Chapter 6: Bleeding Memories

Grindelwald's manifesto was a slim crimson cloth clad book with the title embossed in gold. There was something unnerving about the fact that a man so evil was capable of such elegance. She had woken up after a few hours of sleep and read the manifesto so Xander was able to return it without her mum detecting it missing. The contents was predictable. As his initial attacks and statements had suggested he was aspiring for a centralized wizarding world government under his rule where muggles and muggle borns alike were systematically persecuted and enslaved. What was new information to Hermione however was his open advocacy of dark magic which he called pure magic. He believed the distinction between light and dark split the potency of magic and its full potential. This was the terrifying thing about these dark lords. They saw themselves are revolutionaries and the death and destruction as necessary in bringing about their utopia. Hermione mulled this over as the grounds sped past her, a blur of green. The sky looked unpredictable this morning. The rising sun pierced through a swirl of tumultuous grey.

From a distance Tom Riddle watched Hermione Prince from the owlery run gracefully around the Quidditch pitch in the long shadows of the barely begun morning. A school owl fled the vicinity delivering a letter to one Caractacus Burke, Knockturn Alley, London, England. He'd watched her do lap after lap, lost count, only recognizing her by her slight figure and her unruly mane. What was she doing? Riddle could not comprehend her reason behind the vigorous training. But now he thought about it Prince had been skinny, never frail. She must train regularly. Though what a sixteen year old girl needed with a robust body he had no idea. She was an enigma and Riddle couldn't stand not knowing. He was accustomed to reading people in mere seconds of observation. He'd been watching her for hours and with each action he was at more of a loss. He didn't appreciate her illusiveness. He had to plot his rise to power. He smirked at the melodramatic sound of the statement, the banality of it. The difference was however, that he would succeed. He tore his eyes from the girl that eluded him so and made his way to the Great Hall.

What was so captivating about her? Yes she appeared from nowhere looking like a war veteran escaping death by a millimetre. She was uncommonly intelligent. Walked with the grace of a warrior. But he had no use for her. She was passionately opposed to the persecution of mudbloods, therefore an enemy. He couldn't erase that look of pure unadulterated loathing. Yes, she was an enemy and one not to take too lightly.

After her tenth lap she stopped, rejoicing at the familiar feeling of burning and pain. Her heart rate had soared. After a week of bed rest, under Professor Prince's strict monitoring, she longed for the feel of the cold unrelenting air. While she trained, she felt alive. Suicidal thoughts left her as she felt the humanness of living. The blood rushing through her veins. The thumping of her heart. The beautiful soreness in her muscles. Her panting breath. She gritted her teeth at the thought of all this while she began her press-ups. She had a lot to catch up she noted as she looked at her gaunt arms. She remembered the last days of carefree happiness. Two summers ago. Fitness training with the new Order recruits. There was an optimism in the air. They were going to win.

Tears fell from her face as she pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion. Revelling in the pain, embracing it, calling it. This is why she had to train. The future was in her hands and this time the right side was going to win. She grinned at the poor opposition. They really had no idea.

At breakfast Hermione sat quietly trying to get through yet another muffin she wondered who the red-head was sitting near Riddle. Hermione nudged at Xander and nodded at Riddle questioningly.

"That's Druella Rosier."

And the plot thickens.

Xander wasn't in their DADA class but Jackie, Damion and Alphard were. Unfortunately and fortunately so was Riddle. She sat with Damion at the front of the pentagon shaped class. This was a different classroom than the one used in her past. It was larger and brighter. The windows were more like walls, spanning from ground to ceiling. In between each window were shelves of books and magical animals. Tarantulas and tanks of grindylows. The class was split in two sides by a oblong slab of stone that resembled a medieval duelling platform. Professor Prince perched on a desk on one end with a blackboard.

They were covering necromancy. Professor Prince acted perfectly professional with Hermione though he did wink at her once when noone was looking. He had a natural command over the class which Hermione suspected had to do with the students respect for him rather than discipline.

"What do we know about necromancy Mr. Potter?" that was another thing he did. He picked students randomly insuring everyone paid him the utmost attention. Potter had been staring wistfully at the window.

Professor Prince shook his head and pointed at the raised arm of Jaqueline.

"Necromancy if a form of black arts which is the communication with the underworld or the physical uprising of the dead."

"And how would one go about summoning the dead, Ms. Prince?"

"In the forms of elaborate rituals that often involve magic circles, talismans and blood magic. The most common form of valid necromancy is the creation of inferi. These are dead bodies that are controlled my dark magic. They are puppets of their master. The act is much simpler than shamanic traditions which requires several different elements. Inferi only requires two parts. The killing of the body and the incantation to bring it to life."

"What is the incantation, Mr. Riddle?

"There is no one universal incantation. The wording is dependent on the wizard which casts the spell, the body that is killed and the complexity of the puppet."

"The history of the legalities surrounding inferi, Mr. Lestrange?"

"It's illegal?" he offered.

Professor Prince passed the question to Hermione.

"Presently the act of summoning inferi is punishable by the Dementor's kiss. This act came into being in 1477 following the execution of the Dracula Vlad III. It was passed unanimously by the international magical council."

"Ten points to each student who answered a question. Ten deducted for failure in answering. Now, we will cover how one defeats an inferi for it cannot be killed as it already has died but one can sever its strings, so to speak from its master. In battle however the most successful way to temporarily defeat inferi is through the use of light. Their one weakness except lacking in will is they survive in the darkness. The lux mortius spell is specifically for the disablement of inferi until the puppetmaster is able to renew the spell." and in a similar vein the lesson went on.

As Professor Prince went on Hermione's eyes glazed over as the descriptions triggered a trip down memory lane. Except this time it was different. Her Occlumency walls were weak. Instead of viewing the images as an outsider, this time she saw it as she had experienced it. A dark cave, a black lake, Dumbledore's body being dragged down into the darkness and Hermione diving after him in the freezing water. She could feel the slimy hands around her neck suffocating her. Standing helplessly beside the Great Lake swirling with grotesque faces rising as the Battle of Hogwarts began. Magical wards that could not keep the brute strength of the Giants away. Her spells hitting their leathery skins having no effect as she failed to pull a first year from being crushed to death. Retching at the mangled body left behind. Image after image followed relentlessly forcing her to feel the despair so acutely she wished to die to make it stop. Why won't it stop.

"Next lesson we will be covering the disablement of the link between puppet and dark wizard. Class dismissed. Ms. Prince please stay behind."

As the class left the Professor led an entranced Hermione down into his office. He watched her blank eyes, her mind elsewhere. He sighed in relief. It had finally begun. The healing process. He awaited patiently and busied himself with preparing a cup of tea.

Finally Hermione's eyes flickered with life, she began hyperventilating as she looked around, taking in her surroundings.

"Hermione, you are safe. Do you know who I am?"

"Professor." She stuttered as she shook with a fear he'd never seen in her before. She no longer resembled a poised soldier but a scared little girl who had lost everything that ever mattered.

"I think it is time, don't you?"

Hermione said nothing already resigned to the inevitable.

"To Albus then."