to her mother. Her hand wove around shoulder and then she was dragging the limp body to cradle it against her as she pressed her face into curly caramel hair to dry her tears in it. Slender fingers, adorned with a diamond wedding ring wove into her own and a gasp laugh came from Hermione. How had she known that even at a time like this her mother would do their traditional hand clasp when she was crying? It was just the woman that she had grown up with, who had raised her, it was just something to be expected after sixteen years. Just as her tears were ebbing though, the sudden tearing of flesh was heard and then cries of pain came from her now struggling and fidgeting mother. "Momma, no. Calm down...calm down...you'll be all right. We'll revive you. We will." The words were whispered words of comfort but yet even as she said them, she knew they were not true and she captured the sense that her mother knew that as well but was willing to believe anything at that point in time.

Suddenly cold, high-pitched laughter that left chills to spiral down Hermione's spine resonated off the damp, musty walls of the basement just as the doors, the only entrance in flew open to slam against the sides of the house above. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and it was the raising of her head to meet the eyes that enthralled her and caused her to fill with terror that made her miss her mother's last breath but as quickly as she had met the eyes, she pulled away. Only to look back down and have her sobs renewed as blood splattered all over as one by one, her organs were pulled from her body. It was not till later she realized that the man who she hated did not even make a move to torture, as if the agony of her loved one dying was enough in itself.

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It was until too late did I realize that I had been tossed from the world of unconscious and it would not be till later that I realized this due to the fact that I was caught up in the barrage of emotions that had woven about me with each painful memory. Why these memories specifically had been inspired were beyond me but they were three of the most happy and most dreadful memories that I could recall at one time if I wished to make myself cry. I had done it before when the situation had called for it but this time, there had been no point to call for it and I had not done so of my own will. It had been the devastatingly horrific kiss of the ghostlike wraith that had haunted me and brought me to...and that was when I realized that there was no more darkness and I was floating through what one could consider to be a dimension that lay beneath the folds of the dimension that we resided in naturally. Once more it would only be till later on when I applied research that I would fully realize what it was that I now flew through, the same silver blue glowing wisps of light spinning by me. But this time there were no figures, there was no chanting, and I was so relieved that I almost let loose a cry of joy but I dared not to speak in fear that they be conjured. Although I think it was the dawning of my awakening that brought forth what happened next, as if it were merely waiting for me to awaken.

I was tossed from the actual folds of the dimension outward, only taking into mind that I had been thrown outward into a bright and sunny world that looked to have the touches of spring to it before my head struck something solid and large. Still in what could be called flight, I found myself crying out as I descended – the entire time scraping against the object I had it – to fall hard again the ground and definitely unceremoniously just before I heard the rushing of footsteps and the crunching of underbrush. My vision was blurred though, by the immense amount of pain that lingered with me. An audible groan passed with the parting of my full lips as I tried to shift my body to the side in some attempt at movement away from the figures that I knew had gathered about me. Whispering voices began to reach my ears and I found myself cringing away from any hands that reached out to touch me. Briefly my eyes flickered open and focused in on the group but they were blurring in and out so quickly I could not focus in on one figure other then that of a face that I had been introduced to in my own time period. My air hitched in my throat and I began to cough haphazardly as I stared up at him. Recognition burned deep within me as I stared at this man before me through one eye, the other one too bloody and swelled to really offer much to me in way of sight. Hatred and disgust welled within me as I tried in some futile manner to lash out. It was of no use though. He was there and I couldn't do a damned thing about it, no matter how much I wanted to beat him aliveBut yet he was also the one who was kneeling beside me and I found myself shying away from his hand causing him to blink in what I knew must be inquisitiveness. A wince touched my face as I finally found the voice within m. Barely audible, my voice whispered in a cracked and raw tone, "Don't...touch...me."

And then all was blackness once more.

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Outsider POV

The students that had gathered bout the forlorn figure of the female now moved backward at the sound of her voice, the emotional pain and the command that lingered there as well as the power that seemed to vibrate from about her frightening them slightly. It was not everyday that a student was tossed from the sky, from a seemingly suddenly there hole into their world and as they whispered, each curious as to what could have happened, none could find an explanation. Not even the one who observed and knew everything with a talent that the others wished they could possess and it was this fact that he was unable to give or salvage a logical reason for this to have happened was what caused a frown to appear on the dark haired boy's face as he continued to crouch beside the now heavily bleeding and unconscious witch. The voices that were rising in tone about him gave way the fact that the students had not yet fetched the Care of Magical Creatures professor and it was with an irritated sigh the boy stood. Turning platinum steel colored eyes upon them, slowly the whispering died out. The sun glinted off the Head Boy badge that was pinned to his chest and as he glared at the fiery red head who regarded him coolly, he jerked his head at the girl and said calmly, almost languidly, "I trust, Prewett, that you've fetched the professor?" It almost seemed for a moment that the girl was tempted to lash back at him with a snippy retort but she didn't as she crossed her arms across her chest and gave a barely imperceptible nod which seemed to satisfy the boy. All whispering remained silent from there as he turned back to glance down at the female. Just her mere presence unnerved him and that was something new.

The wind began to rush against them through the trees of the Forbidden Forest, the sky edged with thunder clouds that promised a thunderstorm that night and it was something that he was looking forward to. Standing out in the rain was the perfect chance for him to go about business that did not concern that of others, especially those of such meager thoughts like those about him. It was the only chance at privacy he was able to obtain as of late thanks to the sixth year incident. If it had not been so close to the end of the year, maybe he would be trusted by then but the Transfiguration professor refused...his thoughts were broken as the squat professor came rustling through the group, breaking apart the students only to gasp and stumble backward at the sight of the female. Ah yes, the girl. His thoughts drifted back to her as he watched the professor bend and run fingers over the head wound that had been caused by the tree. What ignited curiosity in him was the fact that she was far more damaged then the tree could have possibly done. But as the professor rolled her over onto her back, her entire body bucked upward as a cry of agony passed her lips before the female let out a series of whimpers even in her unconscious state of mind. Instantly his eyes were narrowed in that of an observing way but he did not have a chance to inquire as the professor whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa." Instantly she was floating upward while he conjured a stretcher for the professor. If it was any other student, he would have let her do the task but this one, the one that no one seemed to know was far more interesting then any of the others that he knew about.

"Riddle! Take control here! I must get this young lady up to the castle at once. Make sure that the homework is distributed. The instructions are on the lesson plan for the day." With that the squat witch was sprinting toward the castle that loomed overhead in the distance. For a moment he watched after her, his eyes still narrowed and brows knit together. But as a student cleared their throat, he turned to meet the eyes of the girl known as Prewett before scowling and motioning for everyone to gather round.

"All right, as the professor said, the lesson is to be continued. She's covered all for today, she'll continue next lesson. For now the homework is on the stump over there and it says here that a two foot essay on the eighteen use of Twigglet hair is to be handed in next lesson." As grunts and groans met this, he did not bother to say anything in disgust about it. Instead his gaze turned once more to the castle. After all, there was something that now resided in his world that he knew nothing of, and he intended to find out what and who this person was. He never let any knowledge go past him. He was the king of knowledge and knowing of every student there was in this hell damned school and it would remain that way. It was his form of order in chaos. And he intended to keep it that way. This would merely prove to be a challenge to him.

Tom Riddle never passed up challenges.

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Teaser:

The eyes that rested upon me belonged to none other then him. The him who had ruined my life, the him who had taken so many lives of those that I held precious to me, the him who had murdered my mother and father. And yet he had the gall to be seated at the edge of my bed, staring at me almost as if he were observing what was happening with me, as if he were interested. It made me want to hurt him all the more then I had originally wanted to. But then again, he'd ruined my world entirely and completely.

Which was why I was more then glad when I heard the door open and his head twisted to see who it was. From the scowl that etched itself onto his aristocratic, chiseled features, he did not like who came through the door and the identity was soon revealed by his next words. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."

!i!i!i!i!i!

A/N: Schweet! Three reviews for the first chapter and all of them good. Makes me feel awesome bout myself. Considering this is my first fanfiction for this site and that it's my first time writing this pairing I think I did good. But yeahs, all thanks to reviewers are in my profile.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. I did enjoy writing it because it reveals some but not too much.

Enjoy and don't forget to review! I wanna know your thoughts.

Lurve,

CrackR