"Not all those who wander are lost."
J.R.R. Tolkien
VIII
Hermione Granger was having a nightmare that haunted her every night. She saw flashes of green light, heard screams of agony, and felt a cold hand gripping her heart. She tried to escape, but the darkness swallowed her whole. She woke up with a start, her forehead covered in a cold sweat and a sharp pain piercing her chest. She attempted to scream, but no sound emerged. The young witch felt a suffocating sensation, unable to move or draw in a breath. Her frantic gaze darted around, desperately searching for a familiar face, only to find darkness enveloping her.
Ariadne Greengrass, one of Hermione's dorm mates, was roused by her restless movements. Flicking on the lamp, she was met with the girl's terrified expression. Hurriedly, she sprinted to her side and gently shook her.
"Hey, Mia, wake up! It's just a nightmare, you're okay!" Ariadne reassured, attempting to calm her.
Yet, the young witch remained unresponsive, her tear-stained face fixed on the ceiling. A surge of panic coursed through Greengrass. Unsure of what to do, she grabbed her wand and dashed out of the room in search of help.
In the fifth years' dorm room, Cassiopeia Black sat engrossed in a book, illuminated by the warm greenish glow of the fireplace, oblivious to the unfolding situation.
"Ari, what's wrong? You look pale," Black observed, noticing her distress.
"It's Mia, Cassie. She's having some sort of fit. She won't wake up, and she can't stop crying. I don't know what's happening to her. Please, come with me, we need to take her to the hospital wing," Greengrass pleaded, her voice on the verge of tears.
Cassiopeia dropped her book with a thud, her eyes widening as she witnessed her friend's condition. It was an unfamiliar sight, as Granger was usually composed and fearless, even in the face of danger. The witch was known as the brightest and bravest girl in Slytherin, one of the few who challenged pureblood prejudice.
Attempting to communicate with Hermione yielded no response. Cassiopeia checked her pulse, finding it racing. Fear washed over her. What if her friend was in mortal danger? What if she had been cursed? Could this be related to the mysterious attacks plaguing Hogwarts?
Determined not to waste any more time, Black brandished her wand and aimed it at Hermione.
"Stupefy!" she exclaimed, stunning her.
Ariadne stared, aghast. "What are you doing? You can't just stun her!"
"It's the only way to transport her. We can't carry her like this, she's too heavy. We must levitate her. Come on, help me," Cassiopeia instructed, levitating Hermione's limp body with her wand.
Nodding, Greengrass followed suit. Together, they carefully maneuvered their friend out of the dormitory and through the corridors, praying they wouldn't encounter anyone. Though it was past curfew, the risks were inconsequential compared to their mission of saving Hermione.
Finally arriving at the hospital wing, they pushed open the door, revealing a room crowded with petrified students. These victims had fallen prey to an enigmatic creature, unseen but deeply feared. Rumors whispered that it was the legendary monster of Slytherin, the heir to Salazar Slytherin's secret weapon. The identity of the heir remained unknown, as did the method to halt the attacks. The school was engulfed in terror and chaos.
Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was occupied tending to the afflicted students. She glanced up upon hearing the door slam shut.
"What is the meaning of this? Why are you here?" she demanded, her tone stern.
"Madam Pomfrey, please, we require your assistance. Hermione Granger, she's our friend. We discovered her in her bed, crying and immobile. We had to stun her to bring her here," Cassiopeia explained urgently.
Tom's eyes filled with pain as he explained, "But... but in the past, when we argued at the orphanage, she would have nightmares. Nightmares reliving her parents' death in the fire. And she always wake up just like this, unable to move or speak."
He continued, his voice filled with bitterness. "The matron, Mrs Cole, would leave her alone, shut in a room in the basement so she wouldn't disturb anyone. She would be left to suffer in silence."
Madam Pomfrey was revolted by the treatment Hermione had received at the orphanage. She couldn't comprehend how anyone could be so heartless. But now, she had a chance to make things right.
She looked at the young wizard and said, "You can stay with your friend, Mr Riddle. I won't leave her alone. We'll make sure she feels safe and supported."
Tom nodded gratefully, his grip on his friend's hand tightening. Throughout the night, he stayed by her side, holding her hand and offering comfort.
Finally, as the first rays of sunlight filtered into the room, the witch stirred. She blinked her eyes, feeling disoriented and out of place. She called out for Tom, who awoke from his light doze.
"Mia, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Hermione tried to speak, but her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "I... I'm fine, Tom. You don't have to blame yourself for this."
Tears welled up in Riddle's eyes as he hugged her tightly, seeking forgiveness. "I'm so sorry, Mia. I never meant to hurt you. I love you."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat at his words, and she found herself without an immediate response. But in that moment, she realized that she also cared deeply for Tom too. She hugged him back, holding him close.
He kissed her forehead gently, conveying his affection and care. It was a moment of vulnerability and understanding, a moment where their friendship turned into something more. The witch knew that they had a long journey ahead, but she also knew that they would face it together.
And as they held each other, the weight of Hermione's past and her fears seemed to lighten, replaced by a newfound sense of hope and love.
Tom had never known the warmth of a home. He had spent his entire life in the bleak and dreary orphanage, where he was treated with scorn and indifference. Every year, on his birthday, Mrs Cole would drag him to her office and tell him the story of his birth. She seemed to enjoy the torment and anguish that filled the boy's eyes.
"Boy," she would start, "let me tell you again how mad your mother looked on the day you came into this world." The old matron would sneer and curl her lips as she went on, "She was nothing but a filthy whore. No wonder you have a touch of evil in you."
Riddle used to feel a wave of rage during those talks when he was younger. As he grew older, however, he became more detached and indifferent to the woman's words.
It was a cold and rainy night, just a few days after Christmas, and Tom's birthday was nearing. He sat by the window, gazing at the dark sky, and asked in a low voice, "Do you ever think about your parents?"
Hermione sighed, recalling happier times. "You know, I used to love my birthday. Every year mom and dad would organize a wonderful party for me. It was a time of joy and laughter." He saw her pensive look and said, "I know how you feel now. Things are different now."
She nodded sadly, "Yes, everything changed when I turned nine. My parents' smiles vanished when they found out I was different from other children. Now my birthdays only make me think of their fear and sadness. What about you?"
"Yes," Tom replied softly. "I wonder about my mother sometimes. She was a tragic woman." His friend frowned in sympathy and said, "It must have been hard for her."
Riddle nodded gravely, feeling a strange sense of sorrow for his mother and others like her who had suffered at the hands of those with power. Hermione hugged his shoulder gently, giving him comfort without words. They had long decided that the best way to celebrate their birthdays was to stay together quietly without attracting too much attention to themselves.
The heavy wooden door of Wool's Orphanage swung open, emitting a loud creak that startled the children playing in the dimly lit hall. In walked a tall, elegant woman with silver hair cascading down her back, adorned in a luxurious fur coat. Following closely behind her was a younger woman with wild brown hair, her friendly smile contrasting the gloomy atmosphere. The two newcomers surveyed the dismal surroundings with a mixture of pity and disgust.
"Good morning, ladies. Can I assist you?" came the voice from behind the reception desk. Mrs Cole, the matron of the orphanage, emerged. She was a thin, sour-faced woman perpetually clad in a black dress, her expression stern.
"Yes, we've come to see two of the children: Hermione Granger and Tom Riddle," replied the older woman, her refined accent accentuating her regal demeanor.
Mrs Cole frowned. "Hermione and Tom? Are you their relatives?"
"Yes, indeed. I am Lady Mary Riddle, Tom's grandmother, and this is Cecilia Dagworth-Granger, Hermione's aunt," the older woman introduced herself and her companion.
The matron's eyes widened, unaccustomed to such well-dressed and affluent visitors. She couldn't help but wonder what brought these distinguished individuals to these two troublemakers.
"I'm afraid you've chosen an inconvenient time. Hermione and Tom are currently unavailable. They're... indisposed," she lied, attempting to maintain a polite facade.
"Indisposed? What do you mean by that?" Cecilia inquired, her tone laced with suspicion.
Reluctant to reveal the truth, Mrs Cole hesitated. Hermione and Tom had been confined to the attic as punishment for their recent mischievous exploits. The two teenagers had been caught wielding mysterious powers to frighten and harm their fellow orphans. In the matron's eyes, they seemed like the spawn of the devil.
"They're... ill. Yes, that's it. They are in no condition to receive visitors. I'm afraid you'll have to return another day," she continued, hoping her words would be believed.
Exchanging a knowing glance, Lady Mary and Cecilia saw through Mrs Cole's lies. Cecilia had sensed the presence of magic within the orphanage. The witch had also observed the fear and animosity in the eyes of the other children and staff. She knew that Hermione and Tom were in danger.
"Nonsense. We won't leave until we see them. They are our family, and we have every right to see them. Take us to them, or we'll have to take matters into our own hands," Lady Mary asserted firmly.
Mrs Cole gasped, feeling a surge of anger and fear. How dare these strangers threaten her? How dare they challenge her authority? She was about to protest when a sudden wave of confusion washed over her. The matron blinked, forgetting what she had intended to say.
"Of course, of course. Follow me, please," she agreed, her voice dazed. Rising from her desk, she led the two women up the stairs. Cecilia smiled and subtly winked at Lady Mary. She had cast a Confundus Charm on the matron, making her more compliant.
Ascending the stairs, they reached the top floor. Mrs Cole opened a door and gestured for them to enter. "Here they are: Hermione and Tom. Be cautious, as they are very ill," she warned in a monotone voice.
Lady Mary and Cecilia stepped into the room and gasped. It was a dark, filthy space, cramped and devoid of comfort. The small window was covered in layers of dust and cobwebs. Two beds, adorned with thin mattresses and tattered blankets, occupied the room. A wooden chest overflowed with worn-out clothes and books. A broken-legged sofa with a stained cushion completed the dismal scene. And there, on the sofa, sat two teenagers. A boy and a girl, both around fourteen years old, appeared pale and emaciated. They were engrossed in a book, their attention drawn to the sound of the opening door.
"Who are you?" the boy questioned coldly. He had dark hair, piercing grey eyes, and a striking face.
"What are you doing here?" the girl inquired curiously. She possessed untamed chestnut curls and bright hazel eyes.
Lady Mary was overcome with emotion. She recognized the boy as her grandson, bearing an uncanny resemblance to her son, Thomas, who had abandoned him and his mother at birth. Guilt and regret pierced her heart. She wished she had known about him sooner.
Cecilia recognized the girl as her niece, she looked a lot like her brother, Will, who had been obliviated and banished to the muggle world by their father. Anger and sadness welled up within her. She hoped she had been there for her.
Approaching the sofa, they smiled warmly at the children.
"Hello, Hermione. Hello, Tom. We are here to see you. We are your family," Lady Mary greeted softly.
Mistrustful of their intentions, Riddle narrowed his eyes. He had learned to rely solely on himself and to wield his powers to obtain what he desired.
"What do you want from us?" he challenged sharply.
"We want nothing from you. We want to remove you from this place and provide you with a real home," Cecilia reassured gently.
The boy snorted, disbelief apparent. "Where were you all this time? Why did you leave us here? Why did you abandon us?" he accused bitterly.
Lady Mary's tear trickled down her cheek. She reached out to touch his face, but he flinched away.
"I'm sorry, Tom. I am truly sorry. I had no knowledge of your existence. Your father... he never informed me. He never informed anyone. He ran off with your mother, then abandoned her as well. He was a fool. But I am not. I am your grandmother, and I love you. I am not ashamed of you. I am proud of you," she confessed sincerely.
Tom regarded her, a flicker of doubt surfacing. He observed the sincerity in her eyes and heard the pain in her voice. He wondered if she spoke the truth.
Cecilia smiled at Hermione, who observed the scene with wide eyes. She reached out to embrace her, but Tom stepped in front of her, glaring fiercely.
"Stay away from her. She is mine. You cannot take her," he declared vehemently.
The older witch raised an eyebrow, sensing the bond between the two orphans, their shared magic. She also sensed the danger emanating from him.
"I am not trying to take her away from you. I am trying to help her. I am her aunt. We are the same. We are witches," she explained calmly.
Tom and Hermione hesitated, assailed by fear and doubt. They pondered what fate awaited them. The two questioned whether they could trust these newfound family members.
"Please, Hermione. Please, Tom. Trust us. We are your family. We want to see you happy. We want to see you free," Lady Mary implored, her voice filled with desperation.
Feeling a glimmer of hope and courage, Tom and Hermione exchanged glances once more. They decided to take a leap of faith. They resolved to follow them.
"We will go with you," Hermione agreed softly.
"Okay," Tom echoed, his reluctance apparent.
Lady Mary and Cecilia beamed, embracing the children. Rising from the sofa, they made their way to the door. As they prepared to exit, a loud noise disrupted the air. They turned to find Mrs Cole standing in the doorway, anger and fear etched on her face. She had snapped out of the Confundus Charm, realizing the unfolding situation.
"How dare you take these monsters away from here! They are not children, they are spawn of the devil! They have done unspeakable things to the others, and they deserve to rot in this attic!" the matron's voice boomed, her finger pointed accusingly at Lady Mary and Cecilia.
The room fell silent, and the orphans huddled closer together, rage etched on their faces.
Lady Mary gasped, shocked by the venom in Mrs. Cole's words. Cecilia, however, felt her anger ignite, her eyes flashing with magic as she stepped forward, shielding the children.
"Enough, Mrs. Cole," the witch declared, her voice cold and unwavering. "You have no right to treat them this way. They are not monsters, but gifted. They are our family, and we are taking them with us."
The matron flinched, sensing the power in Cecilia's voice. Fear overcame her anger, and she reluctantly backed away. Mrs Cole knew she was no match for these strange women and their mysterious abilities. With a final glare of hatred, she allowed them to pass.
"Go on, then. Take them away. But mark my words, they will bring you nothing but trouble. They are cursed, and they will curse you too," the matron spat, her voice dripping with bitterness.
Hermione and Tom, a mix of relief and nervousness coursing through them, followed Lady Mary and Cecilia. Leaving behind the orphanage that had been their prison for far too long, they stepped onto the street, where a waiting car stood.
Lady Mary opened the door, gesturing for the children to get in. Her warm smile offered a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.
"Come on, dears. Let's go home," she said, her voice filled with genuine kindness.
"Home?" Hermione repeated, her curiosity piqued.
"Yes, home. We live in a quaint village called Little Hangleton, nestled in the peaceful countryside. It's a place of tranquility and serenity away from the war. I'm sure you'll love it there," Lady Mary explained as she settled into the driver's seat.
Cecilia, seated beside her, glanced back at the children. She saw the doubt and fear lingering in their eyes, and her heart went out to them. They had endured so much and needed time to adjust. Determined to ease their transition, she suggested an alternative.
"Actually, there's a faster way to get there," the witch pondered, turning to the older woman. "Why don't we apparate?"
"Apparate?" Tom questioned, his confusion evident.
"Yes, apparate. It's a magical means of travel. You simply focus on your destination and hold onto someone experienced in apparition. It's quite simple and swift. We'll arrive in an instant," Cecilia explained, producing a small silver device from her pocket. Resembling a cigarette lighter, it featured a green button.
"What is that?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.
"It's a Muggle-Repeller. It ensures that no muggles witness our apparition. We wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?" Cecilia replied, pressing the button. A faint hum filled the air, and a misty fog enveloped the car.
"Muggles?" Lady Mary questioned, bewildered.
"Muggles are non-magical people like Mrs. Cole. They are unaware of magic and often fear it. You can only sense magic because you've grown accustomed to it. That's why we must keep it a secret from them. It's for their own safety, and ours," Cecilia clarified, extending her hand to the children. "Now, take my arm, both of you, and hold on tightly. It may feel strange, but worry not. It will be over soon."
Hermione and Tom exchanged uncertain glances before looking at Cecilia. They saw the sincerity and kindness shining in her eyes and chose to trust her. They grasped her arm firmly, preparing for what lay ahead.
"Ready?" Cecilia inquired, meeting Lady Mary's gaze.
"Ready," Lady Mary affirmed, taking the witch's other arm.
"Alright, then. Here we go," Cecilia announced, closing her eyes. She visualized their home, a grand manor surrounded by lush fields and trees. A tug in her stomach followed by a sensation of being compressed through a narrow tube ensued. Then, with a resounding pop, she opened her eyes.
They had arrived. Standing before the Riddle House in Little Hangleton, bathed in sunlight and crisp air, they left the orphanage and entered a new world.
"Hermione and Tom," Cecilia said, her smile warm and inviting. "Welcome to your new home."