Blaise, as Hermione's official Blackmail advisor, was taking his role very seriously. He had made a list of possible avenues of action and done preliminary Arithmancy odds on how likely they were to be successful.
"I'm just saying – the best way of handling this is poison," Blaise said, holding his hands up. He nodded at the parchment. "The numbers don't lie."
"I'm not killing someone over this," Hermione said, exasperated. "I'm not."
Blaise sighed very dramatically.
"Well, if force and violence are off the table, that leaves us with limited options," he said. He glanced up at her, lowering his voice. "Can you get the stone?"
Hermione bit her lip.
"Maybe?" she said. "I can ask Tolly. She might be able to get it from Bloodthorne for me. That'd be safer than sending it through the mail."
Blaise nodded, making a note on his parchment.
"If we get that, we can begin trying to figure out the Elixir," he said. "We're going to need help with the Alchemy part, though."
"The only alchemists I know of are Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel," Hermione said, sighing. "The latter's dead, and I don't want to go to Dumbledore – he'll be furious that I have the stone."
"There's Cedric Dearborn, but I don't think he talks to anybody nowadays," Blaise said, frowning. "I only know because my mum tried to seduce him once."
Hermione's lips twitched. "You know about your mother's attempted seductions?"
"Of course," Blaise said, waving her words off. "He was an alchemist. Great potential for wealth and prestige. His constant ramblings about higher magics and crazy details got to her though, and she couldn't stand it, so she broke it off."
Hermione laughed, and Blaise smirked.
"There's one other person I think we might be able to ask," he said, "who might be able to provide some help."
"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Who?"
Blaise glanced at her.
"You know who," he said, lowering his voice.
"I don't," Hermione said, annoyed. "Who?"
"No, not you know who. You-know-who," Blaise said. "The Dark Lord. Voldemort." His gaze was piercing. "He's the one who went after the stone for the Elixir in the first place."
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"So, what, you want me to owl the Dark Lord?" she hissed. "Just write, 'hey, sorry for stealing the stone that would have resurrected you a body, but can you tell me how it works?' I don't exactly think I'm on good enough terms with him for that!"
"I mean, maybe." Blaise struggled to keep a straight face. "It could work."
Hermione rolled her eyes, and Blaise grinned.
"But if I'm being honest," he said, eyes glinting, "I more thought you could consult the baby Dark Lord - the little one you carry around in your pocket."
Blaise didn't want to come along for Hermione pulling Tom from the diary, but he did anyway.
"If it's to do with your blackmail, I should be there to help," he said begrudgingly. "I just don't like him."
"Why not?" Hermione asked, shrugging. "He's practically harmless."
"I don't trust him," Blaise said immediately. "What's he after?"
"Presumably, a body someday," Hermione said. "I'm his best chance at ever getting out of the diary."
"Yeah, and will you give him that?" Blaise glanced sideways at her. "If he makes an offer to help you once, for something you can't refuse – would you do it? Give the baby Dark Lord a new body?"
Hermione bit her lip.
"I'd like to think I wouldn't," she said. "But a lifetime is a long time. Who knows?"
They went to the Chamber of Secrets, where there was no risk of Tom being seen or overheard. Blaise was surprised to see how clean it was.
"It wasn't this nice after we did the ritual for Jade here," he commented.
"I think the elves helped clean up," Hermione said, glancing around. "They may have even installed a toilet down here."
She sat down and took out the diary, while Blaise moved off to the side.
"Do you have your sword?" he asked. "In case this goes poorly and you need to destroy him?"
"I don't need it," Hermione said, waving off his concerns. "If it goes that badly, I can just cast Fiendfyre to destroy the diary, and he knows it, so he'll behave."
Blaise's eyes went wide, but Hermione was focusing on her breathing, closing her eyes and centering her magic, settling into her core. Once her magic was settled, Hermione reached out with her magic into the diary, fishing around, waiting for the feeling of someone taking her hand, before slowing pulling her power out.
Blaise gaped as Tom Riddle was slowly pulled into existence, a body forming as it emerged from the pages of the open diary, and Hermione quietly enjoyed his astonishment. She'd done this many times, now, but it was rather fantastic, seeing a person form from nothing but magic and will.
"Hermione," Tom said, greeting her. He glanced to the side. "And—Blaise, was it?"
"It was," Blaise said evenly.
"A pleasure," Tom said. He looked to Hermione, eyes glinting. "Are we teaching everyone in your coven Fiendfyre now too?"
"No," said Hermione, as Blaise's mouth fell open again. "No, I need help with something else this time."
"Then, by all means," Tom said, spreading his arms grandly. "What is the quest of today?"
"Alchemy," Hermione said. "Making the Elixir of Life."
To her astonishment, Tom Riddle groaned.
"Must we?" he complained. "I detest alchemy."
"Yes, we must," Hermione pressed, surprised and annoyed. "I'm being blackmailed for it. I have the Philosopher's Stone, but I don't know how to use it to get the Elixir."
"Blackmailed?" Tom raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "And is there a reason you haven't just killed the blackmailer to be done with it?"
"That's what I said," Blaise grumbled.
"Killing is bad," Hermione said sharply.
"Blackmailing is also bad," Tom pointed out. "Surely you don't think the life of a person blackmailing you is worth more than you keeping your secret?"
"Yes, I do," Hermione snapped. "It's a life. If my secret came out—well, it would be bad, but I wouldn't die. So they're not comparable."
Tom rolled his eyes.
"Fine, then," he said. He heaved a huge sigh, moving to sit down on the stone floor. "Alchemy. What do you want to know?"
"How to get the Elixir of Life from the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione repeated. "I looked at some of the alchemy books in the library, but they're impossibly complex—"
"Learning Alchemy is hard, but understanding the basic concepts is not," Tom said, waving a hand dismissively. "You grew up with muggles, yes? Did you learn chemistry?"
"At a very basic level," Hermione said, wincing. "I only had primary school before I went to Hogwarts, really."
"You only need a very basic understanding," Tom said. "You know the difference between atoms and molecules, yes?"
"Err – atoms are the smallest unit of ordinary matter that compose everything. They are composed of protons, neutrons, and electrons," Hermione said slowly, thinking back. "Molecules are composed of different types of atoms and are held together by chemical bonds."
"So long as you know what that means, that's enough," Tom said.
"It doesn't feel like enough," Hermione grumbled.
Tom raised an eyebrow.
"What is Transfiguration?" he challenged.
"Err…" Hermione faltered. "Transfiguration is the field of magic where you turn one thing into another."
"Close," Tom said. "What's Alchemy?"
"I've got no idea," Hermione said, annoyed. "It seems like it's this utterly incomprehensible mess of ideas—"
"It's not," Tom said, annoyed. "Stop. Listen. You're making it more complicated than it needs to be?"
"Am I?" Hermione shot back. "Simplify it, then."
"Transfiguration is the field of magic that changes molecular structures," Tom said easily. "Alchemy is the field of magic that changes atomic structures."
Hermione paused.
"You're kidding," she said.
"I assure you, I'm not," Tom told her, raising his eyebrow.
"You mean to tell me," Hermione said, tugging on her hair, "that right now, the Philosopher's Stone, which I set down on a pile of lead, is atomically changing it into gold?"
"What did you think was happening?" Tom asked her, smirking.
"I don't know! Magic! I didn't consider it in-depth!" Hermione snapped. "I definitely didn't consider it was breaking atomic bonds and splitting atoms!"
Tom held his hands out, shrugging. "That's Alchemy for you."
"This doesn't make any sense," Hermione groaned. "I've turned things from one element to another in Transfiguration before. I'm sure of it."
"Have you?" Tom said ambiguously. "Are you certain?"
"Yes!" Hermione insisted. "The very first lesson – we transfigured a matchstick into a needle. That's wood into metal. And I know metal is made of different elements than wood!"
"A matchstick – that's wood and probably phospohorus sulfide," Tom said. "Wood is primarily carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen, with other elements such as nitrogen, sodium, potassium, magnesium, and iron." He raised an eyebrow. "And what is a needle made of?"
"Steel," Hermione said with certainty.
"And steel is just iron and carbon," Tom said, shrugging. "You've got both in the matchstick. Transfiguration."
Hermione gaped at him.
"What happens to the rest of it, then?" she demanded. "The leftover carbon and oxygen and whatever?"
"It probably turns into harmless gases," Tom said. "I'm guessing, mind. But if your magic is only focused on one part – turning the wood into metal – I believe the rest would just be left to do as they wanted. Which would probably be turn into carbon dioxide and water droplets in the air."
"Splitting atoms results in nuclear fission," Hermione snapped. "That's how they made the atomic bombs."
"I don't know what that is," Tom said easily. "Consider, though – have you ever transfigured anything silver or gold?"
"Yes!" Hermione cried. "Just the other day, we were doing indefinite transfigurations—"
"And you reshaped a mound of silver, yes?" Tom said challengingly, eyes glinting. "You didn't change it into anything else, did you?"
Hermione faltered.
"…is that really the difference?" she said. Her mind was boggling, rejecting the very idea. "Alchemy is essentially atomic transfiguration?"
"You say that like it's easy," Tom sneered. "It's extraordinarily difficult. Wizards have to use Arithmancy and Quantumancy to figure out the composition of what they're trying to change, extensive Ancient Runes to detail out the specifics and lay down guidelines, have an understanding of Thermobiomancy and Evocation to deal with the energies and magics involved, and then have a matter of skill in both Transmutation and Transmogrification." His look was cutting. "Alchemy is a discipline that requires decades of study. Decades. There's a reason I dismissed it when looking into immortality."
"Then why did Voldemort go after the Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione wanted to know.
"Because it's cheating," Tom snarled, suddenly looming in front of her. "It's essentially a shortcut, Hermione. I have no idea how the Philosopher's Stone works, but it does all the complicated parts for you."
Hermione held her breath.
"Once you have something that does the alchemy for you, the rest is easy," Tom told her, eyes glinting with malice. "If you provide the right ingredients and magical intent, the stone will do the rest."
Hermione swallowed.
"So… you're saying if I figure out what the Elixir of Life is supposed to be made of, and I get the right ingredients, the Philosopher's Stone will break molecules apart to stick the right atoms together in the right order? Or turn atoms into other atoms?"
"Better than you writing out 10-foot runic diagrams to do it yourself," Tom said pointedly.
Hermione felt faint.
"Well," she said weakly. "I guess it's a place to start."
Hermione was still dwelling on the matter when she returned to her dormitory for the night. The threat of blackmail seemed to hang over her heavily these days, never far from her mind, and obsessing over alchemy at least made Hermione feel like she was doing something to help.
The easiest place to start, Hermione determined, was to figure out exactly how the Elixir of Life was supposed to work. 'Make you immortal' wasn't an answer, in her opinion. Horcruxes allegedly made you immortal, but it was really through the splitting of your soul. If the horcrux and original body were both destroyed, then you were dead – clearly not immortal anymore.
Records of the Elixir of Life were old and fanciful, many of them seeming to be involved in legends. From what Hermione could tell, it was supposed to heal you and keep you from aging. That was a conditional sort of immortality, Hermione figured – immortal, so long as no one stabbed you to death.
It was a point to start, she supposed, but not an easy one. 'What causes aging' and 'how do bodies heal' weren't exactly questions with simple answers.
An unusual thought occurred to Hermione, though – if the Elixir of Life did, in fact, prevent aging… then it was only when a person stopped consuming the Elixir of Life that they would begin aging again. Depending on the age of a person when they had begun consuming it, that could give them nearly a lifetime to live after stopping. If they'd started at 100, sure, they wouldn't have much longer left, but if they'd started at 40? A wizard could easily live another 60 years.
Nicholas Flamel had created the Philosopher's Stone. He and his wife, Perenelle, had used it to live into their 600s, and they'd used the gold it made to create an endowment at Beauxbatons, if Hermione wasn't mistaken.
Hermione bit her lip. If one of them were still alive, and could answer her questions…
Her eyes flitted over to her desk, where an elegantly-penned scroll lay, the fleur-de-lis seal broken, waiting for her response.
With a sigh, Hermione heaved herself out of bed and to her desk, taking out a quill. She might as well try and ask.