Author's Note: I told you I'd make it up to you and update soon. :3 I do apologize about the time bouncing a bit, I've a terrible habit of that. And if I am far too insulting in my lack of geographical knowledge… uh, I have no excuse. I should have paid attention more in world geography back in middle school, I suppose. Google Earth helps, though. :B
Disclaimer: With a heavy heart, I regret to inform you that I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters affiliated with him.
Act IV
In which, Hermione Granger teaches history
‡
It was the first week of summer vacation for Hogwarts.
Hermione Granger steered her little scooter along the winding roads outside of Pizzorne with a smile on her face and a heart lighter than it should have any right to be. She even tilted her head back just a bit as she came upon a straight stretch of road and laughed, speeding up a little.
Tom Riddle could not escape past a certain point away from her. There was a leash to his proximity.
Laughter bubbled up in her again as she rounded a curve. She sincerely hoped that this yanked him about on his ethereal tether.
She had just known this vacation would be good for her.
Flicking her eyes towards the horizon, she noted the setting sun and her mirth died. Pulling a face, she began steering her scooter back towards the small bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the magical community that was several kilometers outside of Pizzorne, within sprawling mountain ranges. Riddle couldn't fully appear in full sunlight, but he would show his presence just as soon as dusk fell.
‡
"Where are we?" came the baffled, otherworldly voice from behind her.
Hermione turned from the railing of the balcony just off her suite, arching an eyebrow before turning back to the view of mountains, and in the distance, she could just barely make out the winking lights of Pizzorne proper.
"Basilisco di dormire. It's a rather small inn, just outside of Magia, the oldest wizarding community in Italy."
"Italy?"
She turned her head again and her smirk broadened.
"Didn't you notice us apparating to Lucca and then coming here?"
"No," the ghost responded stonily.
"Ah, so sunlight really is your kryptonite."
"My what?"
"Kryptonite. You've not heard of it? It's a very rare substance that can leech all of the strength and power out of a person."
Riddle's eyes widened, and then he started to look crafty… as expected. Hermione threw her head back and laughed, causing the spirit's eyes to widen again, and then narrow in fury.
"Kidding, Riddle. It's fictional, and from a Muggle comic book."
"I'm not amused, Granger," he spat.
"I am."
She left it at that as she slowly sank into one of the wrought iron chairs on the balcony, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze that smelled of dinner cooking downstairs via the bed and breakfast's matron, and soft dew settling on the trees as evening turned fully into night. She didn't feel on edge.
She hadn't for a while.
Hermione wasn't positive when Riddle's arguments on her Transfiguration research had gone from infuriating her to challenging her to debate, or when his rambling diatribes against the universe, her personally, her as a stand in for all Muggleborns, or the institution of Hogwarts had become white noise that she was accustomed to, or even when their insults had begun to amuse her. She'd grown used to answering his questions regarding things that were foreign and novel to him, as his consciousness had shifted from so long ago. It was sometime in the past month, before school let out, but she couldn't put her finger on a precise moment. She was beginning to think that psychosis was setting in.
She opened her eyes when she heard him speak.
"It's so much better than England, and Scotland. Does the entire world have it so much better than Hogwarts?"
She occasionally forgot how young this Riddle was, and smiled condescendingly.
"I don't think Death Valley would agree."
"Death Valley?"
"A desert in America. I believe there's another wizarding community near there, since it's so isolated."
"Why is it so isolated?"
"Because, Riddle, it is a valley full of death."
Silence reigned as the young Riddle fumed at Hermione, while she grinned unrepentantly. Reaching onto the table for the vial of black pain potion, she uncorked it and downed it swiftly, grimacing as she reached for her glass of Chianti, taking a long, slow sip. She almost choked as the icy wind passed through her veins, signifying that Riddle had just passed through her. She glowered down at him as his form sat crossed legged, hovering just off the ground and an inch away from the wall.
"Why do you insist on doing that?"
"Because it bothers you, Mudblood."
"Well, at least chivalry isn't dead."
‡
Hermione woke up feeling churlish indeed. Her hand was tangled in her hair, and she noted that her leg was throbbing painfully as she extricated her fingers. Swinging her legs off the edge of the ridiculously plush bed, she rose painfully and limped heavily as she walked to the bathroom without her cane.
Turning on the water, she undressed and stared at the webbing of black veins on her leg, and the sunken muscle on her hip. An unknown curse. An unknown cure. Her fingers traced a line of black spidering up to her hip bone, until the steam rising from the shower cubicle informed her that the water was hot.
It only took the efficient witch five minutes to be out of the shower, and only a further three to be dried off and dressed.
Snatching her cane from the bedside table, she ambled out the door, grabbing the keys to her scooter as she went. She nodded her goodbye to the matron, declined a hearty breakfast- much to the grandmotherly woman's distress. The silver haired woman reminded Hermione of Molly Weasley in that she took personal insult to Hermione's thinness whilst residing under her roof.
Research was more important than food, and the beleaguered witch didn't think added weight would alleviate her hampered gait.
Mounting the scooter with more than a little pain, she set off on her way.
‡
Hermione lurched a little as she appeared in Pisa from the apparition point in Magia, and watched for a moment as more witches and wizards appeared as if from thin air, and waved their wands at themselves to appear in a semblance of Muggle clothing. She wasn't certain why she'd lingered in Magia for the better part of the day, but she now cursed herself as she realized it was nearly sunset. She could only hope that Riddle had sense enough not to appear in the middle of a busy Muggle city.
As the sun went down, she was relieved when only a voice found its way next to her, disembodied. A quick, wandless muffliato fixed any issues that might cause.
"Where are we now, Granger?" The voice sounded peeved.
"Follow me, and you might get a surprise," she sneered, in a voice that implied, It doesn't matter, I'm the captain of this ship.
And she hobbled down the paved streets.
Hermione should have been used to the stares, but she now realized that everyone at Hogwarts except first years within the first few weeks no longer stared at her. And Diagon Alley was used to her.
Muggle Pisa was not used to her.
She felt a ruddy color creeping hot on her cheeks as she felt the eyes track her limping progress, but kept her head high and her eyes flashing bright with confidence as she tossed her bushy mane over her shoulder.
"If you're trying not to attract attention, Granger, you may want to avoid swinging that nest of Devil's Snare on your head."
The right side of Hermione's lip twitched in vague amusement even as her brows snapped into a furrowed scowl.
She walked in silence for fifteen minutes, and then stopped before the monument, smiling as she craned her head to see all of the magnificent structure.
The leaning tower of Pisa was breath taking at night. All of the lights illuminated its architecture in stark relief against the velvet night sky.
"What is this?"
She decided against mocking the awe in his voice.
"The leaning tower of Pisa."
"Why is it leaning?"
"When the Muggle's attempted to force all witches and wizards found into Christianity, a young wizard named Victus Aiolfo suggested they play along so that they wouldn't have to go into complete hiding. He promised the church that he and his family would help build a magnificent bell tower for the new cathedral. As you can imagine, they weren't exactly caring about the quality of their work... It's foundation is weak, and the soil is as well," she regurgitated the facts she recalled.
"How much magic does it take to light this?"
"It's not magic, it's electricity."
And that was how Hermione Granger spent her second night in Italy explaining how a magically built structure managed to allow electricity to function to the ghost of Tom Riddle as they circled the monuments amongst the square.
‡
She apparated to Paris after a day of meandering down the canals of Venice.
Leisurely limping through the streets, she sampled some coffee and pastries as she waited for the sun to set.
When it did, she only heard her last name tersely said, but she put up a muffliato as before and began walking slowly towards her destination. As they came upon the structure, she smiled beatifically at it, craning her neck and squinting her eyes against the sky blushing with the setting sun.
"What's this?"
"The Eiffel Tower."
"What a strange design."
"It's an arch way."
"For what?"
"It was built to be an entry, to be passed through on the way to a world's fair."
Silence reigned for several minutes. Hermione assumed he was admiring the structure lit up against the darkening sky, as she was.
"Would you care to go up?"
"No."
"… Really?"
"This is ridiculous. Can't you see these ridiculous Muggle contraptions during the day, and leave me in peace at night?" he hissed, and she saw a faint glimmer beside her spark into life, and then fade into nothingness again. "Only a filthy Muggle would waste so much time and space on what amounts to a doorway. And only a stupid Mudblood would waste so much time coming to gawk at it."
Hermione had thought wrong.
Her smile faded into a tight lipped, closed expression. As the night darkened around them, so too, did her face. After perhaps twenty minutes of glowering at the unique shape lit up against the Paris night life, she turned sharply and began limping silently back towards the apparition point.
"Mudblood, where on earth are you storming off to now? Granger!"
She kept walking.
And that was how Hermione Granger apparated back to her inn, and spent her third night in Italy in a bed warded against ghosts and any external noise, reading a book about Paris, while the translucent but strangely more substantial Tom Riddle silently mouthed argumentatively outside of the invisible barrier.
She didn't spend a fourth night.
She ended her vacation early and went home to Hogwarts, and resumed researching her magical equations, and books regarding hauntings.
She'd grown rather lax over the past month, but she was more than making up for that now.
She didn't notice that the more irritated she grew over Riddle, the less she seemed capable of dealing with the pain of her leg, and the more she drank of her black potion against the warnings of Severus Snape. Nor did she notice that he ended their arguments he started after she took the potion by storming through her, a jarring sensation.
Even after they'd resumed their bickering, hostile relationship from prior to the vacation, she still didn't notice that each time he whisked through her, he was fractionally brighter.
All Hermione noticed was that she still hated Lord Voldemort with all of her soul, but if you asked her about Tom Riddle, she would hesitate before she would confirm that yes, she did hate him.
