A/N: So here it is! We finally made it to the masquerade! This chapter was written to set up everything for the next chapter which will change the direction of the story completely. I hope you guys enjoy it and hopefully I can update with the next chapter by the end of the week at the latest (I am kind of loaded with college work). Regardless, hope you guys like it!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, the setting, or characters, all of it belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

"Run! Run! You have to go faster! Push yourself!"

Hermione ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Her breathing came out in quick, sharp bursts. Her chest ached from the cold air being sucked into them with each intake of breath. The dress she wore flowed out behind her like waves upon an ocean's surface, and her bare feet hit the floor painfully as she sprinted on her toes. Her hair had fallen down from the elegant bun that had once coiled it into place.

"Hermione, you have to run faster!" The girl's voice came again, unfamiliar to her, but yet she still ran. She didn't know where she was running to, but all that mattered was that she kept going, that she escaped. Her ears throbbed as a roaring sound tore at them. Just keep running. Just keep running.

Hermione approached the corridor branching off to her right. She quickly grabbed the castle's stone wall and propelled herself forward, turning the corner sharply to gain momentum. She glanced over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her pursuer.

Behind her a fast moving vortex of darkness chased; sucking, pulling, and threatening to swallow her whole. Her ears roared even louder; a mixture of a thousand voices whispering, speaking indiscernible words that filled her head like an overflowing storm drain. Hermione felt her body slow and grow weary as she continued to stare at the black mass. She averted her eyes back to the hallway, forcing herself to face forward.

Hermione's eyes squinted at her surroundings. She remembered this area and the place where all things were kept safe, hidden, and tucked away: the Room of Requirement. It served as a beacon of light in the tangible darkness. She saw the room's door slowly weaving and forming painfully slow at the end of the hall, giving promises of safe harbor. Hermione's lungs burned as she pushed herself and made headway for the magically appearing door.

"Faster!" The girl's voice cracked as the door grew closer. The beautiful frame of the arched entryway caused her heart to leap in hope.

As her fingers brushed the door's gilded silver handle, the roaring stopped and was replaced by dead silence.

"Not fast enough," a dark, velvety voice whispered by her ear.

Hermione gasped as a chill crept over her. She felt her body grow heavy and slow once again. She fought back the oppressive feeling and turned to face her pursuer.

The wall of darkness swirled inches from her face; hushed whispers seemed to be coming from inside the darkness. The voices sounded muffled, as though the speakers were submerged underwater. The air was cool but thick. Hermione's breathing was labored as she peered into the smoky darkness that swirled and danced before her.

Her logical side screamed for her to run, but her body protested as she took step forward, her feet moving against her will.

In front of her a pale, slim hand extended from the mass palm up, reaching out to her, inviting her in.

"Turn away," the small voice that had told her to run spoke, echoing from behind her-from behind the door.

The hand jutting from the darkness rested still, waiting. Hermione looked from the hand to the door, time seemed frozen.

Just as she willed herself to turn in the direction of the door, a man's voice broke the silence.

"Just because it appears to be safe does not mean that it's just. Sometimes the paths that are most dangerous will lead us to the greatest rewards. Our destinies can often be much darker and grimmer than we realized, but then again, they can also be so much more. Fear and tribulation are only part of our woes, but our successes-our triumphs-outweigh our struggles. Do not fear the face of the dark, for it wears the identity we want it to wear. Be the face that of which true darkness will cower from-be the face of light residing in that darkness; the one that delivers, that is a beacon-and a promise. Become what the shadow of evil fears: the light of good. If there is a faint glow within the dark, then there is hope. If there is an ounce of good within one's heart, it can be found.

Be strong, be courageous, and be wary, some will wear the mask of light, but harbor shadows within their eyes."

Hermione's resolve returned, and willingly she turned to face the dark mass. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, listening to the voices pouring from the shadows. A voice, nearly masked in the waves of whispering, called out to meekly and a dim light seemed to wisp within the fog. With eyes still closed, her decision was made.

Hermione reached out and grasped the hand still resting outside of the writhing darkness. Connected to the hand was a tall figure dressed in dark robes that stepped out of the smoke. The figure raised its head.

Riddle's eyes met hers as they shifted from black to red, shining bright like stained glass in a cathedral window. He smiled menacingly down upon her, studying her. She raised her chin to him and opened her light gray eyes softly. Much like Riddles eyes, hers changed from silver to soft brown.

"Darkness and light: one cannot exist without the other, and neither is one void of the other," Hermione spoke with a voice not her own; the voice of an older, wiser woman. It was true, they both had shattered pieces of light and dark inside of them—of good and evil. Riddle's light, though bleak and dimming by the day, was there shining softly in his blackening heart. Hermione's darkness, though small, was fueled by rage and duty, and it simmered, ready to be used as a weapon if she so willed it. They were the missing pieces to a disastrous puzzle; two halves of a whole.

Riddle still stood over her, imposing and smiling darkly. She looked at him, her eyebrows furrowing in determination, a smirk forming on her lips, rivaling his. Hermione treaded upon dangerous grounds, but because she was driven by what could only be described as divine purpose, she didn't shiver in his cold presence for the first time.

He beckoned to her with his red eyes and pulled Hermione gently by her hand into the swirling shadows, like a predator luring its prey into unsafe territory. She allowed him to pull her into the consuming darkness, her silver eyes meeting his all the while. Though their purposes and missions different, it was quite clear: Tom Riddle wasn't the only wolf in sheep's clothing among the flock.

"Wake up, Hermione! Oh, come on. Of all places?" Aviela groaned as she shook Hermione awake. She raised her head groggily and yawned, blinking away the sleep that had made her eyes heavy.

"What? Oh, sorry, Aviela. What's going on?" Hermione asked, her voice soft from just waking up.

"Oh, nothing at all aside from the fact that the ball is tonight and you are in the library asleep!"

Hermione sat in a wooden chair surrounded strewn books across a tabletop-her handiwork. She traced her hand down the left side of her face and felt the impressions in her flesh from sleeping atop her parchment and quill.

"Besides, why would you be so exhausted from studying? Finals aren't even remotely near!"

"I guess I was more exhausted than I realized while doing some research."

"What are you researching that is so important?" Aviela cocked a hand on her hip. Being a Ravenclaw, the girl admired a studious nature just as any other, but even she drew lines—especially when social events were involved.

"I was researching a few things for my Potion's project and just doing some independent studying. So what time is it anyway?" Hermione stood up and stretched before pushing her chair in.

"It's only three o'clock," Aviela said. Hermione's eyes grew wide and she immediately scrambled to gather her things and put the remaining books back in their respective places on the library's shelves. She was already supposed to be helping the committee decorate in the Great Hall.

"I am so sorry, Aviela. You must've been looking all over for me." Hermione shoved her parchments, quill, and two books into her messenger bag before securing it closed.

"Actually I wasn't. The library was a given," the blond laughed. "We are just now getting started, so don't worry, you didn't miss the fun."

"Yeah, fun," Hermione laughed.

"Yes, fun. Now come on!"

"You go ahead. I'm going to drop my things by the dormitory and I'll be right there. I promise," Hermione affirmed as she examined the skeptical look on Aviela's face.

"Alright, fine, but if you aren't there in fifteen minutes I will hex you." Aviela tried to be serious, but it only ended in the pair laughing. "Oh, and here. That should help." Aviela whipped out her wand and cast a charm on Hermione's face, ridding it of the red marks she had acquired during her impromptu slumber.

After Aviela left, Hermione walked back over to the shelves and grabbed a book she had open on the table previously and tucked it under her arm. It was called The Founders, The Truth by Artessa Gribbot. The book's foreword itself had said that it was based off of mere speculation and rumors, but as Hermione knew, often there were far more truths than what the mouth of historical records wished to reveal. She was hoping to find out more about Alphard, Salazar Slytherin, and suspicions that Rowena Ravenclaw had possessed the sight of divination. Unfortunately she hadn't gotten very far before she had fallen asleep.

She was surprised that she had fallen asleep, but she could feel the weight and stress of the past week resting heavily on her shoulders. She hadn't spoken to Riddle or Abraxas, and she had seen them even less than usual. Christopher also seemed to be avoiding her to an extent, possibly from his embarrassment of what took place at the rocks in Hogsmeade. Hermione had felt a tinge of embarrassment herself when she met Abraxas' eyes from across the Great Hall during breakfast earlier that week, but it had slowly progressed to indifference, though she still didn't approve of their indecent conversations.

A foreboding had also settled itself deep into her bones, making her on edge. Chills would occasionally scrape across her arms at random; it was as though something was watching her or on the move. She had tried to force back the feeling, but ignoring it only kept her up late at night in further unease. Hermione would draw the curtains around her bed and bring Nyoka up onto the blankets with her. The serpent and she would whisper back and forth into the wee hours of the night about everything and nothing until Hermione finally fell asleep.

It was quite an unusual thing how much intelligence the tiny creature held. Hermione wondered if all animals held the same level of consciousness or if her magically given ability enhanced the snake's cognitive functions to a level of communication that was equal to her own. It was something worth delving into further.

Nyoka had told Hermione that the voices in the walls that were getting louder with each passing day. Hermione would only swallow deeply and tell her to steer clear for her safety. Though they did not speak to one another about it, they both knew that one voice was human, and the other clearly was not.

Regardless, Hermione was happy to have her companion if worse came to worse. The only problem was the snake's size: she was at least at foot long now, and rounder. She could tell Nyoka had much more growing to do and she was unsure of how to handle the growing situation. She had to admit, it was nice having her companion with her, but it did make her nervous. Nyoka promised Hermione that she would come up with an idea that was reasonable-and that didn't involve the serpent being draped across her shoulders.

Hermione walked up to the library's front desk. The librarian looked down upon her through the glasses that rested at the end of her nose. The woman's hair was pulled back tightly in a low bun and her mouth was set into a constant hard line.

"I would like to check this out, please," Hermione said as she sat the tome atop the shiny wooden counter. The librarian studied the cover momentarily before silently pulling out the book's catalog card and passing it to Hermione. She signed it with a dipped quill that rested on the edge of the desk, waved it slightly to allow it to dry, then handed it to the stern-looking woman before placing the book in her bag.

"You know, we have a book called Hogwarts: A History if you are interested in something more accurate," the librarian said snootily.

"Thanks, but actually I already own it. It's my favorite work by Bathilda Bagshot." Hermione smiled, leaving the librarian in deep thought about the unusual girl who frequented her shelves and always placed the books back where they belonged.

Hermione finished dropping off her things in her's and Aviela's shared room and bid Nyoka goodbye to the serpent that had exited through the crack in the wall by the floor to hunt.

She saw Christopher sitting alone on the embroidered, deep blue couch by the low burning fire in the hearth, looking pensive. He sat slouched with his leg propped, his fingers picking at the decorative rope design that embellished the curves of the couch.

"Christopher? Aren't you coming to the Great Hall to help the committee decorate?" Hermione asked, breaking him from his trance.

"Sorry, what? Yes, I mean—no, no I can't," Christopher said awkwardly, surprised to see her.

"Why not?" Hermione studied him. He looked nervous and on edge.

"You know I would do anything to get out of decorating for the ball. I was hoping to hideout, actually." Christopher sat up straighter, taking his leg of the sofa where it had been extended previously.

"Well, you know you are doing a horrible job at hiding out. This is the first place she'd look. She found me quite easily and it only took her one try," Hermione laughed as she sat down on the couch next to him.

"Perhaps. I didn't plan on staying here for very long. I was hoping to walk around the grounds, get some fresh air, and stake out on the quidditch pitch for a while." Christopher hunched forward, resting his elbows atop his knees.

"Some fresh air sounds nice. Studying has kept me indoors mostly."

"Would you like to join me for a walk outside, then? I am open to having company."

"I wish, but Aviela threatened to hex me if I didn't show up in the Great Hall by fifteen after." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Who knows? She may keep her promise this time. I wish you the best of luck with that bunch. Try to keep Aviela sane; she has been acting ridiculous about this masquerade thing all week," Christopher said seeming to be a little disappointed by her answer.

"Will do," she smiled. Christopher rubbed his hands together nervously. His mouth opened and closed twice before he actually spoke.

"So, did Malfoy ever get around to asking you to the ball?" Christopher swallowed and seemed to pale a little. The question threw Hermione off-guard.

"I was anticipating it, but no, he never did."

"So you suspected he was going to ask you prior to… the incident at the rocks?" Christopher kept his eyes on the dying fire, letting out a breath he had been holding in.

"Someone had already told me that Abraxas planned to do so."

"Who told you?"

"Tom Riddle," Hermione said. Christopher's back grew rigid and he stopped rubbing his hands together. "Are you okay, Christopher?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Christopher said too quickly, but then forced himself to relax. Hermione saw through it, however.

"Christopher…"

"Look, Hermione, I know you were out walking with Riddle in the woods at Hogsmeade," Christopher began, but upon seeing Hermione's questioning look, he quickly fumbled for an explanation, "I wasn't spying or anything, I promise, it was just an observation." After Hermione didn't speak he continued.

"Look, all I'm saying is Tom Riddle can be a bit…"

"Scary?" Hermione finished for him, her eyebrow raised while smirking.

"Yes." Christopher's mouth was set into a frown, his eyes serious. Hermione's smile was quickly wiped away. He turned himself to face her better. "I am sure I don't know him as well as most, but… he seems off, Hermione."

Although Christopher was careful in his words, he had no clue how correct he was or how "off" Riddle could possibly be.

"He can be rather brooding," Hermione offered, trying to act as though she didn't notice.

"Brooding, yeah, something like that… Hermione, all I'm trying to say is… just be careful, alright? I… don't want to see you hurt," Christopher forced the words out, turning his head away from her so that his eyes could drift about the room.

"Chris, I am not worried about emotional damage—"

"I wasn't just talking about emotionally. He seems dangerous, Hermione. Just… watch yourself, okay?" Christopher inclined his head to her, waiting for her promise.

"I will, Chris, you don't need to worry. I am very capable of defending myself from some big bad wolf," Hermione laughed, trying to lighten the situation, though it seemed to have no effect on Christopher who stared pensively into the dying embers in the fireplace. She stood up.

"I guess I better get going before Aviela hunts me down. I'll see you at the ball tonight? We could walk in together, if you'd like." Hermione tried to diffuse whatever negative thoughts loomed over the blond boy's head, he seemed to be more and more troubled lately.

"I wish I could, I really do, but actually I…" His ears reddened.

"You already have a date. Well, save a dance for me?"

"Absolutely," Christopher's face lit up instantly.

"See you then! Oh, and Happy Halloween, Christopher," Hermione smiled and waved goodbye as she exited the warm common room.

"Happy Halloween, Hermione…" Christopher spoke aloud to the empty room.

"And… there we go!" Aviela said as she waved her wand and put the final streamer in place. She stepped back and smiled proudly, admiring the handiwork her and the committee had put in.

The Great Hall's tables had been temporarily vanished for the night and the entirety of the hall was decorated in glistening purple, black, silver, and orange streamers. The floor had been charmed to release a constant, gently rolling fog to add a bit of mystery as students socialized in the low-hanging mists. Jack-o-lanterns rested upon various surfaces and they came in all shapes and sizes—some even floated high overhead near the charmed ceiling that looked like the night sky. Along with the floating carved pumpkins, the typical candles that usually floated about the hall were present as well.

When peering from the doorway of the Great Hall, the stage rested to the right and to the left were food and beverage tables that were covered by purple and black velveteen fabrics that draped down elegantly with golden tassels hanging from the ends of the bunched material. Near the back-most part of the hall, where the Hogwarts' staff had their meals, the wooden platform and tables had been hidden away and replaced with circular tables, each with eight chairs. The table cloths were black and had golden stars woven into them that shimmered when they caught the light.

On the stage was an unattended orchestra. The instruments tuned themselves as a conductor's wand, controlled by an invisible force, practiced swishing back and forth in an extravagant manner. The magically charmed instruments appeared to be having conversations: the bass would strum itself lowly a few times, and the violin would let out a high-pitched trill akin to laughter in response. It was a very unusual, but beautiful work of magic Hermione had witnessed their Charms professor perform. Overall, the Great Hall looked absolutely stunning, all that was needed were the students to arrive, the music to begin, and the food to appear.

"Well, what do you think?" Aviela asked, her hands on her hips, taking in the scene with pride.

"I think we did wonderful," Hermione replied. Aviela nodded in agreement as she looked at the clock hanging high about the Hall's doorway.

"It's already after six? The ball is only two hours away!" Aviela panicked, grabbing Hermione by the hand for emphasis.

"Oh, Aviela, It's just a masquerade. It's not like it's your wedding day!" Minerva raised an eyebrow to the blond Ravenclaw girl.

"It might as well be! I am going with Irvin Milles." Aviela sighed and looked doe-eyed.

"You mean that loud, overtly energetic Gryffindor?" Minerva looked at her questioningly, before laughing under her breath. "You two are perfect for each other."

"Minnie, you are only angry because you are taking Christopher and not a quidditch player with great hair," Aviela retorted. Minerva blushed.

"For your information, Ave, I actually enjoy Christopher's company. Besides, you were the one who insisted on it so much." Minerva crossed her arms defiantly. Did Minerva McGonagall, future Transfiguration professor actually have a crush on someone? Hermione thought to herself. She smiled at the strange notion. It was hard to see Minerva as a young witch capable of crushes when Hermione recalled her as a firm and fair Transfiguration teacher.

"I think you both were able to get great catches for tonight," Hermione interrupted the two, diffusing the discussion.

"Who is taking you to the ball tonight, Hermione?" Aviela inquired.

"Yeah, you never told us," Minerva seconded.

"Actually, I am not taking anyone," Hermione answered. The two girls' mouths were agape in shock.

"What do you mean you aren't taking anyone? That's the fun of it!" Aviela appeared torn.

"I just never really got around to it, I guess," Hermione lied. She was perfectly fine with going it alone. In fact, the idea of having a date seemed more bizarre to her. Although she had attended the Tri-Wizard Tournament celebration with Viktor Krum, she wasn't exactly the type of person to find having a date a necessity for events or social gatherings. She had had a wonderful time with Krum, until he pulled her behind a corridor and tried to snog her senseless. She wasn't opposed to kissing, but his sloppy maneuvers quickly made her change her mind. Much to her surprise, he wasn't put off by her entirely; the two had still remained in contact, owling each other every now and then.

"It's settled then. We have to find you a date," Aviela affirmed.

"In two hours? Aviela, honestly, you don't want Hermione going with just anyone—especially someone less than savory." Minerva tried to reason with the blond.

"You don't believe I can find Hermione a date in two hours and get ready at the same time? Watch a true Ravenclaw at work, Gryffindor," Aviela smirked in challenge before turning on her heel and strutting out the door.

"What have we created?" Minerva shook her head.

"A monster, clearly. I am not taking anyone, and that's settled," Hermione assured Minerva, but moreover, herself.

After Hermione had showered she sat in front of the mirror at the vanity in her room. Aviela was nowhere to be seen, but Hermione wished the girl would appear, even if it were with a date: she desperately needed help taming her curls that were frizzing more than usual.

She dragged the comb roughly through her tangles with frustration. It was always on important days that her hair decided to cause her grief. She huffed in frustration and looked at her ball gown hanging on the outside of the oak wardrobe's door. The gown was the most beautiful thing she had ever lain eyes on. Hermione had yet to try the elaborate garment on, but something inside told her it would fit perfectly, just as the old woman, Sue, had said. The generosity of others always tended to catch her pleasantly off guard.

Hermione attempted to tug the comb through another set of tangles as the door to the dorm room opened. Aviela bustled in quickly, smiling wide. Hermione let go of the brush, which stayed stuck haphazardly in her hair, and turned to the girl with a look of disappointment.

"Wow, your hair really does fight back, doesn't it?" Aviela looked at Hermione bug-eyed.

"Very funny, now are you going to help me or not?" Aviela withdrew her wand and begin wordlessly casting spells on her hair. Hermione watched in the mirror as various colors fell upon her head in a cool mist.

After a few moments of working in silence, Aviela casted a drying charm on Hermione's hair—one of which the brunette girl used frequently herself—but the results were quite different. Her hair laid softly in gentle curls and waves that shined from the well-lit room.

"You should really market your talents, Aviela." Hermione admired the hair that had only been tamed once before at the celebration during her fourth year.

"I could teach you how. We'll have a girl's night soon and I'll show you," Aviela beamed, more giddy than usual.

"So what took you so long?" Hermione asked as the blond pulled out a box of hair accessories and began working Hermione's hair.

"Oh, nothing really," Aviela brushed off the question as she took a strand of Hermione hair and pulled it backward, gathering it with the rest. "Nothing aside from me finding you a date!"

Hermione quickly whipped her head around, mouth agape, causing the gathered hair to fall. Aviela rolled her eyes, and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, turning her around.

"I told you I was fine without a date," Hermione groaned.

"I know, but most of the students had dates and I didn't want you to feel left out while everyone else was dancing," Aviela pouted. Hermione suddenly felt guilty for throwing her friend's efforts back at her without so much as a "thank you."

"I'm sorry, it's just that I didn't mind going alone."

"It's alright. I was almost positive that Abraxas was going to ask you to the masquerade." Aviela began pinning Hermione's hair in various places as she twisted and styled. Hermione had never told her of what transpired at the rocks—and it was clear that neither had Christopher. She was relieved.

"So who is my date for the night?" Hermione winced as Aviela pulled too tightly. Aviela laughed.

"I have absolutely no idea," Aviela giggled. Hermione moved to turn around quickly again, but Aviela pulled her hair purposefully to keep her from doing so, smiling all the while.

"What do you mean you have no idea? You just said you found me a date," Hermione said.

"I did, but I am not sure who it is. I talked to a few of the students already milling about and after a bit of trying, I finally struck gold. The boy I asked suggested that you attend the ball with his friend as he too was dateless."

"Are you going to tell me who exactly this informant was?"

"Nope," Aviela said simply. "Besides, it doesn't matter, he wasn't your date."

"If you say so," Hermione felt dread creep into her bones. Maybe making assumptions was wrong, but the last thing she wanted to do was attend the ball on a blind date with a boy who would expect her to entertain him and end his night with a telltale kiss. So not happening. "When am I to meet him?"

"His friend said that he would arrange for the two of you to meet at the entrance of the castle at eight-fifteen sharp." Aviela spun Hermione around and she glanced up at the clock in the room. It was seven-thirty. The uncertainty of it all made her hunch over in dissatisfaction. It wasn't until Aviela corrected her posture manually that she dropped her sullen appearance.

Hermione sat in silence as Aviela did her makeup. She had not requested anything specific, but when it came to anything fashion or beauty related, Aviela had a solution. The girl brushed, applied, and coated her face in various products. She was almost sure that the Ravenclaw girl was making her into a clown until she spun her around with a smile, handing her a mirror.

Hermione eyes grew wide as she studied herself in the reflective surface. She lifted the mirror and studied the back of her hair which was pulled into a coiled bun adorned by a fake lotus flower charmed to match the deep blue color of her dress. A series of curls that hung from the bun framed her face softly. Hermione studied her Aviela's handiwork closer. The makeup wasn't overdone, nor was it nonexistent. Her eyes stood out more than usual from the mascara and eyeliner Aviela had applied. She had even managed to conceal the dark circles that had plagued Hermione's eyes lately. Her skin appeared smoother and the light dusting of freckles that was once on her nose had disappeared. Finally, her lips were glossy and stained a deep red to compliment her skin tone.

Hermione was greatly impressed. The girl in the mirror was not exactly her, but she was still just as beautiful. She had rarely seen the need for makeup in her life aside from a concealer here and there or lip gloss on occasion, but seeing herself adorned in it made her feel no different. She was still herself, and at the end of the night, the makeup would come off and she would still be the same. It had taken years for Hermione to gain self-confidence in her flaws, but when she had finally done it, she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her that she never even knew existed.

"Thanks, Aviela. It looks fantastic," Hermione smiled at her friend.

"You're welcome! Here, let me cast a charm to help keep it in place… and there you go. Oh, I almost completely forgot!" Aviela walked away and opened the nightstand that sat beside her bed and withdrew a small box. "I know you didn't have the chance to get a mask while we were in Hogsmeade, so Minerva and I worked on this together for you. Here, open it!"

Aviela pushed the box into Hermione's hands eagerly and waited. The golden box glittered as Hermione removed the lid. She pushed back the tissue paper the box was lined with and gasped.

Inside was an eagle mask. The design held the same midnight blue that her dress and the Ravenclaw house shared, along with black and bronze. The mask was sleek and polished.

"Try it on! Try it on!" Aviela jumped up and down excitedly. Hermione slid the mask in place. It fit as though it were catered to her and her only.

In the space between the cat-like eye openings that allowed her to see, the body of the eagle rested, its face staring straight ahead in judgment with midnight blue gems for its eyes. The eagle's wings were outstretched, creating the edges of the mask. The edges curved sharply with each bronze feather that reached out and curved backward at an angle. The parts of the mask that didn't consist of the eagle's body was lined with a soft material that shifted from midnight blue to black—just as a clear, night sky would do during a late sunset. Hermione brushed her fingertips across the eagle's outstretched wings; the feel as cool and smooth-real bronze.

"Aviela… I don't know what to say. How did you and Minerva…"

"I am quite clever, no? My dad does some magical metal working and I've picked up on a thing or two over the past few years," Aviela blew on her knuckles and rubbed them into her shirt like she were polishing them. "Now hurry and slip into your dress and head on down to meet your date. I already charmed your shoes for you." Hermione looked at the clock; it read eight.

"I am sorry it took so long for you to help me, are you sure you will be able to make it to the ball in time for the dinner to begin?" Hermione felt a pang of guilt, but Aviela only laughed.

"Don't worry, Hermione, I have this down to a science," she winked.

"So why a Ravenclaw eagle? Isn't that a bit bold?" Hermione asked as she removed the mask to undress.

"Hermione, you and I both know if anyone embodies the essence of Ravenclaw, it's you."

A few moments later Hermione was wearing her ball gown and shoes. Sue had been right: the dress fit like a glove. It complimented every soft curve of her body, the material cascading gently around her. The fabric that draped over her shoulder Aviela charmed to be bronze in color to match the mask. Never before had she felt as beautiful as she had in that moment. Her beauty hadn't only come from her appearance, but from the kindness of friends, which she felt was the biggest contributing factor of all. She wondered if anyone would even recognize her. Deep down, she hoped not. She hoped to remain the mysterious girl in the eagle mask.

After bidding Aviela farewell with promises to see her soon, Hermione made the trek through the mostly empty halls to meet her date. Although her confidence was renewed, she still felt uneasy about attending the ball with a stranger.

Hermione turned down a corridor and saw one of the paintings hid the passageway with the portrait of Alphard Corvus inside. Not wishing to walk down even more stairs in her dress, she gently opened the painting of the men playing cards, bidding them a good day, and entered. She wandlessly casted lumos to light the dark passage.

"Hello? Who's there?" a man's voice called out. Hermione came into view, capturing his attention. "Why, hello there, beautiful," Alphard purred.

"Oh, come on? Do you always have to act so odd, honestly?" Hermione rolled her eyes. She often wished he were like the other paintings and portraits throughout Hogwarts: quiet, to themselves, and not a depiction of someone who had used dark magic to alter her life forever in the name of the greater good.

"Hermione? That was quite unexpected. Did I just find my own daughter attractive?" Alphard questioned himself.

"I am not your daughter," she retorted.

"Where are you going, looking all fancied up for the evening, then?" He moved about the portrait nonchalantly.

"Hogwarts is having a Halloween ball—a masquerade, actually."

"And I take it you are off to meet your fine suitor?" He smirked, raising an eyebrow as though he knew.

"Maybe, maybe not, regardless it is none of your concern," Hermione said finitely. She didn't wish to discuss her dating life with the supposed son of Slytherin and Ravenclaw; she was already running late.

"Not only do you look like the embodiment of my mother but now you are starting to act like her. Could this day get any worse?" Alphard groaned in a childish manner.

"Goodnight, Alphard." Hermione ignored him and kept walking.

"Make sure to stay safe! No snogging after hours! And don't stay out late! And—"

"I said goodnight!" She then said "nox" and stepped out of the end of the passageway.

"And you look beautiful, Hermione," Alphard smiled. Although she wasn't his daughter, and although his mother didn't love him as one should, Rowena's beauty and wisdom radiated within Hermione.

Hermione had finally made it to the entryway of Hogwarts and had began looking around for her mystery suitor. Masked couples passed by, laughing and walking into the Great Hall to begin the festivities. She had arrived late and was positive that her date had stood her up for not being punctual until she heard shoes clacking behind her and stopping suddenly.

Before her stood a tall, dark-haired boy dressed in a black, finely pressed suit. He stood with perfect posture, his lips were thin, but smooth, and his dark eyes studied her from head to toe behind the green and black serpent half-mask he wore. His mouth was open slightly and by the look of his eyes he appeared taken aback or confused. However, he quickly smiled a half-smile and swiftly stepped toward her, taking her hand and planting a kiss upon it as he bowed.

"Hello, Hermione, I will be your date for the evening, and might I say that you look lovely," the boy grinned. Hermione studied him momentarily. Something about him was familiar, but she couldn't place what it was.

"Something wrong?" He asked innocently.

"No, no! You just seemed familiar. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Hermione shook away the notion of familiarity she had from meeting the stranger.

"There's no need for names, Hermione. Let's live for today, for it could be our last." The boy smirked down upon her. His words, though innocent enough, seemed unfitting in the conversation. She felt that familiar chill creep into her skin, but it was replaced by warmth when the stranger's hand came to rest on her lower back, leading her from the foyer and into the throng of adorned animals, dancing under the full moon of All Hallows' Eve.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed it! This chapter was fun to write, but the next one will be the funnest. Sorry for the cruel cliffhanger, but it'll be worth it!

Anyway, feel free to leave a review or message me with any thoughts, opinions, or questions!

I read all of them and always reply-and it serves as great motivation, no doubt *wink, wink*.

I always take your thoughts, opinions, and critiques (good and bad) and use it to better the story.

Anywho, see you guys soon!

Constant Vigilance!

-VS