Venenum

By Koryander

Chapter 8. Crotalus - Locked with a Lioness.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked at her clothes for the third time, due to the looks she was getting from her clothes. She was not wearing the appropriate women's clothing for the time. People looked at her with pity - maybe she was eccentric or had permanent brain damage, that's what they thought.

For a long time, Hermione thought the Wizard Community was a little more advanced than the Muggle when it came to being less judgmental, but little by little she realized that this wasn't quite an absolute truth.

She sighed, in her thoughts, the clothes were the least of worries.

Realizing her mood, Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder in an affective act of companionship. She smiled weakly at him, very eager to get to St. Mungo's Fourth Floor; the floor for people who are 'severely injured' by jinx, hexes, charms or brain damage. It was on this floor that her friend Harry Potter was. And that scared her.

Many things were scaring her. Riddle scared her. He is strangely compulsive, cold, arrogant, malicious, and perhaps it would be worse to deal with a young Dark Lord than with a snake-faced Dark Lord. While the future Riddle has become a powerful yet impulsive and non-coherent wizard, young Riddle is much more controlled and no less deadly, he is sneaky and intelligent. And that doesn't even make much sense since Hermione doubts how sane he is.

Which leads her to the magic tattoo under her tongue. After that fateful night she spoke with Riddle, she felt the magic in her tongue. In the Gryffindor dormitory ladies' room, Hermione picked up her wand and looked in the mirror, she raised her tongue and used a spell to reveal the curse. In her pink tongue, the black outline of an image of a snake appeared. The snake was curled into itself, resting, which meant it had not activated the curse. If she remembered well, Riddle said the curse would be triggered if she talked about the night in the Come-and-Go Room or the Moaning Myrtle bathroom, which left a huge amount of space of what not to do.

Well, we all agree that she can't talk about these events. But Hermione doesn't know how far this curse goes.

Can any word that is connected with these events activate the curse? Can I write about those days? Can I make someone guess about what happened? There are many theories, and she selfishly admits that she will not test all theories. She values her life too much for taking such a foolish risk, preferring to spend a few hours studying some way to break the spell.

All her thoughts are cut off when she finally reaches the Fourth Floor. Her heart clenches, her breathing falters and her hands begin to sweat. Hermione walks deliberately slowly, admitting to herself that she is afraid to see what condition Harry is.

To answer her questions, a Healer is waiting for her and Dumbledore. He guides them both to Harry's bed, opening the curtains so she and Dumbledore could see him.

Harry was… fine, or so it seemed. Hermione's breath came in ragged as if her lungs couldn't expand right as she inhaled. She took a few steps toward the bed, her hand lifting to initiate touch on Harry's skin. At first, she saw nothing wrong with him. Harry was without any injuries, however, he was a little pale. His dark hair was a little longer, rebellious and going in any direction, reminding Hermione a lot of his hair at the time of the Yule Ball.

She sat on the edge of the bed and lightly ran her fingers through his hair, brushing the strands of hair from his forehead. With her thumb, she traced an invisible path across his forehead, where the scar that made him recognizable should be. To her astonishment, the scar was no longer there. She looked down at his face, watching his eyes tremble behind his eyelids.

"Harry…?" She tried to wake him.

"It's no use." The Healer said. Hermione finally paid attention to the Healer, still not leaving her position.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"All the injuries that were possible to heal, we healed. But your friend doesn't wake up… There's still brain activity, but it's like he's sleeping. We do not know what this is. We've tested everything, what's left now is waiting. "

Hermione's nose wrinkled in disgust at the Healer's response, she really couldn't blame him, but she expected some good news.

"I want to see the report," Hermione demanded. Dumbledore was surprised by the tone of voice Hermione took.

"Child, I believe a young lady like you would not understand." The Healer said.

"That, who will judge, is me." Hermione held out her hand, waiting for the report.

The Healer looked at Dumbledore for approval and Dumbledore nodded for him to do as she asked.

No jinx.

No hex.

No charms.

No torturing spells.

No injuries.

Patient Status: Unconscious - Deep Sleep.

Hermione's hands began to shake as she finished reading. She wiped the cold sweat off her forehead and ran a hand through her hair in a pacifying gesture of her growing anxiety.

This is bad, she thought. This is very bad.

If the 's Healers have already done their best to wake Harry through potions and spells, and yet he hasn't woken up, then this is very bad.

Hermione put both hands on her head, trying to think, trying to find a safe way for her and Harry, but nothing came to her mind. She felt her eyes sting as she fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

She looked at Harry, realizing that his eyes were still moving fiercely behind his eyelids.

"Harry…?" She tried again, taking his hand with hers. "It's me, Hermione."

Harry's grip tightened as she mentioned her name. Her brows drew together as a strange expression of sadness and happiness took over her face. The tears she tried to hold now were streaming down her face.

Somehow Harry recognized her voice.

"I'll be with Harry," she said suddenly.

"Miss, I believe—" The Healer was interrupted by Hermione.

"I'll stay with Harry," she said. Her tone showed that it was non-negotiable.

She couldn't leave Harry. They were best friends. They were like brothers. Harry would die for her and she would die for him. It was the meaning of loyalty. Not even when Ron left the tent did she leave Harry, even though the sadness in her heart grew bigger. All three were at the height of their stress, and the Salazar Slytherin locket did nothing but intensify their fears and stressful situation. However, neither was it able to drive her from what was right or make her forget about Harry's friendship.

She didn't even realize that the Healer had left, her energy focused completely on Harry Potter. Hermione felt as Dumbledore sat in an armchair near the bed while she was still holding Harry's hand.

"Your loyalty is remarkable," Dumbledore muttered. "I'm impressed."

"Harry is my best friend," Hermione replied, not taking her eyes off him. "I always thought there was a difference between the friendship that Harry and I have for his friendship with Rony. Don't get it wrong, the three of us are friends, but I'm not a boy - obviously. "

"However, when Harry and I enter the wizarding world, we understand each other," she continued. " We both knew nothing about the wizarding world, we were innocent and ignorant in certain matters, even though Harry was a half-blood wizard. Then he knew how I felt; he always knew. "A tear fell down her cheek. "I always say that Harry is my best friend, but the truth is that he's like a brother. A brother I never had. And Rony… Oh, Rony. He must be going crazy with worry. "

She looked down to observe the union of her hand and Harry's.

"Rony…" Hermione smiled as she quoted him. "Rony brought joy to us. Admittedly, some of his comments were very acidic, but he's… Rony. He complained too much, was too scared, but never turned his back when we needed him and always defended us. To this day I remember when he tried to defend me from Draco when he called me a Mudblood. Ron cast the Slug Spell, but his wand was broken and the spell eventually came back to him." She laughed at the memory. "Harry was the first to realize my feelings about Ron, just as I realized the way he looked at Ginny."

Hermione looked at Dumbledore, her lips trembled as she avoided crying like a child.

"I have to stay with him. I have to find a way to help him and find a way back. I have to find a solution… I can always find a solution, but I… I… "

She didn't want to tell Dumbledore that she was really afraid she couldn't find a way out of this whole problem.

"Patience, my child. If we always act in despair, we will miss important moments of our journey. Take time for yourself and calmly think about what has to be done. "

Dumbledore kept her company all afternoon, he was reluctant to leave her there, next to Harry, but she assured that it would be okay, after all, she had her special bag. She sat in the armchair that was recently occupied by Dumbledore. Hermione is aware that she cannot arrest Dumbledore her presence, she knows that he is important during this time and she cannot be a distraction to him when Grindelwald is at the height of power.

She never left Harry's hand, she talked to him and tried to reassure his deep and disturbing sleep. Somehow Harry seemed to be a little aware of the surroundings, even though he was sleeping. That's what she thinks, because all the while Harry's grip never loosened.

Eventually, Hermione fell asleep leaning over Harry's bed, however, constant murmurs aroused her. Sleepily, she opens her eyes, blinking a few times and testing her taste buds. She recoils from the position in which she fell asleep, feeling a slight pain in her back. She looks around, noting the bluish light coming through the windows that indicated it was dawn.

She sighs and looks at Harry, who was still sleeping when her ears pick up the constant sounds. Hermione gets up slowly, her breathing becoming low and she takes her wand out of her holster. With slow steps she walks toward the sound coming from the corridor, her wand ready for any confrontation.

Hermione was surprised when an elderly man grabbed her by the arms, coming face to face with her. Startled, she does not react, but to stare into the blind, cloudy eyes of the old man with gray and tousled hair and a long beard. He muttered meaningless things, shaking her like a rag doll. Hermione fearfully wanted to let go of the man's grip, but what he said made her stop momentarily.

"I see. I see! " He shouted at her. "This is not your time, but I see!"

"Please, let me go!" She asked. "You're hurting me."

"Mr. Mopsus!" A nurse was running down the hall, accompanied by the male nurses. "Mr. Mopsus, you can't run away like that, running all over the hospital. "

"I saw it! I saw it! " Morphus was being taken back by the two nurses. "I saw the dead lioness with the snake coming out of her mouth! I had a vision!" He shouted as he was taken back.

"Don't be afraid." Hermione was startled when the nurse spoke and touched her shoulder. "He is Chaos Mopsus, of the Mopsus family, descendants of the wizard seer Mopsus. Apparently, clairvoyance is hereditary, or so he thinks. He may not make sense, but he doesn't hurt a fly. However, today he seemed agitated." The smiling nurse said. "By the way, I'm Poppins. How can I help you? "

"I ... I'm with my friend," Hermione said.

"And who would he be?" Poppins asked.

"Harry P-Evans." Hermione almost said Harry Potter.

Poppins seemed to think, that's when she looked the way Hermione seemed to come from.

"Oh, poor thing," Poppins muttered. "Your friend is the sleeping boy. I hope he gets better soon. We're doing our best, but I think it's just a matter of time before he wakes up." Poppins smiled and winked at Hermione before making her way down the hall.

Hermione turned back to Harry and leaned toward him and again traced a path on Harry's forehead where his scar should have been. She made a repetitive movement of back and forth with her thumb as it occurred to her: You-Know-Who.

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

She felt anger in her heart, a merciless desire to hurt. She locked her jaw as she tried to reconcile emotions with logic; the logic she almost threw out the window. No one could really blame her for having such impure and angry thoughts, besides the irresistible desire to hurt Tom Riddle. After all, it was all his fault.

Hermione clenched a fist, also closing her eyes, trying to control herself. She sat in the armchair by Harry's bed and crossed her arms, rocking back and forth, looking at him.

There was a strange whispering voice deep in Hermione's mind, asking her to go after Riddle and put an end in this. Was it possible that Riddle's death would awaken Harry? What would the odds be? She wondered. For all she knows, it should be easier to kill the young Dark Lord.

He wasn't that powerful yet, was he? Maybe she could kill him. He already has a Horcrux. Well, he only has one Horcrux, sure is easier than the six. But, oh, shit ... It's the diary. It's the fucking diary. Merlin knows where he kept the diary . Hermione exasperated. No one ever knew where Riddle kept the Diary during the school time. She scratched her head at the obstacles and failures of her plan.

This was part of July for Hermione. She was there, always beside Harry, sitting in that armchair, sometimes praying for some force beyond her comprehension to help them both. Other times she would try some spells to help Harry. She talked to him constantly, even though she never had an audible answer, Harry pressed his hand against hers and she knew that maybe he understood. The armchair next to Harry's bed could already be addressed in the name of Hermione Granger, because she barely left this place. She was very much like a mother there, but no one can judge, because, over the years, Hermione has developed a strange kind of maternal instinct toward Harry and Rony.

She developed a friendship with nurse Poppins. At first, Poppins passed her just to check on Harry's health, the other day, during break time, Poppins was talking to Hermione. Until one day, the two had lunch together. The conversation between them was friendly, but not so deep. Hermione would never open herself and tell her all her story and fears, however, she thought it would be beneficial to have someone who cares and who can tell her all about Harry's conditions when she can't be there.

After that strange night, Hermione slept less and remained as alert as possible. Dumbledore always sent letters, often protected by magic. Of the letters, most of them, Dumbledore gave her advice. Important advice or just updating it, telling about the kind of Ideological War within the Ministry or Grindelwald's advances. It was nothing very specific, he didn't go into details. Until one day a letter protected by spell arrived. A letter with a message she couldn't ignore.

Hermione,

Dangerous. Move. You are in one place for a long time. It's time to find a new place to be. Your dear friend will be fine. I give my word.

Albus Dumbledore.

It didn't need to be said much, she knew who it was: Grindelwald. That meant that Grindelwald was tracking her, either out of curiosity or self-interest and well, she wasn't in the mood to find out what Grindelwald's motivation was.

Hermione thought it took too long before that happened. However, she also thought that the strong magic barrier that protected 's made Grindelwald's search a bit difficult, and let's face it, nobody attacks a hospital. It's against the rule of war - if really have one - or rather, it's anti-moral.

Hermione looks at Harry once more, pressing his hand against hers and lowering her face until it is level with his ear.

"I have to go for our own safety, but I'll be back, Harry. I'll find a way to get us out of here." She whispered to him and felt his hand squeeze hers. Harry trusted her, he always did.

She bites her lower lip while retracting to the ideal position. She hates what she's doing, she doesn't want to be a part with him. Separating makes both weak. Together they are stronger. But it's necessary.

She takes one last look at Harry before turning her back.

o0o

She is walking through the crowd on the north side of Diagon Alley, which never seems to be empty. Hermione already has everything she needs in mind, which is why she goes straight to the Eeylops Owls Emporium. She needs an owl to deliver her letters, an owl who was quick and smart and who was good at camouflaging herself.

As soon as she entered, the bell at the door indicated Hermione's arrival. She looked around curiously, noting some differences in the store. The assistant surprised Hermione when she suddenly appeared in front of her.

"Hello, how can I help you, Miss?" She smiled.

The girl didn't look much older than Hermione, she had light hair in an almost undone bun, with owl feathers in her hair. She had pale, kind green eyes with freckles on her cheeks and the tip of her nose, her lips were thin and her two front teeth were slightly larger than they should be, and they were square. Hermione smiled as she noticed something in common with the girl. She remembered well what her own teeth were like.

"I'm looking for an owl," Hermione replied.

"Oh, feel free to look around the store. The manager is not here, but anything you want, you can call me. My name is Jane." She introduced herself. "Oh, by the way, I believe owls are like wands, you know? They choose their owners as well. Well, at least that's what I think. So be calm and don't be afraid. We don't want an accident like last week," Jane muttered. "An owl's claws can be quite destructive when they want to, but owls, in general, are good. Of course, it's not very advisable for those who are afraid of birds of prey. But, be calm…"

" Thank you, " Hermione said, quickly realizing that if she didn't move away from Jane, the girl would continue to talk endlessly, rambling on her conversation.

Hermione walked further into the store, her boots clattering on the hardwood floor. She looked around at the owls. Every time she tried to get close to an owl that caught her eye, the owl would fly away or simply turn her neck one hundred and eighty degrees so she wouldn't have to look at her.

Owl feathers slowly fell to the floor and Hermione followed her with her gaze as a black feather slowly descended into her open hand. She held the quill and brought it to her eye level, observing the details until in her field of vision she noticed a dark cage in the corner of the store. Curious, she moved closer, squinting to try to understand the image she was seeing.

That was when a pair of ruby-red eyes looked at her when the owl turned the head toward her. Hermione was surprised for a moment, staring at the owl that winked calmly at her. Unlike the other owls, this one didn't seem to want to get away from her and reflected in her ruby eyes the same curiosity that Hermione had.

"Asio Stygius or also known as Devil Owl." Jane's voice made Hermione jump in fright. She put her hand on her chest to calm her heartbeat.

"Come here, my sweetie." Jane opened the cage and with a leather glove, let the owl land on her arm and then she brought the owl into the light so Hermione could see.

At first, Hermione thought that because of the owl's appearance in the darkness, the owl looked like a little demon, with dark feathers and red eyes and two small, horn-like feathers above its head. But as soon as she saw the owl in the light, the initial idea fell apart.

The owl still had black feathers, but in the belly area it had yellowish and white feathers, the feathers above the head were still up, but now it gave the owl a cuter expression. And the eyes lost the ruby shade to be oranges.

It was a large owl with claws curling into Jane's leather glove and as if to show this fact, the owl spread the wings before bringing it against her body.

"This is an owl from South America. The eye tint is typically yellow or orange, but when the light reflects on the owls' eyes when they are in darkness, the eye colour turns red. Combined with the colour of the feathers, these owls became known as Devil Owls." Jane explained. "But really, they don't hurt anyone, right, my boy?"

Hermione looked at the owl and smiled. The owl was calm and blinked again, looking at her. Hermione put her index finger close to the small feather area near the owl's beak and petted it a few times.

"Looks like this boy here liked you," Jane said.

"I'll take him."

"Great!" Jane smiled. "I will prepare his things. Let's go to the cashier."

Hermione closely followed Jane with her new owl.

While putting the owl in the cage. "Oh, those owls are really nocturnal," Jane said. "So, do you already have a name for him?" She asked.

Hermione looked at the owl, who quickly managed to camouflage himself in the darkness of the cage. It was then that Hermione spoke the first name that came to her when she looked at the owl.

"Nix," she answered.

"Nix?" Jane questioned.

"Yes. Nix This is his name." Hermione concluded. "Despite being a female name, Nix was the deep night goddess and protector of witches and wizards according to Greek mythology. Isn't that a proper name for him? "

"Well, looking in that way. " Jane shrugged, a smile on her face. "Looks like Nix is a good name."

Jane handed Hermione the cage with Nix inside and some snacks for Nix after Hermione paid with galleons.

"Well, it looks like it's you and me." Hermione told Nix, who winked at her again.

Hermione apparated, holding Nix's cage and her small bag. When she reached the destination she desired, she smelled the salt spray and listened to the sea, the boots she wore sank into the sand and the sun shone in that uninhabitable and safe place. She looked back and watched the ocean before starting to walk on the sand to a flatter area.

"Come on, Nix." She murmured to the owl, who was now her constant companion.

Hermione set Nix's cage on the floor and pulled of her holster wand. Her gaze faltered a little as she focused on the spells. She began to put up the same magical barriers she used at the time she, Harry and Ron hunted the Horcruxes.

"Cave Inimicum," she whispered. "Protect Totalum." She continued. "Salvio Hexia. Repello Muggletum. Muffiliate. Disillusion Charm. "

Hermione used a sequence of protective spells for her and Nix's safety. She was confident of the spells she cast. Following basic reasoning, Voldemort was considered more powerful than Grindelwald, if the Dark Lord couldn't track them while hunting the Horcrux, Grindelwald wouldn't find her either, if she placed the same sequence of protective spells.

She let out a relieved breath. From her small bag, Hermione called the tent with an Accio and began to set up the tent with magic. And there she was, that damn tent that reminded Hermione of the worst moments of her life and yet it was the only place Hermione could call home.

When she had finished setting up the tent and entered, Hermione placed Nix's cage in a corner and conjured a perch for him beside the bed. Then, she opened the cage and let Nix out, which quickly flew and settled on the perch, spreading his wings momentarily. She gave him some snacks, but Hermione would let Nix hunt tonight. It would be good if he developed a bond of trust with her.

Focusing on arranging things allowed Hermione to escape her anxieties and concerns. She spent all afternoon putting everything in place, the books on the shelf, making a place for alchemy and brewing, cleaning and making the environment cozier. In the early evening, after she had finished the magic, Hermione took a hot shower and put on her pajamas and put the kettle on to warm up, so she could make some tea and let Nix out to hunt.

As she sipped her tea, Hermione began to think of the next steps she should take. Here, she would have time to research how to break the curse that was upon her and how to go back to her time. Unconsciously, she picks up the Time-Turner around her neck and looks at the object that caused so much trouble. The emerald sand inside the Time-Turner hourglass seems to glow in the light. She runs her fingers gently over the parseltongue words and feels the magic in the necklace. Hermione raises the Time-Turner to eye level and for a fleeting moment, she thinks she can hear the same murmurs that made her enter the Forbidden Forest. Startled, she lets the Time Turn fall around her neck again.

Even if it was fast, the intensity of her interaction with Time Turner makes her have a headache.

Hermione finished the tea quickly, brushed her teeth and went to bed. Tomorrow she will send a letter to Dumbledore and another to Poppins.

Professor Dumbledore,

This is Hermione and this is Nix, don't be alarmed by his appearance. He is a quiet owl, but so far, he's lovely. I followed your advice. I'm in a new place where the sun, the sea, and the sand is constant, it's a familiar place that I can call home. Don't worry about me. Please keep me informed. I hope everything is alright.

Hermione.

Poppins,

It's me, Hermione. I apologize for not saying goodbye to you, I had to go home as soon as possible. I hope everything is fine. I'm worried about Harry. Would it be bothering you to ask you to keep me informed about him? Forgive me for the inconvenience. I wish that one day we could repeat that afternoon. Thanks for everything.

PS: Don't be afraid of the owl.

Hermione.

That morning, after writing the letters, Hermione handed it to Nix for him to take. She wondered if it was impolite or unkind of her to ask Poppins that favour, but big problems call for desperate measures. She just hoped Poppins's response would be positive.

The month of August was the month Hermione used her vast knowledge about magic. She tested potions, read books, and used spells. One time, as she tried to break the curse on her tongue, it made her tongue heat up as if she'd eaten pounds of pepper. She cried and for a moment she thought her tongue would fall. Another time, she tried to reveal the magic in the Time-Turner, the Time-Turner bounced off the magic and she looked like a poodle when the electricity of the magic hits her hair.

The constant failures were getting the best of Hermione and she was soon becoming more stressed second by the second. And without any company, but Nix, she was feeling a little lonely.

Fortunately, Poppins responded positively to Hermione's letter and she constantly sent letters to her. Dumbledore also, however, explained that he was constantly in the Ministry of Magic - that he was afraid of Grindelwald's influence on Durmstrang.

But it was on the nineteenth of August that she received a letter from Poppins.

Hermione,

I'm sorry, your friend not yet awakened ...

Hermione didn't dare to finish reading the letter because her hands were shaking so hard that she crumpled the letter. Hermione's breath got more panting as drops of tears wet the paper in her hands. That familiar anger began to rise within her. The same anger that Harry described.

It's all his fault, Hermione thought. It's all Riddle's fault.

She couldn't control her impulsiveness, a very trait of her personality that was little used, but that made her a member of Gryffindor House. She really couldn't control it. Her emotions spoke louder and then she apparated.

She was in an alley in London, which wasn't quite as she remembered, but she was sure she was in the right place. After all, when she came here, London was different and very updated, but she can't require much. It is in 1943, during the time of World War II.

Hermione walks out of the alley she apparated, waving her wand so that her clothes would change into a woman's clothing of this era because now she would walk among the Muggles.

Her steps were steady, she was determined, emotions bubbled up inside her.

As she neared the place where Tom Riddle was born and raised, her steps slowed. Hermione analyzed the Wool Orphanage carefully, her eyes narrowing. When she stepped into a newspaper, she looks, reading what was written.

Churchill, Roosevelt and Mackenzie King meet in Canada.

The First Conference of Quebec, Hermione acknowledged in amazement. Her attention was captured when she heard rapid footsteps, someone running toward her. She looked up and saw. Tom Riddle.

He stopped just inches from her, panting from the run, his cheeks red and he is slightly altered. There was an adrenaline smile on his face that faded as he recognized her. His eyes widened, two green orbs that glowed red for a second. He swallowed, and then his mouth made an 'O'.

They were both outsides the gate of the Wool Orphanage.

Hermione looked him from the top to down, and her eyes caught the ring on Riddle's finger. That ring. The second Horcrux.

"Granger…?"

The double entrance door of the Wool Orphanage opened and a man, who limped out on one leg, came out with an angry expression on his face. Both Tom and Hermione turned their faces to see the man approaching.

"Kid, come here!" The man shouted, presumably to Riddle. He opened the entrance gate, his eyes fixed on Riddle until he noticed Hermione. He looked her top to bottom and the voice softened a little. "Forgive me, Miss. I hope he's not bothering you. "

Hermione just shook her head in silence as she watched the man grab Riddle by the back of his neck, tilting Riddle's head and chest down as a form of punishment, and pushing him inside. They entered and Hermione could hear the man grumble and curse. For a moment she saw Riddle's gaze on her. It was a cold look.

o0o

Tom was now locked in the basement of the orphanage, the place of punishment for those who break the rules. He touched the damp, cold grey wall after he took off and threw his jacket on the floor. By reflex, he touched the left corner of his lip, wiping the small trail of blood from the slap he received from Mr. Wool.

None of this would have happened if he had not run into Granger. She distracted him and important minutes were lost. If she hadn't interfered, he would have returned to the orphanage in time, and Mrs. Cole would never miss him and warned Mr. Wool. But no, Granger had to come and see him in that humiliating situation, had to know the conditions he lived in when he was out of Hogwarts.

Did it have to be her? He wondered. Calm down. He said to himself. You still have the power in the situation. You are more powerful.

Yes, he was more powerful. Tom touched the ring on his finger, looking at the dark stone. It was the other Horcrux. His second Horcrux.

I did it, I killed them all.

There was no one else that was the blood of his blood. His father, and grandparents, were all dead. Everyone died by his hands. By now his uncle must be on his way to Azkaban. Tom raised a hand to the sunlight streaming through the small basement window. His skin paled, the ring stood out in his hand, and the dark stone didn't shine. That's when his attention went to his own skin and he watched the sweat droplets.

Now he was realizing that his breathing was heavier and he was starting to feel cold and sweating. He leaned his forehead against the cold wall, trying to appease the warmth that seemed to be in his head, caused by the slight headache. Tom closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath.

The small price to pay to escape death. Before coming the 'immortality' given by creating a Horcrux, comes fatigue. The body tired and adapted to the lack of a soul piece. And Riddle was feeling it, and it sure was worse than the first time, but that's what made him stronger and more powerful. Or so he thought.

Tom was still leaning his head against the wall when he felt that familiar 'whoosh'. A pressure on gravity that broke the standards of Muggle logic. Magic. He lifted his head a little and slowly looked out of the corner of his eye at his new company. The invader.

She was there, she had conjured an armchair for herself, which she made look like a queen's throne, sitting upright with her arms resting on the armrests and with her legs crossed.

Tom watched her. Her hair was still full, but somehow more controlled, she had put a clip to hold some strands of hair to one side. Granger was dressed in a short-sleeved white ladies' social shirt, the godé skirt marking her slim waist, and the length of it that was just below her knees and dark blue.

He didn't resist, looking too hard at her calves, his gaze rising over her skin until the sight of her legs was hidden by her skirt.

It was then that he looked at her expression. She was passive of emotions, her expression was serene and he felt she was analyzing him. Her cheeks were flushed from the sun, wherever she was on vacation, she was definitely enjoying it. She tilted her head slightly and her left hand moved, drawing Riddle's attention to the wand she held.

What was she doing here? Tom wondered. Is Dumbledore involved in this? Does he know what I did and sent his gold student to find out? Because it's too much coincidently that she knows exactly what orphanage I am in.

Riddle contemplated his options because now she seemed a threat. He could do magic without using his wand, the problem is that the spells he would use wouldn't be considered accidental magic. Obviously, wouldn't be considered accidental magic, him, an exemplary student with formidable magical control. Of course, there could be exceptions, but this would not be one of them.

He could steal her wand, however, wands can be traced. It was with this method that he was able to make his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, guilty of the death of the Riddle family. And if Granger got hurt by a dangerous spell caused by her wand, Dumbledore would probably investigate. That is, he has no way out.

He really has no way out until he knows what Granger wants. Tom now realizes that it is she who is playing the game at that moment. And he notices, she breathes and raises her chin in defiance when she realizes that he understands.

He is locked with the lioness.