You know, I realized that the Ministry never told the citizens of Little Hangleton who actually killed the Riddles? They seriously arrested Morfin and let the Muggle authorities think the gardener did it, leading him to be ostracized and harassed for the rest of his life until he was killed by the man who killed his employers.

P.S.: Sorry for the delay. I got covid again and wasn't up to getting my laptop.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny would take the floo to Hogwarts during the time slot they were assigned to by letter. Hermione intended to hold off a few days and planned to drive Bug to Scotland before apparating the rest of the way.

Sirius promised to handle the insurance claim. The house wasn't too badly burned. The ground floor suffered the most damage, so Hermione was able to collect pictures, albums, all the VHS tapes, and anything else she found salvageable. Though, oddly Cedric's letters to her were missing. A few other things were gone too, so perhaps the place was ransacked in hopes of finding the locket. The wizard world still hadn't caught on to her survival, but it would no doubt be everywhere when she showed up at school.

With some help, Roger and Beatrice would be given new documentation, and Renata volunteered to visit them to use some special magic for a more permanent appearance change. Sirius would send along the insurance money so they could open a practice in Koloa.

Hopefully nobody would catch on before the whole process was completed or there would be even more questions.

Before she left, Esperanza gave Hermione her Christmas present. It was a new outfit for both training and battle. Two full suits along with basilisk skin armor over magically enforced plates to protect her from most injuries. It wouldn't help against unforgivables or goblin-forged weapons, but she didn't have plans getting killed due to a minor hex or an infection.

Hermione wore one of the outfits when she returned to school. Sirius was escorting her so she wouldn't constantly be checking her rearview mirror.

"Do you have everything you need?" Sirius asked. "Clothes, books, money?"

"Yes, I'll be just fine," she said. "I don't quite know what I'll do at the end of the school year."

"You'll always have a space at my home," said Sirius. "Now, don't forget to take care of your tattoos, you don't want an infection."

"I won't. I've got the care instructions and ointment with my toiletries."

"Very good." Sirius hugged her and patted the top of her head. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to write. Okay?"

"Thanks, Sirius. I'll be alright. I always am, but in the event we can't send letters..." She handed him his own notebook.

"Thank you."

Hermione put Bug in her case, turned towards Hogwarts and tessered. She took two steps and she was in front of the gates of the school. It helped that she still had bruises and cuts visible on her face. There were more wards. She wondered if Snape and Draco could even get in now. No, there they were. She could sense them. In the Great Hall. Everyone was there, perhaps for dinner or announcements. She couldn't quite see, she needed to pass through the wards.

"Stop!"

She paused. This was her, she could go wherever she wanted.

"Let me lead," Hermione thought.

"Nia!" Tonks ran over. "Wait… when did we first meet?"

"I smashed your colleague's hand with my baseball bat," she said. "I did the slide lock and he was still trying to come in."

"It is you!" Her tears came up easily and the hug she gave Hermione was genuine.

A sensory probe was dipped into her bag and a cancellation spell was run over her to make sure she wasn't polyjuicing or had an imperius curse on her.

"Go on inside to the Great Hall," said Tonks.

"Thanks."

Hermione hurried up to the school. Whatever she did before with just the sharpie was child's play. Everything was so much clearer now. The tattoo on her spine buzzed like an espresso shot.

The Great Hall doors were wide open, there were black hangings in place of the usual colors, and Professor McGonagall was giving a lovely speech. A picture of Hermione was sitting on the teacher's table flanked by two candles.

"She was a dedicated student," said Professor McGonagall weepily, "and an even more dedicated friend…"

Hermione rolled her shoulders and hoped her uneven walk would be interpreted as a swagger as she entered the Great Hall.

"I hope you aren't talking about me," she said loudly. "Or this is going to be very awkward."

Everyone looked at her in shock. Hermione held out her hands.

"What, you didn't think I would go down that easily did you?" she asked.

Daphne and Padma clambered over their tables and ran to her, nearly tackling her to the ground when they hugged her. Hermione wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin between their shoulders. To keep up appearances, Harry, Ginny, and Ron came in next to join the group hug.

Luna barreled in behind them and they all fell over into a heap.

Then the applause began. Professor Vector and Professor McGonagall had started it and others quickly joined. Some like Blaise and Shaylyn had gotten up to just stand nearby. Though the pile was enjoyable to Hogwarts, Hermione needed space. She bowed deeply and saw hands reaching out to be shaken. She couldn't get everyone on her way to her seat, but no doubt they would reach her over the next few days.

"How did you get out?" Daphne asked, dapping her eyes with a handkerchief. "It was all over the papers. The house, the Dark Mark, the…"

"Corpses?"

"I was going to say bodies."

"Wasn't us. Though the Muggle papers will report differently."

"But— oh," said Padma.

"Don't think less of me," said Hermione anxiously. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family."

"Of course," said Daphne. "Come on, have a seat. Tell us everything. Or nothing. Whichever you want."

Hermione sat down at the Slytherin table on the edge of the Kosher/Halal section. She was hungry. The tesser, even as short a distance as it was, took a lot out of her.

"You look like hell," said Blaise.

"Yeah? I just got back." Hermione spooned some food onto her plate and looked over at Pansy. "Go on, say your quip. I'll make sure nobody retaliates. Not right away at least."

"You should have stayed gone," she said.

"But Pansy. If I left, who would you feel superior over by doing absolutely nothing?"

Somebody snorted loudly.

"Can it, Malfoy!" Pansy snapped at her ex-boyfriend. "You're going to regret ever coming back, Granger."

Hermione smiled. "You're fun!"

"You think this is a game?!"

"Sure. You're a child playing pretend. Safe to run under Mummy and Daddy when things get difficult or scary." Hermione tipped her head. "This latest attack just made me realize that no one in this castle is an immediate danger to me, so why am I wasting my energy fighting someone who isn't even a blip on my radar?"

"Exactly what I've been saying," said Blaise. "More or less." They leaned against the table. "So Alejandro and Bernice were alright then?"

"Yeah, they were staying elsewhere at the time of the attack," said Hermione.

She looked over her shoulder to see Char quickly look back down at her meal. She'd have to seek her out and talk to her tomorrow. There was no feasible way tonight.

"How come you didn't come forward until today?" asked Padma. "That you're alive?"

"Well, it being my bad luck month, I didn't want to actually get myself killed by saying, 'Hey! Look at me! You failed! Care to try again?'"

"Point taken."

"You do have chutzpah, Nia," said Astoria. "No one can deny that."

"Thanks." Hermione sipped water from her goblet. "So, placing bets. Barring me letting Pansy have a go, how long do you think it'll be before I start getting harassed again? Could be five minutes, could be—"

"Hey, Granger."

"Dammit Cormac, we hadn't even placed bets yet!" Hermione shouted, slamming her hand on the table.

Daphne and Padma giggled and turned away to ignore the boy.

"Look, I just wanted to say I'm glad you're not dead."

"Thanks. Walk away. Now."

He scowled. "I'm being nice here, Motormouth, what do you need to be such a bitch for?"

Hermione threw a punch and frowned when her hand stopped right in front of his face. She tried to follow through, but her fist wouldn't go anywhere except down. She needed to pick it back up before she got punched in the eye. Men always did go for the eye.

"You get that one free," she said. "Next time, I won't stop."

"Tsh! Whatever. No wonder you keep getting dumped, you're insane."

"Melofors!"

A pumpkin formed around his head, making him stumble around from the weight. He tried to pull it off, but it did no good. The hall laughed at the shenanigans, but Hermione wasn't laughing.

"Putz," Daphne muttered, stashing her wand away. "Why didn't you hit him, Nia? He would have deserved it."

"I don't know…" Hermione stared at her food. "I think I've had enough violence for the time being."

After dessert was served, Dumbledore rose to his feet and raised a hand asking for silence. He looked better than he had been. Hermione caught an image of Snape giving him potions. Not really a vision more like… an imprint. As if she saw it from a passing car.

"Welcome back everyone," said Dumbledore. "I am sorry to call your holidays short, but with things as they are, the school board and your parents agree you would be safer here. We will be going back to our regular class schedule tomorrow, you will still have a full week before you need to turn in your holiday homework. To make up for this, we will have two weeks before exams as extra time to study and allow you to go to your professors for tutoring or questions. I would like to extend a welcome to Miss Herminia Sanchez y Granger who, as it turns out, has not died like we thought."

"Month's not over yet," said Hermione.

"Nia, don't even joke about that," said Daphne. "Please."

She felt bad. Her death would have caused a lot of sorrow.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"On to the bad news," Dumbledore continued. "Hogsmeade weekends are hereby cancelled, but we will still make those a fun day by featuring movie marathons and offering special snacks or, perhaps, games for you to play. The only students allowed off campus shall be those of age. However, they cannot expect it to be easy to re-enter if they have left. In other news, we will begin apparition lessons for our sixth years, which will take place here in the Great Hall. Sign-ups will be posted in your Common Room.

"Mail will continue to be screened, and if things continue the way they are, the school board and I are considering a summer program to keep Hogwarts open and allow all of you a safe place."

"That's actually not a terrible idea," said Hermione, looking at the others. "Of course, there are pros and cons. Pro: Safe place. Con: If safe place suddenly becomes unsafe we would all be trapped here like sardines."

"Great, I feel so safe now," said Ron.

"Don't worry, Ronald," she said. "As long as we are here at the school, no harm shall befall you."

"O… kay?"

"Excuse me, we are tired and must sleep now." Hermione stood up and left the Great Hall. Even out the doors, she could still hear them speak:

"You heard that, right?" said Ron. "How she said what she said?"

"Give her a break," said Daphne. "Her family was attacked, she probably almost died."

"Of course she's going to be a little strange," said Padma. "I mean, she usually is, but if she weren't then she wouldn't be Nia."

"And she's probably stressing over her January bad luck," said Shaylyn.

Hermione entered her dorm and stared at herself in the mirror.

"You know," she said. "I'm meant to keep this a secret. If everybody knew what I was doing, I would probably be expelled!"

"I know! I'm sorry. It's been centuries since I really got to talk to anybody. The only ones around here who listen to what I have to say are the house-elves. The Sorting Hat is supposed to be my mouthpiece, but you've heard what a windbag he is."

"Yes, that's the problem with these things," said Hermione. "Us hosts usually have minds of their own and what the hell was that with McLaggen? I had the right to deck him."

"I cannot inflict harm on others unless they inflict harm on me," Hogwarts replied. "This bond goes both ways, you know. If I'm giving you a boost then you have to abide by my rules. I cannot harm any of those who call me home. Outside my borders, you can do whatever you want."

"That would have been nice to know."

"Do you want this to end?"

"No."

"Then suck it up, buttercup." Hogwarts grinned at her. "Look, I'll try not to jump into the conversation unless you're with the elves. They'll understand the most out of anyone. Plus, my dear, you're not that decent of a cook just yet."

"Hey, cooking is hard! But I'll allow it. Still, I think we should probably cool it on the see-everything-at-once thing. There are some situations I'd rather not eavesdrop on."

"We can work around it."

Hermione tipped her head, but her reflection did not do the same. One eye looked gold rather than the rich brown and the stars in her cursed eye seemed to shine.

"Is this real? Or a dream?"

"Hard to say," Hogwarts replied. "But I agree with you, we should probably keep our head down."

"Hard to do with you always going 'Let me see! Let me see!'"

"You're the one who made this bond permanent, not me. As we are together now, I think we both should make the best of it. You love and care for my students and I will make sure you can defeat Tom. He's been a naughty child."

"That's putting it mildly. Can you tell or show me anything?"

"Like all difficult memories, they must be triggered. When the conditions are right, I will show what I can.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"Nia?"

Hermione turned around to see Daphne enter.

"Who are you talking to?"

"No one," said Hermione. "My aunt. Okay, Tía! Hasta luego!" She threw the closest object into her drawer before Daphne could see it. "Qué lo que?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see if you were alright. I mean… as about alright as you can be."

"It's fine," said Hermione. "I'm fine. My family is safe."

"Okay… I like your outfit."

"Oh, thanks. It's armor. I'm mostly wearing it for training, but it's also nifty in battle. It's got this basilisk skin jacket and armor. Impervious to magic and most weapons. It's actually made from my basilisk skin cloak."

"Were you wearing it when you were attacked?"

"No, Esperanza just finished it. I've got this one, see it's teal and it's a jumpsuit." She unzipped the jacket and hung it up so she could take the armor off. "It's also short-sleeved. And then I've got another one, it's dungarees and I've got another set of armor like this and can just put this jacket over them. One-pieces are easier to pull on in a hurry. The armor is for when I have time, the jacket is if I'm rushing."

"Sounds like a lot of thought was put into it. Will you be wearing it often?"

"Just for training."

"So, every morning?"

"Yeah. It doesn't bother you that I get up that early does it?"

"I imagine it wouldn't stop you if it did, but no. I haven't been late to class at all this year, so it's fine by me if you get up early."

"Cool."

"Are you still injured?"

Hermione looked down at the bandage on her arm. "Er… I'm fine. Do you need to use the loo? I have to take care of some stuff."

"No, no. I'm fine."

"Alright." Hermione ducked into the bathroom with her pajamas and toiletries.

~o0o~

Hermione surviving had officially made old news by breakfast. All anyone could talk about was apparition lessons even during their actual lessons.

"I can't wait to use it against my cousin, Fergus," said Seamus during Charms. "He'll never know a moment's peace."

The stream of water he was supposed to make turned into a jet and ricocheted off the ceiling. Hermione waved her hand and Professor Flitwick's stack of books was moved to the left so he wouldn't get knocked down.

"Careful there, Mr. Finnegan," said Professor Flitwick. "You are a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick."

"Sorry, sir."

"Harry's already Apparated," said Ron. "He was taken Side-Along."

"Whoa!"

"So?" said Padma, shooting a steady stream of water into one of the many cauldrons set up around the room. "A few of us have side-alonged before. Nia can already apparate."

"You can?" said Professor Flitwick, and everyone jumped as they realized he had been listening in on their conversation the whole time.

"Sure," said Hermione. "It's a required lesson at Castelobruxo. Alongside learning to drive a car. I've got my license and everything. I even passed the side-along course."

"What's it like?" asked Neville.

"Well, I have a list of Classes on my license, Class C for car, Class M for motorcycle, and Class A for apparition, technically it also means I'm qualified to drive an articulated lorry, but they put it down as A so that the licenses don't get flagged for being fake."

"He meant apparition," said Dean.

"Oh. Well, the apparition I learned is different from the one you'll be learning," she said. "The one you're learning focuses on getting you to the destination whereas I learned to tesser."

"Tesser?" said Neville. "What's tesser?"

"Oh, we learned about that in Arithmancy," said Harry. "It's erm… a shape that… no, it's a cube inside a cube… right?"

"That's a tesseract and it's basically linked to the same theory." Hermione wiggled her fingers and made an image of a tesseract above their heads. She snapped her fingers and it began moving like a desk toy. "See, the theorem is that hyperspace travel is impossible, nobody can go faster than the speed of light. What tessering does is it enfolds the space in front of you." She made a long string between her fingers. "You're bringing this far—" She brought her finger tips and the ends of the string together—"to this close."

She looked up and saw mostly blank stares. She sighed and waved her hands, removing the examples.

"I took space and made it my bitch," she said. "It comes when I call it."

"Well, you could have just said," said Ron, looking amused.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Still, I might drop by the first lesson just to see what he's teaching you. The method you're learning is more accurate to destination but the method I learned has a lower risk of splinching. You win some, you lose some."

She reached into her bag and brought out one of her IMNs. The one connected to Hannah. It had a mark signaling she had written something. She opened it up.

Hey Nia,

Glad to hear you're okay. The news of what happened to you made it all the way to Australia. Susan and I wish we were coming back to Hogwarts to give you a huge hug, but my Dad transferred me to Uluru and Susan, since she's all alone now, decided to stick with me. We had arrived this morning and met your sister Amalea. She's a lot like you. She gave us the grand tour and promised to help us navigate our way around.

I'm sure you're in class right now, so don't worry about hurrying to answer back. I just wanted to write you before bed.

Give Neville my and Daphne and Padma our love.

Hannah

"Hannah says hello," said Hermione. "She and Susan got transferred to Uluru."

"Uluru?!" Neville squawked.

"Mmhm. Don't worry, my sister will make sure they're alright."

"I forgot you had a sister," said Seamus. "Is she a lot like you?"

"Eh, not as crazy but give her time."

After class let out, Harry hailed Hermione over.

"I've got another meeting with Dumbledore," he said.

"Alright. I'll be listening in the room hidden across from that portrait of Wendelin the Weird. Eight o'clock, yeah?"

"Right."

The homework load was heavy, which didn't give her any time to seek out Char. No matter, they were due for a sword-fighting lesson soon.

Just before eight o'clock, she was in the tower again. She didn't trust the same thing to put her in a trance, so this time she hung a pendulum from the ceiling and swiped her hand so that it would start spinning around while baubles of light pointed straight at it. It flashed different colors, sometimes overlapping. An owl hooted and there was a skitter of claws, Hermione kept her eyes on the pendulum swinging around and around and around and around.

Once again, she got the sensation of feeling every living force within the school. Most people were in their Common Rooms whispering about how Hermione Granger fought off five, no—ten, no—fifty Death Eaters at once over the winter holiday and had disappeared without a trace. Some were speculating that she had, in fact, been the one to disguise herself as Cedric and committed the heist on May the Third, but nothing would come of that as Hermione had been hosting a S.A.M.B. meeting at Castelobruxo that day. She focused in on the Headmaster's office. Harry and Albus were standing in front of the pensieve. She couldn't quite see them, so much as sense their energy. Instead, she felt herself center around the pensieve.

"So," said Albus, "we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued thievery when he arrived at school.

"Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his secondhand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head." Hermione caught a flash of that day. She could see that Tom had no idea the significance of being placed in that house just yet, but in the face of applause she could not hear, his face shined at the immediate acceptance. "How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know—perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance.

"However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed polite, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were favorably impressed by him."

Hermione caught a montage of Tom's years under Hogwarts care. He had started off innocently enough. Though that changed significantly his third year. He took a Divination course and when he had spoken to the then professor of divination, a Professor Dodona, he had gone one by one to each student giving them a private reading mostly to determine how serious they will take his class. Most weren't of much importance. Long lives, marriage, babies, but Tom?

"Oh, I see great power within you," he had said. "You have the ability to achieve greatness beyond what anyone else can comprehend."

"Really?" Tom had whispered. "How?"

"That is unclear. But be warned Tom, with the opportunity for greatness comes the chance of great failure. You will have many choices and you will do well to decide what the right path will be. Beware who you allow close to you, for one you trust could lead to ruin."

Clearly, rather than use his charms and good-looks to do good, he had let the words go to his head and that's when he decided he needed a new name and a close-knit circle of friends he could keep too terrified to even think of betraying him. He would make them fear him to the point where they wouldn't dare double-cross him.

Nobody knew of this premonition and Professor Dodona would forget he ever made it. There had been no crystal ball in the room to take in the vision.

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "Few who knew him then are not prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.

"Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle Sr. on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Vol—"

"Don't say his name, sir!" Harry hissed.

"Harry, I thought I told you fear of the name only increases the fear itself."

"Yeah and then Nia told me that Pettigrew said the name and all the defenses surrounding her house were broken. It's Taboo, sir. We've been calling him our good friend Morty."

"I see. Well, our good friend Morty began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family—the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death.

"All he had to go upon was the single name 'Marvolo,' which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking research through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if you will stand…"

Hermione, scarcely realizing she lost herself, was still ready for the fall into the pensieve. Her body was twisted and gnarled. Weak. Stomach bloated grotesquely from hunger. A man again. His hair hung in his face upon which a single, tiny spider spun a web to catch the lice that prickled and scrawled over his scalp giving his skin the sensation like static from a TV. The place was the same as the house she had seen in her first vision, though it was horribly filthy, a layer of grime coated the floor; moldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light came from a single candle at their feet, which were bare and covered with bunions.

Hermione couldn't read his thoughts like she could Albus' or Ogden's. He'd never graced her halls, so she knew nothing of him except the anger he held in his tense hands and hunger in his gut. He was half-asleep and had nearly dozed off completely when there came a loud knock on the door. He was alert then, raising the wand in his right hand, a short knife in his left.

The door creaked open. Tom, tall, handsome, and holding an old-fashioned lamp, stood on the threshold. His dark eyes moved slowly around the hovel and then found the man in the armchair. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering and tinkling across the floor.

"YOU!" he bellowed. "YOU!"

And he hurtled drunkenly at Tom, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop."

Slytherin's locket buzzed in Hermione's hair.

The man skidded into the table, sending pots and rotten food crashing to the floor. He stared at Tom. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it," said Tom. He moved forward into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. His face expressed disgust.

"Where is Marvolo?" he asked.

"Dead," said the man, whose body Hermione was stuck in. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Tom frowned.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

Hermione could have guessed that, considering how out of focus everything was. His odd eyes unable to really pinpoint one thing or another. It would make him a weak duelist. He had to rely on his frightening appearance.

"Marvolo's son?"

"'Course I am, then…"

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face to get a better look at Tom, though it didn't do much good. A mote swam in his left eye. Hermione shuddered internally, barely realizing she was wearing the ring on her right hand. There was magic coming from it. Something ancient and powerful, evident even in a memory.

"I thought you was that Muggle," whispered Morfin. "You look mighty like that Muggle."

"What Muggle?" said Tom sharply.

"That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it…"

Morfin swayed and clutched the edge of the table for support. Hunger or illness, she couldn't be sure. He was not her student. "He come back, see," he added stupidly.

Tom was gazing at Morfin appraisingly. He moved a little closer and said, "Tom came back?"

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin, hocking a loogie onto the floor. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"

He was almost excited, but when Tom didn't answer he tensed and grew angry, brandishing his knife.

"Dishonored us, she did, that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit…. It's over…"

He looked away, staggering slightly and darkness slammed over his vision.

Rather than wake up, Hermione returned to the void where she had no body, only consciousness. She heard Albus speak.

"Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward. When he awoke the next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone.

"Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father.

"The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they do not know to this day how the Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra curse does not usually leave any sign of damage… The exception sits before me. The Ministry, on the other hand, knew at once that this was a wizard's murder."

This didn't feel important. Hermione already saw what was important. Tom the Magpie had probably used the ring as a horcrux, using his father or grandparents. You don't have to carve the circle into the skin like what happened to Esperanza. He could have used ink, done the deed, and then cleared it away setting the Riddles back up as if nothing happened. After all, if the wizards knew someone was making horcruxes then there'd be a high alert. How he got around not eating their flesh… unless he never used them and simply killed them for the sport of it.

Whether the Riddles were used or not, this meant that she had one more aside from Harry to search for. That might prove difficult. Tom wouldn't be able to keep his horcrux on his person. The two soul pieces would want to join too badly and cause issues. Which was why Harry and Tom could not touch each other without causing each other great pain until Harry's blood was used in the ritual. In that way… the souls were almost joined. Once the soul is removed from Harry, it would act as a sort of "death" and then he'd be free to live his life. The only person who can kill Harry now would be Voldemort. That's why Dumbledore thought Harry needed to be groomed for slaughter.

But Hermione knew better. She would have to extract the horcrux and break the bond. He'd be vulnerable to outside forces from that point on, but he was a good duelist.

Locket, Diary, Harry, and the ring made four. How many were there? If there were more, then she would need to know.

"This will not take long," came Dumbledore's voice. "We shall be back before you know it. Once more into the Pensieve, then…"

Hermione instantly knew who she was. A much younger Horace Slughorn. This memory was much clearer and more tangible than any of the others. He wasn't as plump, though his embroidered waistcoat was a bit tight after a rich dinner and the box of crystalized pineapple at his side table. He swirled the glass of wine in his hand and smiled at the six boys sitting around him. He'd invited quite a few to his club this year, yet these were the last six who remained. A tight group of friends, but all with the potential for greatness. Unbeknownst to him, the others had been scared off by this very group. Threatened great harm if they infringed on this little club with their unworthy presence. Tom had a name for himself by now.

Tom was still the most handsome in the crowd and he was more at ease. On his right finger was the ring. He'd already killed his father at this point. Hermione could not sense any of the angry horcrux energy from the ring, but perhaps that was because this was a memory and Slughorn had no such abilities.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Horace, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at the boy, though showing he wasn't really admonishing him by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Tom smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't and your careful flattery of the people who matter—thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite—"

HOW COULD I NOT SEE? Horace's anguished voice wailed, rattling Hermione's skull. IT WENT SO WRONG!

Nobody gave any indication that those words had just been said. A small golden clock standing upon his desk chimed eleven o'clock.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" said Horace. "You'd better get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

Horace hauled himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk as the boys filed out. Tom, however, stayed behind, dawdling deliberately.

"Look sharp, Tom," said Horace. "You don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you're a prefect…"

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away…"

"Sir, I wondered what you know about… about Horcruxes?"

"HOW COULD I HAVE TOLD HIM?"

Hermione was rudely pulled from the memory, feeling extreme rage pull at her chest. She saw Tom a short time after this following Myrtle to the bathroom carrying the materials he needed. She sensed the rest of Slughorn's memory, though she couldn't see him she heard the words.

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?" his tone implied that he knew it wasn't and Hermione knew that he had a soft spot for Tom and wanted to be someone the boy could confide in.

"Not exactly sir," said Tom. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No… well… you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Horace, thinking to how he could barely stomach reading the process in Secrets of the Darkest Art.

Tom saw that and filed it away to get one of his lackeys to order it in for him.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you—sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously—I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could—so I just thought I'd ask—"

"Well, well, it can't hurt to give you an overview of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir."

"Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But, of course, existence in such a form… few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well," Horace grew uncomfortable, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil—the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart."

No it doesn't! Hermione wanted to snap. There are many reasons to kill a person! Sometimes to stop people like Tom! Sometimes to protect the ones you love! Tom has killed at least three people by now and yet, he looks unchanged. You know it takes more!

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" Horace sounded bothered. "Do I look as though I have tried it—do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," said Riddle quickly. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to offend…"

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Horace gruffly, longing for this conversation to end. "It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things… Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic…"

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "What I don't understand, though—just out of curiosity— I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance—"

"HERMIONE!"

She startled awake to see Ron and she felt anger burn in her stomach. She swatted him across the head with her notebook.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" she bellowed.

"Oi! I wanted to find out what you learned and yet you're taking a nap!"

"It's not a nap, stupid!" she snapped, throwing her notebook down. "It's a trance and you broke me out of it. Now I lost the most important piece of information I could possibly get!"

"Can't you get back into it?"

"It doesn't work that way. I'd need the memory to play again and there's no possible way that's going to happen because Dumbledore doesn't know I'm eavesdropping! He thinks he's obliviated my mind of horcruxes. I was about to find out how many Tom potentially made and you—you woke me!"

He looked sheepish. "Sorry. Well, we can ask Harry. Okay?"

She grumbled and got up, clearing her things. So Tom didn't use his father or grandparents to make horcruxes. He used someone else. Who though? Did that matter at this point? She knew he used Myrtle on his diary, but at that time he'd only just learned about them. So how could he have used the Riddles if he had no idea how to make a horcrux in the first place?

When Harry met up with them, she told him as much.

"So you think the ring is a dead end?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I would have to find where it was and see for myself. Any chance our good friend Morty had it on him?"

"No," said Harry certainly. "I think something that important would have been presented as reverently as his wand."

"Mm… yeah. He couldn't have it on him if it was anyway. The soul pieces would try to fuse back together over time. That's why he has to keep them elsewhere."

"So we're back at square one?" said Ron. "How many horcruxes are there?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "The memory had been tampered with. Dumbledore wants me to get the real memory from Slughorn. He gave me this whole lecture about not really trying but I don't even know where to begin. Nia, can't you look at it or something?"

"I'm not a legilimens, Harry," said Hermione.

"Well, let's ask Hogwarts," said Ron jokingly.

Harry snorted. "Right. Excuse me, Miss Hogwarts, you wouldn't happen to know how many horcruxes You-Know-Who made, do you?"

Hermione's consciousness was pushed back as Hogwarts came forward, pleased to be having someone make direct conversation. It seemed the change was immediate because both boys recoiled.

"I'm sorry, Haridard," she said. "There's a lot of weight to the walls have ears, but my knowledge isn't omniscient and I've been around a very long time. Herminia's opportunity to see the number has passed as Horace was thinking of the memory at the same time you were viewing it. It is like the planets aligning. Very rare to happen again so soon."

Harry sighed and slumped over then looked up confused. "Haridard?"

"Yes. That is your full first name. You are Haridard James Potter, anglicized to Harry. We send the letters out with the students common name rather than their birth name. Like what happened with Herminia here. Her name was written with the name she was familiar with and—"

"We're getting off track," said Ron, though he too looked mystified by this information. "So you can't go through Dumbledore's pensieve staff or look into people's heads?"

"No can do, Ronald. I might be tied to Herminia, but my powers are stretched thin enough as it is trying to keep the wards from falling down every time Albus wants to test them against Taboos."

"Well… thanks anyway," said Harry.

"Of course. Look, anytime you want to have a chat, just ask for me directly. I'll let Nia come back now."

Hermione shuddered and shook her head. "It's like having two steering wheels in one car. Was it obvious when I changed?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Your brown eye turned gold and the stars in the other eye lit up."

"Neat."

"Hey, why can't you just get it out of him Nia?" said Ron. "The memory from Slughorn I mean. You're his favorite, you know. He only calls you by your last name. Correctly at least. He keeps calling me Weatherby."

"I think Harry might have an edge," said Hermione. "I just killed six Death Eaters, Ron."

"Seven," corrected Harry.

"Whatever. If I were to ask about them now, he might assume the worst and think I was making some for myself. He's going to be very paranoid about this subject."

"I guess you're right."

"I can't do everything for you, Harry. Put on your big boy pants and figure it out."

"I know."