A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I've worked relentlessly on it to have it completed by this week, so I hope that it proves worth it and that you guys really like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, locations, or cleverness. It all belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Studios.

Hermione sat up, frozen as the dark man's eyes bore down upon her. Madam Meriwether rushed to her side immediately, gently pushing her back down onto the bed. She did not fight the witch, as she was stunned at her sudden greeting into reality.

"No, no… I am alright… Here… really, I am," Hermione spoke shakily while attempting to rise up from the medic's hold. Her heart pounded in fear as Tom Riddle continued to watch the slight squabble. "Please!" Hermione said pleadingly in slight fright, immediately wishing to escape and take a breather to herself. Madam Meriwether did not release her gentle hold.

The medic accomplished her chidings and pushed Hermione back down onto the bed, she attempted to slow her breathing. She could feel his stare burning into her as Madam Meriwether turned, grabbing the glass of murky liquid.

"Hear, drink this, deary," Madam Meriwether held out the glass to Hermione. She took it reluctantly—trusting the witch's kind demeanor—and gulped the foul-tasting concoction. Forcing the remaining liquid down, Hermione worked to keep the bile from rising in her throat. She groaned slightly at the upset in her stomach.

"Don't worry, it'll pass soon and you'll feel much better!" the witch exclaimed, relieved that her patient seemed to have calmed and come-to. Hermione watched as the medic turned from her, to the impassive—almost aloof—young man standing at the foot of the bed, examining her.

"It's quite clear that she hasn't fully recovered from the incident, perhaps Dumbledore may speak with her later, yes?" Madam Meriwether stated rather than asking.

"Professor Dumbledore said he wished to speak with her as soon as she has awoken, if she is incapable of making the trip to see him and Headmaster Dippet, then I shall immediately return her to the infirmary without delay," Riddle spoke, attempting to appeal to the medic.

Hermione watched as the devious boy used his charm and cunning to allure the witch into giving in to his request. Tom Riddle was without a doubt handsome. He had jet black hair, perfectly coiffed to accentuate the slight wave that sided off to the right. His eyes were the darkest Hermione had ever seen on a being—seeming to have an endless depth to them. He had a lean build that was visible beneath the cloak he wore and was very tall for his age. His skin, stood pallid against his dark features and wardrobe—but instead of taking away from his features, it added to them—making him all the more striking... and terrifying.

As if he could feel Hermione watching him, his gaze darted to the corner of his eyes and rested on her heavily while Madam Meriwether pondered her decision. Hermione felt her face flush and she immediately turned her head down to look at the bedding, wide-eyed and heart beat elevating.

"Well, if you think it's that important, then I will allow her to," Madam Meriwether inclined her head to him in defeat. "I know she'll be in good hands," the witch smiled broadly at the young man before leaving and returning to her office, shutting the door behind her.

Hermione had to refrain herself for screaming out a plea not to leave her alone in the company of the future dark wizard, but focused her mind on remaining calm and inconspicuous—if that were even possible at this point.

Riddle turned back to the girl and studied her momentarily as a hushed silence fell around them. Hermione held her breath and braced herself for whatever curse he may to hurl at her. She was slightly surprised when he spoke with ease—and no hint of malice tracing his voice.

"Our Transfiguration Professor, Albus Dumbledore, and Headmaster, Armando Dippet, wished to see you as soon as you were awake and mostly recovered. Come on." Tom Riddle then turned, expecting her to follow. Hermione, not ready for the abrupt departure, remained in her bed. After a few steps Riddle stopped, sensing her hesitance, and turned back to look at her—his face blank.

"I— I— Can't I clean up first?" Hermione asked exasperatedly at the sudden rush.

After a moment of heavy silence and Riddle staring at her form, he replied with, "Quickly then," before exiting the infirmary doors. Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and shakily pushed down the bedding that covered her.

Looking for her belongings, she bent down to look under the bed. A sigh of relief escaped Hermione when she realized that the leather belts that had been strapped around the trunks had not been tampered with. She immediately grabbed her suitcase containing her clothing and dragged it by the belt to the infirmary bathroom. Hermione shut the door and locked it behind her, sinking to the floor in ragged breaths as tears threatened to seep from the corners of her eyes.

How had her life turned around so rapidly in just a week? The laughter she shared with her friends and the warm feeling of accomplishment that filled her as she studied and progressed were all but figments of her imagination now. Her only accomplishment she could achieve at this point in time would be to stay undercover and alive.

Get a hold of yourself, Hermione! Snap out of it! She yelled mentally to herself, shaking her head back and forth to rid herself of the thoughts that would cause her more pain—the thought of her friends, her family. She forced back the tears and took a slow, deep breath. She had to gather her bearings; she couldn't afford to slip up so early. She stood up, her head held high. She wouldn't give in to defeat so early, she refused.

She moved to the wash sink and mirror—noting that nothing had changed within the bathroom's interior from the future to now. She looked at her reflection and cringed at the dirt that still caked her hair under a bandage and her smudged face. Moreover, she was slightly embarrassed at the oblivious fact that she had been dressed in a long, white nightgown. What a way to greet the future Dark Lord. Hermione thought sardonically to herself.

She carefully removed the dirtied bandage that was wrapped around her head. As she made it to the end, she noticed that it had been slightly bloody. Instinctively Hermione reached her hand back to check the damage, but she felt nothing but a tender spot with a slight tinge of pain. Thank the gods for magic. She then bent over the sink and turned on the cool water, rinsing the dried dirt from her hair and face. She knew Riddle wouldn't wait outside forever—if he hadn't already left—so she did what she could for now. She would have no problem locating the Headmaster's office, but in playing the role of a transfer student, it would be to suspicious to get there without fault the first time.

She grabbed a pristine, white towel from a nearby shelf and wrapped her wet hair in it. Hermione leaned over her largest suitcase containing clothing and loosened the belts fastened around the case. Freeing the trunk, she opened it and immediately snatched up her wand, finding comfort in the familiar warmth that rested in her grasp. She pulled the towel off her head and pointed her wand toward her mass of wet curls, whispering a drying charm. Her hair immediately bushed out more than usual due to the fact she had no time to condition her hair.

She sighed and began digging at the bottom of the trunk for a hair band. Her arm was lost in a sea of clothes, digging desperately for what she sought. Finally Hermione felt the tip of something brush her fingers. Immediately she managed to grab the tip of the object and pulled lightly. When it didn't budge, she pulled harder.

"Ugh, come on you stupid thing," Hermione grumbled in frustration, pulling as hard as she could.

"OW!" A muffled voice hissed from beneath the mess of Hermione's clothing. Immediately retracting her hand, startled, she watched as the clothing began to wiggle and move slightly on its own accord. A small, dark green snake emerged from beneath the chaos—a rubber band caught around its neck. "My kind do not exactly appreciate being called such slanderous names, either." The snake spat, freeing itself from the cloth rubble.

"Nyoka? What are you doing?" Hermione questioned in a hushed tone as her eyes widened in shock.

"Trying to free myself from this damnable thing," Nyoka said as she tried to wriggle free of the rubber band. Hermione sighed in slight frustration, sliding the hair band from the snake's body with ease. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, Hermione then returned her attention to the snake.

"How did you get here?" Hermione asked, rubbing her throbbing temples.

"The same way you did, I should assume," The snake said conversationally. Hermione looked at Nyoka, not amused by the reply. "If you are concerning how I ended up here," the snake said slithering further out of the clothing to rest atop the highest peak, "then I shall tell you." Hermione rested on the balls of her feet, looking at the green serpent, straight-backed and arms crossed.

"After our meeting the other night, I feared the winter that was coming—for I had little food storage and warmth underneath the old, dying tree. After our interesting conversation, I thought that you might not mind a little intelligent company throughout the cold winter, so as you sat upon the ground for a while, I slithered into your book carrier. So warm, so cozy—much more so than that rotting stump," The snake hissed with a disgusted voice.

"Intelligent company?" Hermione fumed, "Are you calling me ignorant?"

"I would never call you such names, but you did not think yourself a parseltongue, no? By staying with you, I could help you into this realization."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the snake. "You just wanted a place warm in order to save your own skin," she spat.

"I will not deny my desire to seek better shelter," Nyoka appealed, "I don't exactly fancy dying at the moment. But, I planned to keep to myself and remain out of your way."

"But, how did you get here, in my trunk?" Hermione sighed inquisitively as she pointed to the large container.

"I saw you packing some strange objects and cloth into a large case. It looked so warm and inviting; as opposed to the crook in the floor under your bed. So while you were busying yourself with the other case, I slid inside with ease.

"Then, before I knew it, I was being thrown about like a child's plaything. Hours later, here we are. I hope that answers your question," The snake said—acting almost exhausted from telling its tale.

Hermione groaned, rubbing her palms against her eyes with fervor—hoping the whole mess was just a dream. She removed her hands and opened her eyes. After the colors faded, she was still greeted by the small serpent.

"This isn't good…" Hermione shook her head back and forth, not knowing what to do with the creature.

"Not good because you now have a burden… or because there is another one of you here?" The snake questioned curiously—slight interest clouded its serpentine voice.

"How did you…?" Hermione questioned uneasily, slowly retracting from the snake.

"We can tell when another Speaker is present. How do you think we have the ability to seek them out at will? We can sense it—taste it in the air and feel it beneath our bodies. It calls to us, much as you called to me that night."

"Called to you? But I didn't—"

"Why else would I have left the safety of my domain below to tread among the topside as cold as it was? No, I wouldn't have. But it called to me. Beckoned me to rise up from my resting point; I was naturally intrigued by this newfound sensation, and followed it, naturally," Nyoka hissed, arguing Hermione's logic.

"What about us? Can my kind sense your kind?"

"Did you detect me that first night we met?"

Hermione recalled the situation and shook her head.

"If one can sense the other and ultimately seek them out, why would your kind need that ability? They don't. Therefore, only we can sense and follow the call. We are under the command of the Speakers—not the Speakers under our command."

"And your kind is okay with that?" Hermione asked, perplexed by the snake's acceptance to the seemingly forced ordeal. She never liked the idea of any creature being submissive and controlled by another when they are intelligent and strong enough to care for themselves. A life of servitude wasn't something Hermione saw as humane or even remotely kind; hence her stance on house elf rights.

"I do not see why we wouldn't be. If we are chosen by a speaker to be his or her familiar, then we are able to live without fear of being trampled, dying of the cold, and have access to other necessities we would not have had available to us before. You see, it can be beneficial to both human and creature."

"Beneficial to humans how? You just seem to want a free ride through life," Hermione scoffed.

"We may seem so in retrospect, but make no mistake; we are loyal to whoever has chosen us. It is our duty to stand by the ones who for once consider us almost equal instead of tainted creatures created from hellfire and brimstone.

"So you see," The snake slither up on its haunches to face Hermione, "the Speakers and the Snakes, we were created to tread this earth together. That is why it calls to us, why we are sought out. Until we have found our leader of the earth, we keep searching endlessly." The snake turned and curled into a mass—making itself comfy atop her clothing. "So what will it be, Miss Hermione? Shall you allow me the honor of staying, or will I be relinquished once more to the hands of the world and the fate of the gods?" Nyoka ask finitely, hoping for an answer to end the daunting interview of her recent actions.

Hermione didn't wish to throw a creature to the cold—especially if death is what would ultimately await them—but then again, she did not wish to attract attention by hauling a snake around the school and occasionally speaking to it. No, that wouldn't be acceptable. But she could not find it in herself to turn away the small, dark green snake.

"Fine. Okay. You can stay with me," Hermione said rubbing her throbbing temples, "but on one condition."

"Anything you desire," The snake said as it bowed its head respectively in gratitude.

"The… other Speaker… he can't know of you. He… can't know of my ability to speak to you. If he—or anyone else, for that matter—found out, it would end badly for me. For the both of us," Hermione said sternly. "Do you understand?"

"Indeed. And I will abide by these rules you have lain out before me, Miss Hermione," Nyoka hissed in earnest.

"Good," Hermione said quickly, diving in the opposite end of her trunk in search for clothing. Pulling out a gray wool skirt, stockings, and buckled shoes, she hurried and slid each item on underneath her night dress. Looking for a shirt, she snatched a button up jumper that had various horizontal lines, zigzags, and other patterns. She would have never chosen this shirt out for herself due to the loud design and assortment of maroon, grey, and black colors—but McGonagall's final offerings were all she had for now.

Hermione pulled off the night gown in one swift motion, and threw it down on the rest of the clothes pile, noting a muffled hiss of frustration from Nyoka as the garment fell on top of her. Pulling the itchy top over her head, Hermione couldn't help but cringe at the slight smell of mothballs infiltrating her nostrils.

Hermione moved to rearrange the clothing in the trunk so that it may close easily, but Nyoka quickly spoke up as she grabbed the by buckle at the top.

"Wait just a moment. What is it you are doing?" Nyoka hissed, startled. "You aren't going to just leave me closed up in this musty old trunk until you return are you?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Hermione inquired.

"Take me with you, of course," Nyoka hissed slyly.

"What? I can't do that! It's just asking for trouble and to be found out. The answer is no. Absolutely not," Hermione shook her head rapidly in refusal.

"I give you my word, I will not draw any attention whatsoever," Nyoka hissed her allegiance.

"I told you, no!"

"Fair enough. I simply will have to bite holes in all of your garments then," the snake said calmly as she slithered closer to the pile of awaiting clothing.

"Alright, alright, okay," Hermione relented with a frustrated sigh. Without giving the small, green snake time to move, she pulled a black traveling cloak quickly from the mound, causing the snake to be jostled about. Hermione stood and slid on the cloak, then knelt and opened it, holding up an inside pocket to the serpent.

"Now, don't speak or move around at all. I already feel like I am on pins and needles," Hermione said stressfully. She had only been awake for a short amount of time, but today had already taken a toll on her—both physically and mentally.

"How uncomfortable," Nyoka hissed, but noting Hermione's serious expression, she nodded once firmly and slithered into the awaiting pocket.

Quickly standing up, Hermione closed her trunk firmly and levitated it as she opened the door. Using magic to slide it back to its former resting place under her cot, she straightened her robes, and tucked her wand in the sleeve of her cloak. Taking a deep breath, Hermione pushed open the infirmary door and stepped outside to the awaiting dark wizard.

To her surprise, she was greeted with an empty corridor. The only sounds that could be heard were the claps of thunder echoing through the darkened, open halls. Hermione had never seen Hogwarts this ominous or creepy—even in her second year when the basilisk roamed about.

Swallowing the lump of nervousness that had risen in her throat, Hermione slowly walked forward.

"Hello?" Hermione called out. No response. The chilly air bit at her through her robes and she felt Nyoka squirm slightly in her pocket—sensing the unease in the atmosphere.

Hermione allowed her wand to slowly fall from her sleeve and take its place in her hand. Without speaking the incantation, she silently casted a lumos spell, allowing her wand to light some of the darkness. The scene felt all too familiar—as though she had been in this very predicament only moments earlier. Having not remembered the dream she had while unconscious in the infirmary that day, she was left with a sense of foreboding she could not place meaning to.

Mustering up her courage, Hermione walked in strides down the hall—almost trying to prove to herself that the fear she felt was ridiculous. She came to the end of the hall, looking both left and right down the forked passageway. Before she could gather herself to make a decision, she felt the presence of someone nearby.

Maybe I should just talk to infirmary witch about where I should go… Confident in her decision, Hermione quickly backed up ready to turn. It wasn't until she slammed into a hard, lean body that she registered the specter that had been lurking in the shadows.

Hermione bounced off the figure with a squeak, but managed to regain her balance before tripping. Beneath the glow of the light emitting from her wand, she could make out the ghostly face of Tom Riddle—who seemed to flash a slight grimace on his face before masking it up once more.

"I… I… Sorry, I didn't know where to go," Hermione lied in her most believable manner. She couldn't tell if he believed her or not, but he turned on his heel and walked down the right corridor. She fell into to step behind him, allowing him to lead the way to the Headmaster's office.

Riddle led her to the archway of the office—speaking the password in a clear, refined voice. The winged-creature revealed the stairs, allowing them to travel up. Once they reached the top, Riddle knocked twice and a muffled "come in," traveled through the heavy wood of the door.

"Ah, Tom, it's good to see you," Headmaster Dippet said from behind his overtly tidy desk. Dumbledore's years as headmaster of Hogwarts entailed multiple magical odds and ends lining his room, desk, and sometimes even lingering under chairs. He always had papers and open books strewn about his desk that would suggest he was hard at work researching. Unlike his counterpart, Armando Dippet kept the office neat and in strict order. There weren't any magical objects tinkering and spinning about the office like she had seen before, but instead, the only remote object of similarity was the large hourglass sitting upon Dippet's personal desk.

Hermione followed Riddle into the office where Dippet leaned back lazily in his chair—Dumbledore standing erectly at his side.

"I see you've brought our guest here safely, thank you, Tom," Dumbledore nodded to the dark haired boy. Tom didn't miss the undertone in which his sentence held, but he allowed a soft smile to grace his lips and nodded to his senior. Armando Dippet grinned broadly at the boy's charming demeanor.

"Yes, thank you. Off you go then, wouldn't want to keep you from any lady admirer you have plans to meet," Dippet said with a grin.

Riddle let out a deep chuckle. "You know I have no time for such things, sir. I must stay busy and continue my studies if I wish to be as successful as the staff here at Hogwarts."

"You're far too kind. Off you go then! And, Tom, don't stay out too late," Dippet winked at the boy, before Tom Riddle nodded respectively to both of his mentors and exited the office.

After Riddle left, Dippet immediately turned his gaze upon Hermione, who had been standing off to the side awkwardly. He motioned his hand for her to sit in one of the arm chairs opposite him and Dumbledore. She took the seat calmly, but her mind rushed to brief herself on her story she was to present. Dippet sat up, interlacing his hands and focusing on her.

"So, how did you end up on the outskirts of our fine academy, Miss…?"

"Sivad. Hermione Sivad," she said more quickly than she intended.

"Miss Sivad, how did you happen upon us?" Dippet inquired.

"I previously attended Beauxbatons for my first three years, but my father passed in my third year. He left behind funding for me to continue living in our large home and pursue my education at the academy, but during my fifth year, the funds proved insufficient and I could no longer afford to hold down the home and pay tuition," Hermione paused and looked up from her head which she had downcast to feign sorrow.

"My condolences, Miss Sivad. What about your mother?"

"She died when I was very young. I barely knew her," Hermione sighed frowning lightly. Dippet looked over to Dumbledore, acknowledging the fact that he had dug himself into an uncomfortable position. Dumbledore nodded to continue.

"Ah, I see. Then what happened?"

"After my absence of attending my 6th year, one of my former professors of Beauxbatons checked on me upon request. After I explained that I could no longer afford to attend, she contacted the Ministry whom said it was required by the Schooling and Magical Education law that I finish out my remaining years. I was recommended to enroll in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry due to the tuition aid. Before my Father's home foreclosed, I packed up my things and the remainder of what little money I had left and did a bit of sketchy apparition here. As you can see, it did not serve me well. The magical boundaries rebounded against me—nearly causing me to get splinched."

Hermione smirked inwardly to herself. She clearly had told her story in a believable manner, for Dippet seemed somewhat saddened by her unfortunate tale; Dumbledore stood silently, a light frown on his face.

"It's a curious thing," Dumbledore inquired, "You apparated you say? I was unaware that Beauxbatons taught apparition to their students so early." Hermione barely refrained from blanching on the spot, but managed to use her quick wit to form an answer.

"My father had a substantial sum of money and thought it would be beneficial that I learned to apparate early on when he first began to show signs of illness. I learned under a personal mentor that the Ministry appointed and approved." Hermione was proud of herself as the well thought lie tumbled expertly from her lips. Dumbledore still had skepticism written in his eyes as he peered over his half-moon shaped glasses.

"Oh, quit prodding, Albus, it's evident the girl has been through quite the ordeal recently," Dippet said reproachfully to his understudy. "Did you have transcripts from your former school?"

"Yes, sir. I placed them in my trunk, I did not wish for them to get damaged. Unfortunately my trunk is still in the infirmary. I may go retrieve them if you wish."

"No, no, that won't be necessary. I think we've spent enough time in this drab, old office as is. When you retrieve your things, have Madam Meriwether in the infirmary point out Professor Dumbledore's office—he will collect your transcripts and put them on file. You shall be sorted tonight in our Great Hall at dinner. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Miss Sivad," Dippet said, reaching out to shake her hand as he rose.

"Thank you, sir, it's an honor," she smiled warmly, grasping the Headmaster's hand and shaking it firmly.

Turning around, Hermione exited the office to recover her paperwork—relieved that things had gone off without a hitch. She walked down the corridor back to the infirmary to retrieve her things. Upon seeing that Madam Meriwether had her door shut and appeared to be in her office working, Hermione sat down on the cot that had been hers for the day. She took a deep breath—regaining her bearings.

She felt a slight rustle in the inner pocket of her robes. Opening it up slightly, she allowed Nyoka to peek her head out for fresh air.

"Well that went well," Nyoka hissed.

"Yeah. Thanks for not bringing attention to yourself—I nearly forgot you were even there," Hermione said as a rush of adrenaline filled her body. She was unused to lying so heavily in a day, the rush of excitement she felt from her accomplished task caused her to mentally pat herself on the back.

"I gave you my word, did I not? This Dumbledore fellow, though, I do not like," Nyoka hissed disdainfully.

"Dumbledore is a good man. And you'd be wise to learn a thing or two from him," Hermione said reproachfully.

"I have acquired as much knowledge as I desire, thank you. How can you speak of him being such a good man if he treated you with such blatant rudeness?"

"He has a right to be curious. After all, it was I who intruded upon them, not the other way around," Hermione affirmed standing to her feet with snake's head still hovering slightly out of the pocket. "I have to deliver my papers to Dumbledore and then proceed to the Great Hall for dinner. You can either return and wait in my trunk or go with me, but the same rules apply as before."

"It's so cramped in here I almost wish to choose the trunk, but if I did, I would miss out on the interesting details of the little web you seem to have woven, Miss Hermione."

"Fine, suit yourself," Hermione said readjusting her robes, causing the serpent to slide back into the pocket. "I hope you don't mind a few hundred, chattering students parading about the Great Hall tonight, then," Hermione smirked to herself as the snake hissed in brewing frustration of the situation.

Hermione retrieved her paperwork that the future Dumbledore had left to her devices, then casting a charm minimizing her luggage; she placed the two transformed trunks into her pocket opposite Nyoka.

After she received the unnecessary directions from Madam Meriwether, she made headway for the Transfiguration classroom that Dumbledore would be waiting in. She passed a few students traveling throughout the darkened corridors—their eyes following her curiously. Approaching the classroom, she knocked on the heaven wooden door and waited. A muffled "come in" flowed through the door and Hermione entered without delay.

Dumbledore at his desk bent over a stack of papers working fervently. Hearing the door shut, he placed down his quill and looked up to smile at Hermione warmly, gesturing her to have a seat in what appeared to be a newly conjured chair.

"Thank you, sir." Hermione sat down, but before she had a chance to give him the papers, he held up a hand, halting her actions.

"Miss Sivad, I am unaware of what pretense you have come under, but I trust that you have good reason for doing so," Dumbledore said calmly, but in a serious tone. Immediately Hermione paled and her mouth went dry.

"Sir?" she began to question, but was silenced as Dumbledore reached into his desk and pulled out a time-turner with glittering, silver sand in the hourglass. Unthinkingly, Hermione's hand quickly reached up to feel around her neck for the familiar warmth of the chain. Her searching hand found nothing. Sighing, she downcast her head in embarrassment at her foolishness.

"I am sure you have an explanation for your presence here." Dumbledore said knowingly as he set the object down onto his desk.

"Yes, I do. But, I was ordered not to speak of it, sir," Hermione said, standing firm on her orders.

"By whom were you ordered, Miss Sivad?" Dumbledore asked, brows furrowing.

"By you, Professor," Hermione stated. Dumbledore's expression eased into a look of curiosity as she withdrew a letter from within the stack of papers, handing him the envelope that was addressed to him by name.

Hermione watched silently as the professor slid his finger expertly underneath the flap, opening the envelope and retrieving its contents. Holding the letter close to his face in immense studying, his eyes flitted back and forth horizontally, reading the words written in his very own handwriting.

After he completed his examination, he refolded the letter and placed it back in the envelope before placing it in his robes for safekeeping. His glasses set upon the bridge of his nose as a wearied look graced across his face, highlighting the pre-aging wrinkles.

"I know very little of the situation besides the fact that much darker times lie ahead. I have felt this for some time now—but the extent must be beyond what I had expected. Miss Sivad, I commend you on your bravery of agreeing to this task. It must be quite the burden to bear," He said solemnly.

"Yes, it has been. But I feel a little better knowing you understand now, sir," Hermione sighed with relief. Dumbledore now understood her predicament to some extent—and even though his knowledge was slight, it helped to ease her nerves. She handed him the false paperwork. Accepting it, he scanned over the official-looking documents and found them to be in order.

"Miss Sivad, I understand that you were chosen for this mission due to my faithfulness and trust in you, but I do advise that you be more careful and discreet," Dumbledore said lifting the time-turner. "This artifact is not widely known by common wizarding folk, but if it fell into the wrong hands, the results could prove most disastrous. Please keep it hidden from sight and safe."

"Yes, sir, I will," Hermione said with a nod as she took the turner from him and slid it over her neck, hiding it beneath her shirt.

"As for your funding for the remainder of your time here, that will be taken care of. After you are sorted, we will have a house-elf deliver your uniform, books, and supplies to your dormitory," Dumbledore said as he straightened the papers on his desk.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione spoke, standing up to proceed to the Great Hall for dinner and her sorting. She turned to exit the classroom.

"And Hermione," Dumbledore said in seriousness, "be sure that your companion does not reveal itself so willingly to other students—for I believe you are not the only one with an affinity here." Nyoka slithered uneasily in Hermione's pocket. Taken aback by his ability to make note of the snake accompanying her made her worry about carrying the creature around.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at her, inclining his head hoping to ease her spirits. Though still apprehensive, Hermione allowed a soft smile back before nodding then leaving the classroom, and the young Dumbledore, to his thoughts.

Hermione reached the Great Hall to see the Headmaster, Armando Dippet, standing outside waiting with a staff member—a tall, spindly witch with graying hair—holding the sorting hat. Hearing light footsteps, he turned.

"Ah, Miss Sivad, we were beginning to worry you had gotten lost. I trust you delivered your transcripts to Professor Dumbledore, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione affirmed.

"Good, good," Dippet beamed, "Now, let's not delay any further!"

The Great Hall doors opened wide, allowing the sound of chattering students to greet them. Dippet and the spindly woman carrying the enchanted hat entered with Hermione following behind. The voluminous conversations quickly turned to mutterings and hushed whispers as Hogwarts' new student entered the hall.

Hermione's stomach turned flips as she approached the head of the dining hall where a single stool was placed. She took a seat facing the hundreds of students staring at her beady-eyed in confusion and curiosity. Some students in the back craned their necks to peer over the mass of beings to catch a glimpse.

"Good evening students! Before we begin our delectable feast, I have an announcement to make," the Headmaster spoke loudly over the dying voices. Hermione nervously looked around. Looking at the Gryffindor table, she saw a few red heads peeping out amongst the crowd—as well as a woman who had the resemblance to a younger McGonagall. Her eyes searched over the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables who watched with piqued interest. Lastly, her gaze fell on the Slytherin table. Immediately she was able to find the dark haired, Tom Riddle surrounded by a group of boys at the very end of the table. He sat with his chin over clasped hands, observing her like a specimen put up for show. A boy with light blonde hair, bearing a striking resemblance to Malfoy, kept his eyes fixated on her as he smirked and made a remark to the observant Riddle, nudging him slightly in the side. Uncomfortable with the countless onlookers, Hermione decided to keep her gaze ahead, on the Great Hall doors.

"This is our newest member to Hogwarts, Hermione Sivad. She is an exchange student from the prestigious Beauxbatons School of Magic in France. Help us welcome her to our fine academy as she is sorted!" Dippet exclaimed with a wave of his arms and a gesture to the witch beside him. The witch eased the hat down onto Hermione's head as her sorting began.

"Miss Granger! How interesting it is to see you again," the Sorting Hat said as he recognized the brainy, bushy-haired girl.

"How did you…?"

"Tut, tut, it matters not. You have changed quite a deal since your first year, indeed. I see you have acquired a few skills in you arsenal as well." the Sorting Hat said as she felt Nyoka squirm in her pocket.

"Yes… I guess you could say that," Hermione said through her thoughts to the hat.

"Your blood is as pure as they come… your wit as sharp as the spear of a warrior… your courage as great as lion… and your heart as soft as fallen snow... But where to put you…?"

Hermione wrung her hands nervously as the hat deliberated on his decision. He mumbled indistinctively, musing on his options.

"If only I could put you in two houses at once!" The Sorting Hat chuckled. "You have the cunning and guile of a Slytherin, but the wit and wisdom of a Ravenclaw. Both are most prominent within you and wish you to serve their house well.

"Fair enough," the Sorting Hat spoke as if to another entity. "For now, you shall reign in this domain with absolute right, but this battle of which you belong to is far from just a fight… Just because one path has been laid before you doesn't mean that it is permanent and unchanging, Miss Granger, keep that in mind…"

"Wait, what do you mean…?"

"Better be… RAVENCLAW!" the Sorting Hat shouted.

The Ravenclaw table burst into cheers for their newest member. The Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff tables clapped respectively as Hermione hopped off the chair and made way to join her newest house.

A group of students cleared a seat for her, patting her on the back and shaking her hand as she smiled and spoke many thanks to the numerous students clamoring to her. After the chatter died down Dippet raised his arms once more.

"And now, we feast!" He shouted jubilantly. With another wave of his arms, the food appeared before the throng of students who began filling their plates in haste.

As Hermione started to fill her own, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she came face to face with a girl who was seated opposite her at the Gryffindor table. Her hair was up in a bun and glasses sat on her face.

"Welcome to Hogwarts! Oh, and nice sweater, I had one just like it last year," The girl spoke—a smile coating the Irish lilt in her voice.

"Thank you," Hemione smiled back to the young McGonagall. Maybe completing her mission in the past wouldn't be as bad as she thought. She turned back to her plate, smiling to herself as she grabbed a spoon and began scooping mashed sweet potatoes onto her dish.

Riddle had not moved from his position of examining the newest student. His brow was slightly furrowed in thought. It had taken the Sorting Hat several and a half minutes to deliberate on where to place her. It was, without a doubt, probably the longest hat-stall that had ever occurred in the history of Hogwarts—of this he was certain. He found it a curious thing that an unbeknownst newcomer as herself being so closely examined by the sorting hat. It was curious, indeed.

"Come on, mate, I know she's easy on the eyes, but you need to eat before Crabbe over here eats all of the best stuff," Abraxas Malfoy said to Riddle before helping himself.

"Easy on the eyes… Don't make me laugh, Malfoy," Riddle scoffed as he snapped out of his trance and began to fill his plate, his thoughts never straying one from Hermione Sivad.

A/N: Well, there you have it. I hope you guys liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am not going to bombard you guys with requests to review, but I am sort of bummed out that my last chapter only received one review. I had to dig deep to complete this chapter and I am unsure of how my readers feel this far in the story. Reviews truly help me out when planning my story because as a writer, I also learn from my readers. Anyways, it can get difficult to stay motivated to write sometimes, but I hope that those of you reading will have the time to drop by and leave a review. It would truly mean a lot to me. Thank you.