It had just started to rain when Hermione reached the gates of Wool's Orphanage. Her short-sleeved dress did little to protect her from the elements and her shoes were quickly filled with water. In a hurry, she pushed open the gate, closing it behind her and was about to rush to the door when she remembered McGonagall's instructions.
"Before you do so, we must ask that you destroy the time turner. No one must know the truth of how you came to be in that time," she could still hear her stern transfiguration professor's voice in the back of her mind.
Lifting the silver chain from around her neck, she took a moment to stare at it before letting it slip through her fingers, falling to the pavement in front of her. Then, with a deep breath, she brought a foot up and crushed it to pieces, kicking the remaining pieces off to the side.
Even though she knew the time turner couldn't take her back, the fact that it was now destroyed only made it so much more real.
She shook those thoughts out of her mind before they could go any farther. It was just like McGonagall said. From now on, she belonged to this timeline. The future she had come from was no more. There was no 1997, only 1937.
With that in mind, she crossed the remaining distance to the door, climbing the three steps and raising a tiny hand to knock on the door.
As she waited, she couldn't help but instinctively glance behind her to make sure there were no shady looking figures within sight. She knew that it was probably just her own paranoia, seeing as there were no death eaters in existence yet.
Then again... Wasn't there a different dark wizard by the name of Grindelwald active during this time?
That certainly didn't make her feel any better...
She was just about to knock again, eager to get off the street and out of the rain, when the door swung open, revealing a thin woman with a stern face and short dirty blonde hair curled in the typical fashion.
"May I help you?" The woman asked, staring down her nose at her.
Hermione wasn't sure if it was the rain drenching her from head to toe or the iciness of the woman's gaze, but a sudden chill ran through her, causing her to shiver.
"A-Are you the matron?"
"Yes, I am Mrs. Cole," the woman answered. "Why do you ask?"
With trembling hands, she held out the letter that Pomfrey had given her, which was, much like her, completely soaked.
Mrs. Cole snatched the letter from her and ripping it open, pulled out the soggy piece of parchment. She didn't speak for several minutes as she read through the contents, leaving the poor girl to stand there, rubbing her arms to try and get warm.
Looking up from the letter, the matron scanned her eyes over the girl with intense scrutiny, as if searching for something on her person. Whatever it was, she must not have found it as her gaze softened, be it ever so slightly.
With a sigh, Mrs. Cole stepped aside, motioning for her to come in.
Hermione didn't need to be asked twice. Rushing past the matron, she went straight towards the nearby gas heater, sitting down in front of it.
"Stay here while I find some dry clothes and a room to put you in," Mrs. Cole instructed.
"Yes, ma'am," she nodded her head.
With one final glare Mrs. Cole swept off out of the entry and out of sight.
As the shivering began to subside and her skin warmed before the heater, she could finally relax and let her mind wander. The first task her mind undertook was searching for any information she might know about the 1930's.
World War II would be starting in a couple of years if she wasn't mistaken. Though she supposed that it wouldn't affect her too terribly as she would be at Hogwarts for most of it. But then again, she supposed that the wizarding world would be affected just as much by the war against Grindelwald. She wasn't entirely sure the exact time in which it took place. For all she knew, it could be going on at that very moment.
She pushed that concern aside for the time being. Grindelwald was not of real concern to her. He wasn't the one she had come to stop.
Somewhere in this dimly lit orphanage was the boy who would grow up to become a creature so wicked and repulsive that wizards all over the world feared to speak his name. It was her job to make sure that never happened.
Obviously the first thing she needed to do was find Tom, which she figured wouldn't be too difficult as they were both living in the same building. He couldn't hide from her forever. She knew that it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths.
By the time Mrs. Cole returned, Hermione was still dripping wet, but felt much warmer, and jumped to her feet immediately upon spotting her.
"Come with me, Miss Granger," the matron called to her, a drab grey dress and matching stocking hanging from her arm. She started towards the stairs without so much as a glance her way.
Hermione supposed that it might be for the best if Mrs. Cole didn't pay too much attention to her. The iciness of her glare nearly rivalled that of Professor Snape. Who knows, perhaps her old potions master was even related to the muggle orphanage matron. Though, a part of her highly doubted such a possibility. From what she had heard of Mrs. Cole from Harry, she was one of those muggles who hated any and all things magical.
She followed Mrs. Cole up two flights of stairs and down a long narrow corridor. As she walked, she couldn't help but notice how each door had a number on it.
Room #44...
Room #45...
She quickly caught on to the pattern. There were approximately twenty rooms per floor, and judging from the height of the building, she would say that there were four floors, not including the ground floor or a possible basement or attic. If her calculations were correct, then that meant there were roughly eighty rooms in total.
Perhaps finding Tom wouldn't be as easy as she thought.
They came to a halt in front of Room #50, right at the very end of the hall, which came as something of a blessing to her as she would only have one neighbour. Not only that, but it would be easy for her to remember.
Pushing open the door, she wasn't too surprised to find that her room was basically a big box. It had one window, which didn't provide much light as it's view was the brick wall of the building next door. The furnishings consisted of nothing more than the bare minimum; a small rickety looking bed frame with a mattress no thicker than her hand, a wooden desk and chair, and a wardrobe next to the door.
It was a far cry from the comforts she had enjoyed in Hogwarts dorms, but she knew that she didn't have any right to complain. It was better than being stuck out on the streets.
"There is a communal bathroom on each floor and meals are served twice a day at 8:00 AM and 7:00 PM," the matron began to explain. "We offer lessons in reading and writing for those who wish to attend in the afternoon and we leave for Mass on Sundays at 9:00 AM. Curfew is at 10:00 PM.
"Any questions?"
She shook her head. It all sounded quite straightforward to her. The schedule was similar to that of Hogwarts, the only difference was that they served three meals a day and taught way more classes. Oh well, at least most of the other children wouldn't be illiterate.
"In that case, I shall leave you to get settled in."
Handing her the dress and stockings, Mrs. Cole turned and started to leave, but stopped as she reached the door next to hers. She glared at the door as if she had a personal grudge against it.
"You would do well to stay away from the boy in the room next to yours," Mrs. Cole warned. "Terrible things tend to happen to those who disturb him."
And with that, she went on her way.
Hermione felt her heart pick up speed as she let the matron's words sink in. Could it be? Surely she wasn't that lucky… She knew from Harry that Tom had been something of a troubled child, but could it be that his was the room next to hers?
She would have to investigate that, but not until she was dried off. Stepping into her new bedroom, she closed the door and began to strip out of her wet clothes, hanging them to dry on the end of the bed frame. The dress was admittedly quite pretty and had been a gift from McGonagall. She was hoping to keep it to at the very least remember her by.
Then there was the fact that the dress that Mrs. Cole was less than comfortable as it scratched against her skin. Sadly, it was the only other dress she had. At least it was warm and dry. With long sleeves and a pair of thick stockings, there wasn't much bare skin sticking out, which was fine with her.
With that out of the way, she set her mind to the task before her. As much as her body felt like curling up for a nap, she knew that her mind would wander back to all she had left behind if she let it. No, it was better to focus elsewhere for as long as she could.
Opening her door again, she stepped back out into the corridor. A quick glance around reassured her that Mrs. Cole was not around to catch her as she crept towards the door next to hers. Could it be that Tom Riddle was actually behind this door?
There was only one way to find out.
She took a deep breath, trying to psych herself up before reaching up to knock on the door.
"Go away," she heard a muffled voice from the other side.
Her mind was at war with itself. A part of it was screaming at her to run back to her room and stay as far away from Tom Riddle as possible, but the other part knew that she needed to do this. He's not Voldemort yet, she thought to herself. He's just a child, no different than you.
She knocked again.
"I said, go away!"
She heard footsteps approaching, and a moment later, the door swung open. Standing on the other side was a boy who stood a full head taller than her with neatly kept dark hair and stormy blue eyes. He was wearing a drab grey tunic that appeared to be of the same material as her dress and a pair of matching trousers.
Whoever he thought was knocking, he surely hadn't been expecting her, at least that was based on the way his eyes widened when he saw her. Maybe he had been expecting Mrs. Cole instead?
"Who are you?" he asked, schooling his features in the blink of an eye.
Well, he certainly lacked some manners but she tried not to let that get to her.
"Oh, my name is Hermione Granger," she said. "I just moved into the room next door and I heard that there was a boy my age in this room. I thought I would come and introduce myself."
"I'm sure Mrs. Cole warned you to stay away from me."
She nodded her head. "Yes, she mentioned something about that, but I like to form my own opinions."
She extended her hand to him, but he did not take it. Instead, he eyed it suspiciously as if he suspected she was wearing one of those hand buzzers. After a few moments, she began to feel rather foolish and started to retract her hand.
"Bad things happen to those who annoy me," he warned.
There was no doubt in her mind that he was indeed capable of making bad things happen to her, nor was there any doubt in her mind that this was Tom. He clearly didn't trust her, and she supposed she could understand that. She knew all too well just how mean some kids could be if you were different.
That's when an idea came to mind as to how she could get him to at least open up to her.
"And bad things happen to those who try to hurt me."
He just blinked at her, a dark brow raised in question. Again, that was clearly not what he was expecting.
"What do you mean?"
"Watch."
Glancing down the corridor once more to make sure no one was around, she held out her hand again and silently uttered an incantation, conjuring a bluebell flame into the palm of her hand. It stung a bit but she knew it wouldn't burn her. She was just pleased to know that she could still conjure it without a wand.
A look of awe spread across his face, his eyes filling with excitement as they flicked from the flame to her face.
She couldn't help but smirk at his reaction as she snuffed the flame out just as quickly, closing her hand and returning it to her side.
"How did you do that?"
"I honestly don't know," she shrugged, feigning ignorance. "I've always been able to do weird things like that. I accidentally set my whole bed on fire once after a particularly nasty nightmare."
Stepping out of the way, the boy ushered her into his room before closing the door behind them. When he turned back to face her, he opened his mouth and began to speak in a language that she couldn't understand but recognized immediately. It was Parseltongue. She had heard Harry speak it enough times to know.
Soon enough, a common garden snake came slithering out from beneath his bed and over to him. Winding its way up his leg, the snake came up and wrapped itself around his neck, rubbing up against his cheek as if it was as harmless as a cat.
"You can speak to snakes?" she asked with a gasp.
He nodded, petting the snake's spine. "Like you, I've always been able to do weird things. Not only can I speak to snakes, but I can make other animals do what I want them to. I can also do things like making people trip over thin air and knock them out when they bother me."
It briefly flitted through her mind that he might have done that to her had she not managed to get his interest, but she put it from her mind. The less she thought about the possible outcomes, the better. There really was no way to predict how he would react.
"I've never met anyone who could do things like me," she admitted. "Even my parents didn't understand it… They were thinking about sending me away before… well, before they died."
McGonagall had gone into any real detail about her backstory, so she figured that she was free to make it up as she went, though she did still want to stick as closely to the truth as she could. The part about her parents never understanding her abilities as a child was true. However, they had never been so cruel as to want to send her away.
"I haven't either. You're the first one. I understand what you mean, though. Mrs. Cole wants to send me away as well because she knows I'm different. I would try to keep your abilities a secret from her if you can."
"I'll take that into consideration… I'm sorry, but I never got your name."
"I'm Tom Riddle," he said, extending his hand to her.
"It's very nice to meet you, Tom," she took the offered hand and shook it. "I think the two of us are going to get along just fine after all."
The corners of his lips tugged up into a slight smirk. "I agree."
