(Disclaimer: The characters and world that you find familiar belong to JK Rowling. I do not own them and make absolutely no money off of them. Anything you don't recognize is mine-unless specified later).

Back at it again! I'm sorry that my updating schedule has been a little hectic. I'm only a couple weeks away from FINALLY graduating from college, so its been a busy semester. I'm hoping that the updates will pick up in May. Or at least they should.

Update: This chapter has officially been beta'd. Many thanks to McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe

Chapter 4

The morning sun filtered through Hermione's window, tickling her eyelids and pulling her out of her unconscious state. Blinking against the too bright light, she burrowed her head into her pillow with a groan. The curtains around her bed were pulled back and neatly tied up, giving her a good view of the now empty dorm room. Not hearing any noise coming from the bathroom either, she realized that Lavender and Parvati were probably already down at breakfast by now.

"Just how late did I sleep in," she muttered, squinting at the small wall clock hanging above the bathroom door. 10:16, wow I haven't had a lie in like this in a while. I wonder why Ron and Harry haven't started banging on my door yet.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she grabbed her toiletry bag and started to grab her robe when something on her left hand caught her attention.

"What on earth?" Hermione brought the limb up to her face to get a closer look at the monstrosity that was now sitting on her hand. Small words, printed onto her skin in black ink made up the swirling rings that covered nearly all of the back of her hand. She twisted her hand around to follow the curving letters.

Amor sanguinis, sigillum contera. Dominus maledictionem obliviebat levare. Nunc, protector portam es, she mentally read, only able to pick out a few words here and there. Something about blood, forgetting and a door…

The words were definitely Latin, she at least knew that, but her skill with the dead language was rusty at best. What she did know was mostly limited to the bastardized phrases that were used in spell-work. Wait a minute─

"A spell," she whispered, now panicked as she finally realized what the words could mean. Someone had cast a spell on her, and now she had a tattoo of sorts on her hand. It was the only explanation she could think of for why there was suddenly a circle of Latin words on her skin.

What if one of the Slytherins got to you? What if they cursed you? Her traitorous mind hissed. She tried to shake the thoughts off. After all, she had been in her dorm all night. How would they have gotten into Gryffindor tower, much less her dorm?

But you weren't in your rooms last night, were you? Her thoughts supplied once more, and then she remembered. Memories from the night before rushed through her mind. She remembered it all, the dream, the walk, the pull towards that weird room and the strange book. And then there had been voices and a bright light.

Oh God! There was no doubt in her mind now. She had been cursed, and possibly possessed. How else could she explain that pull she had felt and how she had found the room in the first place?

"Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no!" This was bad. This was really, really bad. She needed to get this thing off! Reverting to her Muggle ways under her rising anxiety, she called a washcloth to her and began scrubbing away at the words until her skin became red and tender.

A nudge from a wet nose on her thigh brought her back to reality, and the young witch looked down to find her familiar sitting calmly beside her. Under one of his paws was her wand, which he rolled towards her as if to remind her of her magical status.

"Right." Hermione took in a deep shaky breath to steady her nerves and plucked her wand up. She needed to remain calm and keep a level head. You're Hermione Granger, the top witch in your class, you can do this, she reminded herself sternly even as her wand hand still quivered, but she chose to ignore that.

"Thanks, Crookshanks, I needed that." Nodding towards her familiar, she began running cleaning charms, diagnostic charms (just in case it was harming her) and curse breaking charms. Nothing worked, although several of the diagnostic charms indicated that the tattoo wasn't causing her any harm. For now…

"How could this have happened, though?" Hermione rambled while wringing her hands, then stopped, nearly smacking herself in the head to restore her common sense. "No, priorities, Hermione. First, you go to the headmaster and get it off, then you can worry about how it got there," she affirmed.

She wouldn't make the same mistake she had made the other day and try to deal with this on her own. Unfortunately, that meant that she would also have to tell Harry and Ron about this whole mess, too. If the roles were reversed, she would certainly expect it of them.

Quickly shrugging on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she wrapped a cloth around her hand, hiding the black words from sight as a last minute precaution. She nearly ran out of her room, running straight into another body not a second later. Stumbling back, she caught herself on a nearby wall just in time.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," Ginny said, helping her friend to find her balance once more. "Didn't see you there. But it's good that I bumped into you. I was just on my way to wake you up and

"Ginny, thank Merlin! I need your help," Hermione said earnestly, grabbing onto the redhead's hand.

Seeing Hermione's pleading expression, Ginny snapped to attention, worry over taking her features. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Hermione shook her head to clear it, "II think I've been cursed." She paused at her friend's gasp and held up her covered hand to stall any questions. "I can't go into it right now, but I need to find the headmaster. He'll know what to do and how to get this stupid thing off of me."

Becoming the spitting image of the Weasley matriarch, Ginny squared her shoulders and crisply nodded her head, before grabbing Hermione's hand and leading her out of the common room. "Let's go then, we have a lot of ground to cover."

When it became apparent that the headmaster was nowhere to be found, not even in his office, the girls decided to look for Harry and Ron, so they could expand their search party. Hogwarts was a big castle, after all, and the more people that could look, the better. Besides, Hermione knew that they would want to know what was happening to their friend as well.

So the search for the boys and the headmaster continued. Since the girls figured they had gone ahead to breakfast, they headed down to the Great Hall to catch up with the two, but they weren't there. As they were leaving to continue their search, Seamus mentioned seeing them with Neville down at the greenhouses.

Sure enough, as they came upon the school's garden, Hermione spotted two students off in the distance, kneeling in the dirt. One of which had a distinctly fiery head of hair. Hermione smirked. Thank God for those Weasley genes.

"Ginny, look," she pointed towards the clear houses, "there they are."

Ginny squinted her eyes. "Yup, I'd know that red hair anywhere. Come on, let's go see what's going on." The two headed over to the school's gardens to see Harry and Ron both on their knees, tugging at weeds. They made quite a sight. Both were covered with dirt, though Harry seemed to be faring better than Ron. Although his black hair was even more chaotic than usual and his glasses were slightly askew, he looked more put together than Ron, who was red faced, sweating and wrestling with a weed. Ginny walked up behind Harry. "What are you two doing?"

Ron yanked off his gloves and threw them to the ground in frustration. His patience, which was never impressive to begin with, was clearly running low. "I'll tell you what we're doing, we're straining our bloody backs and doing an unholy amount of work when we should be relaxing on our spring hols. That's what we're doing."

Before Ron could go on a proper tirade, Harry stepped in, pushing his glasses back into place. "Neville said he needed our help this morning. Apparently, a bunch of these dock weeds just sprouted up last night out of nowhere, and Professor Sprout has been running in circles trying to get them in hand. She's been getting students to help all day for extra credit." He looked around. "Don't know where Neville went, though, he was just here a second ago."

Ron looked around as well. "Yeah…" he turned to Harry with a sudden smile, "let's get out of here while the coast is clear."

"Ron, we can't just up and go." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Sure we can, watch this." Ron deliberately stood up, dusted himself off and walked off. He turned back around to face them, spreading his arms wide. "See, easy."

"Actually, we came to find you for a reason," Hermione interrupted them, growing impatient. "I need your help."

Harry, about to say something else to Ron, turned towards the two girls, noting for the first time the worry radiating off of them. "Okay, let's go, but first let me tell Neville we had to leave," he said, casting his Patronus and giving it the message to send like Dumbledore had taught them. With the Patronus on its way, Harry cleaned himself off and turned to the girls, following them to a secluded part of the gardens and throwing up a Silencing Charm.

"What's wrong?"

Wringing her hands, Hermione decided to just show them everything and hastily unwrapped the cloth from around her hand. Flexing her fingers and sticking her hand out, palm down, for the others to see, she continued. "I woke up this morning with this on my hand. I don't know what it is exactly, but I think I've been cursed."

"You think you've been cursed? Why aren't you sure?" Harry asked, taking Hermione's hand and twisting it around, trying to read the words. "Did something happen?"

"Well, last night, I had a nightmare, so I went for a walk

"Hermione! You went alone? Are you crazy?!" Ron barked, shaking his head.

Huffing, Hermione glared at Ron, "Look, I know it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I was stressed, okay! Now are you going to let me finish or not?"

A blush swept across Ron's cheeks and he ducked his head, muttering an apology.

"Thank you," Hermione answered primly before nervously looking down at her hand again. "Anyways, I went for a walk when all of a sudden I felt the need to go somewhere and I" the witch hesitated, as the words suddenly clogged in her throat. For some reason, she didn't want to tell them where she went. She didn't want them to know about the mysterious room and the mysterious book. It was slightly irrational, but she tried to convince herself that she didn't want to tell them because she knew they would fly off to the room and possibly be cursed like she was.

It's better to just tell Dumbledore about the room instead, since he'll be able to deal with whatever's in there, she reasoned with herself pushing away the possessive feelings towards the room and the book that had suddenly appeared.

"And you what, Hermione?" Ginny asked, motioning for the older witch to continue.

"Sorry, it's all a little hazy," Hermione replied, mentally cringing at the lie. "But I started to walk and then I just collapsed, blacking out. Next thing I know I'm back in my bed and my hand is decorated with Latin."

If the others were able to see through her lie, Hermione couldn't tell. If anything, they probably thought that her sudden bout of nerves had to do with her new tattoo and not her vague story.

"That doesn't sound good. Do you think it's some kind of dark spell", Ron asked.

"Do you think it's Voldemort?" Harry looked up, a fiery glint in his eyes.

Shaking her head, to clear away her unexpected protectiveness towards the room, she focused on the problem at hand.

The possibility of Voldemort being behind the tattoo couldn't be dismissed. Especially since the school year had been relatively quiet. It seemed they were due for another Voldemort episode. Still, it was hard for her to forget the warmth from last night. Could evil feel so…pleasant?

"I don't know," Hermione mumbled, covering her face, confused and frustrated that she didn't have the answer.

"Does it hurt or anything like that?" Harry asked.

"No, I can't feel anything from it. It's like it's just a regular tattoo sitting on my hand," Hermione answered.

"Well, that's good at least. We still definitely need to see Dumbledore, of course. But at least it's not hurting you." Ginny sighed relieved.

"Yeah, that we know about…" Ron muttered.

"Ron!" Ginny scolded, slapping her brother upside the head.

Hermione got in between the two before their fight could escalate. "No, Ron's right. We don't know if it's dangerous or not, even if it's not an immediate threat right now."

"Shouldn't you go to the infirmary?" Ron asked. "Madame Pomfrey might know how to deal with this."

"No," Harry interrupted, "cursed tattoos aren't really her thing. She would probably just call on Dumbledore anyway."

"That's what I thought," Ginny agreed. "But I haven't seen him yet and we've been keeping an eye out for him all day. We even went by his office," she finished, kicking at a pebble.

"Right, let's go check out his office one more time, then if he's not there, we can talk to McGonagall. She might know where he is," Harry suggested, canceling the Silencing Charm and motioning towards the castle.

"It's Professor McGonagall, Harry," Hermione corrected automatically, making the others shake their heads in exasperation. At least the tattoo wasn't affecting the Gryffindor witch's personality.

Standing in front of the gargoyle protecting the headmaster's office, they realized they had no idea what the password to enter was anymore. Since asking the stone beast if the headmaster was there wasn't working and they knew of Dumbledore's penchant for sweets, they started throwing out the names of as many candies as they could think of.

"Blood Suckers!"

"Berry Fizz-poppers!"

"Chocolate frogs!"

"Lemon drops!"

"Well, I've got nothing," Hermione said, leaning against the wall. As the daughter of two dentists, sweets weren't her forte, even the magical variety. After trying out the hand full of candy names she did know, she was content to watch her friends try cajoling the gargoyle into moving. Eventually, they too ran out of ideas. Not surprisingly, Ron knew the most and was the last of them to throw in the towel.

Ginny sat next to Hermione on the floor. "Now what?"

Hermione answered her. "Now we go to Professor McGonagall, and see if she can help me get this blasted thing off, and if that doesn't work, then I'll ask Professor Snape."

Ron's eyes bulged. "Snape? Why on Earth would you go to that git? Have you gone completely mental?"

Hermione looked down the hallway to make sure it was empty. Just in case, she also whispered a quick "Muffliato".

"That's Professor Snape, Ron, and it's a perfectly reasonable option. He's very knowledgeable about dark arts, so it stands to reason that he'll know what we're dealing with here."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Hermione, he can't be trusted."

Agitated, Hermione sighed, "YOU can't trust him, but I can and do."

"But he's a Death Eater and a third rate bastard!" Ron cried.

"WAS! He was a Death Eater, not is."

Harry scoffed, "He might still be for all we know. I mean, I know that Dumbledore says that we can trust him but

"Exactly!" Hermione cut in, her voice rising considerably. "Professor Dumbledore, the man who knows practically everything that goes on in this school and who is also a very good judge of character, says we can trust him! And that's good enough me. Even if it wasn't, not only does he risk his life daily, spying for the Order, but he's saved our lives, God only knows how many times. And I know you remember how he tried to warn Minister Fudge about Voldermort's return fourth year. Now you tell me, if he was still loyal to Voldermort, why would he try to stop his return?"

"Because he was trying to trick everyone!" Harry persisted stubbornly.

"Oh for the Love" Throwing her hands up, Hermione turned away and began counting to ten to calm herself down before she started banging her head against the wall. This argument, a sore spot between the three friends ever since they learned of the wizard's job for the Order in fourth year, was doomed to go nowhere. No matter how many times she tried to get the boys to see reason and understand that their Potions professor was in fact not evil, they refused to listen. Why do they have to be so stubborn on this?

"Fine, whatever," Hermione relented, saving the argument and headache for another day. "You don't want to trust him, you don't have to. I, however, do, and if there's a chance that he can get this stupid…THING off, then I'm going to take it, whether you approve or not."

Ginny, who up until that moment had decided to remain quiet, spoke up. "I think Hermione's right. That mark and these dreams are serious business, and we need to find a solution. Period. Besides, we'll be right there with her when she goes to him. So even if he does try something sneaky, we'll catch it."

Harry seemed to be wrestling with the idea for a moment, clearly not liking the thought of being anywhere near the dark wizard. Finally, he relented, nodding his consent. "Fine, we go to him, too. But ONLY as a last resort."

Before she could retort that she wasn't really asking for Harry's permission, Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. She reminded herself again that the boys were simply trying to protect her. And although they were being bull-headed arses…well, at least they were bull-headed arses that cared. Besides, now was not the time for fighting. She had to find McGonagall, and if she couldn't find her Head of House, then she would take a trip down to the dungeons, with or without their blessing.

In the end, the choice of which professor to go to was taken out of Hermione's hands when a flying piece of paper shaped as a bird fluttered to Hermione's side and unfolded in her hands. Scanning the content of the note, she had to blink back her surprise. "Well, that settles that I guess," she mumbled.

"What is it?" Ginny asked.

"It's a note from Professor Dumbledore. He wants me to meet him in his office to discuss something." Hermione tucked the note in her pocket.

Ron turned back, looking at the gargoyle they had just left. "Wait, when did he get back to his office?"

Hermione waved him off, "It doesn't matter. He probably came in through his floo. He's the headmaster you know, he can travel through any floo in the castle that he wants."

"Well," Harry pushed, "what does he want to talk about?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, his message didn't say." I wonder if he knows that I need his help, she thought. She wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. The headmaster did have a tendency of knowing absolutely everything that went on inside and outside of the castle.

Waving at her friends and promising to find them after her meeting, Hermione made her way back to the headmaster's office, quickly rewrapping her left hand. This time, the gargoyle was prepared for her and had its wings spread and the stairs to the office raised. She raised her hand to knock on the door. Okay, Hermione, breathe and relax. Just find out what he wants, then tell him what happened. Dumbledore will know what to do.

"Come in," a voice said from inside, beckoning her to enter.

"Hello, Professor." Hermione stepped inside taking the seat he offered. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, how are you, my dear? Licorice snap?"

Hermione declined his offer. "No, thank you, and I've been…good." She answered instead of telling him about her tattoo or the events of last night. She couldn't understand it, but all of a sudden, she didn't want to tell the headmaster about her secret room either. Those same possessive urges that she had felt around her friends welled up once more, pressing her to stay silent.

Could he be trusted? No one should know about the book, a voice spoke softly in the back of her mind. Clenching her covered hand, she took a breath to clear her thoughts. That was silly, though, wasn't it? Of course she could trust the headmaster. He was Albus Dumbledore, one of the most trustworthy people in the world.

If Dumbledore picked up on her hesitancy, he made no mention of it. Instead he picked up a few papers from his desk. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here."

"Yes, sir, I was." And I'm very glad you did.

"Nothing untoward, I assure you. There is simply a small matter of paper work that needs to be taken care of regarding your extra classes this year. How are they going, by the way?" he asked, sliding a stack of parchments her way.

"Very nicely. Nothing I can't handle, of course," she murmured as she read then reread the documents in her hands. "Sir," she put the papers down, "these are age verification forms. Why am I looking at these?"

"Well, Miss Granger, this is the second time you've been given permission to use a Time-Turner and as such, have aged a significant amount. If my calculations are correct, you're turning eighteen this year instead of seventeen."

"I'll be turning nineteen, sir."

"Ah, yes, that's right, your eleventh birthday was right after the start of term."

"Yes, sir. I had to wait another year for my letter."

He pulled at his beard in thought. "No matter, we'll just need to specify that on the form. Now we can't take an official record of your age just yet, since we need the deputy headmistress' signature as well as Poppy's and mine. And unfortunately, I just sent Minerva off to France to handle some business for me," he said with a soft chuckle, laughing at his own private joke. "Poor planning on my part. But she should be back by tomorrow, or the day after by the latest. Then we'll be able to pop over to the Ministry."

"But sir, why do I need to fill the form out at all? The Ministry hasn't made them mandatory for Time-Turner registration last I heard. In fact they're so superfluous that I wouldn't be surprised if the ministry forgot they even existed."

The headmaster smiled benignly. "That may be so. Nevertheless, the law is the law and even suggested forms need to be taken care of if Hogwarts is to maintain a cordial relationship with the Ministry and be a model for the rest of the wizarding community. Wouldn't you agree?"

There was something in the way Professor Dumbledore said the last part with a slight twinkle in his eye that gave Hermione pause. Try as she might, she couldn't picture the headmaster over extending himself to make sure the Ministry was happy, especially when he seemed to take an unusual amount of glee from running circles around Minister Fudge in particular. No, something else was going on. She just had no idea what it was.

Dumbledore continued without waiting for her answer. "I also wanted to make sure that you'd be staying for the break. Minerva put you down on the list, of course, but it never hurts to double check."

Snapping out of her thoughts, she confirmed, "Yes, I am."

"Good, good! That makes this much easier. Regardless of your age, as a student you're still the responsibility of the school. So a professor has to travel with you when you leave school grounds, which I'm sure Minerva would be happy to volunteer for."

"Um okay, thank you." Hermione gathered up the papers, then hesitated again.

This time, the headmaster didn't let it go. Instead, he leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk as he took in the Gryffindor's nervous state. "I know this has taken you by surprise, so if there is anything you want to ask, anything at all, please feel free to do so." He looked down past the papers at her covered hand pointedly.

When Hermione, again, felt the urge to stay silent, Dumbledore nodded as if he understood what was happening to her, before getting up from his chair. "Miss Granger, I believe I have something that you would find interesting. If you would stay there a moment."

Shuffling around his room, he stopped in front of an old rose wood cabinet that looked as if it hadn't been opened for ages. Spelling it open with his wand, Dumbledore proceeded to sift through the clutter inside of the piece of furniture until he finally came upon an old framed picture.

"Ah! Here it is," the headmaster exclaimed, moving to stand in front of Hermione once more. Gazing down at the picture fondly, he then handed it to the young witch and leaned against his desk waiting, expectantly for her reaction.

Hermione of course did not disappoint. With a gasp, she clutched at the frame taking in the familiar features of the beautiful young woman who had been haunting her dreams for weeks. It was a simple pencil drawing, and so, Hermione was unable to see if the woman's eyes were the same blue she always dreamt about or if her hair was the same golden hue, but that didn't matter. There was no doubt in her mind that her dream woman and this woman were the same person.

"Who─", Hermione gulped, "who is she?" She traced the woman's severe mouth, with a shaky finger.

"That, my dear, is Fera Rosier. A student that attended Hogwarts during Headmaster Trimble's tenure. She was a true prodigy. Absolutely brilliant in every field she delved into," Dumbledore sighed, "She went on to do her own private research after school and would have undoubtedly been an incomparable asset to the wizarding world."

"Would have been, sir?" Hermione asked, though she had a feeling she knew how Fera's story would end.

"Hmm, yes. Five years after her graduation, she inexplicably disappeared. No one knew what had happened to her. A few weeks later, her mother died of heartbreak, as the story says...a truly tragic ending."

Dumbledore moved back to sit behind his desk. "Yes, truly unfortunate. It was well known that she had just reached a breakthrough in one of her projects as well. But when her house was searched later, all of her notes had been burned to ash. Very mysterious, wouldn't you say, Miss Granger?" The headmaster glanced at Hermione with a knowing look.

A memory of a dream flashed in Hermione's mind of a woman standing over a fire, angry tears streaking down her face.

Hermione's grip on the picture frame tightened painfully. If that dream was true, then how much of the other dreams were true as well? Had Fera been trying to escape? Had she really been captured and tied to that altar for that weird ritual with the book? And what about that man she had called father?

Hermione gasped, straightening in her seat. "Professor, what about Fera's father?"

The headmaster's gaze sharpened. "Why do you wish to know about him?"

"Um, well," she averted her eyes, "well, you had mentioned her mother, but you never said anything about her father."

"Of course," Dumbledore murmured, accepting her answer, though Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that he saw straight through her lie. He knows more about what's going on than he's telling me.

"To answer your question," he continued, "Colten married again a year later and spent the rest of his life attempting to join Hogwarts Board of Governors. He claimed that he wanted to be close to the place his daughter had most cherished."

"Why was he never allowed on the Board?" Hermione asked, knowing full well that the Rosiers had been and still were a prestigious Pureblood family. And considering how Purebloods practically ran and had run the wizarding world for thousands of years, she was a little shocked that he hadn't gotten the position he craved.

"Ah, yes, it seemed that although Headmaster Trimble had a valued relationship with Fera and her mother, it did not extend to the rest of the Rosier line. In fact, he did not get along with Colten at all, and used his considerable influence in the wizarding community to bar him from the Board. Headmaster Trimble would not even allow the man to step foot in Hogwarts. It was quite the spectacle." Dumbledore finished with a gentle smile.

Hermione's mind was whirling with all this new information. Headmaster Trimble must have known about Fera's research and her father's part in her disappearance. But why would he stop him from coming into the school? He couldn't have been doing it just because he didn't like the man. No, it had to be something else…Perhaps he was trying to keep the man away from something.

Hermione looked down into Fera's serious eyes as the answer dawned on her. The book, the room! That's why her father wanted to get into Hogwarts, and Headmaster Trimble was probably trying to keep him away. But what could he want from the book? Could it be the research that Fera was working on, the one he was trying to steal from her in the dream?

"You seem to be in deep thought," Dumbledore said softly, reminding her of his presence.

Trying to play off mayhem of thoughts that were storming around in her mind, she instead deflected as best she could. "I am…confused. I am trying to find answers, but every time I answer one question, another comes up that leaves me baffled, and it is frustrating."

The headmaster's eyes crinkled in soft laughter. "I can sympathize with that feeling well enough." Standing up to walk to the young Gryffindor's side, he grabbed her covered hand. When she went to tug it back, he stopped her.

"Do not worry, Miss Granger, I have no need to steal your secrets. Keep them close, they're important."

"Are they?" Hermione asked, hoping beyond hope that the Headmaster could shed some light on her situation. "Even if they might be dangerous or evil?"

Dumbledore tenderly placed her hand back in her lap with a smile. "Miss Granger, I doubt any secret you hold could ever be considered evil or dangerous to the ones you love. Do they feel evil?"

Hermione bit her lip. "No, they don't, but I don't understand them either way."

"Hm," the headmaster hummed, "what is misunderstood is often mistaken for what is evil, but that is not always the case. In fact, I would argue, in most cases, it is the exact opposite."

Hermione looked down at her covered hand, at once relieved and anxious. She was hoping that she was interpreting what the headmaster was saying correctly. If she was, then the mystery of this tattoo was only just the beginning. But at least she now knew that she hadn't been cursed or anything bad. Even if Professor Dumbledore hadn't said it out right, he hinted at it, and that was good enough for her. She trusted the wizard beyond a shadow of a doubt.

And to top it off, he had given her a place to start her own research. She now had a name to go with the face that had haunted her for so long and a possible explanation for the room that she was taken to last night.

Grabbing her bag, she stood up to go, eager to get started in the library. "Thank you, headmaster, this has been very enlightening."

"Indeed, it has, but a word of advice before you go? If I may?" Dumbledore called out to her before she could leave.

"Of course, Headmaster," Hermione responded, turning back.

"There comes a time in life when you are presented with a rare opportunity to do good. Should you ever find yourself in such a position, I would hope that you take it. You never know, you might find not only the answers to your questions, but the solution to an even graver problem," he said calmly, his eyes steadily watching her.

A wave of understanding passed between headmaster and student, and Hermione suddenly realized that whatever was happening to her was bigger than she had originally thought. "Thank you, sir. If that moment should come, I'll remember your words."

Dumbledore smiled, his wise eyes twinkling with secrets. "Then I wish you good luck, Miss Granger."

Nodding, Hermione left.

A/N: I do love Dumbledore and his mysterious ways. You probably can't sneeze within that castle without him somehow knowing about it and showing up around the corner with a Kleenex. And of course then he would walk away after saying something very cryptic and ominous about your bed sheets-but then again, everyone needs a hobby.

And now, thanks to McGonagall's Bola, the latin has been fixed so it actually makes sense and is no longer talking about bread. It now basically means: 'Blood lover, break the seal. The Master has forgotten to lift the curse. Now, be the protecter of the door.'

And of course, don't forget to review!