The Hunted
Chapter 3: Her Purpose
"Who is she?"
"Where'd she come from?"
"What's she doing here?"
Hermione listened to the hushed comments as she followed the first years up to stand in front of everyone in the great hall. She nervously tucked a stray curl behind her ear and her delicate eyebrows furrowed worriedly. As Hermione walked past, Lily gave her a huge grin, James gave her a thumbs up sign, and Sirius gave her a little wave. She smiled nervously at the all. Hermione was really concerned. Sure, she was a Gryffindor in HER time. But there was no knowing what the sorting hat was capable of.
Reaching the front, Hermione stood at the end of the line of wee little first years. Looking at their equally nervous faces, Hermione remembered when she had first been sorted. She had thought she was going to have to wrestle a troll, or perform a complicated incantation in front of everyone and had felt like she was going to pass out. Hermione shook herself, Dumbledore was starting up the speeches and she needed to listen.
"Hello. To some, welcome to Hogwarts. To others, welcome back. I hope you're brains are all rested up and ready to absorb the bountiful information your professors will be supplying you with. I would like to call upon Professor McGonagall to present the first years."
Hermione narrowed her eyes, looking at Dumbledore curiously. He seemed a bit worn around the edges. The old wizards eyes didn't have the same sparkle that they usually did, and he looked exhausted, as though he needed a years worth of sleep. Something was wrong. Hermione could sense it, she didn't know how she could, but she just knew.
Professor McGonagall whisked up in front of the first years and started the shpeal. "When I call your name, you will come and sit on this stool, and I shall place the sorting hat on your head. Then you will be sorted into your houses. We have an exchange student from another school. Miss Richardson, why don't you come up and we'll sort you first."
Hermione edged towards the hat, not looking forward to it scanning her brain. Sitting stiffly on the stool, Hermione looked ahead and saw hundreds of eyes staring at her. She shivered slightly and then the hat was dropped over her head. All she could see was the black, dirty fabric that the hat was made of.
And then the sorting hats' voice filled her mind. "Hello Miss Granger."
Hermione gripped the side of the stool tightly.
"Does this not feel like deja vu to you as well? It seems that you've had a little bit of an accident. As terrible and life altering as that must be, I can see where your loyalties lie. GRYFFINDOR!"
Hermione heard the hat yell the last word out loud and broke into a great smile. She had been worried over nothing. Ripping the hat off her head, Hermione went to join a cheering Sirius, Lily, James, Melanie, Peter and Remus. Slipping in between Sirius and Remus, Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder.
She turned to face Sirius.
"Well done," he congratulated her.
Hermione laughed and threw her arms around him. She had honestly not known what she would do if the hat had sorted her in to any of the other houses. Sirius seemed surprised, but accepted the hug, squeezing her lightly. She seemed to be very troubled, but happy. Sirius wanted to know what Amaya was troubled with. He wanted to help her.
Later…
Hermione ran hesitantly down the winding stonewalled hallway leading to the dungeons. The torches on the wall sparked threateningly, telling her to turn back. But she didn't.
She came to a narrow staircase and flew carelessly down, taking the steps two at a time. Coming to the bottom, there was a dead end. Hermione grabbed the torch on the wall next to her and pushed at the dead end wall with all her might. It made a crunching noise and crumbled to dust. All Hermione could see was dark in the cavern ahead of her, so she stuck out the torch and plunged into the darkness.
It was an old tomb. The walls were covered in vines, moss and decay. In the very middle was a large stone casket. It stood on top of a platform, open, and had a little flight of stairs leading up to it. Hermione didn't want to look in it but her feet pulled her forward. As she walked, her feet kicked up the strange reddish dirt on the floor, creating little dust clouds. Hermione approached the few steps and climbed them. Reaching the top, she peered inside the casket and gasped.
Inside it was a horrible looking creature. It was in the shape of a man, but was so thin it could have been a skeleton. Its skin was a ghostly pale color and its slits for nostrils flared, as it smelled Hermione and its eyes flashed open.
Hermione screamed and fell backwards down the stairs and into the dirt. She now knew what the creature was.
It was Voldemort.
Voldemort sat up and turned to face her. His gleaming red eyes focused on her and Hermione felt like he could see right into her soul. Voldemort stood up and stepped out of his casket and onto the platform that it was placed on.
Hermione tried to pull herself to her feet, but a hand shot out of the dirt and grabbed her hand. Hermione shrieked and yanked herself free. Looking around, she saw hands bursting out of the dirt. Dead people were pulling themselves out of the ground making terrible moaning sounds.
Hermione whirled around searching for a way to escape. But it seemed impossible. Everywhere she looked, dead things were pulling themselves up through red dirt clouds. She was surrounded. The moldy, half skeletons, half people wrapped there disgusting fingers around her arms and lifted her over to Voldemort.
"NO!" Hermione screamed, "HELP ME! SOMEONE HEEEEEEEELP!"
But no one came. She was to far away for anyone to hear her pleas. Dropping her at Voldemort's feet, the dead people stood back a ways, wavering from side to side, waiting to see what would happen.
Hermione's breathing was harsh and she felt as if her heart was going to fall out of her chest. Her nostrils flared as the scent of death came close to choking her.
"Do you know why you are here?" Voldemort inquired. His strong voice echoing throughout the crypt.
Hermione's voice quavered as she replied, "I was brought here."
"No, you stupid girl," Voldemort rasped, "I mean why are you on this earth? What is your purpose?"
Hermione shook her head, "I don't know."
Voldemort laughed. A cold, evil laugh. He mocked her, "You don't know what is to become of you? Why you were placed here? Its all for a reason. And now you will never find out." Hermione heard Voldemort's cackle again and then everything vanished in a bright blaze of green light.
Hermione jerked awake, breathing sharply. She covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out Voldemort's evil laugh that was still echoing through her mind.
"Merlin." Hermione murmured to herself. Why did she keep having these dreams? What did they mean? And what was Voldemort talking about…her purpose…what was her purpose?
Shakily, Hermione pulled on some clothes and walked out of her dorm, down to the common room, and out the porthole. She was going to Dumbledore. That was all there was too it. There had been no chance to speak to him in regards to the attack on the train after the feast. Hermione had decided she would wake up early, before classes began, to speak with the professor, but she needed help right now and she knew that Dumbledore could give it.
Reaching the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the professors office, Hermione, knowing Dumbledore's fondness for sweets, started throwing out random names. "Chocolate frog, ice mice, Bertie Bott's every flavored beans, licorice wands…cauldron cakes."
The eagle suddenly leapt aside to reveal a staircase leading upwards. Hermione took a deep breath before stepping forward. She followed the stairs up to a big oak door, which had a massive brass knocker on it. Reaching forward, Hermione snapped the knocker down a few times before pulling back and waiting. After a few minutes, the door creaked open, revealing Professor Dumbledore, looking quite dazed, standing there in a night cloak.
"Miss Gr-Richardson, what a surprise. Would you like to come in?"
Hermione smiled quickly before following him into his office.
"Would you like to sit?" Dumbledore asked gesturing to a beautiful white wooden chair with deep red plush fabric on the seat. Hermione shook her head and stood awkwardly, watching Dumbledore fiddle around with the bits and bobs on his desk before sitting down on his own magnificent chair and turned to speak with her. "Chocolate frog?" he offered, holding one out to her. Hermione took it without looking, and didn't eat it. After another pause he cleared his throat and spoke, "I assume that you had a compelling reason to visit me during this late hour, Miss Richardson?"
"Err…yes, that is, if you'll be willing to listen. I know it's late, sorry, but it was sort of just a random deciding of things and wanting to tell," Hermione rambled on, not able to stop herself. She was really nervous.
Dumbledore smiled and cut off her constant babble, "why don't you just tell me what you want to say. Don't worry about the lateness of this visit; I hardly sleep these days."
Hermione took a deep breath before starting, "I've been having some severely strange dreams lately. About…Voldemort and other things," Hermione waited for Dumbledore to flinch but he did not so she continued, "and I know for a fact these aren't just normal dreams."
"What exactly happens in these dreams, Miss Richardson?" the professor asked.
"Well, there are two that keep repeating themselves quite often. In the first one, I'm in a graveyard, and I kill a vampire. Actually, I stake him through his heart and he explodes into dust."
"You stake a vampire?"
"Yes sir. In the second one, I'm running down a hallway in the dungeons and bust through a dead end. And there's this enormous tomb inside, and I see a coffin so I step over to it and inside is Voldemort. Then he wakes up and all these dead people start crawling out of the ground. The dead people drag me over to Voldemort and he starts rambling on about my 'purpose' and how stupid I am because I don't know what it is. In the end I see a flash of green light and it's over."
Hermione finished telling the professor about her dreams and then glanced at him anxiously. She peered over at Fawkes, whose beautiful red, gold and orange feathers seemed to be going a bit limp. It must be near burning time, Hermione thought.
Dumbledore looked at her over the top of his glasses rather strangely, "I believe I have found you."
Hermione's face twisted into a frown, "What?"
The professor seemed to be mumbling to himself more then actually talking or even focusing on Hermione. "It all fits…finally…prophecy…"
Hermione raised her voice a bit. "Excuse me?"
Dumbledore looked up expectantly.
"Can you tell me what's going on here? What fits? What prophecy?"
Dumbledore seemed to be just seeing Hermione for the first time. "Miss Richardson, there has always been evil forces in the world."
"I know," Hermione complied. What is he getting at?
"I believe you do understand, but there is something that you do not know. In every generation there is one girl, one girl in all the world who hunts these evil forces down and stops the spread of their evil in the places where the swell."
Hermione didn't like the way this was headed. "And…"
Dumbledore cleared his throat before continuing, "I believe that you are this girl. You are the chosen one. The one who had the strength to beat back the evil forces, the slayer, as she is called-"
Dumbledore was cut off by some soft laughter. He turned to look at Hermione. She was leaning against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.
"Hermione?" Dumbledore asked.
Hermione's head snapped down to look at him and she started jabbering at him, "I'm not-your crazy-how on earth-"
Dumbledore grimaced; he had known she wouldn't take this well. "Hermione, I need you to concentrate-"
"How do you expect me to concentrate when your telling me that I'm not just who I am but I'm also some strange person-"
"Slayer."
"What?"
"The term is slayer. That is what you are. Your purpose is now to fight the evil forces of the world. Most commonly, vampires. You are this generations vampire slayer," Dumbledore explained.
Hermione threw her hands up in the air, "Are you serious? I don't care! You know, I always had suspicions about you and you have just proved them right. You are twittering mad! How can I be a slayer? How do you know it's me? It could be anyone!" Hermione stood up and tromped towards the door muttering about time turners and lunatics.
"Will you at least look at the prophecy?"
Hermione whirled around, "What prophecy?"
Dumbledore sighed. "The prophecy that says you are the vampire slayer. Prophecies don't lie. I think you will be quite convinced if you see the prophecy."
Hermione grumbled, but sat down as Dumbledore shuffled around, looking for the prophecy. Finally he uncovered something that looked like a glass tennis ball, in Hermione's opinion. Upon a closer look, she saw small films of gold swirling around inside it.
Holding out his hand, Dumbledore passed it to her. The second it touched her fingers and rolled to the center of her palm a fierce wind blew through Dumbledore's office. The candles flickered, then blew out and the only light came from the sliver of moon that shone through the window. Whispering voices filled the office and Hermione gasped.
'It is she. We have finally found her. The one. The vampire slayer. Chosen. One in the entire world. She will save us. She will fight. It is her; Hermione Granger.'
As soon as the voices had come, they were gone.
Hermione swallowed and handed the prophecy back to Dumbledore. As he tucked it away safely, she slumped back in her chair. Dumbledore dragged his chair over beside hers and plopped himself down.
"So…I'm a vampire slayer?" Hermione inquired lightly.
"Yes."
"What will I have to do?" Hermione wanted to know more. If this was her purpose, what would she be doing, and what would happen to her life?
Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "I know you have lots of questions, but I would like to ask you to hold off with them until tomorrow, when you'll be meeting your watcher."
"My wa-"
"Yes, you watcher is the person who will prepare you for what is about to come. I want you to report back to my office, tomorrow morning at 8, and be ready to meet him, okay?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows slightly.
"What about classes professor?"
Dumbledore placed his hand gently on her shoulder and spoke to the stunned teen in a lightly amused voice, "I am sure I can think of some excuse or another to excuse you from your classes for the day."
Hermione nodded jerkily and stood up. "Professor, I just remembered. There was something I came here to tell you."
"I would suggest you should get back to bed and have a good nights sleep. I'm sure that whatever is bothering you can wait until the morrow," giving Hermione a quick grin, he led her to the doorway and watched her walk shakily down the hallway, absorbing what had just been forced on her.
Everyone's fates were in her hands.
A/N: Hello again, gentle readers. I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Thank you to The Essence of- for your review. I appreciate hearing what you think. :)