"One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious."

Carl Jung

V

Waking up abruptly, Hermione gasped and found herself drenched in sweat. Opening her eyes, she recognized her room, her own apartment. Crookshanks, still peacefully asleep, purred beside her. It dawned on her that it had all been a terrifying nightmare.

Tears streamed down her face, as though she had just experienced the loss of her parents all over again. She got out of bed and changed her clothes, wiping away her tears and biting her lip to control her emotions.

The witch dressed in a black sweater and jeans, attempting to conceal her inner turmoil. Determined, she decided to begin her research on the diary sooner rather than later, in search of a way to destroy it. She was fully aware of its danger, its potential to possess and even kill her. But she didn't care. She had nothing left to lose.

"Hey, Crooks. I'm sorry, but I have to leave," she said, stroking his fur.

The half-kneazle purred and affectionately licked her hand, displaying his understanding.

"Take care of yourself, okay? Don't let anyone in. Don't trust anyone. Don't try to be a hero. Just be a cat," she joked, planting a kiss on his nose.

The orange feline nodded, as if comprehending her words. He watched her intently as she gathered her beaded handbag and wand, then left the apartment, making her way to the Ministry.

Hermione strolled down the street, the biting wind nipping at her face. She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her, attempting to preserve the warmth within.

A sense of numbness enveloped her, leaving her feeling hollow and devoid of life. She arrived at the Ministry, where a group of Aurors stood guard at the entrance. They recognized her and saluted as she passed. The witch acknowledged them with a nod.

"Hey, Hermione, how's it going?" Longbottom approached her, inquiring about her progress with the investigation into the cursed artifacts.

"I'm alright, Neville, thanks for asking. I'm still running tests on the book and the ring, but I haven't found anything useful yet. They're incredibly powerful and dangerous, so I have to be cautious," she replied, offering him a polite smile as she explained her work.

"I see. Well, I hope you make a breakthrough soon. We're still clueless about who killed those two muggles last week. No group of Grindelwald insurgents have claimed responsibility for the attack. It's all very strange," he shared, frustration evident in his voice as he discussed their fruitless investigations.

"That is peculiar. Perhaps they're deliberately trying to conceal their identity, or maybe it wasn't the insurgents at all," she responded, her interest waning. She was too drained to care about the murdered muggles, the insurgents, or anything else for that matter.

"Yeah, maybe. Anyway, let's change the subject, shall we? This conversation is getting too gloomy. How about we grab a coffee and have a chat? You look like you could use a break," Neville suggested, attempting to lighten the mood and offer her some solace.

"Sure, why not. A coffee sounds nice," she agreed, even though conversing was the last thing she felt like doing. The young woman followed him to the cafeteria, where they settled down at a table.

"I have some exciting news to share with you," he said, a smile lighting up his face.

"What is it?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I've been accepted as the new Herbology professor at Hogwarts!" he proudly announced.

"Wow, Neville, that's amazing! Congratulations!" she exclaimed, genuinely happy for him. Hermione wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and he hugged her back.

"Thank you. I'm so thrilled. Teaching at Hogwarts has always been a dream of mine, and now it's becoming a reality," he said, beaming with joy.

"I have no doubt that you'll be an excellent teacher, Neville. You have a deep knowledge and passion for Herbology, and your experience speaks for itself. The students are going to love you," she complimented him sincerely.

"Thanks, Hermione. Your kind words mean a lot to me," he thanked her warmly.

As they were about to continue their conversation, they were interrupted by someone approaching them. It was Ronald Weasley, her ex-fiancé. The same person who had cheated on her with Lavender Brown and married her after she became pregnant.

"Hello, Neville. Hello, Hermione," he greeted them casually, taking a seat without being invited. He acted as if nothing had happened between them, as if they were still friends.

"Hello, Ron," Longbotttom responded coldly. He didn't like the wizard and didn't trust him. He knew what Weasley had done to Hermione, and he held a strong dislike for him.

Granger barely acknowledged his arrival. She didn't want to see him or talk to him. Her only wish was for him to leave and never return.

"So, what brings you two here? Out on a little date?" He teased, a mocking smile on his face as he glanced at the witch. He knew how to get under her skin, and he reveled in it.

"No, we're not on a date. Just having a coffee and a friendly chat. Something you wouldn't understand," Neville replied sharply, defending Hermione and glaring at Ron.

"Oh, I see. Well, sorry to interrupt your friendly chat, but I've got some good news to share with you too," Weasley said, a smug tone in his voice.

"What is it?" Neville asked reluctantly, not particularly interested in Ron's news but not wanting to be rude.

"Lavender is pregnant again. We're expecting our second child," Ron announced proudly.

Hermione felt a surge of pain and anger. She couldn't believe he had the audacity to tell her that. The wizard knew how much she longed to have children, and he knew she couldn't. And he didn't care. He had moved on with Lavender, starting a family with her, replacing Hermione and making her feel worthless.

Forcing a smile, Granger responded, determined not to let Weasley see her hurt or show any emotion. She refused to let him win. "Congratulations, Ron. I'm genuinely happy for you and Lavender. I hope everything goes well with the pregnancy and the baby," she said calmly, though she was lying through her teeth.

"Thank you, Hermione. You're so sweet," he replied sarcastically, not believing her or caring. He wanted to rub his happiness in her face, to make her suffer.

Ron continued to talk about his wife and upcoming baby, sharing how he had taken a leave from his job as an Auror to spend more time with them. He mentioned how they had already started preparing for the nursery and expressed their hopes for a boy.

Neville noticed Hermione's discomfort. He saw the pain in her eyes and the tension in her body. Feeling sorry for her, he wanted to help. He attempted to change the topic, but Weasley wouldn't let him.

"So, Hermione, what about you? Any good news to share? Or are you still stuck with your boring research?" Ron asked rudely, aiming to mock and belittle her.

"I am still working on my research, yes. But it's far from boring; it's important. I'm delving into runic magic, one of the oldest forms of magic that needs better understanding," the witch replied firmly, defending her work and refusing to be intimidated.

"Oh, come on. Stop acting like a hero or a noble person. That's just a pretense. Nobody cares about what you're doing. It's a waste of time. Reality is too hard for you to face, so you avoid it. The fact that you're not a true witch because you can't have children is something you can't accept. You can't handle the truth that no one would want a woman like you who can't satisfy them."

Ronald burst into laughter, thinking he had achieved victory with his supposed wit and cleverness. Granger felt a wave of anger and power. It was intolerable. His words were too hurtful. He had to pay for it. The healer at St Mungos had told her that she could never have children because of the injury she got as a kid, falling from the tree after the fire that killed her parents. She recalled the tears she shed and how she blamed herself.

The witch also remembered how Ron had pretended to console her, only to later betray her. He had lied about loving her and had an affair with another witch. A surge of energy crackled within her, and she unleashed it without fully comprehending what she was doing. Ron was forcefully thrown across the room by a powerful blast of magic. He collided with the wall and collapsed onto the floor, groaning in pain and anger.

"What the hell, Hermione? Are you crazy?" He shouted, furiously and reached for his wand, but he could not find it. It had flown out of his hand, when he was hit.

"Shut up, Ron. You deserve it. You deserve much worse." Neville said, coldly. He looked at him, and felt nothing but contempt.

Granger did not regret what she had done. The witch was about to curse him again when Neville touched her arm, and looked into her eyes. "Hermione, I know. I know he did all those things to you. I know he hurt you, more than anyone else. I know he was a jerk, and a coward. But you don't have to do this. You don't have to stoop to his level. You have to live your life, for yourself."

The young woman smiled at him and entered the Ministry entrance hall, ignoring the stares and whispers. The Department of Mysteries was her destination. The door of the laboratory had a sign that read: "Authorized Personnel Only". She knocked on it and waited for an answer. A voice from inside asked: "Who is it?"

"It's me, Hermione Granger. I need to make some experiments today," she said.

The door opened, revealing a woman in a dark purple robe. It was Regina Rowle, working on a broken time-turner. She looked at her with curiosity and suspicion.

"Hermione, what a surprise. What brings you here?" she inquired, stepping aside.

Pretending to be confident and calm, she walked in. A warded box and a diary came out of her handbag. Anger and hatred surged in her, as she recalled what it had done to her at the Gaunt Schack.

"I have a theory, based on my research. I think this diary is cursed. I think it can be destroyed using blood magic," she said, lying.

Rowle eyed Hermione with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism, her dark eyebrows drawing together in a puzzled frown. "Blood magic? What are you on about?" she demanded, her voice laced with doubt. "It's far too risky. Do you have any proof, any evidence, any rational basis for this claim?"

Hermione bit her lip, feeling uncertain of how to convince her. "I... I don't have solid evidence yet," she confessed. "But I've been researching blood magic in depth, and I think it can be applied for more than just creating protective enchantments. It can also be used for casting powerful curses."

Regina shook her head, clearly not persuaded. "I have a meeting with the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," she informed, checking her watch. "I can't stay here much longer. But if you come across any convincing evidence, please inform me."

Hermione nodded, respecting Regina's busy schedule.

"Of course, I will. Thank you for your time," she expressed, wishing her goodbye. As Rowle left the room, Granger found herself alone in a laboratory filled with magical experiments, various instruments, and a collection of potions. The laboratory was carefully shielded against any possible magical mishaps.

Taking out the diary she had been examining, Hermione placed it gently on the table. The blank pages gazed back at her, ready to be written on. The witch took a deep breath, reciting a spell as she waved her wand, casting the Difindo charm to make a small cut on her hand. She let a few drops of her blood fall onto the blank pages, watching as the liquid vanished upon contact.

With her hand now healed, Granger dipped her quill in ink and tentatively wrote her name on the diary. To her astonishment, the ink didn't just dry on the page; it seemed to animate, forming words on its own. Intrigued, she asked the diary who it was, and the book replied with a voice that seemed to resonate in her mind.

"I am Tom," the diary answered. "And I can show you what you seek. But it would be better if you see for yourself."

Before Hermione could reply, a strong force yanked her towards the book. She felt herself engulfed by a dazzling, white light, and when she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a room filled with towering stacks of books. Disorder prevailed, with a bed in one corner, a boiling cauldron on a desk, and scattered ingredients lying around.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps neared, and Hermione turned to see a man with black hair, pale skin, and stormy grey eyes. There was a blend of interest and desire in his gaze as he greeted her by name. It was the same man from her dreams, the one she had learned to be Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The witch couldn't help but ask, "Why did you kill those muggle men?"

Riddle's voice took on a mysterious tone as he explained, "I needed them to be whole again, but it failed. My quest for immortality only led to my own ruin. But now, I've found the way back. And all I need is your sacrifice, your tainted blood, to bring me back."

Fear coursed through Hermione, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Riddle's smirk sent chills down her spine as he continued, "Oh, my dear, you have no say in the matter. You are here, and you will be mine."

Granger desperately tried to free herself from his grip, but his hold was firm, relentless. Panic overwhelmed her as she felt herself being dragged into darkness once again. Riddle's presence faded, but his laughter echoed sinisterly in the distance.

When Hermione finally awoke, she found herself in a hospital room bathed in the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the wide windows of St Mungos. As she tried to gather her bearings, a wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to reach out for support. To her surprise, she realized that someone was clutching her hand tightly.

"Harry?" she whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

He stirred awake, his emerald eyes filled with concern as he met her gaze. "Mione, you're up! How are you feeling?"

The witch tried to sit up, but the room spun around her. "I... I don't know. What happened?"

Potter's brow furrowed as he sat up, releasing her hand. "Do you remember anything?"

She closed her eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of her memory. "I was... I was working on the diary we found at the Gaunt Shack. And then, suddenly, I was transported to a place I didn't recognize."

Harry's eyes widened, and he leaned closer. "Did you... did you see someone?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I didn't see anyone." She didn't want to worry him further.

The wizard sighed, reaching out to take both of her hands in his. "Mione, you have to be strong. I have some news... and it's not good."

She felt a knot form in her stomach, anxiety coursing through her veins. "What is it, Harry?"

He took a deep breath, his voice filled with sorrow. "Regina Rowle found you unconscious on the floor. The cursed objects, the ring and the diary, they've disappeared. She brought you here and informed me about what happened."

Harry's face darkened, his grip on her hands tightening. "Not even an hour later, there was an attack on our mother's house at Godric's Hollow. They tortured her and took the invisibility cloak. By the time the Aurors arrived, the cottage was engulfed in flames. I'm so sorry, sis, but... it was too late for our mother."

Hermione's heart sank, tears welling up in her eyes. Harry pulled her into a tight embrace, offering what little comfort he could.

"It's not your fault, Mione," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of worry and sadness.

Through her tears, the witch managed to choke out a question. "Do the Aurors know who's behind these attacks?"

Potter shook his head, his expression grim. "They believe it's Grindelwald's followers, attempting to retrieve the Deathly Hallows and bring their leader back to life after he was found dead at his cell in Nurmengard. But... I have a strange feeling that the truth is far darker than what they suspect."