Disclaimer:

I do not own this universe.

I do not own this pair.

What I do own is a desire,

To expunge a hellish nightmare

Chapter 5: The Desire to be Controlled

"All sins tend to be addictive, and the terminal point of addiction is damnation." ~ W.H. Auden

After what seemed like an hour of spinning uncontrollably, Hermione Granger gently landed on the hardwood floors of the Hogwarts Library. She stood up quickly and drew her wand. The library was deserted—even the desk where Madam Pince sat hawkishly watching students lay abandoned. She tiptoed through the stacks until she saw the darkish form of a student hunched over a book near the restricted section.

The figure set the book down on the table and began copying furiously. Hermione moved silently, approaching the student from the aisle over, and gasped to see the boy she had looked up in the library earlier that day—Tom Riddle himself. He looked a little younger than the picture in the yearbook and healthier. His face was not so pale and his cheeks were not so hollow, but it was unmistakably him. Hermione noticed a shiny silver Prefect's badge glinting on his robes—Slytherin—of course.

Hermione tentatively moved forward and cleared her throat, but Tom didn't notice anything besides the book he was utterly fascinated with.

"Hello? Tom?" Hermione whispered. No response. Hermione realized that Tom couldn't hear her, for this was a memory of some sort, like she had read about with Pensieves. She could see Tom and what he did, but he couldn't see her.

But Tom was muttering to himself and Hermione leaned closer to hear.

"Yes, this very well could be the monster… Why didn't I come up with this before? I must tell Dippet…"

And with that, Tom took the piece of parchment he was writing on and swept away towards the library exit. Hermione turned the book towards her to read "Acromantulas: Beast or Being?" So this is what Tom had discovered the monster to be! She ran after him and followed him to Dumbledore's office, barely making it as the statue moved to cover the entrance.

Tom smartly knocked on the door and a weak, wheezy voice responded. As they both entered, Hermione saw a short, ancient wizard looking out of the window.

"This is terrible business, Tom," the old man, who Hermione supposed to be Armando Dippet, said shakily.

"I have some idea of what the…monster…. could be, Headmaster," Tom said carefully. "If the attacks stopped, then…then…would it be possible for me to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday for research?"

Dippet looked alarmed. "Do you mean to say that you know who the attacker is, Tom?"

"No," Tom said hurriedly, but Hermione could tell that Tom actually did know. For being a Slytherin, he was a fairly bad liar, but Hermione couldn't help but beam at Tom's wish to stay to do research.

"Well, actually sir, I think I might know who is behind it. But, I don't think he meant it-it's just, well I think he thought of the creature who has been attacking students as, well, as a pet," Tom spat out the last few words.

"A pet? Merlin, Tom. Who is the student?" Dippet asked desperately.

Tom looked as if divulging this information was physically painful, but he looked at Dippet determinedly.

"Rubeus Hagrid, sir, a Gryffindor third year."

Hermione gasped. So that's why Hagrid had been expelled! Harry had mentioned a few times before, but Hermione had never seriously wondered as to why. But.. Tom had said that it was just his pet…that must have been the acromantula. Hermione had no trouble believing that Hagrid would've cared for a creature like that in the castle what with Norbert and Fluffy and God knows what else he had raised.

Dippet looked ashen and with a weak flicker of his hand sent Tom away. Hermione followed Tom to an empty classroom, where she witnessed him telling Hagrid that enough was enough. He had found out his secret and told the professors, and with another blinding white flash of light, Hermione found herself sitting on her bed in Gryffindor common room.

Hagrid? But, it can't be Hagrid. Hagrid is not the heir of Slytherin—he was a Gryffindor!

I don't know how or why he opened the Chamber, but his creature was definitely the one responsible for the attacks. After Hagrid was expelled, the attacks stopped.

Hermione didn't want to admit that she could perfectly imagine Hagrid finding the monster and wanting to care for it, but something didn't seem right. Why would Hagrid wait fifty years to open it again, especially after facing such consequences the first time?

Anyway, I believe that some of your hesitation comes from Gryffindor solidarity. You haven't been perfectly forthright with me.

How did Tom figure it out? Could he see her in the memory, robes emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest?

Only a Gryffindor would care so deeply about a victim.

But the Hat did want to put me in Ravenclaw.

I'm sure it did what with your all-consuming, dare I say it, obsessive passion for knowledge. I take it that "Neville" and "Oliver" are Gryffindors as well?

Yes. Their names are actually Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Hermione felt strangely bad for lying to Tom, especially after he had shown her how he had solved the mystery of the Chamber.

No matter. Why should I care what you call your foolhardy friends? I'm glad you have decided to trust me.

Hermione did trust Tom. She had researched him, learned from him, and actually saw him in the flesh (or, well, in the planner). Even though she was generally a cautious, smart girl, there was no reason not to trust Tom. But now she had something larger to confront: the fact that Justin Finch-Fletchley was dead and that she was one of the only people in the school to know what killed him.

Tom, there is something else. I'm frightened because…well because I am Muggleborn as well.

There was no response from Tom, and she could feel the book pulse with a warm energy-anger? Hermione groaned and threw herself back on her bed. She should not have told him. All Slytherins were the same—obsessed with their heritage and inbreeding—now he would stop teaching and mentor-

That's absolutely fine, Hermione. As you know, I'm half-blood myself and was frightened as well when the monster was released. It would be hypocritical of me to think you less worthy. But you must be cautious. If the monster is indeed roaming the halls of Hogwarts, who knows what type of danger you might be in…

Hermione stared at the pages and began to cry softly. Why couldn't all of Hogwarts think that she was just as worthy? Why did someone want to harm and kill people like her? She could do magic just as well as any pureblood. She hadn't come across a spell she couldn't do. So why was there a monster that existed for the sole purpose of hurting her and Justin and all of the other Muggleborn students in the school?

I'll be careful.

She closed the planner, which now was humming merrily with magic and put it under her pillow. She felt utterly lost and confused and terrified. If this monster was indeed in the school, killing Muggleborns, then she was in terrible danger. What's more, would the school be closed down? What would happen if another student died? What if it would be her?

The next morning, Hermione arose to a cold, drizzly sky. She had overslept her first class of the day—History of Magic—and for the first time in her life, she did not panic at missing a class. She lied in her bed, watching the raindrops dribble down the crosshatched pane and then opened Tom's book.

Tom, what should I do? How can I stop the monster? How can I protect myself from it?

I can teach you how to defend yourself. I can teach you how to kill the monster. But it will be hard. As you know, dark creatures can be very, very strong. You need powerful spells to defeat them.

I'll learn them. I can't have another one of my friends die.

Of course not. Now, go to the room you went to last night. We can begin practicing there.

Hermione felt a flood of gratitude towards Tom. A part of her snidely remarked that he had to talk with her, as he was a book with nothing else to do, but even after learning she was a Muggleborn, he was willing to teach her. Hermione hadn't felt accepted like that since her run-in with the Troll last Halloween.

Hermione went to the room, wand out in preparation of attack, and spent the rest of the class period she had missed practicing the spells Tom outlined for her.

Incarcerous – to bind, sends out heavy thick ropes at an opponent. Move your wand in an infinity motion and jab to the left. Although, as we've discussed, intent is all that matters.

Hermione easily mastered the spell, binding a lamp and crushing it into pieces.

Confringo – to blast, explodes the target. Sharp "z" movement with slight movement downwards near the end.

Hermione sent the curse at a small table and shielded her face as it exploded with a fiery blaze. It reminded her of the raw feeling she had gotten when she had first tried her wand at Ollivander's, a sort of loss of control.

Tom, I think some of these curses are too advanced for me. I'm only a second-year.

That's what they tell you so they can control you. You can do anything you wish with magic, can't you?

At those last two words, Hermione felt a sickening energy rise through her arms, prickling raw nerves,

Now you're going to need something alive for this next one… so that you can practice properly against the monster. Transfigure something small into a rat.

Hermione found a small glass and closing her eyes, willed it to transform itself into a rat. Surprisingly, it did.

Imperio – to control, controls the live object into doing whatever the caster wishes. Small downwards arc, then upwards with resistance.

Hermione hesitated for a moment. That sounded like an incredibly powerful spell, and she thought that she had heard of it before.

"Imperio…"

She could feel the rat, hear its scattered desires. It was scared, wanted food. It didn't know where it was. She told it to run to the left, and it obeyed as if running to the left was the height of its goals on this earth. She told it to jump, and it did, with such ecstasy that Hermione stepped back in awe.

She almost wanted to be placed under it. Everything became so simple for that animal, its desires mandated by some other actor, but Hermione shook her head and lifted the curse. That had to be dark magic. She had read about it, in a purely academic sense, of course, and what was in common with all dark magic was the desire for the caster to use it for the spell's own sake, not for its purpose. The caster didn't necessarily use a curse to hurt someone, but to feel the sensation of casting the spell.

That's why it was so dangerous—it was a wizard's drug.

Tom. That spell, Imperio. That is very dark magic. It felt, evil…

Yes, but it is one of the most useful spells a wizard can perform. Anyone who harbors ill will towards you can be stopped at your beck. Any monster that deigns to injure you will walk away as if nothing had occurred. If you seriously want to defend yourself, you have to put aside your childish notions of good and evil and realize that others will not play by your Gryffindor moral code.

Hermione cast the spell again. How could she have studied magic for a year without knowing this feeling? It was a sort of manic giddiness, that soaring rush of adrenaline landing behind her eyes. She felt like she could control anything with her jagged wand movements, eyes ablaze with what Tom so innocently called intent.

And then she was frightened once more. Just what was Tom? Who did he grow up to be, and why did he know such powerful curses? Why was he teaching them to her? She drew shallow breaths and looked at the planner. Was he just a 16 year-old boy, a hero? She couldn't believe that—he was something much darker, much more calculating and planning. He had easily seen through her fabrications and was now teaching her a very, very dangerous form of dark magic. A delightful form of dark magic, Hermione. How can something which feels that good, be bad? Hermione's hand gave a spasm at the thought—the addict's argument.

Hermione felt an odd sensation enter her mind. She realized that it would futile to look up the curse. If Tom had his reasons for using it, then he did, and she would too. She would find out if Hagrid did indeed open the Chamb-. No that wasn't necessary either. Her thoughts became fragmented and disoriented, and the last thing she remembered before falling to the ground was the silken swish of a Slytherin robe.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Several things I wanted to mention down here, including the changed diary scene and my take on it. I'm working off the assumption that the diary is half of Voldemort's soul (created after the first split) and so has a bit more liberties, including sentience. I think the canon made it pretty clear that Tom Riddle is perfectly capable of manipulating people's experience of the diary, and while Harry was the audience in the series, Hermione is the audience in my story. Therefore, there's not going to be as much emphasis on "I'm an orphan; let me stay at Hogwarts," rather, "I am an intelligent student who figured out this puzzle to protect Muggleborns." A good manipulator knows his audience.

Secondly, the dark magic seems a bit quickly introduced, but Hermione is distraught. She doesn't know that what she's doing is illegal or that Tom is compelling her to think certain thoughts (an act more easily done because she's gone into the diary.) All she knows is that she's bravely going to go after the monster with Tom's help. And I view addiction as something that some will seek (such as Tom) and something that will change you even if you don't have a predisposition (Hermione).

Lastly, this will be Tom/Hermione, but not until later. She's not fascinated with him yet as a person—more as a vessel of knowledge, but that will undoubtedly change. Next chapter: Tom gets a corporeal form for a bit, and changes his strategy.

Thank you all for the reviews—and let me know what you think. =D)