"A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it."
Jean de La Fontaine
II
As the sun dipped behind the trees, long shadows stretched across the ground. The air felt cool and crisp, filled with the sounds of birds and insects. After walking for about half an hour, they finally reached a small, dilapidated shack that was hidden among the trees.
The cabin appeared on the verge of collapsing, and it had a sign that said "Beware of the snake". Hermione found it strange that the Gaunt family had chosen such a secluded location, surrounded by dense woods that blocked out light and any view. It created a dark and isolated atmosphere.
Upon entering the hut, they were met with a horrifying scene. The lifeless body lay on a worn-out sofa, eyes wide open and skin pale and dry. Clutched in his hand was a book, as if he had been engrossed in its contents before meeting his demise. Harry noticed a faint glow emanating from the pages, sending a chill down his spine.
The house seemed to consist of three cramped rooms. The main room served as a combined kitchen and living area, with two doors leading to other spaces. Inside, the sight was unpleasant, with piles of dirt, rusty pots, and decaying food left behind by the previous owner, Morfin, who had made no effort to clean up. Hermione observed the absence of books, except for one black leather-bound volume placed next to the lifeless body in the main room.
The witch cautiously approached the body and waved her wand over it, casting a series of spells to detect any traces of dark magic. A jolt of terror ran through her back as she sensed a powerful and malevolent force emanating from the ominous book that the corpse held.
Using a levitation charm, Granger lifted the book with her wand, making sure not to touch it with her skin. She opened it and scanned the pages, only to find them completely blank. There was no name or any inscription, except for the golden letters spelling out "Tom Marvolo Riddle" on the front cover.
The name struck a chord with Hermione, and she turned to Potter with a puzzled expression. "Harry, do you remember if the heir of the Riddle family was a muggleborn?" she asked.
The wizard shook his head, recalling the details of the case that his father, who had also worked as an Auror, had shared with him. "No, he wasn't. None of them were. The Riddle family had no connection to the wizarding world at all. That's why it was so baffling how they died."
Granger frowned, sensing something peculiar about the story. "But then how do you explain this book?" she pointed at it. "It has his full name on it. Tom Marvolo Riddle. And it's filled with dark magic. I can feel it."
Potter's eyes widened as he grasped the implication. "You don't think he was a squib, do you? A squib who somehow obtained a dark magic book and killed his family?"
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, Harry. But I think we should learn more about him. Maybe he knew something that we don't."
The witch made the decision to safeguard the book by placing it inside the warded box she had brought along. Her hope was that the box would contain the dark magic and prevent it from causing harm to anyone else. With a serious expression, she closed the lid and secured it with a complex charm. Turning to Potter and Longbottom, she spoke with caution.
"Listen, we have to be careful with this book. It could be very dangerous. And we have to report this to the Ministry as soon as possible. This might even be related to the other murders that have been happening lately."
Neville looked worried and nodded. "You mean the ones being carried out by Grindelwald's followers?"
Hermione confirmed his understanding. "Yes, exactly. They've been utilizing dark magic to target muggles and muggleborns all across Britain."
Potter's frustration and anger became evident as he clenched his fists. "But why? What do they want from him? He's already been defeated, imprisoned, and forgotten. Why can't they just leave him alone?"
Granger let out a sigh, wishing she had an answer to his questions. "I don't know, Harry. What I do know is that we need to uncover what transpired here. It's been nearly a decade since the Riddle House massacre, and the Ministry still haven't made any progress. Now we have this cursed book and the ring. Maybe it's a coincidence, or maybe it's not. Either way, we have to find out."
Neville's stomach churned as he gazed at the lifeless body they had discovered in the Gaunt shack. "Who could commit such a heinous act?" he wondered aloud.
Pucey, who had deceitfully pretended to be their ally, wore a wicked smile. "It was someone with a desire to become the Master of Death," he replied in a cryptic tone. With a wand in hand, he aimed it at Neville and Harry, preparing to strike.
"Avada Kedavra!" Adrian shouted, releasing a lethal jet of green light towards Potter's heart. But the wizard's reflexes were quick. He evaded the curse and swiftly retrieved his own wand.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry countered, unleashing a powerful blast of red light that disarmed Pucey. The traitor's wand flew out of his grasp and clattered onto the floor. Potter seized the opportunity, picking up both wands and aiming them at Pucey.
"Stupefy!" Harry exclaimed, sending a bolt of blue light hurtling towards Adrian's chest. The impact rendered Pucey unconscious, and Potter emerged victorious.
Hermione and Neville rushed towards their friend, embracing him tightly in relief that he had survived. Yet, their joy was short-lived as the former Slytherin suddenly regained consciousness and wore a sinister smirk.
"Nice attempt, Potter. But you cannot stop me. I possess a secret weapon," Pucey taunted before letting out a whistle.
A thunderous roar resonated from the nearby woods, and an enormous Venomous Tentacula emerged. This carnivorous plant, with its razor-sharp teeth and poisonous spikes, had been summoned by Adrian using a dark spell and commanded to attack.
The plant lunged at them, snapping its jaws and thrashing its vines. Reacting fast, Granger cast a protective spell.
"Protego!" she shouted, creating a shield of light that safeguarded them from the plant's onslaught.
Longbottom, well-versed in herbology, recognized the plant and knew how to handle it. He swiftly retrieved his wand and cast a spell to summon another vine.
"Accio Mandrake!" He yelled, and a small pot flew out of his backpack, landing securely in his hand. He carefully retrieved the mandrake, a shrub resembling a baby with a piercing scream, and held it up in front of the Venomous Tentacula.
The mandrake emitted a loud shriek, causing the Venomous Tentacula to recoil in surprise. Taking advantage of the moment, Longbottom swiftly threw the mandrake at the plant, hitting it directly in the mouth. The mandrake sank its teeth into the shrub, causing it to writhe in agony and release a cloud of purple smoke. The mist wafted towards Adrian, who inadvertently inhaled it and suddenly felt his body go numb. He collapsed to the floor, completely paralyzed and unable to utter a word.
Harry, Hermione, and Neville rushed over to Pucey. They quickly bound him with a spell, ensuring he couldn't escape, and thoroughly searched him for any other weapons. Their search yielded nothing except for a small tattoo on Pucey's arm. It depicted a snake entwined around a skull, the mark of the mysterious new Dark Lord who had been spreading terror in wizarding Britain.
Potter looked at the former Slytherin with disgust and confronted him, "Why did you attempt to kill me, Pucey? What do you want from me?"
Adrian merely laughed, mocking Harry's ignorance, and replied, "You're so naive, Potter. You know nothing, do you? You're just a pawn in a much larger game. A game that you're destined to lose."
He made a cruel joke, disrespecting Potter's deceased father who had bravely fought against Grindelwald.
Harry felt a surge of anger, his fists clenched tightly. He longed to inflict pain upon Pucey and make him pay for his crimes. Yet, he managed to restrain himself, recalling his father's teachings about never succumbing to the darkness of the wizards they fought against.
Hermione, on the other hand, did not share her friend's restraint. Overwhelmed by a wave of rage, she directed her anger towards Pucey and cast a powerful spell.
"Imperio!" She shouted, and a beam of white light shot forth from her wand, striking Adrian directly in the eye. The former Slytherin felt a strange sensation in his mind, as if someone else had taken control over his thoughts and actions. He desperately attempted to resist, but it was futile. The witch had successfully cast the Imperius curse, one of the unforgivable curses, granting her control over his every move.
Granger demanded that Pucey reveal everything he knew. With reluctance, Pucey complied, speaking in a monotone voice. "The new Dark Lord employs me. His plan is to overthrow the Ministry of Magic and eradicate all mudbloods that taint our word. He has a name, but I dare not utter it. The heir of Slytherin is the master of the dark arts. The most formidable wizard in the world, unstoppable by anyone."
Adrian made a snide remark, insulting Hermione by calling her a mudblood. He then proceeded to spit in her face, finding amusement in his own vile behavior.
Enraged, the witch retaliated by casting another spell at him. With a scream, she shouted, "Crucio!" A beam of red light shot from her wand, striking Pucey in the chest. The impact caused him excruciating pain, as if every fiber of his being was set ablaze. Writhing on the floor, he could not help but scream. Granger had unleashed the Cruciatus curse, yet another unforgivable curse, which allowed her to torture him.
A twisted smile formed on the young woman's face as she relished in his suffering. She yearned to make him pay for his crimes, to witness him beg for mercy, and even to see him meet his demise.
In horror, Harry and Neville observed the scene unfold before them. They couldn't comprehend what they were witnessing. Their friend, Hermione, had resorted to using the unforgivables – the most potent and morally reprehensible spells known to exist. She had succumbed to the darkness that these curses represented, much like the malevolent wizards who employed them without remorse.
Reacting swiftly, Potter rushed towards his best friend, gripping her arm in an attempt to halt her actions. He pleaded, "Mione, what are you doing? Why are you resorting to the unforgivables? Don't you understand how wrong they are?"
Hermione stared at Harry, momentarily dazed. It was as if she snapped out of a trance, finally comprehending the gravity of her actions. Her wand slipped from her grasp as she gasped in realization. Although she couldn't recall the details of what had occurred, the sight of Pucey's battered and bloodied body filled her with guilt. Turning to Harry, she asked, "What have I done? What did Pucey mean by a new Dark Lord? Who is he?"
Potter shook his head, expressing uncertainty, and addressed her, "I'm not sure, Mione. I don't know who this person is or what they want. But I can tell that something is off with you."
A tear trickled down her cheek, and she confessed, "Harry, I'm sorry. I don't understand what came over me. I don't know why I resorted to using the unforgivable curses. I don't know what's happening to me."
Neville, who had been observing the situation silently, chimed in, "Hermione, I believe I know what's causing your behavior. It seems that the dark energy from those cursed objects has affected you. They must have corrupted your mind, causing you to act out of character. Perhaps they amplified your anger and caused you to lose control."
He gestured towards the artifacts inside the partially opened warded box and continued, "Take a look, Hermione. Those objects are cursed, and they're responsible for the deaths of Bryce and Grieg."
Granger examined the ring and the book, and a shiver of fear ran through her. The witch realized that Neville was correct. She had been exposed to the dark energy emanating from those artifacts, and it had influenced her. Even if only for a moment, she had transformed into a dark witch. She had committed something terrible, something unforgivable, yet she couldn't deny the satisfaction she had felt while casting those curses.
Hermione dragged her feet as she finally arrived home, feeling the weight of the long day on her shoulders. The sun had long set, casting a dark veil over the streets. With each step, she treaded carefully down the familiar paths of Tangent Avenue, a quiet neighborhood tucked away just a few streets beyond the bustling Diagon Alley. She could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music from the nearby pubs and shops, but she had no desire to join the merry crowd. All she wanted was to curl up in her cozy apartment and forget about the world for a while.
As she approached her destination, the young woman exchanged pleasantries with her landlady, Madam Atkins, who was sitting on the porch with a knitting basket. "Good evening, dear. How was your day?" the elderly witch asked, smiling warmly.
Hermione forced a smile and replied, "Oh, you know, the usual. Meetings, reports, deadlines. Nothing too exciting."
Madam Atkins nodded sympathetically. "Well, you work too hard, my dear. You should take some time for yourself. Maybe find a nice young wizard to keep you company."
Granger felt a pang in her chest as she thought of the last man who had kept her company. Ronald Weasley, her former fiancé and once-close friend, who had betrayed her in the most horrible way. She quickly pushed the memory away and said, "Thank you, Aurelia, but I'm fine. Really. I just need some rest."
The old lady gave her a knowing look, but didn't press further. "Well, all right then. Have a good night, dear. And say hello to that lovely cat of yours for me."
Hermione thanked her and entered the sanctuary of her cozy apartment on the first floor. Yet, what greeted her upon crossing the threshold was far from ordinary. Her eyes widened in surprise as she beheld a peculiar sight in her living room.
There, amidst the warm glow of lamplight, Crookshanks, her beloved half-kneazle cat, roamed about with a can of tuna fish precariously perched upon its head. The can had a large hole on the side, where Crookshanks had evidently helped himself to a snack.
Amusement tugged at her lips as she gently scooped up the mischievous feline, carefully freeing it from its unusual headgear. In response, the cat, with his large, vibrant orange fur and squashed face, showered the witch face with affectionate licks, instantly melting away the remnants of frustration from her trying day.
"Hello, you silly thing. Did you miss me?" Hermione cooed, stroking his fur.
Crookshanks purred loudly and rubbed his head against her chin.
"I missed you too, you know. You're the only one who understands me." She said, feeling a surge of love for her loyal companion.
The cat blinked his amber eyes and nuzzled her cheek.
Granger carried him to the kitchen, where she filled his bowl with fresh water and some more tuna. She then made herself a sandwich and a glass of milk, feeling her hunger return after a long day of work. The witch ate in silence, enjoying the simple meal and the company of her cat.
Seeking solace and relaxation, Hermione made her way to the bathroom to prepare for a soothing shower. She turned on the faucet and adjusted the temperature, letting the hot water fill the tub. Lavender-scented bubbles and rose petals created a fragrant and relaxing atmosphere. Then the witch stripped off her clothes and stepped into the tub, sighing as the water enveloped her body. She closed her eyes and let the tension melt away, feeling the soothing effects of the aromatherapy.
Half an hour later Granger found herself drawn to the comforting embrace of her cozy armchair. There, she settled down, a steaming cup of chamomile tea in hand, accompanied by a plate of delectable biscuits. The familiar scent of the tea and the sweet taste of the biscuits mingled in her senses, providing a temporary respite from the challenges of the outside world.
With her body and mind rejuvenated, Hermione finally retired to her bedroom, seeking refuge in the cocoon of her bed. As she nestled herself amidst the soft blankets and plush pillows, a familiar presence enveloped her. Crookshanks, ever faithful, positioned himself by her side, his warmth a soothing balm to her weary soul. He curled up next to her, resting his head on her arm. The young woman smiled and kissed his furry head, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unconditional love.
"Good night, Crooks. I love you." She whispered, stroking his fur.
The half-kneazle purred softly and closed his eyes.
Granger reached for her nightstand, where she kept her beloved book, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. She opened it to the last page, where she had marked her favorite passage with a ribbon. The witch read the words aloud, feeling the emotion in every syllable.
"'My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,' said he, pressing her hand to his heart. 'I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.'"
Hermione couldn't help but ponder her own romantic prospects. Would she ever find her own Mr. Darcy, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome? The events of her recent past, particularly the heart-wrenching betrayal of her former fiancé, in the very confines of her own home, had forced her to reevaluate her expectations. Perhaps, she thought, it was time to ground herself in reality, to seek a love that transcended the superficial. A love that was based on mutual respect, understanding, and admiration. A love that would make her happy.
She closed the book and placed it on her chest, feeling its weight and warmth. She closed her eyes and whispered a silent wish, hoping that somewhere out there, her soulmate was waiting for her. Someone who would understand and cherish her.
Yet that night, as Hermione clutched her cherished book close to her heart, sleep slowly claimed her, ushering her into a realm of dreams and possibilities. In the depths of her slumber, her mind danced with visions of her soulmate, a kindred spirit who would make her feel alive.
Little did she know, however, that fate, with its enigmatic ways, often wove a tapestry of surprises, some sinister in nature. Perchance, she should have been more cautious with her wishes, for destiny had a tendency to twist and turn, revealing its true intentions at the most unexpected of times.