'Hi, Hermione!' Daphne Greengrass called, hurrying up behind her. Hermione sighed and turned so that she was facing the tall girl.
'What is it?' She demanded and Daphne smiled with Slytherin innocence.
'Oh nothing, I just needed the bathroom.' Daphne waved one of the hands she'd spent hours manicuring with Pansy the evening before.
'At exactly the same time as me... for the fifth time in a row.' Deadpanned the young priestess. Daphne shifted awkwardly, then seemed to give in with a shrug.
'Theo spoke to me - we were best friends when we were children.'
'Oh Circe...' Hermione moaned.
'I think its really sweet.' Daphne contradicted. 'And he's right of course. Your blood status is too subject to opinion for you to be safe and we Slytherins must stick together.'
'You want something in return though?' Because there was no way Daphne was doing this just because she felt friendly.
'Oh, not really.' The pureblood heiress replied breezily. 'Although, I would say that protection should receive protection in return. I protect you now, and I will never be on the receiving end of whatever faction it is that you're building now.'
'I'm not...'
'Oh, I'm not stupid; nobody in Slytherin has missed it and I doubt the teachers have either. My father says You-Know-Who started out the same way too; a group of weirdly devoted friends that secreted themselves away and taught themselves extra stuff.' Daphne said it lightly but Hermione felt a shiver of unease. This was the second time she and her fledgling movement had been compared to Voldemort's. She'd expected it of course but she desperately didn't want to be dismissed as just another dark revolutionary before she even began. So she needed to do something different, something that none of the dark wizards before her had done.
She needed to not operate in the shadows. If people felt like they knew her and her goals, they would be less inclined to speculate.
'You know, Daphne. I might host a ball.' She suggested, fishing for the kind of response she would receive.
'That sounds lovely, Hermione. I didn't know you had estates suitable for such an event.' Daphne said, perhaps having followed Hermione's train of thought and understanding the type of response she wanted.
Hermione understood the issue perfectly; she had a hard crowd to please and only one chance to make an impression. She would need grandeur; a display of wealth and power that was undeniable. She was not a revolutionary seeking power, she was already a player with everything she could need.
She needed to tour her estates and choose one to use as her seat of power... or best of all, she needed to find Avalon.
In silence, the two girls walked the rest of the way to the bathroom and Daphne touched up her hair whilst Hermione performed her ablutions. Then, still both deep in thought, they made their way back to Professor Berg's classroom.
'You know, should you host a ball, the Greengrass family would attend.' Daphne informed her just before the door.
'You speak for your whole family?' Hermione challenged with a raised eyebrow andthe other witch grinned, batting her eyelashes.
'My father wouldn't refuse me.'
Then she swanned back into the classroom where Professor Tunninger was observing them all as they made their way down a row of miscellaneous objects and tried to class them into "mundane", "magical" and "cursed".
Both witches grabbed their own sheets and tagged onto the end of the line.
Whilst she didn't keep abreast with the schedule for Hermione-sitting, she at least understood the logic of Theo accompanying her most of the time - he was in all of her lessons after all. So she was surprised when Theo didn't hurry to her side straight after class and it was Ginny who met her at the door.
She couldn't help but notice how spectacular Ginny looked now that she'd had time to recover from her mother's hair charms. Her hair had darkened and developed chaotic waves that straggled down her back, looking less tidy but infinitely more naturally beautiful. She'd clipped it back around her face with a pair of little pins and she looked more confident in herself with Hermione's women's robes than the hand-me-downs from her brothers.
'Ginny!' She greeted warmly and Ginny bobbed her head. Either Harry or Neville must have been teaching her a little about proper wizarding etiquette.
'Hermione.' Then the younger witch shifted nervously, glancing around the room. 'I've got something to show you.'
Curious, Hermione followed her. They bypassed the turn to the transfiguration classroom entirely, then the library too was passed. They emerged into the cool November air and Hermione quickly cast a warming charm over them as Ginny led them towards the privacy of Neville and Theo's thestral spot. It was sheltered from the wind and in their dark robes they were tricky to spot, not to mention the boys had long ago transfigured one of the large rocks into a comfortable seat.
Ginny dropped her school bag next to the bench and rummaged inside it as Hermione sat delicately against the cool stone, casting another batch of warming charms until it felt like they sat in a warm nook in the library. Then she waited patiently whilst Ginny gathered her courage, fingers clasped around her diary.
'It's this book.' Ginny eventually blurted. 'It's got a mind, it replies to me like a friend.'
Hermione raised her eyebrow and reached for it exactly as Professor Berg had taught her. It was enchanted, certainly - incredibly powerful enchantments that rivalled those on Mordred's sword and her old crown. But, if it was indeed enchanted to be sentient that didn't surprise her. But there was no curse and the book hadn't hurt Ginny so far.
'Okay.' Hermione prompted and Ginny bit her lip.
'He's called Tom. He asked about you, and I said if you were okay with it that I could introduce you.'
'Sure.' Hermione agreed easily. She summoned her self inking quill from her bag and took it out of the box, passing it to Ginny. The young witch opened the book o a seemingly random page and Hermione noticed that the only markings on any of the pages was the lists for their ritual. She wasn't sure that she was entirely comfortable with a sentient book knowing so much about her plans, but what's done was done and she'd just have to hope that this "Tom" was trustworthy and secure.
Hi Tom, it's Ginny again. Hermione has agreed to meet you.
Ginny waited a moment, then the gleaming ink was sucked into the pages and a moment later new words formed.
Hello again Ginny. I'm very glad she agreed, she sounds fascinating.
Ginny bit her lip, then carefully wrote down a formal introduction for Hermione to Tom. The youngest of the Weasleys impressively managed to get Hermione's entire title down without a single missed capital letter or miss ordering of honourifics.
Tom, may I introduce the Lady Hermione, High Priestess of Gorlois and Ward of House Grindelwald.
Ginny passed the book and quill to Hermione, and the high priestess balanced it on her lap precariously so that they would both be able to read her writing. As she manoeuvred, the introduction that Ginny had written faded and new letters appeared.
Hello, what should I call you? I am Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Hermione considered quickly, deciding on unfamiliarity. Riddle may be Ginny's friend but he was not yet Hermione's and until she knew exactly who he was and what he was, she didn't want to get too close.
Good morning, Mr Riddle. You may address me as Lady Hermione.
She thought it might be her imagination, but the new words seemed to take a moment longer to reappear.
Good morning, Lady Hermione. I'm very glad that Ginny has someone who is willing to mentor her in the wizarding world, her brothers do not sound particularly helpful.
Forgive my caution, but I must ask what you are?
This time, Hermione knew that she hadn't imagined it. The reply definitely took longer to return, and when it did it was not particularly informative.
I am a memory, preserved in a diary for fifty years.
Hermione remembered another conversation, over a year ago, held in one of the darkened rooms of a castle under siege.
"I am but a memory. I died in 1290 Ad Urbe, which I believe is somewhere in the decade of 530 by your modern calendar."
Mordred had called himself a memory, preserved in a sword. Perhaps, Tom Riddle was a similar memory - a preserved dead wizard in a book. Experimentally, she brushed her fingers against the pages and tugged sharply at the enchantments on it in the way she often did with Mordred to bring him into physical being. The book accepted her small offering of magic and the magic contained within it sparked and flexed, then Ginny gasped loudly.
Hermione looked up to see a boy standing over them.
He was Slytherin, dressed in old fashioned robes and very tall. His dark hair was cut smartly to emphasise sharp, aristocratic features and dark eyes which contrasted sharply with porcelain pale skin. He was unsubstantial, in the same way Mordred often appeared when he wanted to preserve energy and Hermione was careful to limit the magic which flowed between them - she didn't want him any more substantial than a ghost until she knew him better. Unlike Mordred, Tom Riddle wasn't bound to protect her.
The memory was too busy inspecting his hands and arms to even look up at them. Spectral fingers ghosted over spectral arms and ran through spectral hair, shaking in wonder and disbelief.
'Good Morning, Mr. Riddle.' Hermione interrupted cooly. Riddle's head shot up and those dark, penetrating eyes fixed on her sharply.
'What did you do?' Riddle demanded.
'I am acquainted with another being who calls himself a memory.' She folded her hands across her lap. She did not imagine the flash of annoyance that crossed Riddle's face. Perhaps he had thought he was the only one to perform such a piece of magic successfully. She wondered who had invented it first - Mordred had been so busy in his lifetime that she doubted he had the time for much experimentation so it must be even older magic than that.
'Who?' Riddle asked, considerably less polite now that she had caught him off guard and he didn't have the time to formulate his responses carefully.
'A relative of mine.' She made the finality in her voice clear. She would not be answering any more questions about Mordred. For a moment there was silence as Riddle finished assessing his temporary new form, then he seemed to collect himself and he turned to Ginny.
'Ginny! It truly is good to see you.' He exclaimed. 'Your hair is lovely.'
'It's good to see you too, Tom. I'm so glad I introduced you to Hermione.' Ginny enthused, tucking her hair behind her ears and blushing with uncharacteristic delicacy.
The two talked for a while, discussing things that they had spoken about in the diary - Ginny's mother and brothers, her classmates and class work. He seemed sincere in his interest, but that alone was enough to concern Hermione. He was sixth or seventh year at least and in Hermione's experience, older students tended to scoff at younger students unless they had something to get out of it. Although, perhaps the fact that Ginny was the only person to talk to him was enough of a reason for the memory.
Then Riddle turned back to Hermione.
'I find your name fascinating. The dark wizard Grindelwald was defeated during my last year at Hogwarts.' He admitted and Hermione pursed her lips.
'Yes.'
'And High Priestess, how does one get that title?' He plastered an expression of earnest interest across his face but Hermione was no fool, she could see the greed in his eyes.
'It's hereditary.' She lied. Technically, it was only hereditary in her family with their unique tradition of undeath. Circe had created a sect of witches on a Greek island, all of whom were living. When she died, the sect died with her although the individual witches lived on.
'And Ginny tells me you believe in old ritual magic - in fact, she tells me you practice it.'
'I do.' Hermione confirmed.
'I find it fascinating, but I admit I don't know much about it.'
'Rituals are powerful magic. We do not bandy about the information.' She deflected and Riddle's face contorted so briefly that she would have missed it if she wasn't already slightly suspicious of him.
She checked her watch, an obvious excuse to leave.
'Ginny, we must be going or we'll miss the others. I don't want to leave Neville victim to Harry and Theo for too long.'
Ginny giggled. Harry and Theo had been incredibly childish since their argument, constantly jibing at one another yet refusing to speak directly. Instead, one boy would ask one of the neutral parties to pass on messages when communication couldn't be avoided and both made a show of helping everyone but each other.
'It was a pleasure, Lady Hermione.' Tom Riddle said and Hermione's eyes narrowed as he failed to give any sign of respect. She allowed Ginny to say her goodbyes, then cut the connection sharply. It was cruel - Mordred had admitted more than once that it was incredibly disorientating to be returned to the darkness of his container so abruptly. She usually allowed him to fade away and return himself before cutting the connection.
'That was amazing Hermione!' Ginny exclaimed enthusiastically. It seemed the younger girl had picked up on none of the nastier parts of Tom's personality and Hermione wasn't going to force Ginny to chose between them yet - she was certain Tom would eventually make the choice in Hermione's favour anyway.
She smiled kindly in reply and made appropriate humming noises as Ginny rambled about how he was more handsome than she'd thought and how much she likes his voice and how kind he was all the way up to the castle.
Hermione was far more unsettled though. She would speak to Mordred and see if he would be willing to share any information with her.