Hermione hadn't had many opportunities to look in the mirror since her arrival. As a rule, she tended to avoid them, not because she thought herself hideous, but because she knew she looked different. And that she did. As she glanced at herself in the full-length mirror that stood in the corner of the girls dorm room, she couldn't help but feel as though she was looking at a complete stranger.
Gone was the eleven-year-old buck tooth girl with unbearably frizzy hair, proudly donning her red and gold. While her hair was still frizzy, it was pulled back out of her face and tamed visibly by a fancy french hair potion that Druella had shared with her. The only thing that had remained constant was the splatter of faint freckles on her nose. It was nothing compared to the freckles of the Weasley's, but they were still there.
And then there was the most obvious change of all. It was as if all shades of red had vanished from her life. Everything around her was green, from the bed sheets to the tie wrapped around her neck. Her new uniform consisted of a white starch blouse tucked underneath a scratchy grey dress that fell just past her knees and cinched at the waist. Stitched onto the right side of the dress was the familiar crest of Slytherin, branding her for the rest of her Hogwarts years.
She wasn't sure what to think of it all. In a way, she couldn't help but find herself rather pretty, but at the same time, she realized that she looked just as prim and proper as any other Pureblood Slytherin girl.
The dream she had had last night still haunted her. She hadn't been able to sleep well, as everything from the day before kept playing through her mind. The words of the sorting hat were at the forefront of it all.
"What would your old friends think if they could see you now?" the hat's voice echoed.
And that was exactly what kept her awake.
In her dream, she found herself back in her own time, only she looked different, different even to how she looked now. She had returned to her natural age of seventeen, but she was dressed all in black, as if dressed for a funeral. Her hair was perfectly styled and her face without blemish. She looked like herself yet she didn't at the same time.
Then, Harry and Ron appeared to her. Overjoyed to see them again, she had run at them and started to hug them, but they pushed her away, towering over her without even offering to help as she fell to the floor.
"It's me, Hermione Granger," she said. "Don't you remember me?"
They shook their heads, glaring at her with a look of pure hate.
"The Hermione Granger that we knew and trusted would have never become what you have," Ron sneered.
"You've replaced us," Harry retorted. "With Malfoy and Riddle, no less."
"You betrayed us!"
"You've become just like them!"
"We hate you!"
"You're evil!"
Needless to say, she had woken with a startle that morning, drenched in a cold sweat. Deep down, she knew that it was just a bad dream and nothing more. She knew it wasn't real… Or at least, she tried to convince herself of that… Surely Harry and Ron wouldn't hate her for the things she had been forced to do to keep up appearances. The whole reason she had taken this mission on in the first place was to save them, along with many others, from the dark inevitable fate which would have surely awaited them otherwise.
She was doing this for them...
They would understand that sacrifices must be made...
And besides, just because she was now a Slytherin did not mean that she was evil. Slughorn was also a Slytherin and he was one of the nicest professor's she had ever met. A bit prone to favoritism perhaps, but everyone had their faults.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself down, forcing herself to turn away from the mirror and back to face the rest of the room.
There weren't many other girls in her house and year, only herself, Druella Rosier, and two more girls named Rosaline Selwyn and Laverna Flint. She got on fairly well with them for the most part. Laverna was a bit… er, intense… and looked a bit more like a troll than a girl, but still she tried to be nice to her.
"Do you want to head down to breakfast together?" Hermione asked the other girls.
Both Druella and Rosaline nodded their heads eagerly, jumping up to join her.
Laverna shook her head. "I'm waiting on my brother to bring me my luggage," she grunted. "The house elves switched our trunks. He's got my dresses and I'm stuck with his smelly old underpants!"
The two proper pureblood girls looked utterly mortified at the very mention of the word 'underpants'.
Hermione had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from laughing. "Well, if we see him, we'll let him know that you're looking for him."
The troll-like girl nodded her head in what she assumed to be appreciation and trudged off into the bathroom.
Meeting up in the common room with Tom and Abraxas, along with their new friend, Cygnus Black, they all headed over to the Great Hall for breakfast before heading to their first day of classes.
In order to make the whole ordeal less boring for her, she convinced herself that it would serve as an excellent refresher for her, to ensure that she got as many Outstandings on her N.E.W.T.'s as possible. Truth be told, she wasn't too sure what she was going to do after school, or even if she would get the chance to pursue a career, but she wasn't going to let that stop her from getting top marks.
Her first class of the day was Charms, which was taught by Professor Ayspe, a younger professor with long elf ears who was constantly tripping over his own robe, followed by History of Magic, taught by none other than Professor Binns. She honestly hadn't expected to see him, or at least not still as a ghost anyway. Clearly he was a lot older than she initially thought.
The first day of classes was always a bit boring, as the teachers attempted to familiarize themselves with their new students and explain the basics of each subject and what they could expect to learn. It wasn't anything that Hermione didn't already know, but she was intrigued at the idea of seeing the different methods of teaching used by each professor and comparing them to the professors she had originally had.
Then they had potions with Professor Slughorn, much to her delight. While she tried to tone down her know-it-all self in other classes, she couldn't help but let it out in this particular class. She tried to make a good impression on him and answered every question he asked her with an amount of confidence and fine detail that surprised everyone in the room, even Tom.
Seeing him again, she couldn't help but remember how he had encouraged her before she left. "It might not be easy, but if anyone can save him, I reckon it's you," his words echoed through her brain, giving her renewed determination.
And finally came the class she had probably been looking forward to most: Defence Against the Dark Arts. This was the one and only class that she had received an Exceeds Expectations on during her O.W.L.'s. Harry had always excelled in this class, but she struggled with it a bit and she was determined to change that this time around. Besides, she figured that it might come in handy to master dealing with the dark arts when considering her mission.
When she first entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and took her seat, Druella and Tom sitting on either side and Abraxas behind her, she hadn't known quite what to expect. Seeing as the position was no longer cursed, or rather she assumed it wasn't, she was curious to see who the professor was and how long he had been teaching.
She was soon to find out as no sooner had every last one of the students taken their seats, then the door slammed open. The shutters on the window blew closed on their own as a sudden coldness washed over the room, making everyone shiver. For a split second she was convinced that Snape had somehow followed her back in time, but then she saw him…
A dark haired man with startlingly pale skin, dressed in robes of crimson swept elegantly into the room, a cold boney hand briefly brushing against her arm as he passed and made his way to the front of the classroom.
"Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts," he greeted them as he stepped up to the chalkboard to write his name down. "I am Professor Kieran Renshaw, and in this class I will be teaching you to defend yourselves against the darkness that lurks at every corner, eagerly waiting to devour you all."
Hermione and Tom glanced at each other with wide-eyed recognition. They both knew who this man was… It was the same man whom they had encountered in Knockturn Alley… The same strange man who had somehow taken control of their bodies to compel them to leave...
Hermione gulped, hoping that, by some slim chance, he wouldn't remember them.
"At the beginning of each year, I like to quiz my students to test their knowledge of the dark arts," Professor Renshaw continued, holding up a stack of papers. "You shall have thirty minutes to complete the quiz to the best of your abilities, and don't worry if you don't get them all right, as I will not be grading you on it."
She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he went around passing out papers. Who exactly was he? What was he? Even now, he had this… aura about him that didn't seem quite natural. Clearly he was a wizard, otherwise he wouldn't be teaching them, but he was definitely something else as well. She had a few ideas, but nothing she could claim with absolute certainty.
When Professor Renshaw finally reached her and Tom, he showed no visible signs of recognition as he handed them each of them a quiz paper. He had just turned around to continue on his way when they heard him mutter.
"Let's see just how well the two of you know the dark arts."
He remembered them...
Once he was finished handing out the papers, he conjured a clock out of thin air and set the timer for half-an-hour before sitting down at his desk.
The questions were pretty straight-forward and simple enough, ranging from all manner of dark creatures as well as what to do when met by said dark creatures. For example, when faced with a zombie, a simple yet efficient Petrificus Totalus would work well enough, allowing oneself to escape safely without going to the extremes of slaying the rotten smelling creature.
She breezed through the quiz in only ten minutes time and, confident that she had answered each one correctly, she strode up to the professor's desk to hand it in. Tom followed suit but a few seconds after.
Looking up from the piece of parchment he had been staring at, Professor Renshaw reluctantly reached out and took the papers from them, his eyes quickly skimming through each. After a moment, the tiniest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
"Impressive… I'm sorry, what were your names?"
"Tom Riddle, sir."
"Hermione Granger."
"I look forward to seeing how you fare in a more... practical exercise," he said. "Take ten points for Slytherin. Now, go back to your desks and wait quietly until everyone else is finished."
Nodding their heads, they did as they were told.
Hermione couldn't help but feel pleased with herself. Even if every other class was boring and repetitive, she was assured that Defence Against the Dark Arts would be quite the opposite.
