A/N: Thank you all for the warm welcome back! I felt motivated (and had the time) to complete a longer chapter today (and the plot thickens), so I hope you all enjoy!

-VS

Hogsmeade was on fire. Magic he had never seen skittered and crackled along the ground, racing and running, until it manifested into something or someone. It was frightening. It was destructive. It was power uncontained. It was beautiful.

Riddle had to have it for himself. This was no simple magic someone had studied in a textbook. No, this was crafted by a powerful wizard. This was tested and honed by someone who wanted to leave a lasting impression. Riddle did not doubt that there was a single mastermind was behind this. No matter how chaotic the men who attacked the town were, they were controlled in their strikes. He observed as the flaming foxes raced across the homes and shops—scorching some, but all-together avoiding others.

The dark wizards chased the townsfolk with echoing laughter, hexing them with whatever vile, nameless spells they spoke in their minds. Some civilians were bound by slithering vines, some were paralyzed all together, but a few got the worst of it as they were transformed into creatures most foul and unpleasant with bulging eyes, elongated limbs, and skin razed with bumps. It was as though they had been hexed to transform into toads, but the transformation had stopped halfway through the spellwork. The screams of those particular citizens sounded like a ringing chorus of croaks.

Riddle watched as a particularly tall, shrouded wizard turned the corner where another civilian awaited him; a woman wearing an expensive-looking white, fur coat. She dropped to her knees, cowering before him. The man circled her menacingly before connecting the bottom of his boot with her shoulder, pushing her back into the snow. She fell back with a screech and scrambled backwards, away from her assailant. The wizard laughed, and vanished into a thick smoke that shot across the alleyway, pursuing another unlucky witch or wizard.

What some might have viewed as a cruel show of power by the disguised wizard, Riddle knew it for what it truly was: an act of mercy. Of all the things he could've done to the witch, he had dirtied her coat and nothing more. Whoever was behind this attack had already decided who would face his wrath and who would be spared. Was it obvious discrimination for poorer denizens? Or had an accord been forged between those who were spared, involving some sort of alliance or loyalty?

Riddle's eyes narrowed. Whoever orchestrated the attack knew Hogwarts students would be visiting. With a wave of his hand, Riddle dropped his shield. The sounds of chaos rushed to meet him. From behind he heard a groan and the crunching of snow.

Riddle turned to see his dearest friend lumbering toward him, bloodied and looking like he was ready for a fight. Riddle smirked. Dueling alongside his comrade against those terrorizing Hogsmeade would be a true test of their mettle.

"Abraxas—"

"You son of a bitch," Abraxas spat.

Riddle barely had time to react before Malfoy's fist connected with his face.

Hermione's eyes grew wide as Riddle staggered several steps backward from the blow Abraxas had delivered him.

Riddle ran a hand appraisingly down his jaw as an angry red splotch blossomed high on his cheekbone.

"Be glad I had the disadvantage. I was aiming for your nose." Abraxas stood up straight with a wince.

Riddle stalked toward Abraxas until he stood before him—using his few extra inches of height to cast a look to kill down at the young man.

"Lay your hand on me again, Malfoy, and I'll be sure it makes home in time to greet your mother on Christmas morning. Consider that your only warning," Riddle seethed.

"Better my hand go home in a box than Hermione return to hers in a fucking casket."

Riddle's eyes darted away from Abraxas and landed on Hermione, who still partially lied in the snow. He scanned over her form quickly before his gaze fell on the crimson staining the snow.

"Is that—"

"It's my blood, Tom—not hers." Abraxas's tone was accusatory.

Riddle's lips tightened together. "Miss Sivad is perfectly capable of protecting herself."

"You offered her protection, Tom."

"What are you—" Riddle turned back to Abraxas.

"I don't know much about the conditions on your agreement, but I know when you invited Hermione to join the Knights you offered her that much."

Abraxas stepped away from Riddle and returned to Hermione. He offered her his hand, she grabbed it and he pulled her to her feet.

"Two years ago when the Knights were newly formed, we made our own pact and you told me to hold you accountable with your deals," Abraxas paused. "Consider this me making good on my promise to you. Check fucking mate."

Hermione didn't know what to say. Riddle was right; she is perfectly capable of protecting herself, but her fears stalled her—fears that haunted her because of him. Or at least a version she knew from what felt like a lifetime ago. But if these were the conditions they operated under Malfoy, too, was in the right; Riddle had promised her protection in exchange for her silence on the Halloween ball attack that had sent Myrtle to St. Mungo's.

Riddle looked past Hermione and his anger at Malfoy became refocused elsewhere. She followed his gaze to the scorched wooden beam that lay in the snow where she had been standing moments earlier. She swallowed hard. Her fears would be the death of her.

Riddle withdrew his wand. "Do you have my blind spot?"

"You doubt me now, Tom?" Abraxas huffed as he wrenched his arm back in small circles, working the stiffness out of his casting shoulder. The tension in Riddle's faced eased ever so slightly.

Hermione approached the duo. "Can you both walk and argue at the same time? I would very much like to leave." Her voice shook, as she worked to steady her resolve. She had faced horrors far worse.

"Cutting through the forest is our safest option right now," Riddle spoke as he began to weave a spell around them. Hermione's skin prickled as the feeling of a ward settled around them. "I will muffle our steps, but we must move quickly; I saw the fire foxes stalking the perimeter of the town."

Abraxas and Hermione nodded and fell into step behind Riddle. Hermione paused, doubling back to snatch the sack containing her First Edition copy. She stuffed it down the front of her coat. Like hell, she'd leave a book in a burning city.

The trio made haste into the woods, allowing the thickets to cover them. Hermione winced as the brambles snagged into her curls. Riddle and Abraxas were of enough mind to reserve their grievances for another time to focus on their escape.

Though she had visited the woods near Hogsmeade on several occasions, she had rarely gone beyond sight of the town. Her, Harry, and Ron had often only entered far enough so they could watch Fred and George test whatever experiment they had crafted next. She had heard from a third-year that the woods of Hogsmeade melded with that of the Forbidden Forest, marrying the two somewhere along a river's edge. The student had called it "the border." Hermione had taken note. She had no desire to cross it. But as they ventured further in to the forest, she doubted her choice in the matter.

Darkness began to blanket the forest, weighing heavily upon the ground below. They had walked for quite some time so far into the woods that she was unsure whether the darkness was due to dusk or the dense canopy above. When the barren winter trees completely gave way to tall pines and Hogsmeade was nothing more than a smokestack in the distance, Riddle halted.

Then she heard it. A small crack—a branch being broken underfoot.

"Run." Riddle bit out the order.

The trio ran, dodging low hanging branches and thorny brush. Abraxas and Riddle led the way, slinging spells to slice at anything blocking their path. The footfall behind them grew louder as they were pursued deeper into the forest.

Then she saw it. Glistening like a beacon and cutting through the forest was a river. The water raced, skimming the edge of each forests' end and skipping over rock. She would rather her odds be with the mysteries of the Forbidden Forest than the certain devastation that lay behind them.

Just before Hermione was able to tell Riddle and Abraxas to head for the river, the raised root of a tree snagged the toe of her shoe, sending her tumbling to the forest floor.

"Hermione!" Abraxas skidded to a stop, nearly losing his own footing in the snow.

Riddle halted at the sound of Abraxas's voice and turned. Hermione rolled over and pushed herself to her knees. As she attempted to stand she was pulled back forcefully. Hermione grabbed onto the root of a nearby tree and looked behind her.

A blazing canine had gripped the end of her coat in its maw and was tugging forcefully, drawing her back into the snow. The more she tried to pull loose, the faster the creature held to her coat. With a forceful growl, the canine yanked Hermione, causing her to lose her grip on the tree root. The creature was dragging her away. She tried twisting and kicking the canine, but her foot phased through its chest and into its fiery core. She screamed in pain as she felt her ankle blister at the searing heat.

She looked up at Abraxas who watched in horror as the creature pulled her further down the embankment they had just climbed. He dove for her hand, but her fingers slipped through his grasp.

"Agua—!" Riddle shouted, beginning the spell that would conjure water and douse the creature's flames.

"Ah-ah. I would not do that if I were you, boy," a deep voice rose above Hermione's whimpers of pain. "Fiendfyre is a bit of a nasty spell, and we've somehow managed to make it worse."

The tall, shrouded wizard stepped forward. His clothes were blackened—by dye or by soot, Hermione could hardly tell. The lower half of his face was covered by a mask the clung tight to his skin. His eyes were a corrosive shade of green, and they were now leveled at her.

"If you attempt to douse the creature's flame by magical means, they have a pesky habit of exploding," he continued, "it's quite the sight to behold, but I am sure your girlfriend here would rather keep those pretty curls on her head intact."

Hermione dared a glance at Riddle. She knew how he looked at his most volatile: eyes, unblinking and boring into their target; jaw working as he grinds his teeth; and a single curl out of place, falling across his forehead. If she thought he looked angry before, he looked positively murderous now.

"Tell us what you want," Riddle demanded. He kept his wand poised to strike. Abraxas mirrored his friend's stance, preparing to duel at a moment's notice.

"It's not so much what I want as what the creature does," he gestured to the snarling fire still attached to Hermione's coat. "They can be a little difficult to control when in a frenzy. He has been tracking you three down for the last several miles. Seems he found what he was hunting."

"What does the creature hunt?" Abraxas asked. The man's green eyes shifted away from Hermione and lingered on Abraxas.

"Muggles or muggle-borns. And from my pet's reaction you, my dear, are a ripe peach." The man's eyes crinkled as he grinned behind the mask.

Hermione paled at the accusation. Though she was muggle-born, she had underwent drastic changes upon her arrival to the 1940s, she had essentially become pureblood via magical means—or so she had thought. Perhaps her changes didn't affect her as deeply as she believed. At her core, Hermione knew she was still a child of muggle parents—regardless of her magical status. And now her truth had been revealed to the people she desired to hide it from the most.

"You are one of Gelert Grindelwald's fanatics," Riddle said.

"We prefer the term 'agents.' We're on the side of all true wizards," the man sniffed in Riddle's direction, "even half-breeds like you."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. She only knew of one other person in her time who sought out his prey by scent—Fenrir Greyback. She had little doubt: the man before them was a lycanthrope. Her heart beat faster. What cycle of the moon were they on?

Riddle was unfazed by the dig at his lineage. The three of them knew the truth: his ties to Salazar Slytherin granted him the innate magical prowess that others could only dream of.

"She's a witch—" Abraxas began.

"She's born of muggles." He inhaled, "but something sweet is coating the top." He approached Hermione and knelt down beside her. "What forbidden magics have you meddled in, dear one? I am sure Grindelwald will be most intrigued when he learns about you." The man wrapped a dirty finger around one of her curls and tugged.

"Try to take her and you die," Abraxas spat. The man cocked his head at Abraxas, once again examining the young man as he had before.

"What is your surname, boy?"

"Malfoy. And you can damn well bet that my father will hear about this."

"Ahh. A Malfoy," the man chuckled. "I should've known. The blond hair is usually a giveaway, but you lack the presence your father has."

Abraxas frowned heavily at the man.

"Still… to cause trouble with such a prestigious wizarding family? I doubt Grindelwald would be appeased by it." The man withdrew a vial from his coat pocket and untwisted the cap to reveal a small blade inside.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Riddle elevate his wand. Her breathe hitched.

"Go ahead and kill me. You'll regret learning what Fiendfyre can do when its unleashed. I assure you, none of you will make it out of the forest alive." The man didn't even spare a glance at Riddle as he roughly shoved Hermione's coat and sweater sleeve up her arm.

"What are you doing?" Hermione's voice shook.

"If you won't go with me willingly, I'll at least return with part of you." His eyes roved over her. "Unfortunately it'll be the worst part."

He pressed the blade into her forearm. Hermione winced as it sliced her skin and blood bubbled up to the surface. With a flick of his wand, the blood streamed from her arm and collected itself into the waiting vial. The man deftly screwed the bladed lid on tight, tucked the vial away into the left breast pocket of his coat, and stood.

"War is coming. And Grindelwald's army is growing. We can always use more recruits for the greater good," he took several steps backward and gestured to Hermione, "I'd say she has a year left to live. Make it worth your while, if you know what I mean." He winked at Riddle. "Otherwise, enjoy burying your friends and family."

On the man's final step backward, Riddle growled, "After you."

All at once the fiendfyre dissipated, the man began apparating, and Riddle had moved.

Hermione quickly turned to look at Grindelwald's agent. As he apparated, the man's face twisted into one of shock. She only had enough time to hear his quick gasp before he vanished.

Upon his disappearance, something thudded to the forest floor. Hermione rose to her knees and peered over to the object.

In the ruby-tinted snow lay the top half of the shattered vial, its blade glittering in the setting sun.

In one swift motion, Riddle had sliced the vial resting over the man's heart.

In a single breath, Riddle had ended a life.

And Hermione, for all the world, was glad for it.

A/N: As always, thanks for reading. All reviews, follows, and favorites are greatly appreciated. I'll be back a little later this week with another chapter!

Take care of yourself, take care of others, and remember-Constant Vigilance!

-VS