Millions of thanks to reviewers:
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"If you really wanted to spend time with him that much, you could have just told us. We wouldn't have minded," R.J. said, picking at his breakfast.
"I would've minded," Godric muttered, shooting a mutinous glare at the Slytherin table. "Slytherins."
Mina shrugged. "It's not really like you, Hermione. I don't know."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Look, for Merlin's sake, I told you, it wasn't my intention to spend time with him. I just went down for dinner, and he sort of snuck out of the Great Hall looking a bit fishy, so I followed him because I was curious."
Her friends frowned and exchanged glances. "Did he look like he was up to something?" Godric asked, leaning in conspiratorially. "Because I know a few times in the past there have been some strange shenanigans in the Slytherin house—"
"No, he was just inventing a potion," said Hermione curtly. She shouldn't draw attention to whatever he was doing. If he didn't want anyone to know, he could want to silence her.
"So, ah," Mina said with a grin, "care to tell me why his robes were off?" She elbowed Hermione in the ribs.
Hermione winced in pain, shooting a daggered glare at Mina. "Shut up!"
"What?" said R.J. and Godric simultaneously, twin expressions of mortification on their faces.
"What," echoed Miranda vaguely, looking up from her parchment, "is so vitally important that you feel like you must yell in my ear, Godric?"
"Nothing," Hermione hissed. Miranda looked taken aback, and went back to her parchment hesitantly. Albus sat down, a look of mild surprise in his blue eyes.
"Well, I seem to have stumbled into something," he said, a small smile on his calm face. "I think I shall remain an impartial third party."
Mina snorted. "Like always?"
"Why, yes!" he replied cheerfully, and sat back to watch.
Hermione glanced at Godric, who was seemingly furious, and R.J., who looked very, very disapproving—and even a bit resentful.
"So... care to explain?" said Mina again, her grin widening, and Hermione's fading blush returned in full force.
"The fire under the potion was hot, so he took off his outer robes and that is all," Hermione muttered.
Mina cocked her head, her devilish grin never leaving her face. "Fine, fine, sure, whatever," she said in a most infuriating I-know-you're-lying manner.
Hermione closed her eyes. "Merlin! I thought you were more mature than this, getting worked up over me talking to someone from a different house." This was utterly moronic. They weren't even getting mad for the right reasons. Like, say, the Cruciatus Curse?
"Hey, I don't begrudge you your attractive boy," Mina said, holding up her hands in innocence and digging back into her breakfast. Hermione blushed again, wishing she could control it.
"He is not—"
"Just forget it," said R.J., going back to his food, looking carefully controlled.
The next couple of weeks were difficult for Hermione. She kept getting strange looks from Slytherins, and she didn't know why. Surely, if something about her spending a day alone with Riddle had gotten into the gossip cycle, Araminta Meliflua would be at her throat more than any other Slytherin, but Araminta remained as distant and stuck-up as usual.
Hermione spent a few days in the Infirmary with Jared and Mungo. Jared showed her around his potions collection, which was vast and detailed. He had written books upon books about his various healing remedies – and that was only in the last few years. Mungo introduced Hermione to the relatively obscure genre of Healing Spells.
"Just as there are many different love potions, with fundamental similarities," he said, "there are many different spells to fix injuries, and they're all relatively similar." Then he gave her a small, black book, messily filled in with his own handwriting, and told her to knock herself out. Hermione spent much of the next day practicing the spells. They were so useful – she wondered why there wasn't a class in Hogwarts to teach that type of thing.
Hermione was careful to keep company at all times. If she was alone for even the tiniest second, she was terrified that Riddle would somehow seek her out, demanding to know how she knew his name. His real name. Lord Voldemort.
Damn the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse – if only she had been able to keep her cool; if only she hadn't been so weak. By most peoples' standards, enduring 'Crucio' twice in a row and only letting one thing slip was probably a feat, but Hermione had kept her lips locked shut back in the Room of Requirement, and she didn't understand how she had been so stupid as to lose that tight-lipped quality now. Especially now that she was permanently in the same building as Riddle, and under the pretense that she found no fault with his existence.
Oh well – at least, here, saying something would only hurt her, not endanger her friends. The only skin that she had to worry about saving was her own, and she could do that very well. Increasingly well, in fact, with every passing day, because Godric's tuition was steadily paying off. Hermione managed to conquer the Subligo jinx, which Riddle had used against her in their duel. Its purpose was to bind a premeditated hex to the one that was attacking the caster, and cast them both back at the opponent.
With her increasing magical arsenal, Hermione felt slightly safer in solitude, although she maintained her fears of being caught alone and being sliced apart, bit by bit. Whenever she caught her mind slipping back to her fears of Riddle, she hurriedly thought of Ron instead. His image was quickly becoming her strongest solace.
xXxXxXxXx
Hermione and Godric were out early to practice water magic by the lake. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and they both stood with wands at the ready.
"You're going to use Insumera to bind it together," Godric said, "and that's a sort of a twist while you're thinking the incantation -" He frowned slightly in concentration, holding out his wand and turning it counterclockwise. "- and then you're going to flick upwards. Okay?"
Even as he spoke, a small mass of water rose out of the lake in front of him.
Hermione nodded. Insumera! As her vine wand flicked upwards, water dragged itself in a shimmering mass from the lake. She was surprised at how much concentration it took – every second her eyes flickered away, some of the water dripped off from her mass.
Godric said, "Keep your wand up, cast Pervitum, and draw back in a slow wave. Then it should move however you use your wand, in hypothesis."
Hermione gritted her teeth. Pervitum! She jerked her wand back, and the water exploded into a fine mist. "Damn!" she sighed, wiping her brow. "This is actually difficult."
Godric laughed. "It can take a bit, but don't be afraid to experiment once you get that basic control. For some extra flair, you can even add things like – Oppugno!"
As he said the word, he lashed his wand outwards, and the water, which had formed itself into a tendril, flailed out at Hermione, grabbing her ankle and dangling her upside-down in the air. Her robes fell downwards over her head, revealing her plaid pyjama pants. "Godric!" she called. "Get me down, you idiot."
She let out a small scream as the water shook her back and forth. Godric's hearty, booming laugh echoed over the lake. "Say please," he called back. Hermione crossed her arms and scowled at him, swinging back and forth upside-down. Blood pounded in her ears.
"I will hex you," she warned, holding out her wand.
"Easy there," Godric said, and flourished his wand gently, setting her back on the ground. "Okay, you ready to try again?"
Hermione nodded confidently. Twist – Insumera! – flick – Pervitum! – draw it back, slowly...
A thin finger of water slowly reached out of the lake. Hermione flexed it back and forth a few times, tentatively, afraid it would snap.
"Don't be afraid of it breaking," Godric said. "It's pretty sturdy, as I'm sure you just noticed."
"No more upside-down tricks."
Godric rolled his eyes. "All right, then. How about some food?" At his mention of food, his green eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
"Only if you promise to teach me something new after breakfast," Hermione said.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. I'll teach you a herbal transformation or something. Let's go!" he said eagerly.
A herbal transformation? What on earth was that? Hermione sighed and hurried after Godric, trying not to think about how much he looked like Ron from behind – tall, flaming red hair, adolescent lankiness that had almost turned to brawn...
Mina and R.J. were going through one of the rough patches in their friendship again. This happened from time to time, Hermione had found. R.J. got tired of Mina pushing him around, and Mina got tired of R.J. taking everything so seriously, and it just resulted in general awkwardness unless someone was there to intervene – namely, Godric, who was so loud and brash that he didn't ever really notice awkwardness.
In any case, Mina seized upon Godric's arrival with a brazen look of relief on her face. "Godric!" she practically cheered, and scooted close to him, chattering away. Hermione shot her a sideways glance, and then turned back to R.J.
"How are you?" she said.
R.J. surprised her by giving her a rare smile. "I'm actually quite good – you know Melia Trueblood?"
"Weather witch, yeah?"
He nodded. "She's one of the event coordinators, and she asked me if I'd like to join them," he said. "Their little team thing."
"Oh!" said Hermione. "That's wonderful! What exactly do you do?"
R.J. flicked his dark hair out of his eyes. "We meet five times a week, and just toss around ideas for the next event."
Hermione smiled. R.J. wasn't ever really vocal about his emotions, but there was a cheerful glow radiating from him that was atypical for her reserved friend. "So," she said, "Melia Trueblood, huh? How do you know her?" She gave him a sly, suggestive grin.
"What's that supposed to mean?" laughed R.J..
"Oh, nothing," replied Hermione with a saintly shrug. "Just—she's pretty, that's all."
"Yeah," R.J. agreed halfheartedly, "I guess. If you like Veela."
Hermione glanced over at Melia, who was sitting perfectly straight, her gorgeous blonde hair cascading halfway down her back. "She is a bit Veel-ish, isn't she?" mused Hermione. "In any case – any word on what's coming up next?"
R.J. shot a glance around. "Well," he muttered, "strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to tell you anything, but I think the next thing is going to be a concealment game. There'll be a few people who are assigned as 'it', like a game of tag, and they'll go around trying to find people and trying to guess who they are. When someone gets discovered, that person will also be 'it', and the last person standing is the winner."
"Wow," Hermione said, "that sounds... exciting, actually." It did. A creative way to incorporate magic. "So whoever's 'it' has to guess correctly who the person they find is? So I could use a Disfigurement Charm, or a Disillusionment, or a Glamour, and try and appear like someone else?"
R.J. nodded. "That's the general idea. Don't go spreading it around, though. I've already told you and Mina, and I feel like that's enough."
Hermione tapped her nose secretively and smiled at R.J., who grinned back in thanks.
She felt very unsettled then, because as he smiled at her, she felt a slight quiver inside her stomach, which was faintly reminiscent of how she used to feel when Ron smiled. So Hermione looked back at her food, continued eating, and told herself it was nothing, even as her mouth got a little dry and she suddenly felt like she was uncomfortably close to R.J...
"That is so much better!" Godric yawned, patting his stomach. "Ah. What was it I was going to show you again?"
"Herbal transfiguration."
"Right, that. We'll need some dittany, though, and a little Bulmon root, and actually, some Gillyweed, if you want to see something really fantastic."
"I'll go get it," Hermione said hurriedly, standing, relieved to have an excuse to get away. She couldn't have feelings for R.J., because that just wouldn't factor into her plan. If she was going to get the hell out of there, she needed to be detached, not attached. Not to anyone. No matter how friendly, nice, or attractive they were.
She descended to the dungeons. Snape's classroom always had those three ingredients – basic stuff, really, except the Gillyweed, and Hermione knew the room would have that from past experience.
She poked through the storerooms and found the items relatively quickly. She glanced around. The classroom was just as unpleasant as ever. But it seemed more pleasant than sitting in awkward silence with R.J., attempting not to feel anything.
Hermione wondered what people did when they fell in love here. What would it be like, constantly living in fear that they would wake up the next day and their love could just – not be there anymore? How could they manage that? How could she do that to herself, even if it were Ron? Even if Ron were there and she could grasp onto him like she was really still back on Earth and kiss him gently right on the smile –
"Hermione Granger."
Oh, Merlin. Not now. Not here.
As she exited Snape's classroom, like a bad dream come true, Tom Riddle was leaning against the wall opposite her.
"So, what, are you just lurking in various hallways these days?" she said brusquely, wondering how she could get out of there as quickly as possible before he could hex her. She jerked her hand forward, and her wand flew out of her sleeve into her grip.
"I'm not amused by your humor, Granger," Riddle said, leaning away from the wall and walking slowly towards her. That slow, deliberate stride, the stride of inevitability, the stride that meant get-the-hell-out-right-now—
"Great. Then leave me alone, so you won't be subjected to my biting wit," Hermione deadpanned.
Quick as she could blink, Riddle's wand was out. She could barely even think, Obsido, before a curse spat from the end of his wand and smashed into her thick, hazy, green shield.
He flicked his dark hair from his forehead and breathed slowly, as if attempting to control himself, lowering his wand. It was a minute before he spoke. "I'm sorry I have to do this, Granger," he said softly, and raised his wand.
Was this it? Was this the end? Was this the moment he lost all control and used Avada Kedavra?
But, strangely, he was backing away from her, towards the intersection of this hall and another one – and then he flicked his wand, but it was pointing at himself.
Deep wounds sliced themselves into his abdomen, and as if he were a fountain, blood came spilling out of the cuts, welling up like tears from huge, angry eyes –
And that scream.
Hermione had never heard a boy scream like Riddle was screaming now. It was so raw, a bellow echoing straight from his diaphragm to resound around and around and around the halls. He toppled to his knees, and then onto his back, arms spread-eagled, eyes squinted shut, right in the middle of the intersection of the hallways.
Hermione could barely think. Oh, God. What was she supposed to do, heal him? This was exactly what she should have been hoping for, that he would just die and get it over with, but her head was spinning and blood was pooling all around him, and she heard a faint clatter as his wand dropped from his hand and fell lightly onto the stone floor. All that Healing magic that Mungo had taught her came flooding into her mind, but she couldn't – she couldn't heal Lord Voldemort; she couldn't do that; she couldn't betray herself and her friends and her death... It didn't matter if Mungo didn't care who he was healing; Hermione definitely cared – and she couldn't heal him. Not Tom Riddle. Not the brilliant, perfect, evil Tom Riddle.
Suddenly, all in a rush, Hermione could hear voices. Lots of voices. And still he was screaming.
Hermione stumbled towards him in a daze, her feet splattering lightly in the blood – Oh, God, it's everywhere – and she looked right, and saw that just down the hall was the Slytherin common room, and at least ten Slytherins were standing there in utter shock, looking as she stood over Riddle's bleeding body. Finally, Riddle stopped yelling, his chest heaving, instead desperately trying to get air into his system.
"I -" she stuttered, but she couldn't seem to get any more words out, and then a new scream echoed through the air. Hermione saw Araminta Meliflua's pale face make its way to the front of the steadily growing crowd.
"Tom!" she shrieked. "Tom!"
Someone else yelled, "Someone get Abraxas! Hurry up!"
Then, the crowd burst into chaos. Several Slytherins sprinted back into the common room, and Hermione could hear distant yells of "Malfoy!" but she could only really look at Araminta, who was staring at Hermione with hate that she had only seen rivaled in Riddle's eyes. And Hermione looked down at Riddle, knelt unsteadily by Riddle, her face far too close to Riddle's, her wand loose in her nerveless hands.
He tilted his face towards her. "Don't take it personally," his low voice murmured. His lips quirked in a smirk, and ever so bizarrely, his pale, bloodstained hand reached up to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. She jerked back. His fingers were warm and wet and still completely steady, in control.
What a truly evil smile was on his rapidly-whitening lips. He had absolutely everything planned out. Hermione's eyes flickered up to Araminta, who was so red in the face from anger that she resembled a tomato.
Riddle's skin was actually starting to pale from blood loss. "Abraxas better get here soon," his low voice grated out. Hermione gripped her wand and stumbled backwards to her feet. What should I do, what should I do, what should I do?
It was so surreal, the clamor, the yelling, and suddenly Abraxas Malfoy burst from the common room, wild-eyed in panic. He sprinted to Riddle's side and knelt in the pool of blood slowly leaking from flagstone to flagstone.
"Oh, Merlin," breathed Abraxas. He peeled back Riddle's sodden outer robe and opened his shirt, revealing the deep, ugly gashes in Riddle's torso.
Malfoy waved his wand gently over each cut, and they slowly knitted back into smooth paleness. Then he said, "Tergeo," and the blood all over the ground, all over Riddle's chest, all over everywhere, vanished, leaving Riddle immaculate and pale once more. Hermione vaguely thought that it was strange that a Malfoy should know Healing magic at all – a bit ironic – but then she realized that more than twenty furious Slytherins were all staring directly at her, now that Riddle was healed, and she turned on her heels and fled.
xXxXxXxXx
He had done his damage, both literally and figuratively. Every time she met his eyes, now, he gave her an I-won smirk, but she couldn't even look at another Slytherin without meeting cold and utter hatred. She'd had to duck a hex or two, and Godric had had to yell obscenities loudly at their senders.
The entire situation had been difficult to explain to her friends. They didn't really seem to trust her story, due to the fact that it was about Riddle, but the one thing that was never questioned was their standing firmly by her side, defending her from whatever insults and spells might fly her way – and for that, Hermione was utterly grateful.
The spell—it couldn't have been Sectumsempra, because Tom Riddle hadn't been alive when Snape invented that spell – was particularly vicious, because even though Abraxas had healed most of it, the internal wounds kept reopening. As a result, Riddle spent three days in the Infirmary, while Mungo and Jared did various spells and fed him various foul-smelling potions.
Hermione was upset when Mungo and Jared told her very concisely to "get out" the day after the incident. Apparently, both of them had heard – and believed – the rumors, and would not listen to a word to the contrary.
"Honestly, Hermione, I thought I could expect better than this from you," Jared muttered darkly, sifting through his cabinet for a dark blue vial.
"That's a serious curse," Mungo added. "Dangerous. Now we have to clean up your mess."
"Just... get out," Jared said, and Hermione complied, too hurt by their words to want to defend herself further.
Riddle was most pleased with himself. Extremely pleased with himself, in fact. This had all gone exactly according to plan, especially Araminta Meliflua's reaction. She had come simpering to him every day, saying how she couldn't believe the nerve of that filthy Mudblood, et cetera, and how she was planning such delightful gems for Hermione's next few days at school. Every other Slytherin had, at some point, come trailing in, even if it was just to say they were glad he was feeling better and that they would attempt to make Granger's life miserable.
Perfect. Revenge was so very sweet.
It was irritating that Riddle wasn't close to any Gryffindors, because then he would have managed to alienate her from them, as well. A complete social leper would be far easier to corner. Most of the Gryffindors at least knew him as a respectable, kind, quiet sort, which would help them favor Riddle over the new girl, but not those close to Granger. Godric Gryffindor's protective nature was irritating, as were R.J. King's glances over at Granger every once in a while, as if to make sure she was still alright. Riddle presumed that neither of them probably knew the extent of Hermione's knowledge – her knowledge about many things.
Well, it was a good start. When people got miserable, they got sloppy, and Riddle had practically ensured that Granger's life—or, well, death; whatever it was—wouldn't be enjoyable from then on. He touched his torso gently – the curse was perhaps the most pain he had ever experienced, which was an unfortunate side result of the plan, but Mungo would have caught a whiff of it if he had used a Numbing Solution or some sort of anti-jinx preemptor. The pain had had to be suffered. And if he was going to get hurt, it was going to be only he who could make that happen.
xXxXxXxXx
"Hey, Hermione, I've thought of something that'll cheer you up," Mina said, leaning over the back of the sofa to talk loudly into Hermione's ear. Hermione turned. Mina slithered over the back of the couch and landed in a wild mess of long legs and curly black hair.
"Yeah?" said Hermione. She hadn't been cheered up in a while – she had awoken that day to find the dormitory overrun with large black rats, and she had an Aramintish inclination as to how they had appeared.
"Yeah! I've got an idea for the event thing R.J.'s been yammering on about," Mina said with a sly smile.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening," she said.
"Polyjuice Potion!" Mina exclaimed.
"...not bad, not bad."
"Not bad? It's brilliant!" Mina crowed. "Neither of us will be caught 'cause the person will think we're each other." She flailed out into a lying-down position, as if basking in her own brilliance, and Hermione smiled.
"Only problem is," Mina muttered, "I've no idea how to make Polyjuice Potion."
Well, that was one thing that they didn't have to worry about – Hermione had seen a bunch of tiny vials of various potions down in Snape's storerooms. "Don't worry," Hermione said, "I can handle that much."
"This is going to be great," said Mina, rolling off the couch. "R.J. says the thing is next Wednesday. We should make a plan of action."
She and Mina decided to take each other's potions and keep extras on their persons for every hour. They also planned on Disillusioning themselves, just in case. The rules for the game showed up three days before the event itself, much to R.J.'s relief.
"Great," he sighed in relief, "now I don't have to go around shadily dealing you guys information anymore..." There were four people who were deemed 'hunters' – one from each House – and that information was also released three days prior. Hermione groaned when she saw the list:
Tom Riddle
Albus Dumbledore
Mungo Bonham
DeLisle Andra
"Who made this list?" Hermione asked R.J. angrily, rounding on him. He threw up his hands in protest.
"Hey, calm down, Hermione, it wasn't me," he said with a grin.
"These are the most powerful people in the school!" Hermione said in dismay, rereading the list. DeLisle Andra was in Dueling Club, and was the only person who had managed to fend off Godric for more than ten minutes. "Worst game ever," she mumbled.
Hermione delayed going down to the dungeons to get the Polyjuice Potion for a while, and when she finally worked up the nerve to be in such close vicinity to the Slytherin common room, she cast a Disillusionment Charm. When did I get scared of everything?
Also, Hermione was worried about Mina, who would probably be endangered by the fact that she looked like Hermione. The Slytherins were probably going to make vicious competition out of this game. Mina, though, wouldn't hear a word of Hermione's protest.
"Look," Mina said, "if you're going to look like me and take hits for me, I'm going to do the same for you. No questions." Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Mina shushed her. "I'm the captain of the Quidditch team, and that is final, because I say so," she said. Hermione sighed. How was Quidditch relevant?
"I'm just saying that looking like me is going to be a lot more dangerous than looking like you," said Hermione acidly. "People like you, and aren't under the illusion that you're a Dark Wizard. Unlike me."
Mina shrugged. "Whatever. I'm a Gryffindor. No matter what I do, the Slytherins are going to target me."
That, Hermione reasoned, was probably true. The game would likely turn very hazardous very fast, no matter what. She ought to trust in Mina's ability to take care of herself.
Anyway – Hermione had a secret agenda. She was going to find a way to tail Riddle. She had checked back on his potion, and it was still brewing, being experimented on. What was it? The simmering time was so long… was it a poison? This game seemed like the perfect time for him to do any dirty work – if he was a hunter, everyone would be staying out of his way, no matter how sneaky or suspicious he was looking. So he basically had free rein, but Hermione wasn't going to let that happen on her watch.
xXxXxXxXx
It was Tuesday night, and the Gryffindor common room was buzzing with anticipation. Hermione, though, was still resolutely trying to tell her friends the truth of what had happened with Riddle in the dungeon, and they still weren't... getting it.
"I'm telling you guys, he walked out into the hall, pointed the damn wand at himself, and cursed himself. I don't even know the curse he used."
"Why would he do that?" Mina snorted. "Can't picture a Slytherin getting himself dirty just to frame you, Hermione."
Hermione sighed. This was where it got difficult. "He... really doesn't like me," said Hermione.
"You two seemed to be getting along alright that day in the classroom," Mina said.
Except for the Cruciatus Curse and stuff, but I guess that's just a side note. "No," she said simply. "He's manipulative. And evil."
This wasn't working. Godric and R.J. were exchanging skeptical glances. "Look, Hermione," said Godric, "I personally don't care if you cursed him. I just don't see why you're trying to blame it on him."
"I know you wouldn't care, so why would I lie?" Hermione sighed, exasperated. "I'm telling you, that's what happened." She was honestly getting tired of repeating herself. R.J. kept resurrecting the conversation, and Hermione didn't know why. So this was what came with partial honesty.
Maybe she should just lie, say she lost her temper and cursed Riddle, and then their friendship could get back to normal.
The thought incensed her. No. She would not stoop to that level. She would not let Tom Riddle undermine her life with one damned curse! Hermione buried her face in her hands. She wished this would just fade, already. It was far past time for that to happen.
She glanced up at R.J., who was surveying her, seemingly deep in thought himself. Then again, R.J. was always deep in thought. She just wished he would keep his thoughts off of her private business.
"You know," she mused aloud, to break the tension, "this is an awful lot like a Triwizard Tournament Task from Medieval times."
Miranda's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Medieval times? I love Medieval times."
"Yeah, each of the three Champions had to disguise themselves and stay hidden in Beauxbatons Castle for as long as possible," Hermione said.
"Oh, that one," Miranda said, sticking out her tongue in disgust. "So uncreative."
"That doesn't sound too bad, mate," laughed Godric. "Especially compared to some other Triwizard Tasks that -"
"Well, no, that wasn't it," interrupted Hermione. "They let a load of dangerous animals loose in the castle. There was a dragon in the dungeons, I think. An adolescent one."
"And they set half the floors on fire," added Miranda absentmindedly.
Godric rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a great idea for a friendly inter-school tournament."
Hermione wasn't sure that this would be a great deal safer, given the people – or rather, one person in specific – who were going to roam around the school and try to find the participants.
She didn't sleep that much that night.
xXxXxXxXx
The entire school met in the Great Hall at ten o'clock sharp. Hermione had half-expected Riddle to back out of the game, but no, he was standing up there with Dumbledore, DeLisle, and Mungo, looking like he was barely concealing extreme displeasure.
"So, here's the deal," called Melia Trueblood from the front. She was standing in front of the four hunters, looking ethereally beautiful. "When I shoot sparks into the air, these four will shut their eyes, and you'll have ten minutes to run, get hidden, do what you need to do. You each have these triangles." She held up a small brass triangle. "They know your names, and if you let a hunter point his or her wand at you and say your name, that triangle is going to glow a really bright orange. Impossible to miss, even through clothing. That means you're out, and you become a hunter too. Got it?"
There was a general murmur of assent.
Red sparks issued from the tip of Melia's wand. The crowd scattered.
Hermione and Mina rushed down to the kitchens. "Here, take some of my hair," Hermione said, swiftly shearing off a small curl with her wand. Mina did the same, and they traded, sprinkling the hair into their various vials. "This is bizarre," laughed Hermione as she saw Mina slowly transform into an exact mirror image of Hermione.
The potion still tasted terrible, even when it wasn't Millicent Bulstrode's cat's hair, and it hurt immensely as Hermione's five-foot-three body was stretched out to Mina's five-foot-nine.
"Merlin, you're short!" Mina cackled as she shrank.
"All right," Hermione said, ignoring the slight on her height, "good luck!" She rapped herself on the head with a Disillusionment, and then wrapped a thin, clear shield around herself to ward off any Finite Incantatems that might come her way. "I'll see you this evening."
Hermione rushed from the kitchen, casting a hasty Silencing Charm on her shoes, clothes, and voice so she would be to hear. Tucking the small brass triangle into her pocket, she made her way cautiously back to the Great Hall.
It was a few minutes before the great doors opened again. Hermione pressed herself flat against the wall. Mungo came out first, made a swift left, and set out at his usual brisk walk. Dumbledore stood for a second, observed both sides of the corridor, and then ambled off down the right side of the corridor, whistling merrily. Hermione held close against the stone wall, blending in perfectly. DeLisle set off after Mungo, a determined air about her, and only after the other three had long gone did Riddle lazily make his way out of the Great Hall.
He strolled to the right. Hermione followed him at a safe distance, confident that this time she would not be caught. Already, from other hallways, she could hear signs of small duels and scuffles, but Riddle hadn't even stopped to try and find anyone yet – not even with a simple Finite Incantatem. What was he up to?
Hermione stopped still as Riddle slowed his walk. They were still on the first floor, near the Charms classroom, nearing a corner – and standing at that corner, de-Disillusioning herself as Riddle approached, was Araminta.
She raised her pointy chin in a nod to Riddle. He quickly pointed his wand at her and said her name, and a bright orange glow emanated from Araminta's pocket. Riddle checked quickly over both shoulders, making sure he was not being tailed – if only he knew – and said hurriedly, in a low, calm voice, "Any sign of her?"
Araminta shook her head. "Not here. Abraxas is on the next floor – check with him. Or you could just try 'Accio Mudblood,'" she sneered.
Hermione's eyes widened in horror.
Mina.