A flash of lightning lit up the night sky like an explosion of fireworks and the rain beat hard against the library windows as Hermione took her seat at her usual spot near the restricted section. She reflected momentarily on her dinner with Neville and sighed contentedly. It would never have occurred to her that they could have such an enjoyable time together- namely because she spent most of her free time exclusively with Ron and Harry. She could tell that something rather serious had been on Neville's mind throughout their meal, but had decided not to press him on it as they both seemed in need of a pleasant diversion.

Hermione jumped a little as another round of thunder echoed off the endless rows of books, shaking some of them right off the top shelves. She reached into her book bag and retrieved her spell book along with a quill and several pieces of parchment. 'Might as well get started on some of my make up work' she thought to herself, chewing lightly on her left thumbnail as she looked over her list of assignments from Professor McGonagall. She set to work on the first assignment but something caught her attention on the floor. A few feet from her table, was a large black book, bound together with a leather strap. Hermione looked around to see if anyone had possibly dropped it but there was no one else in that area of the library. She retrieved it and, wiping away a thick layer of dust, studied the cover for a title but there was none to be found. She undid the strap and opened to the first page, which at first glance appeared quite blank. She searched the book for a library check out card but found it was also absent. In fact, the book did not appear to be a library book at all. Hermione pressed the tip of her wand against the page.

"Reveal your secrets"

Nothing happened and the young witch became quite frustrated. Then, after a moment, some faint letters began to appear.

At the Burrow, Ron and Harry sat in the sitting room, sipping cocoa, engrossed in a game of wizard's chess. Fred and George sat at the other side of the room by the fireplace, tapping their wands furiously on the wireless set.

"Go back to that last one."

"You can't honestly want to listen to that old man again! All he talks about is how to transfigure moldy old vegetables into bits of kitchen crockery!"

"It's interesting!"

"Oh yeah- about as interesting as a dung beetle's occupation! Come on- change it to the Witching Hour!"

"Oooh- isn't it nice to have all the family together for the holiday?!" Mrs. Weasley cooed from the kitchen.

"Yes mum!" The twins chimed in unison.

Ginny, having helped her mother clear the table, dashed through the sitting room and made a swift run for the stairs. Harry watched her rush across the room and felt that he could stand the awkwardness no longer.

"Ginny?" He suddenly found himself standing, mouth open slightly, his eyes wide with honesty. The red head stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to face him- her eyes also quite wide in expectation.

"Goodnight" It was all so fittingly anticlimactic. Ginny sighed, mumbling something that could have been "goodnight Harry" had she not already been half way up to her bedroom.

"Your move Harry!"

The-boy-who-just-couldn't-seem-to-get-this-girl-thing-down stared at the empty staircase with a feeling of utter defeat.

"Harry!"

"I'm sorry- what?"

"It's your move, mate!"

"Oh…right" Harry took his seat and somewhat absentmindedly moved his bishop.

"Your bishop have a death wish then?"

"Huh?"

"Your bishop Harry…you just put him right next to my pawn!" Before either boy could say another word, the pawn had cut Harry's bishop down without the slightest hesitation.

"Good evening, Weasleys!"

"Evening dad!" the twins answered back.

"Hello dear- how was work? I saved you some supper; it's in the kitchen on the stove top. As for me I'm off for a nice soak in the tub!" Mrs. Weasley leaned in to kiss her husband and then quickly disappeared up the stairs.

"Mr. Weasley" Harry stood and took hold of Arthur Weasley's hand.

"Ah- I see there is a rather aggressive game of Wizard's chess afoot!"

Ron's knight thrashed about the board, cutting down Harry's king with a single swipe.

"Check mate!" The twins sniggered from the corner.

A Guide to the Portraits of Hogwarts

Compiled by Current Headmaster:

Hermione raised an eyebrow as Dumbledore's name emerged from the page in bold letters.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

As Hermione went on to read the first few pages, she found herself completely absorbed in the mysterious tome. Why had it been stashed up on the highest shelf? And why had she never heard of it before this moment? It also seemed odd to her that the book would be charmed in such a secretive fashion. The history portion of the work was fascinating, dating back to the school's origins and spotlighting the very first portraits to hang in the Headmaster's office, with in depth biographies of each one. When Hermione had quite digested that section of the book, she flipped to the middle, where there was a deep crease in the binding, and found a large fold out map of the grand staircase. On it, each portrait was depicted most clearly and on the pages that followed, there were detailed lists explaining each one's likeness, location in the castle and other relevant information. The young witch appreciated the great attention to detail that had obviously gone into creating such a compilation and noticed that at the end of the list there were several hundred empty pages. The words "To be filled" faded in and out on those pages and Hermione became strangely saddened by this. Surely, one day Dumbledore's portrait would grace the wall of his office and a new Headmaster would undoubtedly be the keeper of this exceptional record of the school's portraits.

She flipped through the lists somewhat aimlessly, giggling at the exploits of The Fat Lady and the story behind the portrait of a woman she, Harry and Ron had dubbed the "cackling bird lady" in the first year. Suddenly something quite remarkable caught her attention amongst the lists of portraits.

Portrait #4400-1113- Katrina Emilia Malfoy

Location#3F-RW

In Remembrance. 1954- 1979

Hermione's jaw dropped open.

"Emilia" She then spoke her mother's full name aloud several times, her voice trembling as she scoured the page for more information, but to her disappointment, there was none listed. Hermione suddenly remembered the night she had gone to visit Professor Lupin - she had been in pursuit of a voice, which had inadvertently brought her to the door outside of the hospital wing on the third floor. She had forgotten all about the strange voice and in that instance her curiosity was peaked all over again.

"3F…" Her eyes grew large and she leapt up from her chair, grabbed her things from the table and quickly stuffed them into her bag. Clutching the book, she made directly for the third floor.

Thomas Crowe prepared for bed in his abandoned dorm room. His body ached terribly and the young wizard was grateful to have the room to himself for two weeks. Thomas could scarcely remember the last time he had a good night's sleep and wanted to savor the much needed respite. As he pulled his pajama top over his head, he smacked his arm against the bedpost. The dark mark was still tender and he hissed a little at the jolt to his flesh. He took a seat by the fire and stared into the flames as if he were peering into the very abyss of hell; that was how he felt- like he was eternally on the cusp of damnation.

Thomas had never truly known his parents. His father had been murdered and his mother subsequently driven mad when he was very young. From the time he was able to comprehend the manner of their demise, he had set his sights on one thing; revenge. It had consumed him so much that his eyes were quite devoid of the sort of glow one might expect to see in a boy his age. Instead, his eyes were weathered as old leather- deeply textured and utterly broken.

The fire spit black ash and then an elaborate rose colored flame erupted from the blaze. Thomas lunged back a little as the hot air stung his face. A small envelope, which was partially singed on one side, sprang from the fireplace and landed next to the much astonished boy. Upon the envelope was his name in gilded letters. It was written rather elegantly and the paper carried with it a particular smell. But it wasn't ashy or charred smelling; oddly, the scent was reminiscent of roses. Thomas carefully ripped the envelope open and pulled out a small card. The sweet aroma was now quite overpowering.

Thomas Orestes Crowe,

I write you now as a friend. You may or may not be aware that your mother has escaped St. Mungo's. I have done all in my power to

ensure her safe return to the Wizarding World- but, as you well know

our world can hardly be called a safe haven as it is. There are certain

truths concerning your mother's fate which must come to light but I cannot do it alone. You are a brilliant young lad with a bright future ahead if you are willing to strive for it. And you are so very much like your father. Please meet me tomorrow morning at The Third Dynasty (It's a clothing shop for ladies) in Diagon Alley at 10 o'clock. Ask for Lady Hatshepsut.

Please come alone.

Please trust me.

Thomas read the note over four times. He was disinclined to trust the note as he had heard nothing of his mother's "escape". But it was the use of his middle name that intrigued his interest. He had never known he had a middle name. So, either this "friend" was bluffing or they knew something that only his mother could know. But why a women's clothing shop as a meeting place? Thomas placed the note back in its envelope and slipped it in the pocket of his pajama shirt. He would go to this arranged meeting tomorrow morning. But it would be on his terms; in his animagus form and well over an hour earlier than he was expected.

"Lumos" Hermione made her way down the stairs to the third floor, trailing her lit wand along the wall. After all, it was getting late and the lamps were lit quite low. She rounded the corner and consulted the book. "3F" was most certainly "third floor"…but what could "RW" stand for? Hermione considered it for a moment before whipping her head around to the right-hand wall. She approached it slowly, lifting her wand up towards the various portraits. And there it was…a blank space on the wall nestled between a painting of a sleeping cocker spaniel and a portrait of a very skinny older woman dressed in black robes. "Another dead end." Hermione exhaled deeply and looked completely crestfallen.

"I say- that light's a bit strong for this hour young lady"

"Sorry." Hermione lowered her wand and nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "I… wonder if you might…"

"Well- spit it out child- I need me beauty rest!"

"I…don't suppose you know where the portrait that used to hang here might have got to?"

"I most certainly do!"

Hermione's face lit up like a beacon.

"It's been taken down to the dungeons, miss."

Ron Weasley sounded much more like the attic ghoul than a sleeping teenager as he lay snoring, with one leg hanging over the side of the bed. The Burrow was otherwise silent as a graveyard. Harry Potter could not have slept if he had been given the draught of living death! In truth, the boy was exhausted but his stomach was in such a knot that he found it quite impossible to relax. He quietly made his way down the stairs from Ron's room on the fifth floor, past the master bedroom and the bathroom. As he passed Fred and George's room he had to suppress a laugh when he heard them talking to each other in their sleep.

"Exploding handkerchiefs"

"Itching toilet paper"

"Brilliant"

Harry continued down the stairs until he stood directly at her door. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea what he would say if he ever mustered the valor to say anything at all. He liked Ginny but didn't feel he knew her well enough to "like" her. But the more he considered it, the more he realized that he knew a great deal more about Ginny than he knew of Cho Chang. Harry was so enveloped in his thoughts he hadn't realized that someone was watching him from the stair landing above.

In the dank Slytherin dungeons, Severus Snape sat by light of a single lamp, deeply engrossed in a book. But it wasn't a text on potions making or a fiendish work of dark sorcery. It was a rather dog-eared copy of A Winter's Tale by muggle author William Shakespeare. Severus had always been fond of classical muggle theatre and had grown particularly fascinated by some of the more dramatic works likeHamlet and King Lear. He yawned a little and cupped his chin in his right hand as he continued to read. Though he had read the play numerous times, he found he never tired of it. Just as he was approaching his favorite moment of the drama, a feeble knock came upon his door. Severus shuddered to think it might be a certain Gryffindor with a penchant for intruding upon his much cherished "leisure time" but nevertheless, slammed his book shut and crossed to the door.

She looked beautiful with those blushing cheeks- flushed from sprinting down through the dungeons; her velvet eyes fixed at her shoes with modesty.

"Miss Granger- I do believe it is well past curfew- would you mind telling me what you are doing here?" He scowled and his words were aimed at her like poisoned darts as he spoke.

"Professor…I…it's just…"

The dark wizard immediately observed the book under her arm and narrowed his onyx eyes on her stuttering lips.

"You want to know of the portrait"

Hermione raised her doe eyes to meet his gaze and gently nodded her head.

"Very well…but first- you will tell me your own version of the events which occurred at Black Lake." He turned on his heel and led her into his sparsely furnished sitting quarters. Hermione took a seat on an overstuffed chair by the fireplace and relayed the events as best she could. Severus sat across from her, studying her every gesture with the greatest scrutiny.

"I tell you the truth Professor when I say I don't know why the snake retreated. One minute, I stood just as I said, clutching my mother's necklace in my hands, waiting for the snake to strike and then…." She took a deep breath, fidgeting with the necklace "It just…turned around."

Severus eyed the delicate necklace with grave interest as she fussed with it.

"How came you by the book of portraits?"

"I found it"

"Where?"

"The library…it…it must have fallen from the shelves when that lightening hit the grounds earlier."

Professor Snape's eyes flickered with suspicion.

"Sir…I...I don't want to be rude, but…the portrait…?"

"Ah yes, regrettably I no longer have it in my possession. It has been moved to the Headmaster's office this very evening"

Hermione's face flushed as red as an angry fire slug. "How could you deceive me?"

"I never said I would show it to you" He could hardly believe her impertinence! He had thought himself rather generous and now the girl was hurling her irritations at him like a skilled knife-thrower! He was gearing himself up to throw her out of his rooms when Hermione rather suddenly calmed herself.

"Why is everyone keeping this from me?"

The fire crackled in the heavy silence between them for a few minutes.

"You are an exceptional witch, Miss…Granger. You…" Severus found himself quite at a loss for words. He wanted to tell her so many things- to trust her with her own destiny- and yet he felt a grave responsibility to protect her from it. "You should return directly to Gryffindor Tower. It simply won't do to have you wandering about in the-" Hermione grinned a little.

"Do you find something amusing Miss Granger?" His eyes flashed with a cruel glint and he followed her gaze to the table where he had closed his book.

"I just never thought YOU of all people would be one for the Bard!" She giggled and even had the nerve to pick up and examine the tattered book. "And a romance at that!"

"It's a drama" He snatched the book from her fiercely "If you had read it, you would know that- now leave."

"I have read it…It was one of my favorite's as a child because it was the only 'fairytale' that had a princess named Hermione" The young witch seemed a little lost in the memory of her childhood fantasies.

"A queen" Severus barely spoke above a whisper and Hermione suddenly looked up at him with the most questioning and terrified eyes.

"You know- I begin to think…" The Potions Master approached so that they were now barely a foot apart from one another "That your mother should have named you Perdita rather than Hermione"

They're eyes were locked in a sudden mutual understanding that this was bigger than them both.

"Hermione- do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Her eyes began to water and her lip quivered as she tried to swallow back her emotions.

"Your father is…"

"King Leontes?" She began to laugh and cry all at once. "He tried to kill us both that night didn't he?" She was shaking now, shuddering helplessly against his chest. Reluctantly, Severus placed his arms around her, completely unsure of his actions as he did so. "He didn't want me- did he? Tell me! Please!!!" She was gripping at his robes now and looking up into his sallow face with the most desperate expression.

"I…I…cannot say- I think you should get back to your room now…Miss Granger- this is most undignified."

"Please sir! I have to know who he is! I have to know the truth! Who is my father?!" Her scream rivaled that of a wounded banshee. "Who is he?!!"

Severus Snape shut his eyes with resolve and gripping her roughly against his chest, inhaled a generous amount of her fragrant hair.

"Lor-"

Hermione suddenly looked up at his face in horror and violently pushed herself from him. Severus stared at her with eyes that begged to be forgiven.

"…Tom Riddle".