This chapter was super challenging to write because it is a transition in many ways, but I hope you all enjoy it!
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November fifteenth arrived as Hermione sat alone in her and Aviela's shared dormitory. The desk before her was stacked with her textbooks and notes. She had waived Aviela ahead earlier in the evening to go to dinner without her, saying that she planned on spending her evening studying and keeping very much to herself. The mechanical hands of the clock on the wall marched on as she chewed on the inside of her lip. She wished Nyoka were here to talk with her about everything and nothing, but the serpent was on a hunt within the walls of Hogwarts.
She thought back to the exchange she had with Abraxas the previous night. Why would Riddle want her to join his club? Better yet, what could he offer her that she hadn't already chosen to give up willingly to never see him rise to power? With his ability to read unguarded minds like an open book, she could see how Riddle would so easily hunt down one's insecurities and exploit them when striking a deal. Hermione imagined that Riddle's words of accord would dwell among their hosts like leeches on skin, like dirt underneath nails-scratching at your soul long enough until the itch claiming to know you better than you know yourself felt like your true nature.
She reached into the bottom-right drawer of her desk and withdrew the letter Riddle had imparted to her over a half-month ago.
Miss Sivad,
I think it is imperative that we meet again—and very soon. Please arrive promptly outside the Great Hall before dinner on the fifteenth of November. Until then, let us keep the moment we shared close. I eagerly await your arrival.
Sincerely,
Tom
Hermione remembered the chill she felt when she had first read the letter. What was left unsaid between the lines held a darker meaning: a veiled threat to keep close the secret they both shared, the entanglement of their potentially deadly troubles. Threat or not, she had no plans to reveal the events that transpired between them on Halloween night—especially since the rumors of Moaning Myrtle had mostly subsided under the pressure of exams. It was self-preservation at its finest for them both.
Her thumb bent and unbent the corner of the parchment, defiling the crisp edge.
He signed the letter "Tom." She hadn't noticed before.
Hermione stood at the door of the Great Hall. The Hall was sparse and students milled quietly about the hallways, returning to their dorms or the library for late night study sessions. There was no sign of her friends in the Hall and she had not ran into them on her way there. Hermione knew Aviela was suspicious of her study session actually entailing any studying. Aviela wasn't wrong. Her mind had been elsewhere for most of the evening with her thoughts seeming more and more like strangers in their own home.
"Hey, Hermione. Looks like you came." Abraxas approached her, his hands in the pockets of his black, unmarked robes.
"Abraxas. I thought Riddle would be the one meeting me here?" Hermione's nervousness waned slightly.
"Sorry to disappoint," he said cheekily, "Tom is waiting in the meeting hall. He asked that I escort you there." He looked at her face, his bright eyes scanning, searching for something. He stepped closer. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."
"And wait for Riddle to find me? Now might be the only opportunity I have to make this choice my own, Abraxas." Hermione knew she could only avoid him for so long—especially if she kept him waiting.
Abraxas sighed and offered her the crook of his arm. She placed her arm in his and allowed him to lead the way. Hermione took a deep breath and imagined another life where they were just teenagers, taking a walk to nowhere in particular, just to feel time pass without the loneliness that often accompanies it. She loved the magical world in all its beauty and horror, but sometimes she wished she were living the lives her friends from her childhood were surely living now: sleepovers, window shopping at the mall, double features at the cinema, and prank calling teachers they didn't quite like.
After several shifting staircases, Abraxas led her to the end of a hall that held an expanse of barren wall and eased her arm from his.
"Just one moment," he said.
He paced back and forth in front of the wall until the Room of Requirement formed a slender, arched doorway. How this place remained a secret from much of the Hogwarts' student body, Hermione would never know. She had been acquainted to the room's strange magic on more occasions than she cared to admit. She didn't even try to hide her lack of surprise at its materialization.
Abraxas opened the smooth black door and ushered her inside. She walked into the dim hallway and he entered swiftly behind her, securing the door, and more than likely willing it away on the other side.
The hallway they both stood in glowed softly with cool, green torchlight. The magical flames danced slow and lazy like sunlight through water upon the stone floor. The passageway was narrow and the ceiling was low enough to make her feel claustrophobic. Abraxas walked past her, only glancing back long enough to ensure that she was following him. She fiddled with the hem of the sleeve of her sweater, forever thankful for the paranoia that had her stuffing her wand in her robe pockets or in the waistband of her skirts before leaving her dorm.
Abraxas led her around the corner where the hallway ended and opened into a grand room. Hermione's steps slowed, her eyes following the ceiling as it lifted high and glittered, creating the illusion of a starry night. The surrounding black-blue space that wasn't filled with the humming lights extended indefinitely as though the vastness of space truly existed within the room and just out of her reach. The brightest of the enchanted stars were arranged sporadically into clusters, which Hermione could only assume mirrored the constellations of the current season. Her eyes trailed down the walls that were lined with floor-to-ceiling mock windows that seemed to ripple behind their panes like trapped sunlight.
The wall furthest to her right held a blazing black, marble hearth with oversized built-in bookshelves on either side. On the shelves sat a selection of matching, magical encyclopedias that Hermione had once seen showcased in bookstores at Diagon Alley as vintage collectables. The books held everything from charms and curses and magical artifacts to famous witches and wizards and known magical beasts. She had often dreamed of having her own collectors set when she grew older and finally had her own place.
Though the room was open, a sturdy wooden table sat in the middle atop of a plush green rug, dividing the room in half. The dark-tinted table and chairs were carved beautifully and polished to a shine that had the firelight dancing upon them.
From the architecture to the decor, it all was a mirror of some of the more beautiful parts of Hogwarts: the Great Hall, the vivid night sky views, the Library's wealth of knowledge, and the coziness of the Slytherin dormitories. The meeting hall was a vision from Riddle's own mind.
Hermione's eyes followed the chandelier that floated lazily above the table, further illuminating the black-robed company it held.
Abraxas had paused his entrance into the room as she had stood struck by its beauty, but he was now politely clearing his throat. Hermione withdrew from her reverie and followed. As she passed by the table, she met eyes with Hadrian who was already glaring in her direction. She noticed several other Slytherin boys she had seen sitting nearest Riddle in the Great Hall on separate occasions speaking in hushed tones. In-between the high-backed chairs, she caught sight of a mess of blond hair. Christopher. His blue eyes found hers and he looked positively uncomfortable. Abraxas approached two empty chairs, pulling out the chair at the end of the table and gesturing for Hermione to sit down. Once she did so he followed suit, settling into the empty seat to her right.
"Miss Sivad, how wonderful it is of you to accept my invite this evening," Riddle's smooth voice broke the whispers around the table. She looked up, making eye contact directly across the way with Tom Riddle. Although he sat opposite her, there was no doubting which end marked the head of the table as Riddle's chair held much more decorum in its carving. At the crown of his chair the bodies of two wooden snakes were intertwined—their fanged mouths mirrored one another and were both opening toward a shiny green jewel in the center.
Hermione didn't wish to bother with the role of esteemed guest he was goading her to play. She was sure they all knew what had been the goal during the Halloween Ball and it was likely that they knew that she had played some part as a saboteur of those plans. How much Riddle had elected to reveal to his cohorts in his shock and potential shame was unbeknownst to her. She said nothing, but he was unfazed and continued.
"I cordially invited you here to personally extend the offer to you to join our exclusive organization." Riddle's hands were clasped together in front of him as he leaned slightly forward in her direction. It was clear to Hermione that this was part of the gimmick—the sales-pitch. She remained silent. "Our organization is not very well known among other houses within Hogwarts, but in time we hope that our common goals will unite us as we impart change."
"And what do you all call this… organization?" Her curiosity had won.
"We are the Knights of Walpurgis."
Hermione's stomach bottomed out. Of course his club was the beginning of his Death Eater army. She had set foot into the viper pit without considering her position. The fingers of her right-hand twitched, ready to withdraw her wand, hurl a curse at Riddle, and fight her way out if necessary. Hermione tried to keep her face impassive under his gaze.
She felt a gentle prod upon her mind; so slight that it felt like a need to yawn or scratch the back of her head to quell the minute itch. Had she not been training in keeping her mind shielded, Riddle would have easily slipped inside like spider a through a cracked window.
He smiled at her, but his smile did not reach his eyes.
"And why do you think I would have any interest in joining your Knights?"Hermione asked with caution.
"You are quite the skilled witch for a Beauxbatons transfer. True magical talent is rare and difficult to come by. Furthermore, we are much more aligned in our… likenesses than I initially perceived. Perhaps our future efforts might be aligned as well." Riddle chose his words carefully. Hermione took the hint from Riddle clearly: the others did not know about her abilities as a parselmouth.
"I have my doubts," Hermione said as she leveled her eyes at him. "Also, my skill has everything to do with my work ethic and perseverance, though I am sure that might be difficult to understand for those who have been tutored into their talents."
In the corner of her eye she saw Abraxas squirm uncomfortably as several others at the table also bristled at her comment. Riddle may be an orphan, but the company Voldemort kept often had issue in acknowledging how they benefit from the economic and magical disparities existing within the wizarding world.
"I could not agree more, Miss Sivad," Riddle responded with a chuckle. "Exceptional perseverance is a narrative that you and I have a pleasure in sharing. I imagine that, with a common goal, we would work quite well together."
"Not if one of us killed the other first considering our… competitive spirits." "Competitive spirits" was putting it lightly. She wanted to reach across the table and strangle him. The members of the Knights looked to Riddle to gauge their own reactions. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. He wasn't intimidated. She had humored him.
"Yes, that would be unfortunate." Riddle stood from his chair and rested his hands, palm down on the reflective tabletop. "Having you join the Knights would be a benefit. We could use your knowledge and talents at most, but simply an alliance would suffice."
"You mean silence about your club's involvement with the events that transpired during the Halloween Ball—or have I misinterpreted you, Riddle?" Hermione stared at him, openly challenging him. She eased the walls on her mind just enough to that incessant prodding and spoke plainly through the fraying thread of a connection. "What exactly is it that you don't want them to know, Riddle? That I am a parselmouth or that you are?"
"Trust me, Miss Sivad, if I truly desired silence I would allow my 'competitive spirit' to take over." Riddle looked down at her, unwavering.
"Death threats? Charming as ever, Riddle," Hermione voiced through her own thoughts for him to hear.
"I know we have had challenges between us as students, but I am sure we can strike an accord that will mutually benefit us both." Riddle moved from his chair and walked around to her right side, holding an open palm to her. "Come, Miss Sivad. Let us discuss what it is you desire most and how we can make it yours."
Hermione's eyes darted from Riddle's extended hand to Abraxas's guarded face as he now sat mostly positioned behind Riddle's back. She saw his eyes narrow, either wary of the darkling's actions or concerned for what she would say next—which one, she couldn't tell. Riddle stood stock-still as he looked down upon her, blocking her way to the hall and out of the Room of Requirement. Fighting looked less appealing than it had before, especially considering how many fledgling Death Eaters were watching her every move and ready to follow Riddle's orders.
Hermione rose from her chair, standing on the other side—the furniture sitting between them both as a barrier. She waited for Riddle to lead them away from the group, but he only quirked an eyebrow at her and extended his open hand even further to her. After several moments of Hermione glaring from Riddle's bored expression to his hand, someone at the table coughed uncomfortably. She huffed and placed her hand in his.
She had expected a hand that was cold as ice, but it wasn't. In fact, Riddle's hand was not only surprisingly warm but coated with a thin sheen of sweat. Was he nervous by the exchange that had just transpired? He quickly guided her hand from his and into the crook of his opposing arm and led her to a door nestled between two faux windows that she had not noticed when entering the room earlier. He held the door open for her as his hand moved, barely sliding down her waist, before reaching the small of her back of which he pressed firmly and ushered her inside. Her skin prickled at the familiarity and her mind flashed to the kiss they shared just a few weeks earlier. She blinked the memory away, refusing to entertain whatever part of her brain had conjured it.
Once they both had fully entered the room, Riddle dropped his hand from her like she had stung him. The room they now stood in was decorated very much like the previous room had been, but instead of a long table there was a smaller, wooden desk with two chairs on either side; a plush, velvet green couch; another bookshelf filled with various tomes on either side of a a lit fireplace; and a map of Hogwarts hanging on the wall. It looked like the office of an evil family therapist—or a very good lawyer. She had yet to turn and face him when she heard him muttering a silencing spell on the room.
Hermione immediately reacted, grabbing for her wand to prepare for his attack. Where her wand should have been, she instead grabbed a handful of her woolen sweater. She patted her side frantically before she caught sight of Riddle examining her wand, turning it this way and that between his dextrous fingers.
"I have no desire to fight you. I just wish to discuss these matters in a civil manner so that we are clear on where we stand," Riddle spoke as he rounded behind the desk his mind had conjured. He opened up top drawer and placed her wand inside. He withdrew his own wand from his robe pockets and pointed it at the lock. She heard a click.
"So no more formalities when your lackeys aren't listening in?" Hermione folded her arms as her eyes narrowed on the dark-haired young man before her.
"Our dealings are none of their business. I afforded them the same privacy during such a meeting." Riddle casually waved a hand at her, as he pulled out the chair behind the desk and sat down. He looked from her to the chair before him expectantly.
"I'll stand, thanks. I don't suspect this will take very long, so make it quick."
Riddle quirked at brow at her and turned his attention to the door. A soft click that mirrored the one of the desk responded to his gesture.
"So you plan to hold me hostage until I comply with your demands and acquiesce to your terms?"
"I simply wish to discuss where we stand. It would prove difficult to do so if with every moment we spoke you were preparing to curse me and attempt to escape." Riddle gestured to the chair before him with a nod. Hermione reluctantly sat down, but kept her chair at a reasonable distance.
"What do you want from me, Riddle? Please tell me so I can provide you with a resounding 'no' in response and return to my studies." His casual air had her unsettled. He acted as though they had not nearly killed each other a little over two weeks ago.
"Join the Knights. I meant it when I said we could use someone with your magical talents and skills in our group."
"I don't wish to be a murderer," Hermione spat.
"It is a little late for that, don't you think? The innkeeper rests in his grave because he crossed paths with you and your serpent. How is Nagini by the way?"
Her stomach dropped at Riddle's jab.
"Her name is Nyoka and I didn't mean—"
"I know you did not mean for that man to die, but it does not change what happened. Had you stayed away from the inn he would still be alive." Riddle turned his head away from her to watch the fire roaring in the hearth across from them. "Why are you so afraid of the power you wield?"
"Because I know how devastating power can be—is—when in the wrong hands. I think you are beginning to understand the other side of that coin rather well." Why bother lying? She needed him to understand that they were not on the same side—they would never be. It was impossible.
"Seems very subjective of you to say so." Riddle's eyes slid to her. "I often wonder what it is you have witnessed that has you so frightened."
"I am not frightened." Even as Hermione spoke the words, she felt the lie sit bitter on her tongue.
"Then what are you running away from? On the night of the Halloween Ball I brought you here to stop the petrification process and I delved into your mind. I saw you running through a corridor as hundreds of glass objects crashed around you. You were afraid for what you had done. You were terrified at the prospect of being found by specific individual. Who are you running from?"
The nape of Hermione' neck grew hot as Riddle's dark eyes, dancing with firelight and mounting frustration, pinned her to her seat. He wanted answers and she knew he would not stop until he found them. She felt the gentle prod of his mind on hers, trying to find an opening—a weakness in her off-guard state. She pushed back with force.
"Will you stop trying to get into my head? Do you actually expect me to give you any modicum of truth when I have to keep my guard up constantly just so I can have my personal thoughts remain that way?" She felt the thread of pressure cease from Riddle entirely. It was the first time in a long time that his presence didn't bring the hum of her mental acumen into disarray. Even still, she did not let her walls down.
"Who are you running from?" He was insistent.
You, you, YOU! Hermione's mind shouted violently into the wall she maintained.
"It's really none of your concern, Riddle."
"Is it the dark wizard with the red eyes? Is he the one you are running from?" Riddle waited intently on her response, his eyes searching her face. When she gave away nothing, he continued, "My Knights and I can offer protection to you if that is what you desire in exchange for your loyalty."
Hermione did not know if she wanted laugh at the irony or cry hysterically at the audacity of the situation that would bring about a young Tom Riddle proposing that he would protect her from himself.
"I am not safe from him anywhere," Hermione said more to herself than to Riddle. She could not even look at him.
"Why? Is he aware of your presence at Hogwarts?"
"I told you, Riddle, it's none of your business." Hermione kept her hands clasped tight to keep herself from fidgeting under his gaze.
"It is my business if he is pursuing a member of the Knights."
"I am not a Knight. I have agreed to nothing to warrant my joining." Hermione's voice wavered under his rebuttal.
"Have you not considered that maybe joining is perhaps in your best interest for your safety?"
"I would find no respite in your little club, Riddle. Christopher would deliver judgement upon me for the very actions he takes himself. Hadrian would rather see debauched and go missing before morning. And you… my death would have cleared the way for whatever the hell it is that you had planned to accomplish Halloween night." She looked away from him and to the fire, wishing she could vanish within the embers and transport elsewhere—anywhere but here.
She heard the soft clacking together of teeth as Riddle's jaw clenched.
"Christopher is a guilt-ridden fool who will get himself killed before he's twenty because he wants to be seen as capable. Hadrian is self-ruinous and barely worth the effort it takes to keep his ill-mannered actions under control." She could feel his eyes shift to her. "And yes, your death might have made my goals achievable that night, but it's not what I wanted."
"I am sure it was no small mercy. Are you expecting a reward for such an act of kindness? Maybe a gold star for not letting me die?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Maybe he would kill her before they left his office.
"Abraxas planned on asking you to the Halloween Ball to keep you safe. When he lost his nerve, I decided to escort you instead. It was his one request of me for that night."
"Why not have Christopher or another one of the Knights escort me, then?"
"Because I didn't trust them to follow through efficiently on my orders. I certainly tried on my part, yet you seem to have an innate desire to meddle your way into whatever opportune conflict arises whether it concerns you or not."
Hermione broke eye contact. Riddle had escorted her to keep her safe at the request of Abraxas and he didn't trust anyone else to step into the young Malfoy's place to do so.
"Why didn't you further encourage him to ask me, then? Why burden yourself with such a task?"
"It was not a burden to escort you. Furthermore, his incompetence with his emotions did not provide me with the evidence that he could follow through with both the evening and your safety effectively."
"And your lack of emotions and detachment made it all the easier to do so?"
She saw him shift in the corner of her eye.
"Contrary to whatever assumptions you have chosen make about me, I am not without emotion," Riddle ground out lowly to her. She had struck a nerve and she found that she didn't care.
"My apologies. It must be difficult to fluctuate between your two emotions of apathy and murderous rage."
"As opposed to yours of fear and loathing?" He retorted back at her sharply.
"I am not afraid," Hermione spat.
"Then answer my question: why is that dark wizard so determined to find you?" His voice was louder, more insistent.
"Because I exist." Hermione yelled back at him. A hot tear slid down her check. She slunk down in her chair and looked up at the starry constellations floating in the nothingness above the office. She identified their formations by memory, naming them off one by one in her mind, and forcing the tears down.
"My apologies if—"
"Don't." Hermione cut him off. She hated this. She hated him. She hated the hurt she felt, the grief of her other life lost to time. Dumbledore was a blighting fool for sending her. Most of all, she hated that she was crying in front of him. She continued to will the tears away one deep breath and shaky release at a time.
"Have you ever felt so despised just for existing? Despised to the point where your moments of happiness are seen as unfortunate? Your successes diminished? All because you had the audacity to live?" Hermione recalled the treatment of Draco and other Slytherins to her and her muggleborn peers. She thought of the purebloods who walked through Diagon Alley with their generational wealth in tow as they snickered at her awe-struck muggle parents who accompanied her. She was reminded of the stories of "mudbloods" and sympathizers who had encountered Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the torture or death that often followed.
Riddle interrupted her thoughts.
"Yes, I have."
Hermione glanced at Riddle who was now peering into the fire, the flames dancing in his dark eyes once again. His mouth was set into a hard line. She had not expected such a resigned—or honest—response from him. She knew very little of his past aside from the fact that he had been orphaned and unwanted. If Harry was any indication, she knew the hurt was long-lasting.
"Then perhaps you understand that I'm not running from someone, but rather that I'm trying my best to run toward something better. I may not be free from persecution, but I am free to decide how I live my life in response."
And that "better" for Hermione at this point felt like screwing up the timeline just enough, hoping for the best, and trying to get back home.
Riddle stayed silent. For some time, they both watched the flames lick the enchanted wooden logs which remained undamaged by the heat. The threat of her tears spilling over receded and she was left with a feeling exhaustion in its wake.
"I don't regret stopping the basilisk," Hermione said, breaking the silence and turning her gaze to Riddle. He turned to face her in response. She looked into his eyes, unafraid. "I would do so again and again, even if it cost me my life, just so others could continue to run toward something better in my place." Hermione felt herself searching his face for something—anything. Riddle sat stock still, remaining impassive and unreadable. He seemed to be searching her face for something, too. She could not tell if he had found what he was looking for.
"Hogwarts is a refuge for people like us, Tom," his name felt foreign on her tongue, but she continued, "please don't make that an impossibility."
Riddle stared at her for a few moments and stood up from his chair. He waved his hand and Hermione heard two, simultaneous clicks echo in the room. He withdrew her wand from the desk drawer and placed it on the surface between them. He turned away from her and walked to the map of Hogwarts on the wall.
"You may go. Abraxas will show you out." Riddle's tone was professional, but she watched as his hand twitched at his side.
"Tom—"
"Consider the silence we share as our accord."
He was adjourning their meeting. The moment of vulnerability she had exposed to him left her feeling bereft at his dismissal—a feeling she did not feel fully comfortable unpacking. She stood for a beat more. When it was clear that Riddle was truly finished speaking with her, she turned and left the office without saying another word.
Upon reentering the main room, she noticed that all the other members of the Knights were no longer present—save for Abraxas who was leaned against the wall, twirling his wand through his fingers lazily. He stopped abruptly when he heard the door click back into place, the silencing spell no longer in effect. Abraxas looked her over, taking stock of her slumped shoulders and her red-rimmed eyes that still sparkled a little too brightly in the lowlight.
"Hermione…" Abraxas's brows knitted together in concern.
"Tom said you would show me out." She didn't look him in the eye as she worked to mask whatever he was trying to discern from her demeanor.
"Tom? Yeah, of course." Abraxas scratched the back of his head as he led her back down the hallway from which they had originally came earlier that evening. Hermione grabbed for the doorknob, but Abraxas's hand caught hers before she reached it.
"What did he offer you in exchange for joining the Knights?" Abraxas asked.
"Protection."
"From who?" The growing concern was evident in his voice.
"We agreed on mutual silence. I am not joining the Knights." Hermione's eyes stayed trained on the doorknob—on her exit.
"He never lets someone just walk away without striking a deal. You must've said something to really convince him."
"Yeah, I must have." Hermione wrenched the door open and walked away, her heart thudding heavy in her chest. She hoped he was right.
Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts, theories, or just quips you have about this chapter by posting a comment. I absolutely love reading each and every one of them!
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Constant Vigilance!
-VS