"Shortly we will plunge within the frigid gloom. Farewell swift summer brightness; all too short — I hear already sounding with a death-like boom. The wood that falls upon the pavement of the court."
Autumn song. Les Fleurs du mal. Charles Baudelaire.
IV
As the sun sank below the horizon, the streets became dark, and Hermione suddenly felt the need to go home. The cold wind blew through the air, making her shiver and hold herself tight. She waved goodbye to her friends with a warm smile and started walking through the dimly lit streets. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet of the night.
Her thoughts turned to the mysterious man she had met days ago as she walked deeper into the night. He had left her feeling uneasy, with a nagging sense that something was wrong. In her dreams, she tried to escape from him, but he always found her, appearing when she least expected it, like a ghost haunting her mind.
When she finally arrived safely at her home, she prepared for bed, unaware of the disturbing dream that awaited her. It was unlike any dream she had ever had, filled with vivid details and sensations that felt eerily real. She found herself in a neglected and forgotten attic, with walls covered in broken things and windows tightly shut by time's unyielding hand.
In the cramped space, she saw Tom, but he looked different now. Younger and more innocent, with the same dark hair and sharp gray eyes. He faced an old woman, their conversation filled with tension.
"Well, well, well, look who it is, the old crone," Tom mocked.
"You're an evil boy, Mr. Riddle. The devil himself would be pleased with you," the woman snapped back.
"Spare me your words," Tom said coldly to the old woman. Hermione could feel the intense anger and bitterness in the room, casting a dark cloud over their lives.
Suddenly, the dream changed and the witch found herself in another memory, this time in the sacred halls of Hogwarts. She followed Tom as he left what appeared to be the Slytherin common room. His footsteps echoed through the hallways until they reached the seventh floor. There, the young man paced back and forth in front of a plain-looking wall. By some stroke of luck, the wall transformed, revealing a hidden door that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Driven by her unstoppable curiosity, Hermione followed him into the room. It was a remarkable sight, with objects piled haphazardly, creating a chaotic maze. But amidst the mess, there was a strange allure. As she explored further, the witch noticed that Tom was not alone. Four other Slytherin students were with him, their faces filled with excitement, concealing a darkness that matched Tom's own.
To Hermione's horror, she witnessed a terrible act of cruelty. A young Ravenclaw girl was lying on the floor, trapped by an invisible force. The Slytherin students were surrounding her, their wands pointed at her with evil intentions.
Tom's eyes gleamed with malice as he asked his followers, "Are you ready for some fun?"
"Of course, my Lord. Let's make Warren scream for mercy," one of them eagerly replied.
"Myrtle should pay for every insult she threw at us," another said, grinning wickedly.
"That's right, boys. Let's teach her a lesson she'll never forget," Tom said, his voice filled with cruelty.
They raised their wands and mercilessly cast the Cruciatus curse on the defenseless girl. She writhed in agony, her screams echoing in the room as she pleaded for mercy.
"Please, please stop! I'm sorry, Riddle please have mercy!" she sobbed, fear cracking her voice.
But Tom and the others only laughed and cruelly mocked her pain, relishing in her torment.
"Look at her twitch! How pathetic!" one of them taunted.
"Keep crying, girl. It's more fun that way," another Slytherin sneered. Myrtle's pleas were ignored as the torture continued, bringing joy to Tom and his friends. Hermione couldn't bear to watch such cruelty, her heart aching for the girl's suffering.
As the torture reached its peak, the dream changed once again, fading into the darkness of Hermione's own room. She gasped for air, lying there, the vivid images and intense emotions from the dream still burning in her mind. A disturbing feeling lingered in her soul, refusing to let go.
Questions stormed through her mind as she struggled with the aftermath of her nightmare. Who was Tom Riddle, and what had he become? The darkness surrounding him was unmistakable, a shadow that hinted at a terrible truth.
Realizing that she needed the help of someone with more knowledge, Hermione knew there was only one person who could provide the answers she desperately sought – Dumbledore.
As she arrived at his office in Hogwarts, the wizard felt a mixture of awe and curiosity. The room exuded an air of ancient wisdom, adorned with rows upon rows of old books and peculiar objects. The sight was both impressive and captivating. The Headmaster, with his blue eyes and long silver beard, welcomed her with a kind smile, radiating an aura of wisdom and authority.
"Ah, Miss Granger, would you like a lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked, extending a bowl of candies towards her. Politely declining, she sat down and fixed her gaze on him.
"My dear, have you ever heard of Tom Riddle?" he inquired, his voice filled with nervousness.
"Yes, Professor, but I only know very little. The information I have comes from my dreams, and it's not always clear," Hermione replied.
Dumbledore nodded, his face taking on a serious expression. "Indeed, there is much more to him than meets the eye. Let me recount our first encounter at Wool's orphanage."
Leaning forward, Hermione's curiosity was piqued. "What did you see in him, Professor?"
The old wizard sighed, his mind flooded with memories. "I saw a young boy with great potential, but also a darkness that sent a chill down my spine. His cold, calculating eyes offered a glimpse into the troubled path he would choose."
With each passing moment, Hermione unraveled the story of Tom's life. She learned about his time as a brilliant student at Hogwarts and the darkness that consumed him over time. The witch discovered that he had an intense desire for power and had recently become obsessed with achieving immortality through the creation of Horcruxes.
"Why would someone want to split their soul?" Hermione asked, her voice filled with both fascination and horror.
The Headmaster looked into her eyes, his expression filled with sadness. "Creating Horcruxes is a sign of a deeply disturbed soul, Miss Granger. Tom's obsession with immortality led him to commit unspeakable acts."
As Dumbledore procured to explain, her uneasiness grew. She began to understand the true extent of Riddle's evil nature.
"The last known traces of Tom led to Albania," he continued, his voice filled with concern. Hermione's brows furrowed as she listened attentively. "I also suspected his involvement in the death of a fellow student, Myrtle Warren, but I couldn't gather enough evidence to prove it."
The witch couldn't help but ask, "Why would he do such a thing?"
Albus's gaze turned distant. "Mr. Riddle had a darkness in him that wanted power and control. The death of Miss Warren was just another step in his twisted journey."
As Dumbledore finished his story, Hermione felt a mix of awe and unease. She already knew that creating Horcruxes required a deeply disturbed soul, but she never imagined that Tom Riddle, a brilliant student like herself, could have gone down such a dark path. Countless questions filled her mind, fueling her thirst for knowledge and understanding.
Intrigued yet disturbed, Dumbledore offered to show her the memory of Myrtle Warren's death in his pensive. The shallow stone basin filled with a silvery substance shimmered invitingly on a nearby table. Hermione hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding with apprehension, before mustering the courage to peer into the depths.
Dumbledore's voice was soft but firm as he asked, "Miss Granger, are you ready to see the truth?"
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yes, Professor."
Hermione plunged into the memory and found herself in one of Hogwarts' many bathrooms, where a dark atmosphere hung in the air. Myrtle Warren's body lay on the floor, her eyes lifeless and hollow.
She looked at Dumbledore, her voice shaky. "Is that... Tom Riddle?"
He nodded solemnly. "Yes, Hermione. That is the young Mr. Riddle."
A cold shiver ran down her spine as she saw Tom nearby, his face innocent and calm. She heard a younger Dumbledore's voice questioning Riddle about the girl's attacker.
"No, Professor," he said casually, his eyes showing a cold emptiness.
The memory faded, and Hermione pulled out of the pensive, her mind spinning with the images she had seen. Myrtle's dead body and Tom's blank stare lingered in her thoughts, making her feel uneasy and troubled. She wondered how someone could be so dark and what it meant for the wizarding world's future.
Weeks passed, and every night Hermione had vivid and terrifying nightmares. The shadows in her mind grew darker and more threatening, pushing her to take action. She made a risky decision - to delve into the dangerous depths of Tom's past. The next day, she felt nervous and excited as she met James and Lily Potter, who had been students at Hogwarts with Riddle.
She entered their warm home and felt their kindness. James and Lily, their eyes filled with compassion, shared their memories with her.
"Thank you for meeting with me. I need to learn more about Tom Riddle and his time at Hogwarts," she said gratefully.
"Of course, Hermione," James sighed, "we're happy to help. Riddle was always a mystery, keeping to himself. But there was something about him, a strange kind of charm."
Lily nodded in agreement. "Yes, he stood out among the other Slytherins. I remember one day when I was in the library and overheard Riddle laughing with his friends, Abraxas Malfoy, Timotheus Nott, Evan Rosier, and Rodolphus Lestrange. They were discussing muggleborn Myrtle Warren's recent death. It sent shivers down my spine. Their laughter was eerie and unsettling, as if they were plotting something wicked. It made me question Riddle's true nature and his association with them."
As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow in the room, Hermione couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. The fading light served as a reminder that time was running out, and her mission to uncover Riddle's past was entering a crucial stage. James and Lily had shared their experiences, but they had only encountered him when they were in their third year. Their perspectives were valuable, but they only knew him from a distance.
Driven by her thirst for the truth, Hermione's search led her to the dark and twisted streets of Knockturn Alley. The atmosphere was filled with a sinister aura, and the place reeked of hidden secrets. She cautiously entered Borgin and Burkes, the shop where Riddle had once worked after leaving Hogwarts. The sight was repulsive, with the stench of decay permeating the air.
The witch gathered her courage and approached Mr. Everard Borgin, the owner, hoping to find some clue about his whereabouts. "Excuse me, Mr. Borgin. I'm researching Tom Riddle. Do you have any information that could help me?" she asked, her voice steady.
"What do you want, girl? We don't give out information for free here. You'll have to pay if you want anything," Everard replied rudely, his tone cold and unfriendly.
"I understand that, but I'm really desperate for any leads. Riddle disappeared, right? Do you know where he went?" The witch pressed, trying her best to remain calm.
"I don't know anything about that. He left years ago, went to Albania. Now go away," he snapped back, his fear and nervousness becoming evident.
"Please, Mr. Borgin, I just need some answers," she pleaded, hoping to appeal to his empathy.
"Look, girl, I don't care about your curiosity. Riddle is long gone, and I have nothing to say about him. Now, if you're not here to buy anything, I suggest you leave," the man said sharply, his tone indicating the end of the conversation.
Hermione had learned that Tom had disappeared to Albania ten years ago, leaving no trace or answers behind. The encounter with Everard Borgin only fueled her determination to uncover the secrets of his past, no matter the obstacles.
Riddle's former friends from Hogwarts refused to speak with her. The muggleborn witch accepted this harsh reality, knowing that their pureblood beliefs had corrupted them. However, she refused to let their prejudice dampen her spirits.
One day, Hermione walked through the busy streets of Diagon Alley, feeling stressed. She found herself drawn to the apothecary, where the scent of potions and herbs provided comfort.
Having relied on Calming Draughts and Dreamless Sleep potions for weeks, Hermione realized she was running low on peppermint oil and sopophorous beans. She entered the apothecary, a small space filled with vials.
The witch searched for the ingredients she needed, perusing the shelves filled with colorful bottles containing magical mixtures. As she carefully examined each vial, her hand brushed against the cold glass.
While searching for the best ingredients, Hermione accidentally bumped into Draco Malfoy, her former school rival. Caught off guard, she momentarily lost her breath.
Draco, with his neat white-blond hair, looked at her with surprise and curiosity. Their eyes met, memories of their past swirling around them. However, Hermione noticed a change in him, a softness that replaced his once-arrogant demeanor.
They had studied Alchemy together and briefly had a passionate romance. Malfoy had gone to Wallachia to further his studies, while she had joined the Department of Mysteries. Over time, their bond had faded, buried beneath their diverging paths.
But now, in the crowded apothecary, Draco winked at her. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, reminiscent of old times. "Well, well, Hermione Granger. You always manage to find trouble, don't you?" he teased.
Blushing, the witch felt a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. "Draco Malfoy, what a surprise to see you here. It's been so long!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with shock and joy.
The two talked, reminiscing about memories and old feelings. Draco shared his adventures in Eastern Europe, speaking with enthusiasm. "I saw amazing things. Ancient castles, secret alchemy—it felt like a completely different world," he said, his eyes filled with wonder.
Hermione also wanted to share her stories, telling him about the challenges she faced during her internship. The magic of exploring the unknown sparkled in her eyes. "You should hear about the Death Room and the Veil. They changed my life," she said, feeling thrilled and awed.
However, as they continued their conversation, Hermione opened up about her nightmares involving Tom Riddle. Malfoy's joking demeanor vanished, replaced by seriousness. He appeared afraid upon hearing Riddle's name. "Riddle... that name gives me chills. He's a dangerous man. Be careful," he said, expressing concern.
Draco paused for a moment, then decided to reveal a dark secret. "I have something to tell you," he said, sounding apologetic. "Both my grandfather and my father idolized Riddle even more than Grindelwald and believed he was the hero of purebloods."
Hermione felt shocked and disgusted. "They supported his evil beliefs? The same ones that killed and harmed muggles and muggleborns during the war?" she asked, anger evident in her voice.
Malfoy nodded, looking down. "Yes, they did. They called him Lord Voldemort, and his followers were known as the Death Eaters. They committed terrible acts."
Hermione felt compassion for him and gently touched his arm. "Draco, I'm sorry you had to grow up with that. It must have been difficult for you."
He looked up, filled with regret. "It was. As a child, I believed it was right. My father raised me to be one of Riddle's Death Eaters, a devoted pureblood."
Hermione Granger spoke with kindness. "Draco, your family had an influence on you. But now you have chosen a different path. You have recognized your your mistakes, and I forgive you."
He felt a sense of relief and optimism. "Thank you. Your words mean a great deal to me. I want to correct the mistakes I made in the past and create a better future."
The witch smiled warmly, expressing her belief in him. "You are capable of doing it. You have the ability to change."
However, a wave of panic suddenly overwhelmed Hermione, causing her to shake uncontrollably. She struggled to catch her breath, and tears streamed down her face. The nightmares, the unknown, and the danger weighed heavily on her, breaking her spirit.
"I... I need to know the truth about Riddle. I have to go to Albania," she said, feeling both frightened and determined. The task ahead seemed immense, and it was crushing her.
Malfoy appeared worried. Fear filled his eyes, mirroring Hermione's own. "Albania? You're crazy! It's too dangerous," he expressed, concerned for her. He despised the idea of her searching for a lunatic in such a perilous place.
He attempted to dissuade her, proposing a safer alternative. "There must be another way. We can find answers here, in Britain," he pleaded, desperate.
Witnessing her distress, he embraced her tightly. He provided solace, offering a sense of peace. His touch was gentle and firm, instilling a feeling of security amidst the chaos.
Whispering, he reassured her, "Don't worry, Hermione. We're in this together." His voice exuded warmth and comfort. His words assuaged her trembling body. She took deep breaths, feeling supported by him. Tears still streamed down her face, but they were now borne out of relief and gratitude for his presence. He understood her terror.
Rain pelted against the window, and Draco suggested meeting the following day. They arranged to convene at Hermione's apartment in the morning to commence their plans. It would test their courage and convictions.
Bid farewell for the night, Hermione felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she managed to utter, "See you tomorrow, Draco. Thank you," her voice cracking.
Upon arriving home, she felt uncertain. The path ahead appeared dark and enigmatic. However, she held onto hope she could confront it, refusing to succumb to the shadows that sought to obliterate her.