('Her body will lie in the Chamber forever…')

('I very much regret to inform you that Hogwarts School must, due to circumstances be closed.'

'No! No way, Ginny!')

Her breathing was shallow, and she looked upon, just staring as Ron's face went pale, as he stuttered and cursed and kept on repeating one word in a hoarse, broken noise.

He was taken to McGonagall's office along with the other Weasleys, and Hermione had never seen the twins this silent, this inhumane stillness. Even Malfoy didn't dare to say something about it.

For the first time in years, Hermione curled up in her bed and cried. Whether she was crying for a dead girl or a lost future, or even both, she had no clue.

She wanted her mother.

Late night, Hermione stared at the ceiling, not bothering to wipe her cheeks. She was curled up in the Common Room, and even the usual nightmarish green light seemed to offer some comfort. There was a slight noise and she saw a small girlish figure approach.

That the girl's eyes were as red as her hair was all Hermione noticed before everything went black.

'Welcome, Hermione Granger to the Chamber of Secrets.'

Her vision was blurring, the teenaged boy standing in front of her looked more ghost like than human. Hermione rubbed her eyes as she took in the tall statue, the dark walls, the carvings. And lying beneath the statue, on his feet was a small red haired girl.

'Ginny? What?'

'The Chamber of Secrets,' the boy repeated.

Blinking, Hermione got to her feet, looking around frantically. This dingy place was the fabled and lost Chamber? The boy had an odd calculating expression on his face, and he looked blurry, like a coloured and more solidified version of a ghost.

'Who are you?'

'Funny you should ask that. I am Tom Riddle-'

'Tom Marvolo Riddle!' she exclaimed. 'You won a special award for services to the school fifty years ago.'

'Done your research, mudblood?'

'How do you know I'm a mudblood?'

The boy laughed, an ugly sound. 'Who doesn't? the Girl Who Lived, who doesn't know you're a mudblood?'

'What are you, then? If you went to school fifty years ago, you can't still look like you're sixteen!'

'A memory. A memory preserved in a diary for fifty years.'

'Diary? You don't mean the black diary Ginny had? So you're, what are you doing to her?' her voice was getting panicked, as she raced to where Ginny was fallen, desperately shaking her.

'Ginny, wake up!'

'She won't wake.'

'What the fuck are you doing to her?' screamed Hermione, getting more and more creeped by the second.

'The foolish girl poured her soul into my diary, wrote her heart into it, oh, how her brothers mock her, how her brother got sorted into Slytherin, I must admit,' he said, eyes sweeping over the green and silver hem of her robes. '-it was quite funny to hear that a Weasley was sorted into Slytherin, the standards are getting lower every year, and your year seems to have brought it down to dirt, a mudblood, by Salazar. Off topic, anyway, it was very boring having to listen to her crush on some Harry Potter, they've always been nuisance, those Potters. Of course, her latest entries were more interesting- "I'm going mad, Tom, Dear Tom, Percy's friend has been petrified and I didn't know what I was doing last night, Tom, I think its me Tom", but back to topic again, you, Hermione Granger. How, did you, practically a muggle, cause the disappearance of the most greatest sorcerer in the world-'

'If you mean yourself, Riddle, then I pity your self esteem. You're like a Malfoy-'

'Foolish mudblood, do you still not know, what I've done…'

'Won an award?'

Riddle sneered. 'I have travelled on the paths of magic you cannot dream of. I come from a noble and ancient bloodline, what do you have, compared to the centuries of power running in my veins?'

'Me? I have a conscience. And at least I don't go around possessing eleven year olds, lost in some delusions of power!'

To think she'd even thought of herself as the Heir of Slytherin.

Riddle laughed again. He brandished his wand-her wand, she belatedly realised and fiery letters appeared in mid air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

The words rearranged themselves and Hermione's heart stopped for a moment.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Her hands were shaking, her breathing ragged, this sixteen year old boy who would grow up to destroy her life and countless others…

'You!' she snarled suddenly, feeling insanely reckless.

'Murderer!' Hermione spat, nails digging in her skin. This boy, this monster, she hated him, she would kill him now, what was the curse she'd read up in the library so long ago, oh yes a blasting curse, Reducto, all she needed was a wand…

'Give me back my wand! I see that you just don't use eleven year old girls, you also go around stealing-'

'You think a few feeble insults can save your life, little girl? By all means, continue, if it means you will die in peace-'

'Don't call me little girl.'

'Touched a nerve? How does it matter, Hermione Granger? All I want is an answer to my question. And I've heard a lot of thing about you, how you live in an orphanage, how you were sorted into Slytherin. I grew up in an orphanage too, I was a Slytherin too. It disgusts me sometimes, seeing these similarities between me and a mudblood. Again, the longer you talk,' he said softly. 'The longer you stay alive.'

'Why I made you disappear? God knows, maybe I'm just better at the fact that I don't go around plotting murders of toddlers and drowning in delusions of being powerful or using first years to come back to life after a mudblood baby made you-'

'You dare, you filthy mudblood, I who am the greatest wizard-'

'Sorry to break this to you, Voldemort,' said Hermione, enjoying the ugly expression on Riddle's face as she said the word so many people flinched at. She was after all, going to die either at the hand of her own wand or the fabled Slytherin's monster, so she would die with her head held high, and if all she could do to thwart him was insulting him, then so be it.

'-but the greatest wizard is Albus Dumbledore and not you.'

It looked like the insult had reached its mark.

'He's been driven away from this castle by the mere memory of me! Such and such, you have outlived your usefulness, mudblood and I will finish the task I set forward to finish so many years ago-'

'Why did you even want to kill me?' asked Hermione, the recklessness seemed to be wearing off, fear was rising in her chest as she noticed that Ginny seemed to be going paler and Voldemort sharper, clearer.

Riddle smiled. It was not a good one. 'A last wish, little girl? The reason I even stepped into a muggle house was a prophecy. A prophecy about you and me. And now, say your prayers. You'll see your parents soon, I promise…'

No, she couldn't die. Her brain seemed to have accepted facts, but her heart wanted to live. She wasn't even thirteen. Not here, no, no, please, someone, anyone, please help.

A soft cloth landed on her face shielding her vision as she heard the guttural hiss of Riddle speaking, something huge was slithering over the chamber floor.

She pulled away the rag from her face, belatedly noticing that it was the Sorting Hat. Then there was an explosion of bright colour, red and gold and blood sprinkled over her robes.

A deep green, gigantic snake with yellow eyes was slithering on the floor, and blood was leaking from the eyes as the magnificent bird- phoenix fluttered in the air.

Riddle was livid. 'Smell the girl then, kill her, leave the bird, kill the girl…'

The sorting hat seemed to contract as Hermione prayed and with a thud, there was a ruby encrusted sword in her hands.

Some of the fear in her chest seemed to alleviate. The phoenix and the serpent were battling now and Hermione, sword clutched tight, with all her strength, brought it down as it sunk into the serpents body. Warm blood drenched her hands, her robes but Hermione shut her eyes and sank deeper. There was a pained hiss but Riddle's cursing told Hermione she had done her job. She got up, the bloody sword in her hand and looked from Ginny to Riddle, and at the small black diary lying. She smiled, blood lacing her teeth.

Killing Voldemort's preserved memory was more satisfying than killing a serpent.

'Ginny! My daughter, Ginny!'

Hermione stood in the doorway of Dumbledore's office, surprised to see the Headmaster. The Weasleys had been sitting all together, and she saw Ginny being enveloped by her family. She stood in the doorway, her socks were slimy, and there was blood all over her robes and probably in her hair as well. Her wand grasped in her hand, euphoria and adrenalin was still running through her as finally, the Weasleys realised she was there.

'Hermione Granger,' Mr. Weasley gasped and got up, clasping her dirty, bloody hands in his own. 'You have saved our daughter's life, we are indebted to you, oh Merlin, thank you, thank you-'

And she was being strangled into an embrace as Mrs. Weasley sobbed incoherently, and Hermione, who had never had such a bonecrushing, warm hug, let herself melt for a minute.

'How do we repay this, how, you have saved our Ginny-'

'I think the how of Ms. Granger's rescue is something we'd all like to know, Molly,' said Dumbledore.

'I-' Hermione stumbled. She cleared her throat and set the wrecked diary on the table, and in a cool, controlled voice, started to explain.

When she was done with her tale, Ginny started to cry.

'It was me, mum, it was me who took her down to the Chamber of Secrets,'

Words seemed to fail Hermione for once in her life, and as the story of the diary unravelled, she was met with a hug from Ron.

'Thank you and sorry,' he whispered. 'Thank you and sorry.'

When she was left all alone with Dumbledore, the ruined diary on the desk, she asked if she could have a word.

'I think Ginny told you about the boy in the diary, sir. His name was Tom Riddle. Well, he grew up to be Voldemort, the man who killed my parents.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'I assume he was interested in you?'

'Killing me, more like. He asked if I knew how he disappeared and I didn't know, but he well, I asked him why he set out to kill me that night, and he said something about a prophecy-'

'Ah, I had thought you would ask me that. Hermione, this might be hard, but a prophecy was made during the first Wizarding War, and it mentioned that the downfall of the Dark Lord would be the very type of human he considers unworthy to use magic. We did not take it very seriously, but Voldemort heard bits of it, and therefore, for reasons unknown thought it would be you. It is something you don't need to worry about now, Hermione, after all, these sorts of prophecies do not always come true, and as Professor McGonagall informs me every year, they are not very reliable either. And you have just had an adventure. Riddle was known to be manipulative, do not let his words get into your head. And, I wish to thank you for the loyalty you showed me down in the Chamber, because nothing other than that could have brought Fawkes to you. You, Hermione, you have shown great bravery and cool thinking in the face of adversity and danger. This, after all merits a sixty points to Slytherin, don't you think? A lemon pop?'

Hermione politely declined and immediately endeavoured to sign up for divination instead.

('It disgusts me sometimes, seeing these similarities between me and a mudblood.'

'Riddle was known to be manipulative, do not let his words get into your head')

She was nothing like him. And if Dumbledore was going to remain vague on such matters, well it was her head that was going to roll in the end, not his. She had to take responsibilities over herself and not depend on a man who had no relation to her, who probably didn't even know her parents' names.

For the next two days till the end of term, Hermione tried to stay out of anyone's reach, keeping to herself. There were bound to be rumours about what had happened and she wanted just that. Rumours. They could think of her as a saviour or a snake charming Dark witch, she couldn't care less.

(That Slytherin had received an anonymous sixty points no one would own up to was a major point of discussion. It made Hermione's day when Potter, who had gotten twenty points for Gryffindor had gaped idiotically at the amount of Slytherin emeralds that had appeared overnight.)

She ate as much as she could again (better one good dinner than an inadequate one and no puking) and as soon as she could found herself a secluded compartment with Ron.

She charmed the compartment door shut before sitting across him. Hermione had thought about this, did she really trust Ron that much? But this was less about trust and more about an opinion. Dumbledore might say it had nothing to do with her, but she couldn't believe Voldemort would have walked into a muggle house based on some mystic lines alone.

'So, I've got some things to tell you, which you shouldn't tell anyone else. A secret.'

This could be a test, she told herself. A test to see if she and Ron were really friends or just allies.

(We are friends.)

Ron nodded. Ever since the night she'd showed up with his half dead sister and a ruined diary in hand, she hadn't talked to him. Or anyone, for that matter.

'So I'm dropping Care of Magical Creatures.'

'Why?'

'The diary that was possessing Ginny, well it had the memory of Voldemort, honestly Ron, it's just a name, and he mentioned something called a prophecy. Now I've looked those up in the library and it's a highly obscure and unreliable but often powerful thing which makes sense, seeing that Dumbledore is so tight lipped about it. Anyways, this prophecy is why my parents were killed, and so I need answers.'

'You're going to take divination with me then?'

'Yeah. I need to know more about what it means. Second, if Voldemort is in a goddamn diary, I honestly have no idea what to do, well, I, I'm fucking scared, Ronald-'

'You don't need to be, he can't do anything to you. It's not your problem, Hermione-'

'Not my problem? He fucking killed my parents, destroyed my damn life, look see it this way, my parents were dentists. Muggle healers kind of,' she added quickly at the bewildered look on his face.

'They must have been rich. Not Malfoy rich but like rich enough for me to live in comfort, to not need to depend on school funds to buy parchment at the very least! They must have had a house, an office, and yet, it's all because of this Girl Who Lived bullshit that I had to grow up in an orphanage that didn't even have the cash to provide me with a decent education. Fuck all that, I would have had my parents. I didn't even know their names, for Merlin, I didn't know my birthday. So yes, this Voldemort is my problem-'

'You're thirteen.' Said Ron curtly, but the tips of his ears were red.

'Fourteen in two months.'

'You don't need to worry about him till he's back. That Diary thing is gone. Gone. You think too much, Hermione.'

She pursed her lips, trying to calm herself as the compartment door slid open.

Millicent Bulstrode grinned. 'Alohomora always works. Don't look so red Weasley, you look like a rotting tomato.'

'And you look like a troll who's just learnt how to say hello.'

'Lame one. But it rhymed, we'll give you some compensation points for that.' She said and immediately made herself at home. 'So, Granger?'

'Why're you here?'

'Pansy and Greengrass are pointing out dress robes and giggling on the latest issue of Witch Weekly. Malfoy's still bragging on his Nimbus, though he lost to Potter, Gryffindor of all things-'

'Harry's a better seeker than Malfoy with an extra brain and arm put together-'

'Harry's father isn't Lucius Malfoy, is he? Anyways Zabini and Theo are into conspiracy theories, Davis is hanging around with those Ravenclaws and well, me.'

'Wanted our amazing company?'

'Had no choice.' Said Millicent succinctly. It wasn't that she was like Malfoy, they were actually sort of friends and they had gone through certain strenuous Potions lessons together, yet, such things were not discussed between them, like declaration of friendship. It was given that as the mudblood and blood traitor of their house, excluding half blood Davis, who acted like an inbred pig anyway, she and Ron had to stick together. Bulstrode was here on her own.

'Did you sign up for Divination?' asked Hermione.

'Did I sign up for hogwash? No, I didn't. Care of magical creatures and Ancient Runes are enough, thank you. Besides,' she added.

'The whole house wants to know what happened with you and the Weasley girl.'

'I don't really remember,' she fibbed. Maybe Bulstrode was just being curious, but whatever it was, in the end, Bulstrode's side was clear. And she was not on Hermione's.

'I mean, I was in the Common Room, and after that I couldn't remember anything, really.'

Bulstrode rolled her eyes. 'Draco and Parkinson might fall for the obliviate story but the others won't. You better get a cover story ready.'

'Fine, you think the Cannons might have a chance in this league?' Ron said, trying to divert topic. Bulstrode rolled her eyes again.

'I don't follow losing teams.'

Hermione leaned back, feeling relaxed. It was always entertaining to watch others arguing, especially when said argument didn't involve her.

'You must come home, this time, Hermione.'

She and Ron were standing on the barrier between the muggle and magical world, and like every year, Hermione wanted to just stay in Hogwarts.

'Can you pick me up, then? Wait a second, Ms. Rehana's room has a telephone, I'll give you the number.'

She handed a torn piece of parchment with the number and address.

'You have a fireplace?'

Hermione nodded. 'You can't floo in though, its always full of people-'

'No one's awake at night, are they?'

'Yeah, but I'll have to let them know and stuff-'

Ron waved a hand carelessly. 'Just tell her your friends will be out to pick you up at night.'

'Fine, then, just let me know the date.'

She nodded a goodbye, carefully retrieved the muggle money she had for the Underground, clutched tightly in her hand and stepped back into the muggle world.

Under the safety of her bedcovers and one of her portable fires she'd conjured on the Express in hand, Hermione began her research. Till now, Voldemort had been a blemish on the horizon, a far away name. Not anymore. What Hermione needed was more on this man. How did the sixteen year old boy grow up to be this murdering psychopath the history books mentioned?

Tom Riddle had been an orphan. Tom Riddle had been the last heir of Slytherin. Tom Riddle had been Head Boy, Prefect and recipient of numerous awards, if the Trophy room was any indication. And somewhere, Tom Riddle had become Lord Voldemort.

Her borrowed copy of Wizarding Genealogy from Bulstrode lied open, paper and pencil in hand. She was going to trace him down, know more about his extreme views and learn more on him. The other books, a brief history of the First Wizarding War, a book consisting of third year hexes and curses (possibly borderline illegal ones, seeing it belonged to the Shafiqs), and Prophecies: Fantasy or Reality?, which was supposed to have an account of prophecies that came true and those that didn't lay closed, for a later time. All borrowed books from various sources-Yusra being the main one.

Ron might say that at nearly twelve years, he was gone but if Voldemort could terrorize a school for nearly a year by a mere memory of himself, the horrors of him at his pinnacle were unimaginable. After all, the man had come after a year old toddler who couldn't have even shown her first sign of magic yet. And he also had a fifty year head start. This had become her problem now, and when she faced him again, no ifs about it, she would need to be prepared.

By midnight she had traced down the Slytherin blood to an obscure family called Gaunt, who seemed to have a nauseating amount of first cousin marriages.

Hermione Granger was nothing if not fast.

A/N: So I really thought about killing Hermione in the Chamber but couldn't bring myself to actually do it. The reason why Dobby doesn't come for Hermione is simple- she's just not that important or famous. For them, she's that weird exception in your textbook you need to remember. Again, Hermione could've simply asked Dumbledore more about the prophecy herself, but she isn't used to that. So she thinks he's being deliberately tight lipped and reasons it with him not needing to care about her.

Besides, from third year, the condensed two chapter years end, and the story picks up.