"Beneath this sky, so livid and strange. Tormented like thy destiny. What thoughts within thy spirit range. Themselves? — O libertine reply."

Magnetic Horror. Les Fleurs du mal. Charles Baudelaire.

V

The sun sank, painting the sky gold, as Draco said goodbye. We had talked all day about our trip to Albania.

"I can't believe how bad things are since Grindelwald fell," I said, worried. "His followers still wreak havoc, even without him."

Draco agreed, serious. "It's a risky time for muggles and wizards."

Last week, masked attackers stormed the Muggle Relations in Berlin. The aftermath showed the world's darkness.

I sighed, sad. "Those poor lives lost… It's tragic."

Draco was angry, his fists tight. "Those cowards killed themselves. They deserved justice."

They were caught quickly, but they chose death over punishment. Such events made nations close their borders and limit foreigners.

"We have to be careful," I said, cautious. "Getting the travel permits will be hard."

Draco suggested an official visit by the Ministry as the fastest way to get them.

I nodded, thankful. "That might work. We'll use all we can." I had to get through the red tape and paperwork.

"Hermione, you can do it," Draco said. "You're brilliant at solving problems." I smiled, glad for his support.

I worked hard for days to get the clearance for Albania. But it wasn't easy. Since my trial, the Department of Mysteries had changed. Many colleagues were cold to me. And the new Senior Unspeakable, Otto Greengrass, made my life harder.

I stood outside Otto's office, ready for another clash with him. I had a convincing explanation, hoping to show him why we should go to Albania. I had found that some runes on the Veil stone arch matched those in an old temple in Albania's forests. I was curious about the temple, which had a beautiful obelisk for Diana, the Roman goddess.

I entered Otto's office, feeling the tension. I told him my reasons for the trip, excited and determined.

"I found a connection between the Veil stone arch and an old temple in Albania," I said. "The runes I could read are like those in the temple. There's a link between them."

Otto didn't like my idea. He was rude and mean. "Miss Granger, you're obsessed with the Veil. You're wasting time on these crazy ideas. We don't need this trip."

I felt his prejudice, the old pureblood views that some still had. "Sir, this is not a crazy idea. The evidence is strong. We could learn a lot about ancient magic and the Veil."

Otto doubted me, questioning my goals. "Why do you want to prove yourself, Hermione? Is it because you're a muggleborn? We need real evidence, not your dreams."

I didn't give up, and explained that Draco Malfoy would help with his ancient runes knowledge from Walachia. "Draco knows a lot about ancient runes. He's very helpful for this trip."

I finished when the door opened, and Augustus Rookwood, the director, came in.

"What's happening here? Otto, I heard loud voices," Augustus said. I was suspicious of Rookwood. Did he have a hidden motive?

"Otto, what's going on? We're a team, and we should work together, not fight," he said.

Rookwood surprised me by defending me and saying I didn't need Greengrass's permission. "Miss Granger, you're a valuable asset to the department. I trust you. You have my full support."

I was shocked, grateful but suspicious. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your trust." But I had a nagging feeling that he had a hidden agenda. What did Augustus really want? Was he on my side, or did he have his own plans?

Otto was furious, but Rookwood ignored him. "Sir, don't let her fool you! She's crazy, and this trip is a waste!"

I was excited as I planned for the next week. I got an international portkey from the Department of Magical Transportation. It would take Draco and me to Tirana, the capital of Albania. I couldn't wait to see a new magical place.

I looked forward to meeting the Albanian Supreme Consulate representative. They would help me with my research and exploration. But when I got to the immigration office, I saw Dolores Umbridge.

I smiled politely at Umbridge, hoping to work well with her. "Good afternoon, Ms. Umbridge. I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm happy to work with the Albanian Supreme Consulate. I think we can both benefit from this."

Umbridge glared at me, her smile fake. "Oh, you're that Hermione Granger, are you?" she said, mean and sweet. "I must say, I expected someone… more fit for this job."

I was taken aback by Umbridge's words, but I stayed calm. "Ms. Umbridge, my skills and passion for my research are clear. I'm confident that I can do this project well."

Umbridge chuckled, looking down on me. "Oh, you're capable, dear. But Draco Malfoy? Really, Miss Granger, he's above you."

I was shocked. "What? Draco's background doesn't matter. I give everyone a chance, no matter their birth or status."

Dolores smirked, mocking me. "Ah, the low-born ideals. How cute. But remember this, my dear, Malfoy will ruin your name."

I was angry, but determined. "Thanks for your concern, Ms. Umbridge, but I judge people by their actions and character, not their family. Now, I have work to do."

I nodded and left, leaving Umbridge with her hateful face. This reminded me of the prejudice I faced every day.

As I stormed out of the embassy, mad and confused, I ran into Ginny Weasley. We were friends, but not after I broke up with Ron. And Ginny loved Harry.

"Mione, wait!" Ginny yelled, desperate and angry.

I turned around, annoyed. "What?" I asked.

Ginny glared at me in the corridor. "You're so selfish!" she said, resentful. "Harry is hurting, and you keep asking for his help. You don't care about him!"

I was confused and surprised. "What? What are you talking about?" I asked, concerned.

Ginny gave me a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Read this," she said, accusing me.

I felt a surge of dread and urgency as I scanned the front page of the Daily Prophet, my eyes widening at the sight of a blazing inferno and the bold headline announcing the attack on the Potters' residence. "Oh my God," I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest.

The article narrated the horrific events of the morning - a cloaked figure, whose identity was unknown, had confronted Arabella Figg, a squib who lived near the Potters, and demanded to know where they were. Arabella had tried to resist, but the intruder had overpowered her mind and forced her to reveal their location. Hours later, a deafening blast rocked Godric's Hollow, setting the whole area on fire.

Ginny observed my reaction, her fury fading for a moment. "You see now? This is what's been going on," she said, her voice laced with sorrow and irritation. "Somebody attacked the Potters' home, and Harry's parents are dead."

My heart skipped a beat as I read, my mind filled with concern for Harry. "I have to find him," I said, my voice firm.

Ginny nodded, her face softening slightly. "I understand," she said, her voice gentle. "Just please, be careful. Harry's been through so much already."

I ignored Ginny's snide comments, and decided to find him and discover the truth behind the attack. "I will," I said, my voice resolute. I left Ginny behind, and apparated to Godric's Hollow with haste.

I knew that Harry would not be at the Aurors' office, unlike Ginny. I had a feeling that he would be at the crime scene, trying to comprehend the destruction that had shattered his childhood home.

As I neared the Potters' cottage, I felt a knot in my stomach. The once peaceful surroundings were now covered in heavy wards, a grim reminder of the tragedy that had occurred here. The air sizzled with a strange energy, as if the very atmosphere grieved for the loss that had tainted these walls.

"Mione," Harry's voice trembled, full of pain. "I can't believe they're gone. It's all my fault."

My heart broke at the sight of his torment, and I ran to his side. "Harry, don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known."

The scene before me was heartbreaking. The cottage was in ruins, its once solid structure now crumbled to dust. Debris scattered the ground, and even Lily's beloved herb garden, once a haven of vibrant life, now lay in ashes.

"They destroyed everything," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible. "Even Mum's garden. How could anyone be so cruel?"

I held his hand tightly, tears streaming down my eyes. "I don't know, Harry. But we will find out who did this. They won't get away with it."

I tiptoed across the wooden floor, careful not to make a sound. I reached the back porch, where Harry sat alone on a rocking chair, staring blankly at the dark forest that stretched beyond the backyard. His shoulders were slumped, as if he carried the weight of the world on them. He looked broken, tormented by grief and guilt. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, holding him close, hoping to ease his pain. I felt his body shudder, his breaths ragged and uneven. His sorrow was almost tangible, a heavy cloud that hung over us.

"Harry," I whispered softly in his ear, "talk to me."

He turned his head slightly, his green eyes glistening with tears. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He buried his face in my shoulder, letting out a muffled sob.

"I should have been there," he finally managed to say, his voice cracking with regret. "I should have protected them."

I tightened my grip on him, trying to comfort him with my presence. "Harry, you couldn't have known. It's not your fault. You did everything you could. We will find another way to bring justice to your parents."

He lifted his head, looking at me with a mix of anguish and anger. He clenched his jaw, as if he was holding back something. Then, he let it out.

"They took me off the case," he said bitterly. "They said it was a conflict of interest. They said I was too emotionally involved."

His own parents had been brutally murdered by an unknown assailant. James had died instantly from the Avada Kedavra curse, while Lily had suffered unimaginable pain from the Cruciatus curse before she breathed her last. Her final words, "destroy the diary," echoed in my ears, a chilling clue that made me shiver.

"'Mione," Harry said, lifting his head and looking into my eyes with resolve. "We need to find that book. It holds the key to all of this. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands."

Nodding, I agreed with him. "You're right, Harry. We will do whatever it takes to find it and ensure no one else gets hurt."

As I said that, a name flashed in my mind – Tom Riddle. The dark wizard and his cursed diary were somehow involved in this tragedy. The realization filled me with both determination and fear, for I knew unraveling the secrets hidden within that forbidden book would be a dangerous task.

"We will stop him," Harry vowed, his voice firm and confident. "We won't let him escape this time."

My lips curved into a smile, a ray of hope piercing through my eyes that were wet with tears. "We can do this, Harry. We can avenge your parents and stop this madness."

In the cozy warmth of my apartment, Harry and I sought refuge from the turmoil that had engulfed our lives. Drained, he finally confided in me about the Aurors' theories regarding his parents' house. They claimed it was the work of extremist Grindelwald followers, but Harry had his doubts.

"How can they be so sure of that?" Harry asked, his voice laced with annoyance.

I nodded, my forehead creased with worry. "I know, Harry. It sounds too easy, doesn't it? We have to look deeper and uncover the truth."

As we wondered about the link between the attacks and Tom Riddle, the mood in the room became tense. All of a sudden, the noise of crackling fire alerted us, and I realized that someone had arrived. Heavy steps resounded on the stairs, making Harry and me instinctively get ready for a potential attack. Our hearts pounded as we prepared ourselves.

To our astonishment, the slender figure that appeared was Draco Malfoy. Harry swiftly moved in front of me, willing to defend me if necessary. With a hostile tone, he sternly told Malfoy to go away.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? We don't want you here," Harry snapped.

Draco, being Draco, only aggravated the situation with a sarcastic remark aimed at Harry's weakness. "Oh, look who it is, Potty, all grown up and still playing hero."

Taking charge of the situation, I stepped between Draco and Harry, acting as a peacemaker. "Enough, both of you! Draco, what are you doing here?"

Malfoy grinned, relishing the tension he had created. "I'm here to help you, Hermione. Whether you believe it or not, Potter, I want justice too."

Although Harry was hesitant, he reluctantly agreed to listen to Draco. The three of us sat down, our tension gradually easing.

Draco confessed that he had eavesdropped on his father and uncle, Lucius and Abraxas, plotting the return of Lord Voldemort. My suspicions were validated, and Harry's rage over his parents' murder intensified. Resolute to seek justice, he proclaimed, "Riddle will pay for his crimes. I won't stop until he's finished."

As we conversed, Draco shocked us with another revelation. Abraxas had mentioned Riddle's quest for the Deathly Hallows to augment his power. I, ignorant of the magical world's legends, couldn't grasp his words.

"What are the Deathly Hallows?" I inquired, my curiosity aroused.

Harry, still nursing resentment, scoffed at the notion of Riddle trusting in fairy tales. "You expect us to believe that Riddle is chasing some imaginary objects? That's ridiculous!"

Seeing my incredulity, Draco volunteered to narrate the story of the three brothers who met Death and obtained three potent gifts, known as the Deathly Hallows. As he spoke, my memory was triggered, remembering a book that Dumbledore had gifted me during our training with him and Flamel. I quickly fetched the book The Tales of Beedle the Bard from my modest library.

"Wait, I think this book might explain this," I said, scanning the pages.

I started to read aloud, fascinated by the tale of the Peverell brothers and their doomed encounter with Death. Harry, interested, asked me to repeat the part that depicted the Deathly Hallows.

"Hold on, that sounds familiar," he said, his eyes widening. "Grandpa Fleamont used to tell me about the Peverell brothers. He said we were descended from Ignotus, the youngest brother."

Draco, now fully invested, pondered the possibility that the assault on the Potters had been driven by someone seeking the Deathly Hallows. My pensive expression matched his feeling, and I concurred that finding out the location of the other Hallows might lead us to Riddle.

Legend spoke of the one who united the Deathly Hallows, the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility, becoming the Master of Death. While it was widely presumed that this would confer some kind of immortality, it had never been verified. We reflected on the ramifications of our discoveries.

"We have to find the other Hallows," I said, my voice filled with resolve.

"But how?" I could see the perplexity in Harry's eyes as he gazed at the book in my hands.

"Hermione," Draco's voice held a trace of worry, "do you recall what Flamel told us about the Elder Wand?"

I nodded, glancing at Harry and Draco. "Yes, he said Dumbledore had it. The Elder Wand, with its stormy past, was a prized relic of the Gregorovitch clan, famous wandmakers from Germany. But Grindelwald stole it."

Draco, his arms folded, cut in, "And Dumbledore won it after beating Grindelwald in a fierce duel."

Hours later, we reached Hogwarts, exchanging nervous looks. The majestic castle, once so welcoming, now seemed cloaked in doubt. We hurried through the throng of students, our steps resounding on the stone halls. At last, we got to the massive oak door of Dumbledore's office, with its elaborate silver knocker.

The portraits on the walls eyed us with interest as the candlelight threw flickering shadows on the room. Dumbledore faced us, his eyes sparkling with wisdom and compassion. He smiled kindly, but there was a touch of worry in his face.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," his voice was gentle and reassuring, "I know your anxiety, but I promise you, Hogwarts' security is not to be taken lightly."

Eagerly, I moved forward. "Professor, I've been researching Tom Riddle nonstop. I think he might try to enter the castle. He's also Merope Gaunt's lost son and Slytherin's last heir. It could be easier for him to break in."

Dumbledore's eyes tightened slightly, his stare fixed on me. "I had my doubts about Mr. Riddle's link to the Gaunt family, but I don't think he would ever attack the school."

Harry, with resolve, spoke up. "Professor, you have to hear us out. Riddle is a threat, and he won't stop at hurting others. We can't overlook the chance of an attack on Hogwarts."

The old wizard sighed, his face thoughtful. "I hear your worries, but you must concentrate your efforts in Albania. There are things there that need your attention."

Our conversation turned fascinating as Dumbledore shared new information. "The last Deathly Hallow, the Resurrection Stone, has great power. It was given to Cadmus Peverell's daughter, Agnes, who wed into the Ravenclaw family. The sapphire stone ended up in Rowena Ravenclaw's hands, one of Hogwarts' founders."

My eyes sparkled with wonder as he went on, "Rowena used the stone in her diadem to boost her wisdom with its foresight. But Helena, her daughter, ran away with the diadem, betraying her mother."

Draco, intrigued, moved closer. "What became of the diadem? Did anyone find it?"

The Headmaster shook his head sadly. "Helena hid it in a Roman temple in an Albanian forest, where Riddle would later hide during his exile."

My thoughts spun with ideas. "Riddle must be after the diadem in Albania. But he must have failed. He would have attacked by now."

Albus, impatient, gestured in the air. "I can't discuss this further. I have an urgent meeting with the Board of Governors to pick new teachers for Magical Theory and Defense. I'm sorry, Harry."

The next day brought a horrible shock. Dumbledore was murdered in his office. Gringotts was raided. The Potters' vault was emptied. The Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone had disappeared. Everything had turned out wrong, and we had no clue.