The Mudblood's Logic

by Cervantes Diderot

Hermione Granger was a a plain mudblood. At least until one rash action leads to her battling Voldemort first year and miraculously surviving. Stuck in a whirlwind of political ploys, fame, wealth and power along with assassination attempts Hermione has a rather difficult path. But what is that saying, "The ends justify the means," and she will do whatever it takes...

27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven: You-Know-Who.

Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.

OOOO

Parkinson Peak was an impressive place with an even more impressive history. Eons worth of battles, and so much blood soaking into the stones of the place. Much of it magical blood which the Parkinsons, at least in a historical sense before all of the inbreeding, had been clever enough to capitalize on. Dark rituals long since outlawed by the Ministry's predecessor, the Council, had been enacted by drawing upon the plethora of magic buried on the mountain. Accordingly, no one knew that the mountain from its tip to the lowest of foothills knew that the place existed. Unless a Parkinson wanted them to of course. Pansy had always bragged that not even Dumbledore could breach her ancestral wards in a militarial situation.

Standing there, sensing the barriers wash over her as soon as she stepped away from the Portkey, Tracey Davis found that an easy claim to believe. Not even Hogwarts' defenses were anywhere near as palpable as these. Mother had insisted she wear her finest robes. No one from Slytherin, not from the Sacred Twenty-Eight at least, had invited her to their home over the summer. Until now. Her mother had been ecstatic at the inclusion. She herself having been born into a middling Pureblood family only to find herself cast out after an accidental pregnancy and shotgun wedding to a halfblood. Father and mother often fought like cats and dogs, yet mother was by far the better dueller. Thus, Tracey had grown up doing what the overbearing woman told her to do without complaint. Even though it often meant sucking up to foul, arrogant Purists who hated her for her blood status.

"Mistress Pansy be waiting in the hall with the others. You is late Miss…?" A miserable-looking House Elf stood before Tracey.

"Tracey Davis." She answered swiftly, still somewhat in awe of the amazing castle.

"Follow me," The little beast suddenly grew incredibly cold in countenance, "Halfblood." Shivering the whole while Tracey followed suit. Terror and anxiety were constant feelings in her experience. Being a halfblood in Slytherin resulted in much uncertainty after all, and being unprepared was a dangerous thing. Something about this place seemed to make her feel even more precarious and uncertain than usual. The wards, she roundly concluded in her head while being led through the sprawling abode, and likely the fact that Dumbledore wasn't around to deter the Purebloods from slaughtering her half-blooded arse. "They are in there." With a loud pop the House Elf disappeared. Leaving Tracey standing in front of a pair of large doors that were slightly cracked.

Fighting internally to hide any nervousness, the twelve-year-old witch slipped inside. The hall was nowhere near as large as the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Crafted of ancient stone, Norman in style with sweeping arches above, and large hearths lining the walls on either side. In the middle of the space was one large table crafted from the finest, most well-polished wood Tracey had ever seen in her life. Filled with classmates who hated her. Crabbe and Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, the Carrow twins, Millicent Bulstrode, and many others from middling families like her mother. Almost all of the Slytherins in her year, many who had been First Years the prior term, and a small smattering of newly minted Third Years. None of them were anything special though. Especially not if they could be cowed into such a large meeting by Pansy Parkinson.

The bony, pug-faced girl sat at the head of the table. To her immediate right, much to Tracey's silent shock, was Draco Malfoy. Most of the families represented in the room had been burned by the scorching events of that summer. Either their relatives had been dragged to hell by the widespread, cataclysmic fall of Cornelius Fudge's corrupt administration, or they had been battered by the public after Tyche Travers' devastating fall from grace. Malfoy's father especially had been revealed to have an incredibly strong influence over Fudge. The man was trapped under house arrest after attempting to flee the country and rumour had it his accounts at Gringotts had been frozen by order of Amelia Bones. "So nice of you to finally arrive, Davis." Parkinson simpered nastily, "We were about to take up bets regarding what halfbloods consider punctuality."

Tracey could have argued that the invitation in her pocket had indicated that she was half-an-hour early, yet knew better. This was the girl she had been doing homework for since First Year. The same girl who ridiculed her to the extremes and commanded her about like a slave. All of it was just an elaborate ploy to humiliate her, and she refused to give in to it. Grace under fire, her mother always said with cloudy, sad eyes. "I apologize most sincerely for my lapse in punctuality." With fake confidence the witch strode over to an empty seat. "I have never used a Portkey before." Of course, there were whispers about halfbloods and stupid 'autimochiles.' She ignored them all.

"We can begin," Pansy smiled gloatingly at them all. She flung a thick newspaper down the table in an elegant arc. So that it landed before a girl in the middle of the assembly. "What does that paper say?"

With a pale face the girl held the copy of the Daily Prophet with trembling hands. "You-Kn-. Y-."

"Yes, Gretchen," Pansy rolled her eyes smugly, "The Dark Lord is still out there. He never died. Precious, four-eyed Potter never murdered him. Our glorious avenger still walks this earth. Waiting for his chosen children to find him. To restore him to greatness." Tracey could not believe what she was hearing. Apparently neither could half of the other Hogwarts' students in the room as they stared at the girl as though she were insane. "This is our chance for redemption." She stood, chair squealing violently backwards. "Our parents, our grandparents, our aunts and uncles too. All of them have failed us. The most powerful wizard who ever lived, a man even Dumbledore could not defeat still lives. He will come back. His wrath will be great, and the slaughter of traitors even fiercer than anything ever seen in Britain before."

"Are you insinuating that we should welcome him back with open arms?" Blaise Zabini was a Sacred Twenty-Eight, one of the only people with the status necessary to call out Pansy. "The Dark Lord was stopped by a baby. We have all seen the scar." He glanced out at the suddenly reassured faces, "Why should any of us have faith that if he manages to come back to Britain he won't be stopped by another baby?" Blaise folded both arms defiantly, "What are you proposing we even do to prove ourselves to him in that scenario? We are a bunch of children."

"He punishes those who are not loyal to him. Those who dare question his ways." Malfoy suddenly spat, eyes burning hatefully at Zabini. "I have heard the stories. They say his Cruciatus Curse was worse than having the skin flayed from your body. Worse than having a hot bar of metal rammed down your throat." He smiled in a somewhat demented way. "I want to prove my loyalty to the Dark Lord. To help him return Britain to glory. To stand by his side as he tortures Granger into madness so I can spit on her filthy, mudblooded face." Some people in the group were suddenly, visibly swayed. Their families had been burned, tarnished, ruined by Granger. The muggleborn extraordinaire, and natural opposite of You-Know-Who.

"They are saying Hermione Granger is the most powerful sorceress Hogwarts has produced in many years," Tracey was surprised to hear her voice add to the growing fervor. It was so wrong. These people would kill her father's muggleborn mother in a split second if they had the chance. Treat her like a second class citizen if they were in control of the government. Still, she was her mother's daughter. The bit of purity that flowed through her veins recognized that to be at the head of the mob was a chance to change things. To protect herself when You-Know-Who inevitably returned to restore his empire of ashes to greatness. "Dumbledore is getting old, ancient really. The Dark Lord is still in his prime, but he can't wait out Granger."

"Powerful my arse!" Malfoy began to snarl with a puce-coloured face.

"She is. We would be idiots to ignore such a threat," Tracey continued to lecture in a strident tone. "Tyche Travers was a dangerous woman. Granger is only thirteen and she managed to ruin a golden political career like that." To emphasize her words the youth snapped her fingers in tandem with the end of the statement. "What can she do to your parents, your relatives, and their friends? What will she do to us over the next ten decades of her life? She shattered all of the windows in Hogwarts last term. That girl is powerful, and the more powerful the magical the longer they tend to live. Just look at Dumbledore, or Grindelwald. They were born in the 1880's and are still alive. She may live into the Twenty-Second Century. Hermione Granger is building a legacy, a reign. One that has no room for people like us."

There were murmurs of assent, agreement. The reluctance in the hall was beginning to melt away. Something in Tracey Davis began to awaken. A beast in her belly that ached after years of having been ignored, treated like trash by Parkinson, by all of them really. Yet here in crisis they were listening raptly to her smart words. To the words of a halfblood's daughter. At last here was a chance to fight back. To take Pansy's, admittedly clever, idea by the horns and make it her own. "We can do something about it though." She continued, whipping up the fervor in the hall. Standing to both feet, and circling around to the other end of the table, placing herself in direct opposition with Pansy. "The Dark Lord was a Slytherin like us, once, not so long ago. We have heard the stories from the older students. Passed on to us through the years. He organized the Knights of Walpurgis. Why can't we do the same? Prepare ourselves, train ourselves for the coming war."

There were loud murmurs of assent now. Voices eagerly discussing under her own the significance of this moment. Of what they could all accomplish. How they finally had a chance to reverse the terrible misfortune that had fallen so heavily upon the Purist faction. "He will come back. With our might and will matched to his we will destroy Dumbledore. Amelia Bones. Harry Potter. Daphne Greengrass. Hermione Granger. All of our enemies will fall." Eager cries of approval rose up into the air at each of the names she listed. "The Ministry will be our's. The policy written by us! Muggleborns punished for the theft of magic. Banned from Hogwarts, and no one will ever have to suffer the burden or threat of tainted blood like I have ever again." She was tingling from the rush of power. As chaos broke out in the hall, her classmates celebrating with wild abandon, Tracey locked eyes with Zabini.

He finally recognized her at that moment for what she was. What she had been hiding from them since arriving at Hogwarts. A threat. She stood straight again. They would have to make Unbreakable Vows before allowing anyone to leave. What she had just attached herself to was dangerous, and the Dark Lord was still in Albania. Not Britain.

OOOO

Luna Lovegood loved being in nature. It reminded her of those times when her mother had still been alive and their family went on vacations all over the world. Tracking Glibe Gritters throughout Jungles, hunting for Nargles in prairies. Mummy would laugh and flash her beautiful smile with her deep, intelligent, brown eyes shining. Travelling with her father alone after mummy had died was still nice, but it never possessed the same, all-encompassing warmth. Fighting that off she felt the summer warmth baking her skin a golden hue. Enjoyed as the tall grass of the forest floor tangled in her increasingly long hair. A river bubbled audibly nearby.

"You have been unbound," Hildr Salverson grunted from nearby in her native language. She was a squat, old witch in shockingly good shape despite her advanced age. In the days since Luna met the crone she had been, not quite astonished, but a bit impressed by her ability to race about the woods with incredible strength. Weaving baskets, hunting, chopping wood by hand, practicing physically intensive rituals for a myriad of deities. "That does not make you any more powerful, merely in tune." Hildr had a way of repeating herself, though Luna would merely nod politely and reprocess the information again. "Opens our eyes to things that are hidden in plain sight. As you learn to gaze upon the unfiltered truth you will be able to perform the will of the gods, our gods."

Luna, though she may have seemed quite loyal to bizarre ideologies, was enough of a free thinker that the thought of unquestioningly following such beings left her feeling uncomfortable. "You pretend as though I love those bastard beings," Hildr snarled, "I smell your discomfort. We must be resigned to our fate. They control everything. Control us, girl." Hobbling to both feet the woman gestured for Luna to follow as they stepped towards the river. "Disrobe. Slip in the water. Tell me what you hear, what you sense." Without discomfort, Luna did as bidden. Nudity had never bothered her like it seemed to bother others. People were born naked, without clothes. There was nothing to be ashamed of, or embarrassed about. All of it was a part of the natural cycle of life.

Since becoming Unbound she had discovered that there was much more to the world, to life and being than most ever understood. A myriad of undiscovered colours. Creatures that others, but for Hildr and herself, that others would never see. Voices whispering in the winds. As Luna slipped into the somewhat chilly river there was the somewhat slimy feel of unseen things winding about her, below the gentle currents. Bubbling noises rose upwards from all about. The smell of oranges curled gently into her nostrils. Following her gut, her instincts, the witch dove downwards peering blindly into the wild waters with wide eyes. 'Gestrhelfinghelkingetrilkdeshetingtakl,' Spoke a gorgeous, soft baritone in her ears as she lost herself to her perceptions. To what she could only really describe as a sixth sense.

There was much ecstasy in the string of unintelligible, indiscernible words. Still, the foreign language, from the unseen entity left her opening her mouth euphorically. Strangely enough, as her eyes rolled wildly in her head, water did not rush into her mouth. Time was not important. The trance in which Luna Lovegood found herself trapped was too enlightening, too glorious to even consider leaving. She fought violently as hands suddenly tugged her firmly onto the muddy riverbank. Hildr Salverson breathed heavily beside her, hair as wild and matted as ever.

The sky which had once been bright with late morning light was dark, and the sky above teemed with stars. Beneath the water only moments had seemingly passed. Yet here, in the bounds of reality, Luna found that time had flown by with much rapidity. "They speak to you. With their pretty voices. Steal your life before you know it is gone." Hildr grunted emotionlessly as she helped Luna dry and dress herself. "The more they take, the better you will grow to understand what they try to tell you. It is my duty to teach you how to handle it. How not to lose yourself."

Luna peered at the dark waves of the river. Wondering worriedly, not for the first time, if she had simply opened up her soul to the Nargles, and they were fuzzing everything up. Perhaps these alleged 'gods' were not really even deities, but instead Sugna Lunks, or worse yet, Peppered Trotskites. For the first time since her mummy died, the girl felt the slightest bit scared.

OOOO

Hermione flicked her wand carefully. The runes she had spent so long carving into the antique vase lighting up with silver light. A low hum settled in the air as the light became even stronger, blindingly bright. Already anticipating what would happen next the witch was quick to cast a Containment Charm around the rattling object. In the blink of an eye all of her painstakingly tedious work exploded into shards. "Gah," She hissed dismissively, wasting no time vanishing the ruined object.

"Disappointing," Pernelle Flamel's voice emanated from within the shelves of her ancient library. The gorgeous woman slipped into view. Tonight she wore a billowing gown of white, greying-black hair tumbling freely to her hips. "You have made much progress this summer yet warding and runes seem to be quite a complex challenge. A pity since I have so much more to impart upon you."

Hermione nodded somewhat defeatedly in response. The girl could claim much skill now in Divination, Alchemy, Potions, Transfiguration, and even a bit of promise with Occlumency. She had learnt so much from Nicolas Flamel and Cordelia that summer, yet most of Madame Flamel's lessons proved to be just out of her grasp. The most she could argue was that her duelling had improved tremendously though still Pernelle Flamel trounced her every time they went head-to-head. Enchantments, Pernelle's specialty, were heavily dependent on Arithmancy and Runes. While the girl had managed to get enough of the needed Arithmancy under her belt that summer, the Runes were much less technical. One had to determine which particular mix of ancient languages worked best with their magic. Something that she constantly failed to find success in. "I want to learn from you. So badly. Nothing has clicked properly this summer though." She admitted with a sorrowful tone.

"I expected too much from you, we all did." Pernelle slipped closer, taking a seat at the round table. "What you managed to accomplish with Nicolas was impressive in its own right. Not even Dumbledore helped to further the field of Alchemy as much as you did this summer." She leaned back elegantly in the seat. "But to be fair you pushed yourself at Hogwarts well beyond what children your age have already learned. You are insightful, with a good brain for research. Those skills cannot be taught, yet they can be augmented with knowledge and instruction. I fear that you simply have not had the same opportunity to excel in Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. The classes that will be fundamental to become a successful pupil of mine. In addition to everything Nicolas taught you, it was simply too much too soon Hermione."

"My chance is gone, nonetheless." The Flamels were running out of elixir all too quickly. They likely would be too old and too busy making arrangements to work with her again next summer. She tried not to sound too bitter about the destruction of the Philosopher's Stone during her First Year.

"That is not entirely true." Pernelle smiled ambiguously. Cold as ever, yet the expression possessed more warmth than Hermione had ever seen from her. "Nicolas is tired of this world. He has been for a very long time. I do believe that he is quite prepared to rest for a very long while indeed. I, however, am not quite ready to do the same." Her smile tightened, "As you are aware, I am a muggleborn, much like yourself. There is a chance that you can finally change the world for the better. That you are the face of an inevitable revolution. I want to bask in the gloriousness of equality for the first time in my life before I die. I wish to pass along all of the knowledge I can to you next summer, without any distractions from Nicolas."

"But you need elixir from the stone. Aren't you runnin-?" Hermione began worriedly.

"Nicolas and I have saved enough elixir to last one of us for at least another decade." Pernelle corrected firmly. "He does not wish to linger much longer after the Grand Alchemical Conference in New York this fall. You will present to the world his last, crowning discovery. Then I will be alone for the first time in centuries." Hermione felt odd. Death was natural, a fundamental part of being human. Though for Nicolas Flamel to no longer exist, to decompose naturally as he ought to have centuries prior was a bizarre notion to process. "As I understand it your grandmother has helped to revitalize and restructure the curriculum at Hogwarts this last year. The perfect environment, with all of the resources you could possibly need to continue excelling. To prepare a firm foundation upon which I can train you next summer."

She felt almost speechless. Joy blossomed in her belly like a bird unfurling its wings. "Thank you."

"No, thank you, Hermione. You are a dedicated young woman. Together we will accomplish great things." She paused with a surreptitious glint in her eyes, "Also, I don't think I ever received an invitation to your Societal Debut…"

OOOO

"It's not too late, you know." Hermione whispered quickly to Cedric, "We can flee into magical London before he gets home. He never needs to know anything."

"My, my," The young man whispered back teasingly, "Is Hermione Granger truly that scared? Worried I'll embarrass you, or that your dear old dad will embarrass you? Hmm?"

"That isn't funny, Cedric Diggory," The witch snapped, slapping him on the arm. Glancing nervously back to confirm that her mother was still in the kitchen making tea. "My dad is one of the most unstable muggles on the planet when it comes to magic. He still loses it in the mornings when he wakes up to find House Elves in the kitchen. I have no idea how the man will react to this. Not only am I dating, but I have a wizard boyfriend. It might be too much for him to stomach."

"Mione," He crooned softly, grabbing her hand in his own, "I don't care what your dad thinks. Your opinion is the only thing that matters, that is important. But we can't keep this a secret from your parents. I want them to know that we are dating. I want to scream it from the mountain tops…"

"Isn't it enough that the Daily Prophet slapped us on the front page?" She asked cheekily, smiling again at his words.

His presumably naughty response, she had gotten good at recognizing when he would do or say something of the sort based off his mischievous grin, was cut off as her mother returned. They separated their hands before the woman looked up from her tea platter. "Your father should be back anytime now from his business meeting." Her eyes locked on Hermione's blushing cheeks, and they both eyed one another strangely, no doubt wondering what the other was thinking. "Harry is out again. I wonder where that boy goes…"

"He likes to go to the park and be by himself sometimes, mum. I don't think he is really used to being in a house where people want to interact with him." Hermione answered.

"Poor boy," The dentist sighed softly, "I swear he is the sweetest, most considerate child. Sometimes I wish we could burn that horrible family alive in their home." Again the conversation in the room was interrupted as Hugo Granger returned from work. "Hugo," She smiled, gesturing for him to sit beside her, "This is Cedric Diggory. Hermione's friend. We were about to have some te-."

"We are dating," Hermione blurted violently, face white as a sheet. Both of her parents regarded her with dropped mouths. Cedric looked like he wanted to laugh, but also seemed unsure of whether he was now in a position which warranted fearing for his life.

"What?!" Her father asked incredulously.

"Hermione and I are courting one another," Cedric answered, "We did not want to keep the truth from you. I didn't expect her to blurt it out like that before I got a chance to introduce myself." Instantly both of her parents were judging him with scrutinizing eyes in a way they hadn't before.

"I panicked," She admitted with an apologetic glance at them all.

"Aren't you a bit old, Cedric?" Hugo immediately was on the offensive. "Hermione is a bit young to have a boyfriend."

"I think that Hermione is more than capable of answering your questions herself. Am I too old for you?" Cedric put the control back in her hands. "I won't squabble with your father like you are some possession."

"I didn't anticipate Cedric and I would become friends, let alone that we would wind up dating." Hermione said, "Sometimes things just happen in life and you have to roll with the punches the best you can." She had learned that from losing Ron. Life wasn't fair. So when good things happened it was wise not to question them. "Cedric is in my Potions and Transfiguration classes. He is clever, funny, and a wonderful human being. I have no reason to believe that I am being manipulated by an old lecher. For goodness sakes, he is barely two years older than me. Maybe I just want to date, and you need to accept I am mature enough to handle this step."

But-." Her father began.

"No. I won't have you dragging him over the coals before you have even met him. Cedric is a talented wizard, top of his year in fact. He even just became the new Quidditch Captain of Hufflepuff and a Prefect." Hermione cut the man off swiftly.

Her father glanced at Cedric firmly, appraisingly. "Quidditch, huh? Harry said that your team is the worst at Hogwarts."

"Potter said that?" Cedric asked cheekily, "No one on my team has ever nearly been pitched off a Nimbus 2000."

"Would you like any sugar in your tea, Cedric?" Her mother asked, in order to cut off the already contentious discussion regarding sports.

"No thanks. I'm not much of a sweet tooth," He lied with a blindingly bright smile. After all, Cedric had been known to gorge himself on Honeydukes for days on end after Hogsmeade trips. Hermione was forced to laugh inside as her dentist parents were charmed to learn that her very first boyfriend 'hated' sugar.

OOOO

The day had arrived with surprising rapidity. Her Societal Debut would launch that evening. The muggleborn witch was likewise launching herself about the Fortress of the Crow ensuring every last detail was prepared. Wizard workers, for she refused to utilize House Elves, bustled about hurriedly. Catering, decorating, and even doing last minute cleaning on the musty residence. No one had lived in the place for decades which meant that there was simply always going to be a bit of grime around every corner for the foreseeable future. During the last month when she was not busy snogging with Cedric away from her parent's cautious eyes, or working with the Flamels, Hermione had been busy preparing for her premature birthday party. Searching an innumerable number of catalogues for cheap yet tasteful furnishings to fill the place with. Returning salvaged, dusty artifacts from the Morrigan vault back to their proper place.

Hissing in exhaustion Hermione slipped into the rooms she had recently decorated to serve as her own chambers at the fortress. Opening a wardrobe she tugged out her expensive gown for the evening. Stripping free of her sweaty clothes the teenager changed quickly, then forced herself to work on her hair in the vanity for the next hour. A ludicrous amount of sleakeazy later, she admired the glamorous updo she had managed to pull off. Then, opening a box in one of the drawers, Hermione withdrew the crown from when she received her Order of Merlin. It felt somewhat tasteless to throw the jeweled behemoth back into the public eye, yet Cordelia had insisted. Securing the heavy decoration firmly in place, she sat on her bed for a long while. Staring into nothingness.

There was an odd feeling in her chest. Constricting yet also hopeful in a way. Apparently her ancestors had all celebrated in the same way upon becoming women. Still, she remembered proudly, there were plenty of muggles and squibs in her bloodline as well. How had they felt upon becoming young women in the eyes of the world? Terrified at the coming changes? Hermione could no longer imagine herself as the little buck toothed First Year who had been so unprepared for the magical world. After all, she had a boyfriend and often modelled for Wizarding magazines now. Still, a part of her undeniably connected with that friendless, little know-it-all. She was worried about losing that. About losing what made her a special, and defiant to the orthodox world which openly detested her innovative ambitions. Hermione had absolutely no desire to become a Pureblood debutante that evening.

Sighing softly, she listened as noises began to echo through the fortress. Guests were arriving now. Soon enough her private time would be completely gone. There was a knock at the door. Looking up from the floor Hermione noticed her grandmother, father, and mother standing together in the doorframe. "You look lovely," Her mother gushed, "I can't believe you didn't wait for me!" With that the young woman was forced to preen beneath a camera while her parents took loads of photos. She couldn't resent them for it though. Seeing her parents smile, proud of her, after everything she had put them through the past two years was nice. Harry finally poked his head around the corner and she wasted no time giving him a tight hug as well.

"I love you all," She admitted with a somewhat thick voice, "And how you are always here for me. How you always support me." Her eyes grew somewhat teary which she quickly put a stop to due to the mascara she wore.

"You're our baby girl," Hugo smiled softly in response, moving to wrap his arm around Bryony's shoulder. "We'll always be there for you." He was handsome in his expensive suit. Hermione admired how he had insisted on dressing like a muggle even though Cordelia had pressured him to wear robes. Glancing at herself in the mirror one last time, Hermione tried to reconcile how much she had changed in two years. The dress was made of a diaphanous, white lace and very much muggle in style. With thin straps, a v-line neck, no fabric on the arms, and no back, a feature she had recently come to enjoy in her summer wardrobe. The skirt was light and airy with no train and very little excess fabric. Atop her head the crown glittered millions of colours in the dying sunlight.

"Wear your hair down," Cordelia finally spoke, their eyes connected for a long moment. "I was wrong. Your curls are lovely." Lots of things went unspoken between them. Likely because Cordelia was a Slytherin to the core. Nodding slightly, Hermione accepted the complimentary apology. Reaching up she removed the pins that held together her painstakingly assembled updo. Reveling in how her brown curls fell loosely about her shoulders.

Then, only moments later, her father led her arm-in-arm through the fortress. Everyone else following close behind. She felt the most graceful and lovely she ever had in her entire life. Effortlessly so. Briefly, Hermione remembered how difficult it had been at her Honoring Ceremony. Smiling brightly she sucked in a deep breath as they finally entered the crowded, bustling hall. There was enough space in the chamber that a dancefloor had been designated by velvet ropes magicked to hover in the air. Tables filled with a bounteous, mouthwatering feast filled whatever room was left. Certainly not as large as Daphne's venue, yet still a gorgeous sight. The many windows above allowed light to filter down. Without much ado, she partook in the first dance with her father. Then he handed her off to Cedric, who looked incredibly handsome in Hufflepuff-coloured robes. She found herself handed off to Harry shortly after, and then forced to participate in obligatory dances with wizards from England, Scotland, Ireland, and even a few from the continent.

Her final dance was one for the history books. Dobby, all of the House Elves in her society had been invited, approached. Despite the height disparity they managed to whirl elegantly about one another without actually touching hands. The cameramen from various newspapers and magazines had been snapping photos all evening. Yet this socially inappropriate coupling sent them into a furious frenzy. Cameras flashing from every angle. Smiling brightly, thoroughly out of breath, Hermione slipped into the bustling crowd of guests. Dutifully making the rounds with the important women. There was Muriel Prewett, Ginny Weasley, and Molly Weasley. The latter woman squeezing Hermione in a tight hug.

"You are so lovely," The woman practically cooed, smoothing at Hermione's curly hair. She was no longer as deathly thin as she had been at the beginning of the summer, yet the woman seemed to have not put on as much weight as before. Instead Molly Weasley sported a, shockingly, voluptuous figure. Only enhanced by her daring, haute couture robes. Ginny was taller than Hermione now, and looked like a willowy miniature of her mother apart from the neutral facial expression. Nonetheless the girl hugged Hermione and even kissed her on both cheeks.

"Perhaps we should introduce her to Bill…" Lady Prewett said in a speculative tone, "No. I think Charlie, perhaps Molly? Miss Granger-Pyrites obviously enjoys danger." Here the old woman smiled conspiratorially at Hermione with her pinched face sagging. "He worked with dragons until I convinced him to take a job with the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures this summer. Lots of scars, and tattoos. A girl so fond of House Elves must surely like dragons too, no?"

"I am courting Cedric Diggory," Hermione smiled tightly in response before slipping away. She had managed to spot Amelia Bones, who was set to be sworn in as Minister for Magic the next Monday, when a tall man with jet-black hair stopped her.

"You look like your squib father," He spoke without filter, "Though apparently you have your grandmother's nature."

"And you are, sir?" She questioned, fighting to keep her tone civil. By his accent she surmised easily he was one of the Irish guests. Most of them had obviously come to marvel at the spectacle of Morrigans returning to Ireland. Whispering in self-segregated circles together. Of the Irish men she had danced with that evening few of the encounters had been pleasant. Most of them making pointed comments about her muggle heritage, support for Grindelwald had run very deep in the country, or veiled remarks regarding the massacre that occurred in that very fort.

"Liam Desmond," He stared at her with a penetrating gaze. Hermione made sure her Occlumency barriers, no matter how elementary, were still up. One never knew who might be Legilimens. "Son of Cathalain Desmond. Of course, that does not matter anymore. He was murdered last summer in our family home." The man said this with a tight tone. Finally blinking away when Hermione failed to reveal whatever it was he was looking for.

"I danced with your son earlier. Abban, I believe?" She tried to finesse her way through the tense conversation with cordiality.

"Aye. My third eldest. I suspect he would make a fitting match. Did you take a liking to him?" The older man asked in a gruff tone. "Handsome lad he is." There was malice burning in those dark green eyes. So muted, and so very much unlike Harry's.

"Unfortunately not." Hermione abandoned any pretense of politeness at this point. A third son was an insulting offer to an heiress of her standing. Muggleborn or not. "He seems to enjoy Quidditch a bit too much for my liking."

"Quidditch?" The man sneered at her, "Abban has never willingly taken to a broom in his life."

"My apologies," She answered in a biting tone, "I had merely assumed one too many falls off a broom could have explained his utterly concussed nature." Spinning away she continued on her way to Madam Bones uninterrupted. Growing more uncomfortable at having witnessed firsthand what most of the Irish guests seemed to think of her family. Questioning for the first time if Cordelia actually had the political skill to win over such coarse, hostile people. "Minister-elect," The witch smiled, locking eyes with the stoic woman, "I am pleased you were able to attend my Societal Debut."

"We could hardly miss such an event," The woman stared impassively down at her. To her left was Susan Bones who seemed discomforted to be standing beside such a tense encounter. "Your guest list is certainly diverse."

"Yes," Hermione smiled loosely, not letting the woman's stone-like nature put her off. "My grandmother has many old friends from Ireland, and even a few contacts from the continent."

"I met the Flamels this evening, as well as the Scamanders." She remarked in a passive tone.

"I cannot claim to know the Scamanders well. Harry Potter… Is practically part of the family. He worked with the Scamanders this summer." She tried to speak as delicately as possible. "Regardless, I wish to tell you how much I look forward to your tenure as Minister. I truly feel that you will lead our country through dark times."

"Of course," Madam Bones nodded, as guarded as ever. With that she guided her niece away by the shoulder. The pair of them slipped away into the crowd. Hermione shivered slightly at having had to talk to the woman. How such an unlikeable woman had ever managed to beat out Barty Crouch was beyond her understanding. It was truly fortunate that she had interfered unintentionally. Otherwise Tyche Travers might have actually managed to win.

Smiling at passing partygoers the muggleborn suddenly felt incredibly warm. Deliciously so. As though her body were made of pliable jelly, and her brain became as malleable as warm taffy. "Lure Cedric Diggory to the edge of the wards. By the stables. Do not bring anyone else, do not raise any suspicions." Like a marionette she did as bidden. A difficult task considering her infamy, yet they managed to slip outside, passed the posted Aurors. Humming happily, quite enjoying her mindlessness, Hermione giggled at Cedric's side. Ignoring how he pressed a hand against her forehead at one point and inquired about a possible fever.

"Morfin?!" He yelped in surprise as they finally arrived at the predetermined destination. Hermione peered for a long time at the handsome youth who strutted towards them from within the shadows. The thick haze began to slip away from her mind ever so slowly. Finally, the realization of who exactly had lured them here, Imperiused her at her own Societal Debut, clicked into place. Her wand was out in a split moment only for Tom Riddle to take advantage of her still foggy brain. The pretty stick caught in his hand by means of a quick Disarming Charm.

"Cerid-!" She began to garble out thickly, tugging at his sleeve urgently. Only for Riddle to cast a nonverbal Silencing Charm.

"Now, now, Hermione Granger," He smiled prettily, dangerously, "Is that how you greet old friends."

"You know her?" Cedric moved to tug his wand out of his robes only to find himself disarmed as well.

"Oh yes, Cedric," He purred the name almost lovingly, "I know Hermione. Perhaps even better than you do. Just as I know you better than she ever will." The man stalked towards them with the gracefulness of a predator. "At first I was going to avoid this event. Until I realized that you both had fallen into position more quickly than I imagined." With a wave of his wand they were both immobilized. Forced to stand frozen in place as he approached. "The golden couple of Hogwarts. Wealthy, titled, so brilliant. The most talented students in Dumbledore's arsenal. Never before would I have considered stooping for a Hufflepuff or a mudblood, yet the temptation was too great. The pair of you, ripe for the taking, so easy to lure into my orbit."

He swept behind them, leaning in to whisper in their ears. "I spent a year in dearest Hermione's head. Sought safety in her mind after my insane counterpart attempted to Possess her during the whole Philosopher's Stone debacle." Cedric was clever enough. His eyes widened at the realization. "Protected her as the diary that contained another bit of Voldemort's essence Possessed Ginny Weasley in turn. Coaxed the little ginger into opening the Chamber of Secrets." He circled back around, waving one of the wands and allowing their heads to unfreeze. Both of them were too terrified to speak though.

"I managed to overpower the part of myself in the diary. Absorbed him. Though I left the tiniest shred of myself in dear Hermione." He peeked tauntingly at them. "I long for Hermione, enough so that I left an unbreakable connection between us. Yet I did not realize that the pair of you had such a special connection. Soulmates are rare after all. It is not often that two souls manage to meet, much less intertwine so powerfully. Messy stuff." He smiled, a wicked, dark thing that was full of malice. "I fled Hogwarts. Not realizing in my haste that I had managed to leave a bond with sweet, handsome Cedric as well." A hand reached up towards the Hufflepuffs cheek, caressing the flesh softly before moving up to twist tightly into his dark locks. "Oh, yes," He hissed in a breathy whisper, eyes practically slitting in visible pleasure, "I missed you too Cedric. So much so that I stalked you in France. I considered killing you for the longest while. Though Hermione, that little piece of me inside of her as well, they care so deeply for you. I never anticipated that I would wind up fucking you."

Hermione gasped in horror. Realizing, perhaps for the first time, just how much evil Voldemort had left inside of her at the end of First Year. She could hardly even begin to process that Cedric had been sucked up into it too. That Riddle had targeted him too because of her. "You didn't notice me so easily at first." Riddle sneered, "It took an Entrancement Potion of my own making to lure you into my nest. Powerful enough to open your eyes to the possibilities, to the deliciousness. Enough so that I could manipulate your subconscious. Let your brain in on the fact that a little bit of myself remained in Hermione's soul." He suddenly tugged her boyfriend down into a deep kiss. Riddle tugged away quickly enough, Cedric following his lips with a mindlessly desperate look on his face. At least, before the sense filtered back into his head.

"Love Potions cannot replicate the true thing!" Hermione spat out in disgust, managing to somehow regain her voice despite the terror. Anything to distract from how Cedric had obviously been psychologically manipulated that summer.

"They can fiddle with desire. With lust. Permanently so when combined with skillful, irreversible Legilimency." He turned his attention to her now. Reaching out a hand, and wrapping it gently against her throat. She shivered violently in response. Sparks began to course between his hand and the flesh of her neck as he leaned closer to her. "I was perfectly content with just stealing you out from under Dumbledore's nose. Though why wouldn't I collect Cedric Diggory too? Look at him." Those long fingers wrapped about her chin, causing more magical sparks to flutter downwards from the contact. "That golden skin," His voice was, again, a low, undulating hiss. Watery and silky at the same time. "Those rippling muscles." Riddle's tongue now danced a thick tune instead. "His pretty eyes. Dark hair. That clever, brilliant brain. His tongue, oh, who are we to deny that delectable masterpiece what it wants. Not to mention darling Cedric's massive, throbbing, naughty cock."

She hated the perverse words, the sick things no one had ever said to her before. Hated the thrilling effect every single syllable had on her. "Fuck you, Riddle." Hermione snarled, "Fuck you and your stupid, psychotic skull to hell!"

"Oh, I would love nothing more, chit." He chuckled throatily, the ensuing sound a masterpiece. "Of course, I am sure you both would love that as well. Though we have little time for such passion. Such blissful, scorching tenderness. I came here to give both of my precious loves a kiss. To make sure they both remembered that I am still out there. Working towards a future where we can all make love every single night." Without any warning he leaned towards her. "I am going to kiss you now Hermione. Do you want that?" His brown gaze, glinted reddish beneath the moonlight. Breathlessly, Hermione warred with herself. Sparks violently erupting from both of their bodies with every centimeter he neared. Her own brain was terrifyingly clear. Their lips connected in a warring dance. Nothing like the gentle kisses she and Cedric had exchanged. This was all passion with clashing teeth. Anger burned in her body until she bit his bottom lip violently in the frenzy. Still, he waited a long moment longer to pull away. Suckling the bleeding flesh as Hermione tried to ignore the taste of copper in her own mouth.

"Youths these days are prone to forgetting to send letters every once in a while," He smiled viciously at them both. "Don't worry. I am perfectly capable of sending a message to you both. To let you know that you are both on my mind. That I am always thinking of you two." With that he pressed their wands back into their clammy fingers. Leaving them without any memory of precisely how he had chosen to leave.

The next thing they were aware of was standing side-by-side, alone together beneath the ominous shadows of the stables. Cedric crumpled into her arms seconds later. "I had no idea who he was… What he did to me. I-I liked it all. I l-l-like-d all of it…" He gasped, voice suddenly thick with tears.

Hermione fought her own tears. Pressing her nose into his dark hair and closing her eyes. Trying to lose her own conflicted emotions in the scent of him. "I know it wasn't your choice. None of this is your fault Cedric," She comforted her boyfriend in a soothing tenor, "None of it is your fault."

The taste of copper on her tongue reminded the muggleborn only all too well that it was, in fact, her who had unleashed Tom Riddle unto the earth.

OOOO

Her grandmother and mother slipped her out of the lovely dress. Bryony Granger's shaking hands indicating that she was uncomfortable with her daughter performing a public ceremony in only a shift. Hermione willed herself to step forth. Catching sight of Cedric who stood stoically, eyes rimmed a welted red, between Harry and Daphne. She tried to take comfort in the presence of all of her friends and family as she knelt gracefully before the altar which was dedicated to the Morrigan.

Chanting the memorized, Celtic prayers quickly. Wanting nothing more than to go to sleep in her big, warm bed. Not realizing that she had been tricked into selling her very soul to the devil. Not realizing that with each word of devotion and faithfulness which passed from her lips that she was falling into the most invisible of deceptions.

OOOO

Many miles away to the west, beneath a mountain of thick, powerful wards, an ancient presence shifted in its slumber. The crows squawking angrily from their perches on treetops. The mounds of dead littered sloppily about the grassy knoll shifting angrily, discontendly for the first time in decades.

OOOO

I always had the idea of Tom confronting Hermione and Cedric, but never quite like that. I am honestly surprised by how that worked out. Lot's of truths revealed there. I don't mean to portray the soulmate thing as some rare, precious magic thing. It won't be like that. I just personally believe it is uncommon for two jointly linked people to meet and connect. Tom leaving a bit of his soul in Hermione just played off of that connection and kind of perverted it. He is like a parasite in a way, and likes to corrupt pure things. My mind imagines that this is the ultimate game for a sociopath/psychopath (? Need to investigate) like him.

Manipulating two people who are naturally drawn to one another and interjecting himself right in the middle. To me, I am open to debate, Tom is not capable of love, or compassion. He seems reptilian in nature. Lots of people criticized his 'relationship' with Cedric, but that is kind of turning it into something it isn't. He can covet brilliant, useful people as possessions. Lust after them, desire them, hunt them. Though I doubt he has the capacity to love beyond a base, animalistic manner. Even with Hermione's feelings muddling his own instincts due to whatever connection they now have, I think he went after Cedric primarily for the sake of obsession. People tend to want things they don't fully understand.

In the background we also had Luna. Don't expect much clarity from her story line too soon. She is going through something incredibly confusing and difficult to comprehend. Then again, discovering one's spirituality often is inexplicable.

I want to finish off by thanking everyone who enjoys this story, supports it, and continues to read and review. It means a lot to me. I started writing this when I was a lot younger. When my perception of the world was very different. If you haven't noticed, I keep getting surprised by what happens when I am writing this fic lately. Honestly, I am hoping that means the story and characters are starting to gain more complexity. But anyways, wish me luck on my exams, and please enjoy the update, my darlings.