AN: Hey, just thought I'd let you know how her new name is pronounced; Aila is a different spelling of Isla sounds like eye-la though you probably knew that part. MacLean sounds like Mac-lane.Both are Scottish names:D There's no many Scottish people in the books which i dinny thinks fair :D so I thought I'd turn Hermione inty one (H) oh yeah, Anyhow on with the story? - SKRx

September 3rd was turning out to be a bad day. Her mother had died a few days ago and now she had been buried her remaining family were sending her away to an orphanage in London. Not that she cared much; she didn't like them any more than they liked her. So it was without a backward glance that she had walked away from her grandmother as soon as the squeeze of apparition had stopped and walked up the front steps of the orphanage. Being ushered inside she told them her grandfather had contacted them to tell them she was coming. His excuse had been that they couldn't afford to look after their beautiful granddaughter and thought this was the best way. Liar, the real reason was that they were scared of her; they thought when she went to live with them six months ago she would be a normal little girl who could be brought up and taught there ways, boy where they wrong. What they got was a beautiful little girl with a cold, hard glint in her eye, like a person who had seen too much. She had refused point blank to buy into their beliefs about muggleborns and muggles. They often caught her doing complex wandless magic, it was nearly unheard of for a child to be able to control their power at such a young age. And she had power, more than was normal, they could feel it rolling off her in waves, it scared them. They had only kept their silence because her mother had loved her; even if she didn't show it and barley knew her.

You see Aila Raine MacLean wasn't a normal girl, not by a long shot. Her father William MacLean had died before she was born. Her mother, Silene Noir, was heartbroken and claimed she could not look after her daughter so went home to her family in France leaving her baby girl with Williams' parents in Scotland. They doted on the little girl. They were happy, they taught her all the proud history of the MacLean's, they where an old Scottish family and she was the only heir. They told her about her father and her mother, who she got visits from every few years. They also told her she was a witch; of course she already knew that. You see Aila was far more different than anyone realised. She had the memories, feelings, intelligence and skills from a past life, a past life from the future.

Confused yet? Let's explain, she was Hermione Granger reincarnate basically. The odd thing was Hermione wasn't born until 1979 only to reach the age of 18 before she sacrificed herself in hopes of a better future. From what she got from the last memories, Aila wouldn't have existed if she hadn't, so she was kind of glad she had. When she first got the memories she wasn't sure if she was Aila or Hermione, she later decided that she was a mixture of both. While they were both intelligent Aila didn't care much in the way of always learning more as Hermione did. Where Hermione was a stickler for rules and respect for adults, Aila thought rules where there to be broken and respect was to be earned. But her soul was also Hermione's' soul, she knew and missed Harry and Ron, her heart ached for Sirius, Hermione had a crush. Yes she was both.

She was brought out of her musings by the matron showing her to a room, she told Aila only two of them would stay in this hall, her and a boy who was off at boarding school until June. Thank god, she didn't like children; they were so innocent and, well cutesy. She wasn't, she knew loss and pain, and she knew war and what it was like to be tortured into near insanity. She could understand snakes but not speak to them. She had killed. She decided she should probably pay more attention to what the woman was saying,

"...and you'll be expected to do chores just like the other children, just because you're new doesn't mean you'll get special attention, you're here for the same reason as everyone else, you're parents are dead or they didn't want you." She was still going on but Aila had tuned her out now, anger bubbling. That woman was an insensitive bitch. Her mother had died just two days ago. She knew she was not going to get along with this woman. It's going to be a long seven years she thought.

"Right, I've got it ma'am, could ye leave now I'd rather like to get myself situated." She sneered at the matron, interrupting her no doubt fascinating speech; she gave an inaudible snort at that. Ignoring the hard glare the older female was sending her she gave a dismissive wave of her hand and walked into what would be her room until she came of age. Looking around distastefully she set her bags down beside her bed and looked back to the door where matron was still standing glaring daggers at her, "was there something else you wanted sir? Oh shit, i meant ma'am." Biting her lip she probably looked the picture of innocence, her long red blonde curls framing her face, her pale blue green eyes wide and her alabaster skin almost glowing. In reality she was biting her lip to keep in her giggles at the woman's reddening face.

"Why you little, you, y you, now listen here princess," she sneered the word princess as if it was the cause of all her problems, "you will not get away with being a snotty little bitch, you will not back chat and you will do chores, any cheek or rule breaking and there'll be punishment got it?" She clearly thought Aila was going to be scared, Merlin she had a lot to learn.

"Of course ma'am wouldn't dream of it." She replied sarcasm heavy in her voice, a smirk on her face. She decided to play with matron's mind a bit and released a wave of magic at the woman, making sure it was malicious and dangerous feeling. She saw the woman stiffen, her eyes widen and her breathing become erratic. Letting up on the magic Aila said in a sickly sweet voice, "Are you okay Ma'am, you look awful pale, maybe you should go lie down."

"Yes, yes I think I'll do that." Said the old woman, her voice quivering with suppressed fear, of course she didn't know why she was so scared but she knew Aila was dangerous, a lot like that freak boy. She paled further at this and skittered out the room like a mouse being chased by a hungry cat. Finally alone Aila sank back on her bed and went through her old memories again, she had seen them all but she wanted to go through them all and get as much details as possible from them. She was on the 6th year ones at the moment, Harry's lessons with Dumbledore. The ones about Tom Riddle, he would be 12 right now if she had her facts right, going to be 13 this year, his second year at Hogwarts.

Turning her thoughts to Hogwarts she wondered what house she would be in, she was in Gryffindor last time and her father had been in Ravenclaw according to her nana and her mum had went to Beauxbatons. She thought she would be Ravenclaw or Slytherin. She was intelligent, incredibly so but she wasn't all about learning more, no she was about surviving and either changing Riddle or killing him and she would do one of those, even if it killed her. Most likely Slytherin then, they'd probably try to put her down, get her to leave or something for being a half blood. She snorted dryly at that, they wouldn't know what hit them.

Deciding she should probably make sure she knew all possible exits and hideouts, her war instincts coming out to play, she spent the next few days exploring every inch of the joint.

---

She had been in this shit hole for almost ten months now and desperately wished September would come around so she could leave. The boy across the hall was due home today; she'd have to share her floor. From what she had gathered from the whispering of the other children, he was a handsome boy but stuck to himself, that was good, she wouldn't have to scare him into leaving her alone. Little Amy seemed frightened of him and nobody mentioned him by name, they just referred to him as 'Him', reminded her of Voldemort. That made her think, what if this mysterious boy was Riddle, she paled at the thought, she was not ready, she thought she had until September to be ready. On the outside she looked bored and indifferent to the little bastards around her, on the inside was a different matter entirely, she was sure she was having a panic attack, she calmly got up from her chair and left to lock herself in her room.

Leave the doors open during the day, she hated that rule, the chatter drifted upstairs, she missed having friends she thought with a pang of longing. It was established within her first month here she would rather be left alone and you didn't mess with her. She was sure she had probably set the record for most punishments in a ten month span to date. She had finally calmed down enough to rationalize that there were a lot of orphanages in London; she doubted this was Riddles; fate didn't hate her that much did she. Humming a tune from one of Hermione's memories she went about tidying her room. So immersed in her cleaning she didn't her the soft footfalls walking in her normally silent corridor, nor did she hear them stop abruptly. She did however here when someone slammed her door shut loudly. Turning around she saw a boy that looked to be a couple years older than her, he had midnight black hair and dark forest green eyes, and his skin was almost as pale as her. He was handsome; she decided this must be the boy that was away all year,

"Who are you? What the fuck do you think you're doing coming in my room like that?" she demanded, hands on her hips, alright she amended maybe she was going to have to scare him into leaving her alone, This was mistake number one. She saw him eye her from head to toe as if assessing her. She didn't like the way he was eyeing her so sent a threatening surge of magic at him. This would be her second mistake and she knew as soon as his cold eyes widened then turned calculating, if she had been anyone else it probably would have escaped her notice, but she wasn't anyone else she was Aila MacLean.

"Well? Ye gonna tell me what the hell you think ye'r doing?" she said more softly, her Scottish roots always seemed more noticeable when she was angry or annoyed, she was trying to get his attention away from her magic surge he seemed to interested in.

"You're a witch. A powerful one." It wasn't a question. She wanted to hyperventilate, there was no way this was Tom Riddle, she was saying silent prayers in her mind. "I'm Tom Riddle." She was sure her pale face just got paler if that was at all possible. She went and sat cross legged on her bed, trying to look like she wasn't having a mild panic attack.

"You still haven't answered my question," she pointed out. He was nosing around her room looking as if he owned the place, Merlin she wished he would leave. Since he seemed perfectly comfortable looking around her things, his face giving nothing away, she decided to take the time to take a closer look at the boy who would grow up to kill everyone she loved, she could feel anger bubbling but decided she'd rather live for now so kept it down. Riddle looked like a fallen angel she decided, she didn't understand what could possibly have made him become that awful looking thing she seen at the final battle. The clearing of a throat made her look up, he was smirking at her obvious admiration for his looks, she didn't blush she had more control than that.

"They said there was a new girl, they didn't say she was on my floor," he told her, "saw you in your room and had to make sure you weren't going to be a nuisance. From the whispers of the other children you seem to have them scared." He allowed some amusement to tint his voice. He had a nice voice.

"I could say the same for you, did you know they don't even use your name?" she had decided she wasn't going to be afraid of him until he gave her reason to. She still wished he would leave.

"Oh yes, i know that," he seemed very amused at this, "so what's your name and why are you here?" he asked. Very blunt, he was supposed to be subtle but she put that to the back of her mind.

"Aila MacLean. Why are you here?" she shot back raising an elegant eyebrow, of course she already knew but wanted to see if he would lie.

"My mother's dead and my father didn't want me," he looked up and saw her about to talk but cut across her "Don't pity me MacLean. I don't need your pity." He sneered, ah there's the Riddle she was waiting for.

"I don't pity you Tom," she said, debating whether to tell him about her parents, she decided she may as well, she knew the other kids whispered about it, "My father died before I was born, I lived with his parents in Scotland when they were killed I went to France to live with my mother and her family. I was there six months before she was killed, her parents didn't like me, they were scared of me, didn't want me so sent me here," She said softly "I don't pity you." She murmured again. Looking up she saw his eyes boring into her head as if he would find truth there, thank god she was an occlumens.

"You're a mudblood?" he asked with a slight sneer. She should have known that would come up at some point, it was Tom Riddle after all.

"No, halfblood, my father was a muggleborn, my mother was a french pureblood. The Noir's are the french branch of the Blacks." Now he looked calculating, might as well continue, "what about you?"

"Keep the noise down and don't let any of the cretins on our floor and i wont kick you out." He stated while exiting the room, confused at his abrupt exist she just nodded and lay back on her bed to think over her first meeting with the young Lord Voldemort.

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