Hermione glanced down at her scratched gold Muggle watch.
It was 7:53. He would be here soon.
Hermione began to set up the workstation and its rickety wooden bench next to the cauldron. She laid out the tools and ingredients in her typical methodical fashion, left-to-right in order of use. Organizing was one of Hermione's most effective coping mechanisms, but tonight, it did little to soothe her nerves.
The wards chimed, alerting Hermione that there was someone at the door.
Bile rose in her throat. She sucked in a deep breath to slow her racing heartbeat.
Hermione waved her wand and the door swung open, revealing Voldemort's tall stature at her doorstep.
"New wards?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped in.
Hermione shrugged, continuing to set up the workspace.
If Tom noticed her nerves, he didn't say anything. He simply took a seat next to her and reached for a large stoppered beaker.
The wizard had a strange energy about him, as though a heady anticipation were surging through his veins. He shot Hermione a pleasant smile, which she pretended to ignore.
"This step of the potion may seem a little strange, but don't be alarmed," he said.
Hermione nodded, clutching her wand underneath the bench with clammy, white-knuckled hands.
"I'm going to dice the alligator heart. Then you'll pour in one measure lacewing powder immediately after I add it to the potion. Understand?"
"Lacewing. Got it."
As Tom chopped the dried heart, Hermione's eyes darted to her bookcase. She had hidden her copy of Magia in its usual spot, behind her volume of Pride and Prejudice.
Whatever happened, Hermione knew Tom could never be allowed to discover what she had learned about soul magic.
As Tom stirred in the alligator heart, Hermione dutifully scooped the lacewing power into the brew.
The cauldron let out an enormous cloud of smoke, so thick the room became shrouded the heavy fumes. Hermione backed away, coughing.
When the smoke cleared, Tom was standing over the cauldron with his eyes closed, chanting some sinister sounding syllables under his breath.
Hermione was alarmed. Neither Tom nor any potions book had made mention of a chant.
It wasn't English, French, Latin, or Parseltongue - it was something else. Something bad.
"Stop!"
Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at the wizard.
But before she could cast, Tom whipped out a wand of his own.
Hermione could have recognized that sharp, bony wood anywhere.
She realized she had made a terrible mistake.
"Expelliarmus."
The dragon heartstring flew across the room, hitting the kitchen table.
"Petrificus Totalus."
Hermione fell to the floor with a dull thud.
She tried to break free from the body bind, like she had once mastered during the War, but struggled against the force of the spell. Even in this half-mortal state, Voldemort's magic was powerful.
All Hermione could do was watch helplessly as Tom continued to chant.
He retrieved a bag from his pocket and withdrew a cracked, yellowing human bone.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
Hermione would have screamed if she could.
She knew that incantation. Her memory flashed back to the nights she and Ron had spent sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, listening to Harry recount the horrific night of the Triwizard Tournament.
Tom dropped the bone into the cauldron with a splash.
"Blood of the vassal, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your master."
Tom walked over to the prone witch. He hauled Hermione's stiff body over to the cauldron and slashed her wrist with Bellatrix's wand. She watched helplessly as thick crimson blood oozed from the wound and and trickled into the cauldron.
The potion hissed and reduced to a sickening black sludge.
Voldemort tossed Hermione's body aside, and raised the heavy copper cauldron to his lips.
Tom began to gulp down the thick, acrid potion. The dark brew dribbled from the corners of his mouth and soaked his T shirt. After a few moments the wizard's breath grew labored and he fell to his knees, but continued to drink.
Then, Voldemort collapsed.
Simultaneously, the two felt their bodies begin to thrum with a powerful magical current, seeming to stem from each of their magical cores.
As the sensation grew more and more intense, Tom opened his mouth and let out an agonized scream. Hermione watched him crawl over to her immobilized body, gripping her hand so hard she thought the delicate bones would snap.
She felt a tearing sensation deep inside of her core. If it had been possible, Hermione's screams would have rung out, joining Tom in a harmony of torment.
As they approached the brink of unbearable pain, the two lost consciousness.
Hundreds of miles away, dozens of Azkaban inmates and wizards scattered throughout Europe felt their Dark Marks activate.