"There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact."

Arthur Conan Doyle

XII

Hermione and Pollux burst out of the Three Broomsticks, their ears still ringing from the deafening explosion that had rocked the bustling Main Street. Chaos consumed the cobblestone lane as they sprinted through, skillfully maneuvering around the wreckage and injured individuals strewn across the ground.

The scene was a flurry of activity, with Aurors and Ministry officials desperately attempting to regain control. Spells were cast, orders were shouted, and the air was thick with screams, curses, and more explosions. The intense heat, fear, and anger hung heavy in the atmosphere.

"Are you alright?" Black asked, his voice strained with concern.

"I'm fine," Hermione replied, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Riddle. "But where's Tom? He was supposed to meet us here."

"Maybe he's still in the bookshop," Pollux suggested, pointing to the alley near Tomes and Scrolls. "Let's go check."

As they approached the back street, their hearts sank at the sight that greeted them. A masked man, cloaked in darkness, held a wand menacingly pointed at Riddle, who was cornered against a wall. The wizard wore a twisted smile on his face as he spoke with a chilling voice, "Any last words, mudblood lover?"

"Tom!" Hermione cried out, her voice breaking with fear. "Don't listen to him, he's a liar!"

"Stay back, Mia!" Riddle shouted, his eyes wide with terror. "He's one of Grindelwald's followers. He'll kill you too!"

Without a second thought, Granger and Black sprang into action. The witch swiftly cast a stunning charm in an attempt to immobilize the masked man, while the pureblood heir conjured a protective shield, hoping to keep Riddle from harm. All the same, their spells were too late. The Death Eater had already unleashed a malevolent curse, a streak of purple light hurtling towards Tom.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, as she instinctively pushed the young wizard out of harm's way, sacrificing herself to intercept the curse. The pain that coursed through her body was excruciating, as if countless knives were mercilessly piercing her flesh.

She collapsed onto the ground, writhing in agony. Through her haze of suffering, the girl caught a glimpse of Riddle's horrified and guilt-stricken face. The witch also heard Black's voice, laced with panic and disbelief. "It's the Cruciatus," he gasped. "There's no way to stop it."

"Mia, Mia, can you hear me?" Tom asked, as he cradled her in his arms, his heart heavy with helplessness and fury. "Please, stay with me. You're going to be alright."

The desire to exact vengeance upon the man who had harmed her consumed Riddle, but the assailant had vanished, leaving behind only maniacal laughter and a blood-written message on the wall. "The Dark Lord will rise. Death to all traitors."

"Damn you, Grindelwald. Damn you to hell," the fifth year Slytherin cursed, as he clutched Hermione's limp body, tears streaming down his face.

"Tom, we have to escape," Pollux urged, as he tugged at the wizard's shoulder, hoping to drag him away. "We have to find a safe place for Mia. Maybe she can still make it."

With Black's assistance, Riddle carried Hermione into the bookshop, hoping to find some semblance of safety within its walls. They slipped through the unlocked back door, greeted by the disarray of fallen books and scattered papers, clear signs of a struggle.

Praying that no one else had been hurt, the two carefully laid the witch upon a couch, covering her with a blanket. Unconscious and still convulsing, they anxiously awaited her awakening.

"Please, Mia, please wake up. Please don't leave me," Tom whispered, as he stroked her hair, his eyes never leaving her face.

Suddenly, a knock reverberated through the door, causing them to instinctively grip their wands, prepared to defend themselves. To their immense relief, it was not another adversary but an Auror.

The young man's badge identified him as "A. Longbottom," his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. He knocked again, louder this time, and called out, "Hello? Is anyone there? I'm here to help."

Pollux cautiously opened the door, his wand still raised, and peered at the visitor. He recognized him as his cousin Algie, a friendly and competent Auror who had been assigned to the Hogsmeade case. He lowered his wand and gestured for him to enter. "It's alright, Tom. He's one of us."

Riddle nodded, his eyes still fixed on Hermione, who lay passed out on the couch. The wizard blamed himself for putting her in danger. He wished he could have done more to protect her, to prevent her from taking the curse meant for him.

Eager for answers, Longbottom inquired about the events that had unfolded. Tom and Pollux recounted the harrowing encounter, relaying every detail as best they could. Algie nodded solemnly and offered his condolences. "I'm truly sorry for what you've endured. This was an attack orchestrated by Death Eaters. They're specifically targeting muggleborns, halfbloods, and anyone who supports them. Their aim is to ignite a war."

"Is there anything we can do to stop them?" Black asked, his voice hoarse from the ordeal.

"We're doing everything we can. A team of Aurors is working on tracking down Grindelwald and his supporters. But we need your help. You're witnesses to this attack. Anything you can remember could be crucial."

"I don't know. It all happened so fast. The only thing I remember is his voice. He called me a mudblood lover. And then he cast the Cruciatus curse. That's all I can recall," Riddle said, his voice hollow and defeated.

"What about you, cousin? Did you notice anything else?" Longbottom inquired, turning to Pollux.

"Well, there was one thing. When he cast the curse, I saw a flash of something on his wrist. It looked like a tattoo. A symbol of some kind. I couldn't make it out clearly, but it was dark and angular. Maybe it was a mark of his allegiance to Grindelwald," Pollux explained, trying to describe the mark.

Tom's voice trembled as he inquired about Cecilia, Hermione's aunt and fellow Auror who was on duty that day. Algie's response was hesitant and uncertain. "I don't know. I haven't heard from her since the attack. She was supposed to meet me at the Hog's Head Inn, but she never showed up." He looked at Riddle with a mix of concern and apology. "I'm sorry. I wish I had better news."

Raising his wand, Longbottom conjured a silvery Patronus, a lion that roared with courage and defiance. He whispered a message to it, hoping that it would reach Cecilia and bring her to them. "Dagworth-Granger, where are you? Your niece is hurt. We're at the bookshop Tomes and Scrolls. Please, come as soon as you can." They watched as the lion leaped out of the window, disappearing into the night.

Cecilia's arrival was marked by a visible sense of worry. Her eyes immediately focused on Hermione, who lay motionless on the couch. The girl's complexion was ghostly, and her body was still convulsing. Tom sat beside her, tightly gripping her hand, while Pollux stood nearby, his face displaying a somber expression. The Auror approached Riddle, her voice a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you for being there for her. My niece is a brave and brilliant young witch. She will overcome this."

From her pocket, Cecilia produced a vial of Invigoration Draught and carefully administered it to her niece. The unconscious witch swallowed the potion, and gradually, her spasms ceased, providing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

Hermione's head throbbed with a sharp, pulsating pain, reminiscent of a hammer striking her skull. Gradually, she forced her eyes open, only to be met with a hazy blur of white surrounding her. It took a moment for her to register that she was lying on a bed in the Hospital Wing, where a veil of white curtains shielded her from the rest of the room.

As she attempted to sit up, her body protested with stiffness and soreness, as if she had endured a brutal beating. Amidst her discomfort, she caught snippets of voices outside her bed—voices filled with anger and tension, locked in a heated argument.

"How could you let this happen, Albus?" Cecilia's voice seethed, brimming with rage and frustration. "How could you disregard Grindelwald's threat? He has been wreaking havoc across Europe for years, and now he has brought his war to our very shores!"

"Please, my dear, try to calm yourself," Dumbledore's voice responded wearily, tinged with sadness. "I share your anger, but shouting won't solve anything. We are doing everything within our power to stop him, but we must proceed with caution. He is not an ordinary adversary. He is a master of the dark arts and wields the formidable Elder Wand."

"The Elder Wand that you handed to him, you mean!" the Auror retorted with venom. "I know all about your past, Albus. You were his friend, his partner in crime. You helped him obtain the wand, and then you turned against him. But you never had the courage to face him again, did you? You let him slip away, and now he returns with a vengeance. And my niece is paying the price for your cowardice!"

Tears streamed down Hermione's face as she relived the horrifying attack in Hogsmeade. The memories remained vivid, refusing to fade into the recesses of her mind. The sound of the curtains being drawn back abruptly snapped her out of her trance, revealing her aunt standing above her.

Cecilia appeared pale and worn, yet her eyes shone with determination and anger. In her hand, she held a wand, and a badge adorned her chest. Despite her unconventional attire of a leather jacket and jeans, the fifth year Slytherin knew that her aunt was anything but ordinary.

"Hello, Mia," the witch spoke, her voice soft yet resolute. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione attempted to respond, but her throat felt parched and raw. In a raspy voice, she managed to whisper, "Auntie..."

The Auror's smile carried a tinge of sadness as she reached out to gently brush Hermione's hair away from her forehead. She reassured her, "Don't worry, sweetheart. You are safe now. You are in the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey will take care of you. You will recover."

Shaking her head weakly, Hermione murmured, "No...no, I won't. He...he hurt me. He..."

Overwhelmed by emotions, she crumpled into a ball, clutching her stomach as waves of pain crashed over her, as if the curse still lingered. Her scream filled the air, a desperate plea to make the torment cease. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

Cecilia's face twisted with shock and worry as she witnessed her niece's agonizing scream. She swiftly surveyed the room, searching for the matron of the Hospital Wing, hoping that Madam Pomfrey possessed a potion or spell to alleviate the pain. Feeling helpless and consumed by fury, she watched the girl suffer unimaginable anguish.

Approaching Hermione, the Transfiguration Professor wore a smile, though it carried a bitter undertone. "Hello, Miss Granger. It is good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Struggling to gather her thoughts, the young witch's mind remained foggy. She stammered, "I...I don't know. I...I can't remember."

A hint of sadness in his eyes, the Deputy Headmaster nodded. "That is understandable. You have experienced a traumatic event, and it may have affected your memory. But do not fret; it will return to you in due time."

Cecilia frowned, interjecting, "Do not deceive her, Albus. She may never regain her memory. And that is your fault. You should have stopped him. You should have killed him."

Averting his gaze, Dumbledore sighed. "Miss Dagworth-Granger, please. This is neither the time nor the place for this argument. We have discussed this before, and you know where I stand."

The Auror snorted, retorting, "Spare me your poetic justifications, old man. Grindelwald is a monster, and you are a coward."

At this point, Hermione's body is still twitching from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus, and she starts to cry out louder in pain. The sound of her agonized sobs reaches the ears of the Cecilia, who immediately rushes to her bedside, pushing past the elderly wizard who tries to follow her.

"Please, let me help her," Albus said in a gentle but firm voice, his concern evident. "I have some experience with this curse, you know."

The witch glares at him, her eyes flashing with anger and distrust. Her gaze is filled with resentment as she directs her words at him. "You've done enough," she snaps. "You and your precious 'greater good'. You're the reason my niece was tortured by Death Eaters!"

Showing a mix of sadness and regret, Dumbledore sighs. His expression reflects the weight of his past actions. "Cecilia, you know that's not true. I've been fighting Grindelwald for years, ever since we parted ways. I've been trying to stop him, to prevent him from spreading his twisted ideology."

"Protect her? You call this protection?" the Auror gestures at Hermione, who is whimpering and clutching her head, her pain evident. "She's a brilliant witch, Albus, a prodigy. You put her in danger, and for what? For some vague prophecy that you claim will end this conflict?"

The Deputy Headmaster opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say anything, the door of the Hospital Wing bursts open and a Riddle runs in. Panic and worry are etched on his face as he sees his best friend lying on the bed, pale and trembling.

"Mia!" he cries, sprinting to her side. The urgency in his voice is palpable as he pushes the Auror aside and takes Hermione's hand, stroking it gently. "Mia, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

Hermione looks at him with a faint smile, but her eyes are clouded and confused. Her voice is weak and strained as she tries to speak. "Tom...is that you?" she whispers.

"Yes, yes, it's me, Mia. I'm here, I'm with you," Riddle says, leaning closer, desperate to reassure her. "Don't worry, you're safe now. You're at Hogwarts, in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey will take care of you, she'll make you feel better."

The witch nods, but her smile fades. She looks around, as if trying to remember something. Her gaze falls on Dumbledore standing behind Tom, and fear and pain replace her confusion.

"Professor..." she exclaims, her voice trembling. "He...he was there...he..."

"Who, Mia? Who was there?" Cecilia asks, leaning over Riddle's shoulder, her voice filled with concern. "Who did this to you? Who cast the Cruciatus on you?"

Hermione shakes her head, her eyes wide and blank. "I...I don't know...I can't remember...it's all a blur...I only remember...pain...so much pain..."

Furrowing her brow, Cecilia frowns. She looks at the Transfiguration Professor, suspicion and accusation in her eyes. "You know something, don't you, Albus? You know who's behind this. Tell me, the truth. Was it Grindelwald? Was it one of his followers? Was it...you?"

With a calm and steady gaze, Dumbledore faces her, his expression showing no emotions.. "No, Cecilia, it was not me. Nor was it Grindelwald, as far as I know. I have no idea who attacked Miss Granger, but I intend to find out. And I intend to bring them to justice, whoever they are."

The Auror snorts, her lips curling in disdain. Her distrust for the old wizard is evident as she responds with sarcasm. "Justice? What justice? You're a traitor, Albus, a coward. You're working with Grindelwald, aren't you?"

The leader and founder of the Order of the Phoenix shakes his head, his face showing no emotion. He maintains his composure despite the accusations. "No, I am not. Together, we can end this war, we can save your niece. But I need your trust."

Cecilia laughs, a bitter and harsh sound. Her laughter is laced with bitterness as she scoffs at his request. "Save Hermione? You can't save Hermione. You don't know what he has planned. Grindelwald has a weapon, a weapon unlike any other, a weapon that can destroy you, destroy the Order, destroy everything. He has...the Deathly Hallows."

Dumbledore's eyes widen, a flash of shock and fear crossing his face. The mention of the Deathly Hallows leaves him momentarily speechless. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, Madam Pomfrey arrives with a vial of Draught of Peace. She sees Hermione's condition and hurries to her side, pushing past Cecilia and Tom.

"Out of the way, out of the way," she says, her voice stern and authoritative, taking charge of the situation. "Let me see her. What happened to her? Who did this to her?"

"She was hit by the Cruciatus, Madam Pomfrey," Tom replies, his voice low and strained. His worry for Hermione is evident as he explains the situation. "She was attacked by someone, we don't know who. She's in pain, she can't remember anything, she..."

"Shh, shh, it's alright, it's alright," Madam Pomfrey insists, soothingly, her voice filled with reassurance. "She'll be fine. She just needs some rest. Here, Miss Granger, drink this. It'll help you, it'll make you feel better."

The matron pours the Draught of Peace into the witch's mouth, gently tilting her head. The girl swallows the potion, and her eyes close. Her breathing slows, and her body relaxes. She falls asleep, a peaceful and serene expression on her face.

Madam Pomfrey smiles, and covers Hermione with a blanket. She turns to Tom, and gives him a sympathetic look, understanding the weight of his concern.

"She'll be alright, Mr. Riddle," the nurse reassures him, kindly. "Miss Granger just needs some time to recover. The Cruciatus is a terrible curse. It can cause a lot of damage. But it can also be healed. She's a strong girl, she'll pull through."

Tom nods, but his eyes are filled with worry and doubt. He looks at Hermione, and his hand tightens around hers. The wizard leans down, and kisses her forehead, his care for her evident.

"I love you, Mia, I love you," he whispers. "Nothing will ever change that. We'll get through this. Together, we'll get through this."

He looks up, and his eyes meet Dumbledore's. The intensity of his emotions is apparent as he confronts the old man, his anger burning. He stands up, and faces him, his posture rigid and defiant.

"You," the fifth year Slytherin shouts, his voice cold and hard. "You're the reason this happened. You and your lies. I'll make you pay, professor, I'll make you pay. I swear it."

He turns, and walks out of the Hospital Wing, leaving behind a stunned and silent Dumbledore, a confused Cecilia, and a sleeping and oblivious Hermione.