News spread quickly within Slytherin House that Tom was not someone to be messed with, lest the consequences be severe. No one dared to bother him as he went about his business, even going so far as to avoid him like the plague. It didn't seem to bother him, though. Perhaps this was what he wanted after all. Fear came with a certain sense of power and control and those were two things that Tom prized.
It had taken a couple of days in the hospital wing, but Madam Vervain came through in the end and managed to return Abraxas to his human form. Embarrassed that they had seen him as a rat, he tried to keep his distance from the others in their year, especially Hermione. She had tried to assure him that it was no big deal and that she didn't think any less of him because of it, but he didn't seem to want to hear it.
Oddly enough, Abraxas actually seemed to be drawing even closer to Tom as a result, which was the complete opposite of what she had expected. It was almost as if the show of powerful transfiguration had impressed him, as he kept complimenting him. Although, Tom didn't seem to be phased by any of it and ignored him for the most part.
Hermione and Tom hadn't spoken much either since the whole ordeal, but Hermione was pleased to find him reading the book she had bought for him on more than one occasion, rather than his usual books on Salazar Slytherin. Whether the content was getting through to him, that she didn't know.
She was soon distracted, however, as it was announced that they would be doing a lesson on Boggarts in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was a lesson that she both eagerly anticipated and dreaded at the same time. There was no doubt that it was sure to be an interesting lesson, especially when taught by the mysterious Professor Renshaw, who was easily her favorite professor, but knowing what she did about Boggarts, she knew it could be just as concerning as well.
"Now, as you know, we shall be dealing with Boggarts, today," said Professor Renshaw, pacing back and forth in front of the tall dark wardrobe that stood in the center of the room. "Who here can tell me what a Boggart is?"
Hermione's hand instinctively flew up into the air.
"A Boggart is a shape-shifter that takes the form of whatever it thinks will frighten us most," she answered.
"Correct you are, Miss Granger," Professor Renshaw nodded his head to her in approval. "What many fail to realize is that Boggarts can actually read minds. That is how they determine one's greatest fear. However, while strong and terrifying, it too is not without fear, and it is through it's fear of being laughed at that it can be repelled."
Hermione was surprised by this. Professor Lupin had never gone into that much detail to explain how Boggarts worked. She had been taught to think of it as more of a nightmarish force rather than an actual magical creature. How intriguing.
"We shall practice the incantation first... Without our wands," Professor Renshaw cast an icy glare towards a few students who had started to take their wands out.
Embarrassed at being called out by their considerably strict professor, they quickly slid their wands back into the pockets of their robes.
"Now, I need you to listen very carefully to what I say and repeat after me. It is imperative that you enunciate it correctly," he warned. "Riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the class echoed after him.
He made them repeat it again a few times before he was satisfied with it and thought them ready to do it for real.
"Good, now draw your wands and form a single line. One at a time you will step up to the wardrobe and face your greatest fear. Keep in mind that it is not real, but simply a mirage meant to ensnare you. In order to be rid of it, you must force it to assume the form of something you find amusing."
The students pushed and shoved as they attempted to form a line. Needless to say that no one really wanted to go first.
Professor Renshaw sighed as he picked a student at random, a third year huffle puff boy, and dragged him to the front. The other students immediately stopped fighting and fell into line.
That was yet another thing she liked about Professor Renshaw. The way he was able to command respect so effortlessly and make students behave the way he wanted them to was impressive. Yet at the same time it was also rather peculiar.
She couldn't help but think back to her first encounter with him in Knockturn Alley and how it seemed as though their bodies were under some sort of spell. Was that how he got the students to do as he wanted? If so, how was he doing it? She had never seen or heard him cast any spell on them. Perhaps a wandless nonverbal Imperius Curse?
No… She was pretty sure that the Headmaster wouldn't let a professor cast the Imperius Curse on students as he pleased… Well… There was Mad Eye Moody, but that was a different story.
That wasn't it… So then, what was it?
Long had she had this secret suspicion, but she dared not entertain the idea. It wasn't something that she could just outright ask aloud. Besides, she still had yet to find concrete evidence to prove her theory.
"Alright, you may begin!"
Professor Renshaw unlocked the wardrobe and one by one students stepped forward to face the Boggart.
Most of them were pretty ordinary, taking the form of things like spiders and snakes, but some of them were a little bit more complex. For example, a Hufflepuff girl caused the Boggart to turn into a box that tried to suck her in, indicating claustrophobia.
When Abraxas' turn came, Hermione was sure that Abraxas would make the Boggart turn into either Tom or a rat. However, much to her surprise, it didn't. Instead it turned into… his father… Standing there with a look of disapproval across his face, The Boggart of Mr. Malfoy proceeded to yell at Abraxas about how much of a disappointment he was to him. Abraxas looked so defeated but then he remembered that it was only a mirage and cast the repulsion charm. His father then morphed so that he was wearing a poofy pink gown and a rococo style wig towering high atop his head. Abraxas burst out laughing, as did almost everyone else in the class.
Druella's Boggart turned into a version of herself that was hideous, covered in boils and warts from head to toe and puffed up like a balloon. Rosaline's turned into the image of an empty bank vault, and Cygnus' turned into his mother, who looked ironically like Walburga, nagging him to do various things like clean his room and find himself a nice pureblood wife.
Then came Tom's turn. Out of everyone in the room, his was the Boggart Hermione was most curious about. Thinking back on all that Harry had told her about him, she couldn't recall anything about what he feared most. She knew he hated being thought weak and unimportant, but only from her own personal experience with him. Could that be his greatest fear though?
It came soon enough, for when Tom stepped up to the Boggart it took the form of not one but two bodies. Hermione let out a gasp at the sight. She saw Tom and herself collapsed on the floor, pale and absolutely lifeless.
Tom let out a strange noise that sounded halfway between a gasp and a sob.
Death…
It was death that he feared most of all…
Suddenly she understood why Tom had made Horcruxes in her time. It was all because of his fear of death. However, that wasn't all… It wasn't just his own death that he feared now, but hers as well. All of the anger and frustration she had felt at his behavior melted away. He really did care about her. So much so that losing her was one of his greatest fears.
In the end, Tom couldn't find it in him to cast the spell, and Professor Renshaw had to step in to vanish it. The Boggart turned into that of a young woman dressed in 18th century attire. At first glance, Hermione thought the woman beautiful and wondered why on earth anyone would be afraid of her. Then she saw the neck… It was completely mutilated, as if it had been torn open by someone's bare teeth…
Professor Renshaw cast the spell without so much as a flinch and the woman faded from view.
"I'm afraid that's all the time we have today," he said in a hurry as he repelled the Boggart back into the wardrobe and locked the door. "We shall continue this lesson at a later date."
A chorus of groans and complaints echoed out as they gathered their things and began to shuffle out. Hermione couldn't exactly blame them. It just meant that they were going to have to go another day worrying about what the Boggart would turn into for them. Hermione felt the exact same way, which is exactly why she chose to take her time in gathering her stuff.
When everyone else was gone, she walked up to Professor Renshaw's desk and cleared her throat to get his attention.
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I was wondering if you would let me face my Boggart on my own."
Turning back to look at her, Professor Renshaw gave her an odd look. "Is there a particular reason why?"
"I'm afraid that my Boggart might be bad… like Tom's…"
Despite the fact that she had done the whole lesson once before, she didn't know what her Boggart would turn into. She was sure that it wouldn't be the same as before, as she wasn't so terrified of failing her classes anymore. However, there was a fairly high chance that her Boggart could turn into something or someone from the future, something that she wouldn't be able to explain. She trusted Professor Renshaw enough to let him see her greatest fear, for she knew that he wouldn't ask too many questions.
"Alright, I'll allow it this one time, but don't expect any additional special treatment from me," he relented.
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Professor."
Unlocking the wardrobe once again, he motioned for her to step forward, waiting until he knew she was ready before releasing the Boggart.
At first, it looked like nothing more than a blob of blackness, but then it began to stretch and mold into the form of a man. Hermione let out a startled yelp as she got her first look at it's face.
She had never seen this man before, or at least not this form of him, but she recognized him immediately from Harry's excruciatingly detailed description of him. His crimson eyes bore straight into hers, his forked tongue jutting out of his mouth as he licked his lips, accidentally whacking the flat part of his face where a nose ought to have grown.
It was Lord Voldemort…
"What in Merlin's name is that!?" Professor Renshaw exclaimed, jumping back in shock.
Hermione didn't answer that… She couldn't… It was as if her whole body had forgotten how to function properly. All she could do was stand there and stare at him.
Slowly he began to step towards her until they were standing face to face, barely a foot in between them. Reaching out a hand, he ran a long pointed fingernail along her cheek, causing her to cringe as she felt it pierce through the tender skin. It was odd because she never knew that Boggarts were capable of taking on actual corporeal forms.
"Do you honestly think that you can stop me?" Voldemort hissed. "You are nothing more than a foolish and pathetic little mudblood."
Hermione gritted her teeth. It had been a long time since anyone had called her that. She supposed that she had grown a bit unused to it.
"My blood is no different than yours!" she spat back at him, finally regaining the use of her mouth.
Voldemort smiled his twisted smile at her, revealing the rotting jagged teeth inside. "You are correct. We are more similar than we dare to admit, but you are still much weaker than I. You let your feelings rule your judgment. You cannot stop me. There is no stopping the darkness that corrupts the heart, mind and soul. It is inevitable."
"You're wrong!" she retorted, yanking herself out of his grasp.
She knew that he was wrong. Love was far more powerful than he would ever know. In fact, it was love that had defeated him on more than one occasion. It was love that saved Harry, both as a baby and in his first year. Love was the very power that the prophecy spoke of, the power that Voldemort knew not.
"Deep down, you know that I am right," he insisted, holding his hand out towards her. "Join me, Hermione, and rule by my side as my Dark Lady. That is where you belong."
She shook her head, reminding herself that this wasn't really Lord Voldemort. The real one didn't exist yet, or at least she didn't think he did. There was only Tom and he had proven in this very classroom that he did in fact care for her.
With that in mind, she conjured up an image of the funniest thing she could think of and raising her wand towards him, cast the spell.
"Riddikulus!"
Just like that, Lord Voldemort turned into a friendly looking circus clown with a curly red wig, a big red ball for a nose, juggling a bunch of cream pies that ended up falling on top of him.
She had just started laughing when she noticed Professor Renshaw. He was still standing there, just as rigid and shocked as before, but now his eyes were glowing red much like Voldemort's… not only that, but she could see a pair of shiny white fangs poking out from beneath his lips.
Her theory was finally confirmed. Professor Kieran Renshaw was in fact a vampire…
Remembering how the Boggart of Voldemort had scratched her, she quickly clamped a hand over the cut, as she was sure that Professor Renshaw could smell it.
"I-I'll be going now…" she stammered as she started to back away.
She didn't think Professor Renshaw would purposefully hurt her, but she wasn't exactly sure how much control he had over himself. Vampires were highly unpredictable when they were hungry. All rational thinking flew out the window as the blood lust took over. At least, that was what she had read.
"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like for you to stay a moment longer."
He then proceeded to lock the Boggart into its wardrobe for the final time before turning and motioning for her to follow him up into his office.
Hermione was a bit hesitant to do so. He seemed to be in fairly good control of himself. After all, he hadn't lunged at her yet, and there was nothing to stop him from doing so. No one else was around to see him. And yet, she found that she still trusted him, even knowing that he had the power to drain her dry. Somehow she knew he wouldn't.
And so, she allowed herself to follow him, up into his chambers.
The room was dark, all of the windows having thick curtains drawn over them to keep the sunlight. She had often noticed the way the shutters on the windows in the classroom always seemed to close shut as he entered. Now she knew why that was, just like she now knew how it was that he had controlled her and Tom back at Knockturn Alley.
That aside, it was a richly decorated room with a Persian rug laid across the stone floor, a huge 18th century desk and chair, and medieval looking tapestries on the walls, some featuring a family crest of sorts, no doubt belonging to Professor Renshaw, and others featuring classic scenes with kings and knights in shining armor. And then there were candles scattered everywhere, probably to make up for the lack of natural light in the room.
Crossing the room, he reached into a cabinet on the far wall and took out a tall vial filled with dark red liquid, which Hermione assumed to be blood, as he tipped his head back and drank it in a single clean gulp. When he turned back to face her, his eyes and teeth were back to normal.
"Is it true that you are a muggleborn, Miss Granger?" he asked.
There was no use denying it, seeing as Boggart Voldemort had made no effort to hide the fact. "Yes, it is true, but I try to keep it a secret from the other Slytherins."
He nodded his head in understanding. Being a former Slytherin himself, she was sure that he knew all too well what she was referring to.
"Are you, by any chance, aware of which magical family you come from?"
"No, I'm afraid not," she shook her head. "I've been doing research on the matter, but I haven't been able to find anything."
She found it strange that he seemed to be taking such an interest in her and her bloodline, and even more so the way he was looking at her, as if he was searching for something, though she had no idea what it was.
"I would recommend you try 'The Forgotten Lines'. It is a book that holds the family trees of all the wizarding families who have died out or simply become lost throughout the ages. Many muggleborns have found their wizarding families in its pages. However, you will need permission to take it out of the library as it is currently situated in the restricted section.
"If you are truly interested, I can sign a note for you."
To say that she was surprised was an understatement. What had happened to not expecting additional special treatment from him? What made him change his mind?
"I'd appreciate it very much if you would do that for me, but I don't quite understand why you are offering."
"Think nothing of it. I am simply curious as to which family is to credit for producing such an exceptionally bright witch."
She had a hunch that there was a bit more to it than that, but said nothing, choosing to be grateful for the opportunity he was giving her instead.
Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill, he scribbled down a quick note and handed it to her. His handwriting was most exquisite and neat, like old fashioned calligraphy. She had always adored calligraphy and had tried to teach herself how to do it, but couldn't seem to do it properly no matter what. It infuriated her to no end.
"Thank you for everything, Professor."
With the note in hand, she turned and started to leave, but got no further than the door before Professor Renshaw called out to her.
"In exchange for keeping the secret of your blood status, I must ask that you keep the discovery of my… affliction, shall we say... a secret," his tone of voice indicated a hint of urgency. "The staff have all been made aware of it, but the students… I would rather not have them disturbed by the information."
She smiled at him. "Don't worry, you're secret's safe with me."
Reassuming the appearance of the strict professor, he nodded rather stiffly and waved her away. "Off you go then."
