A/N: Huge thank you to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter! Please let me know what you thought of chapter twelve and be on the lookout for chapter thirteen soon!


"Feeling better?" Becker asked Hermione when she came into work bright and early on Monday morning.

"Much better," Hermione said, remembering that she had feigned illness to attend a forbidden pureblood ritual with Tom Riddle. If she was honest, the day-long break away from work did make her feel much better. She wasn't sure if it was the ritual magic or the intoxicating kiss she'd shared with Tom, but Hermione felt as if she was lighter than air ever since Friday evening. "Thank you for asking."

"Glad to hear it," he answered, looking her over like he was trying to figure out if there was something different about her. "And good for you, too. You have fieldwork today."

"Really?" Hermione asked, thinking that her boss was not likely to send her out in the field again for a while after she'd handled the dismissal of Borgin and Burke's case so horribly. "I didn't think I'd see the field until next year."

"Yeah, well, this client asked for you by name, so I think Switch's mind was made up for him," Becker agreed.

Hermione felt a familiar dread settle in her belly and she wondered who it could be that had asked for her. There were not too many people who knew her —she was no one, after all — so she couldn't imagine who would have known to ask for her in particular. Unless it was one of Tom's friends. For all his promises that they would come around to her, she knew that none of them had really wanted her there, though she thought she was making some inroads with some of them. What if Orion Black was trying to get her out of protective territory so he could kill her, removing her from Tom's life permanently?

"Who is it?" she asked, feeling the blood drain from her face.

Becker noticed her nerves as well. "Hey, take it easy, Hermione. It's just Hogwarts," he said with a chuckle.

Surprisingly, that didn't make her feel any better. "Sorry, Beck, you know that we have the tendency to make more enemies in this line of work," she said, sheepishly.

"Really, it's an honour that Dumbledore would insist on you. I wish I could go work with him," he lamented.

"Didn't you go to Hogwarts?" Hermione wondered out loud, scrunching her nose.

Becker grinned. "Yeah, but that was before he'd defeated Grindelwald. Here I thought the whole time he was just a boring Transfiguration professor," he explained.

Hermione did laugh at that. She knew that there was plenty of hero worship when it came to Albus Dumbledore, the man who defeated Gellert Grindelwald. He became even more beloved when he eschewed the limelight and returned to his humble post as a teacher.

She wished that she could share the admiration of the man, but the only time that she'd met him had left a terrible taste in her mouth. She did not want to return to Scotland, even if she'd been asked for personally.

"How do you know him, anyway?" Becker asked.

The witch flushed, hating her inelegant entrance to the wizarding world. The fewer people who knew about it, the better. "I, err, was self-taught in apparition," she said, pursing her lips. "I made a bit of a mistake and ended up on Hogwarts grounds. They treated me in the Infirmary and then helped me arrange to take the NEWTs."

Becker tried not to laugh but failed miserably. "Well, that was certainly not what I was expecting, Granger," he said. "You are always full of surprises."

"Well, I better not keep them waiting," she said, before wishing him a good rest of his day, as she was sure she wouldn't be returning to the office for the rest of the day. She read over the case file. Apparently, one of the muggle-born students had brought in a transistor radio and enchanted it to eavesdrop in the girls' dormitories and they wanted to handle it in-house. Since they were unfamiliar with the muggle technology, they decided to go to the Ministry for more expertise.

Feeling prepared, Hermione went to Swift's office to pick up her portkey and in the blink of an eye, she was sent hurtling through space into the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

She was greeted by both Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore.

"Ah, Miss Granger, good to see you again," Dippet said, enthusiastically shaking her hand, feeling more like a politician on a campaign than an educator. Hermione didn't think he'd said much more than five words to her when she'd been at Hogwarts before. But, she shook his hand anyway.

Then, the older wizard turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, do you think you'll be able to handle showing Miss Granger that blasted radio?" he asked, obviously not having time for a Ministry witch.

"Of course, Headmaster," Dumbledore said, dipping his head. "This way, Miss Granger."

He led her through a constantly changing path of staircases until they made it halfway up one of the many towers in the castle. "Would you care for some tea, Miss Granger?" he asked, taking his seat behind a wide, walnut desk.

"Er, yes please," Hermione agreed, thinking that it would be nice to have something to occupy herself with because she certainly did not wish to make small talk with this wizard. "Where is the radio?" she asked, wanting to get the job done as quickly as possible.

He pulled the small metal contraption from his desk drawer, handing it over, before standing to call for a tea service from one of the many house elves that worked at the castle.

She got to work, levitating the radio, looking at it from every angle and trying to piece out the manner of charms that were used on the device. It was a relatively simple charm that any wizard should have been able to undo, but she wondered if the fact that it was muggle had scared off all the Hogwarts professors from trying. Typical, she thought to herself. Even at supposedly tolerant Hogwarts, the presence of anything muggle made them scared.

Something in her distant memory scratched around, reminding her of another time she'd seen this charm. Had she used it before to listen in on some meeting that the Headmistress of her boarding school had held, standing on the staircase, two stories away in the grand manor house? Her head began to ache and so she willed the memory away, deciding that it must not be very important.

Dumbledore returned, tea tray floating in front of him, when she began unravelling the spells. He poured them each a cup of tea — black and steaming — before dumping an unholy amount of sugar into his own cup. Leaning back in his chair, he watched her work in a detached sort of way, drinking from the small cup from time to time.

"You've done rather well for yourself, Miss Granger, in the years since we last spoke," he said, offhand.

Hermione's eyes snapped up to him and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from mouthing off to him. "Yes, well, I've put in a lot of hard work and many hours," she answered. She did not agree with Dumbledore, seeing as she should have been promoted several times over in the Ministry at this point, though she would not be because she was a woman and a muggle-born to boot. She was supposed to leave the workforce to have babies or slink back into the Muggle world, but no one expected her to keep working. "I'm grateful to Undersecretary Swift for giving me the opportunity with my unusual background."

"Surely your exam scores would have been enough to convince him," Dumbledore said, sounding vaguely surprised that she would have had trouble getting a job.

"Yes, well, usually the Ministry likes to verify your educational attainment," she said hotly. "It's a bit hard to do that when I was completely self-taught."

"That makes your achievement all the more impressive," he countered, trying to build her up in an odd sort of way.

"Well, I think someone should look into why I wasn't invited to study at Hogwarts," she said, tartly. She didn't like being here, reminded of an opportunity that she wasn't afforded. "Surely my exams should speak for my magical talent. There is no reason why I shouldn't have enrolled here."

Dumbledore offered her no explanation for why she would have been missed, which only made her anger simmer. He stared at her, over half-moon spectacles, looking like he was worried about her.

"What is the real reason you invited me here, Dumbledore?" she demanded. "Any sixth-year with a Charms OWL could have reversed that spell. Why did you ask for me specifically?"

"I've heard a rumour that has troubled me, Miss Granger," he said, with a frown. "That you've been seen with Tom Riddle more than once in the last month. I even heard that you might have gone on a date with him."

Hermione sat in silence, wondering what her love life had to do with Dumbledore and why he should care about it. She stuck her chin out in a challenge. "So?" she asked. "What's that got to do with you?"

"I just thought that a... a smart witch like yourself would know better than to associate with a wizard like Riddle," he said with a frown. "He makes no secret the sorts of magic that he dabbles in. And, I don't think I have to tell you how damaging it can be."

"Be careful what you are accusing him of," Hermione said, knowing that Tom had a reputation for using dark magic. A reputation that was well earned, as far as she could tell.

Dumbledore grimaced when he looked at her, his head tilting to one side. "Unless, you've begun to dabble in the dark arts as well?" he asked, haltingly. "Yes, I think I can see the signs, at the edges."

"Excuse me," Hermione countered with a furious look, although she knew it was true. The Potion of Plenty was a dark potion, though she failed to see how it could have made such a mark on her. "Be careful of the kinds of accusations you are making, Dumbledore."

"Hermione," he said, not having been given leave to use her first name. "I implore you to think carefully about the kind of people that you surround yourself with. You will not find friendship with the likes of Messrs Lestrange, Malfoy or Black. These are dangerous men."

Hermione bristled, wondering just how Dumbledore knew that she'd spent any time with those wizards. She'd only seen them at the Lughnasadh event, which had been blissfully private. She failed to see how her name would have ever come up with them. And further, she failed to see why Dumbledore would be so worried about her in the first place. "The only thing I know about those men is that they sit in the Wizengamot," she lied, furiously. "What I don't know is why you are suddenly so worried about who I have friendships with. The last time that we spoke, you were doing everything in your power to send me far away from Hogwarts, despite the protests of the Matron and the Headmaster. I wonder where your concern for my wellbeing was then?"

"Don't you remember? The last time that we spoke, you warned me about Tom Riddle yourself!" Dumbledore questioned, growing increasingly concerned. "Doesn't something about him set off alarm bells for you?"

"That's impossible!" Hermione said, wondering if Dumbledore was confusing her with someone else. Only, no, that couldn't be. Was he losing his mind, then? "I've only just met Tom Riddle and only a handful of times. And for your information, no, he doesn't set off any alarm bells. He's a perfectly charming wizard, a fellow academic, like myself. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

She cut herself off before she said anything else, not wanting to argue with the older wizard any longer. She didn't understand why he was making these warnings or what he had against Tom, but she didn't trust him, not if he was willing to lie to her face about something she never said.

Slamming the door to Dumbledore's office behind her, she ran down the staircases, not bothering to stop at Headmaster Dippet's office for a portkey home. Instead, she would floo from the wizarding village near the school. She changed her mind. She was glad that she'd never gone to Hogwarts, if only it meant that she never had to be taught by that horrid man.