"The time for action is now. It's never too late to do something."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
XIV
Hermione and Tom crept through the dark and silent hallways of Hogwarts, their fingers interlocked and their senses alert for any hint of danger. The only light came from the occasional torch or the moon shining through the windows, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Suddenly, the witch felt a sharp, throbbing pain in her head, as if someone were exerting pressure on her brain. Wincing, she halted and leaned against the wall for support.
Concerned, Riddle inquired, "Are you alright?"
"I have a headache," she admitted, rubbing her temples. "It started bothering me after we left the library. I believe it's because of Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore?" he echoed, puzzled.
"Yes, Dumbledore. Remember when he touched your shoulder? And then he looked at me with those penetrating eyes. He was attempting to read our thoughts, Tom. He was using Legilimency."
"Legilimency?" he wondered, confused. "What does that mean?"
"It's a form of magic that allows one to delve into another person's mind, perceiving their thoughts, emotions, and memories. It's invasive and dangerous, and only a few wizards possess this ability. Dumbledore is one of them, and he likely wanted to discover what we were up to in the library and what we know about the ring." she explained, nervously.
Riddle felt a surge of anger and fear.
He recalled the strange sensation he had experienced when the old wizard had touched him, as if someone were prying into his mind. The Slytherin had instinctively resisted, but he was uncertain of how much the Deputy Headmaster had actually seen.
"How dare he do that to us?" Hermione shouted, her fist clenched. "How dare he violate our privacy? He has no right."
"He is our enemy," Tom agreed bitterly. "Ever since I learned that he used to be friends with Grindelwald, I no longer have doubts. He's a liar and a hypocrite. That old fool pretends to be on our side, but he's working against us. He wants to prevent us from uncovering the truth about the Deathly Hallows."
The witch nodded, fully agreeing. She detested Dumbledore for attempting to manipulate her when she was in the Hospital Wing.
Suddenly Riddle felt an overwhelming urge to curse the man, to inflict harm and make him pay for everything he had done to both of them. He raised his wand, prepared to unleash his fury.
However, before he could utter a single word, Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him close. Embracing him tightly, she whispered in his ear.
"Tom, calm down. Losing control won't benefit us. We must be clever, not impulsive."
The boy felt the warmth of her breath against his neck, the softness of her lips on his cheek, and the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest. Lowering his wand, he reciprocated the embrace and kissed her forehead, whispering in response.
"You're right, Mia. You're always right. I'm sorry, I let my emotions get the best of me. It won't happen again."
Smiling at each other, they resumed their journey toward the common room. Upon reaching the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, they provided the password to the snake carved into the wall.
As they entered the common room, the door made of bricks sealed shut behind them. These were dark times, and caution remained of utmost importance.
The morning sunlight illuminated the Great Hall, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. The students of Hogwarts were gathered at the long tables, engrossed in conversation and laughter, unaware of the impending dark news.
Hermione was engrossed in her book on ancient runes, while Tom, sitting beside her, scanned the hall with a watchful eye, alert for any signs of trouble or opportunity.
"Did you finish the essay for Professor Binns?" she asked him, without looking up from the thick tome in front of her, tracing the faded words with her finger.
Riddle shrugged, tossing his quill on the desk. He didn't bother to check his parchment for ink stains or spelling errors. "I wrote something. It doesn't matter, he never reads them anyway." He replied, his tone bored and dismissive.
"It does matter, Tom," she frowned, setting down her book. "History is important. We can learn from the past and avoid making the same mistakes."
A sly smile curved his lips as he met her gaze, mischief gleaming in his eyes. "Or we can repeat them and make them better." His voice was low and confident, as if he had already planned everything. Enjoying the shock that flashed across her face, he reached for his cup of camomile tea, relaxing.
Hermione was about to retort, when suddenly, a piercing screech filled the air as numerous owls swooped in through the open windows, delivering the morning mail. The witch snapped her mouth shut and turned her attention to the large brown owl that landed on her plate, dropping a copy of the Daily Prophet. She reached for the newspaper, curious about the latest news, when a gasp escaped her lips as she read the headline:
"POTTER FAMILY MURDERED!"
She scanned the article below, feeling a cold dread in her stomach. It depicted the gruesome scene discovered by the Aurors at the Potter mansion in Essex. Wilkin and Adelaide Potter, respected members of the Order of the Phoenix, had been brutally killed by an unidentified assailant who had also set fire to their home, obliterating everything within. Their son, Charlus, a fifth-year Gryffindor, was the sole survivor, having been away at Hogwarts.
A whisper of "Oh no..." escaped Hermione's lips as she dropped the paper on the table. Pity and fear filled her heart as she glanced across the hall and saw Potter, surrounded by his friends at the Gryffindor table. The devastating news had just reached him and he was inconsolable, clutching the letter from the Ministry.
Fabian Prewett wrapped his arm around Charlus's shoulder, offering a faint comfort. "Charlie, mate, I'm so sorry..." he murmured, his tone low and strained.
Sorrow soaked Potter's face as he shook his head. "This can't be happening... this can't be real..." he wailed, grief cracking his words.
Gideon, the younger Prewett twin, stared at the letter in disbelief, his eyes wide with horror. "Who would do such a thing?" he wondered aloud, his voice trembling.
Burning with anger, Fleamont, Charlus's seventh year cousin, clenched his jaw, "We don't know, but we'll find out. We'll make them pay, I swear it." he vowed, firm and resolute.
Tears stung Hermione's eyes as she watched the scene. Hoping to find some comfort in Riddle's expression, she turned to him, but instead, a flicker of worry and apprehension met her gaze. A cold dread settled in her stomach as she realized that he knew something about the attack.
"Tom, what is it?" Her voice was low and tense as she asked him. "Do you know who did this?"
Avoiding her gaze, he looked away. "No, of course not." His tone was smooth and calm as he lied. "Why would you think that?"
Determined to uncover the truth, she urgently grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear, "Tom, we need to talk. Now."
Acknowledging the urgency in her voice, the wizard glanced at her and nodded. He knew he couldn't refuse her, not without arousing more suspicion. Leaving behind his untouched breakfast, he rose from his seat and followed her out of the hall. They hurried through the corridors, evading the curious glances of their fellow students.
Hermione led Tom down the left corridor on the seventh floor, guiding him to a hidden room that only appeared when someone needed it. She had stumbled upon it by chance when she was searching for a quiet place to stud
"Where are we going?" he asked, curious about her destination.
"You'll see." Hermione said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
As she walked past a wall opposite a tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's failed attempt to teach trolls ballet, the witch focused on the room she desired, hoping it would materialize. Just as Riddle was about to make a joke about the absurd painting, a door suddenly appeared out of thin air. Intrigued, he followed her inside, and the door closed behind them.
The Room of Requirement welcomed the two with warmth and coziness, boasting a crackling fireplace and a plush sofa. Breaking the silence, Tom turned to Hermione and inquired, "How did you discover this place?"
A smile adorned her face as she replied, "I stumbled upon it. I was searching for a quiet spot to study, and this door appeared. It's incredible, isn't it? It can transform into whatever you need."
Riddle nodded, squeezing her hand. He felt a surge of affection for her, the only person who truly comprehended his ambitions. He pondered whether she would stand by his side until the end, even if it meant going against everything she believed in.
To test her loyalty, he decided to voice his opinion, saying, "You know, I'm not impressed by the attack on the Potters. In fact, I believe it was inevitable."
Hermione furrowed her brow and withdrew from him. She regarded him with a serious expression and countered, "What do you mean? They were innocent people, Tom. They had a son, Charlus, who is our age. How can you be so callous?"
The wizard let out a sigh and explained, "It all began when I was reading a book about the Peverell family. Are you familiar with them?"
Hermione nodded, acknowledging, "They were one of the oldest and most powerful families in magical Britain. They were the original possessors of the Deathly Hallows."
A smile played on Tom's lips as he continued, "Precisely. And do you know who descends from Ignotus Peverell, the youngest brother who inherited the Cloak of Invisibility?"
Realization dawning upon her, she gasped. "The Potters. They are the heirs of the Cloak of Invisibility. But how did you come to know this?"
Riddle closed his eyes momentarily, summoning a book before them.
Opening it to a specific page, he revealed a passage detailing the lineage of the Peverell family and how the Cloak of Invisibility was passed down to the male heir of the main branch on their coming of age. He explained, "I stumbled upon this tome in the Restricted Section of the library. It traces the lineage of the Peverell family."
Closing the book, Hermione regarded him with a mix of curiosity and fear. "How can you remain so composed about this, Tom? How can you not care?"
Gazed into her eyes, he confessed, "Because I don't care about the Potters, Mia. I only care about you. And I don't care about Grindelwald either. He is a fool, a madman. He believes he can conquer death, but he is mistaken. There is no way to outsmart death; unless you plan on becoming a ghost."
A chill ran down Hermione's spine as she contemplated how someone could be so consumed by power that they would be willing to sacrifice their life in exchange.
Tom woke up, feeling an unfamiliar emptiness in his chest. Something was missing. He glanced around his dormitory and saw that his roommates were still asleep. With a cold sweat forming on his forehead, he got out of bed.
"Where is she?" he muttered to himself, grabbing his wand and cloak.
He went down the stairs to the common room, hoping to find Hermione there. Lately, he had noticed her becoming weaker and weaker since recovering from the Cruciatus Curse. He had tried everything to distract her from the haunting nightmares she experienced, but nothing seemed to help. She was slipping away, and he felt powerless to stop it.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he spotted a familiar figure sitting on the couch, reading a book. It was Alaric Avery, one of the most arrogant and cruel students in Slytherin. Tom felt anger surge within him as he saw the wizard smirk at him.
"Looking for your filthy mudblood girlfriend, Riddle?" Alaric taunted, tossing the book aside. "She's not here. She ran off crying like a baby. She can't handle the truth, can she?"
Trying to control his temper, Tom clenched his fists. He decided to play along, making Alaric believe that he had the upper hand.
"What truth are you talking about, Avery?" he asked calmly, walking towards him. "The truth that you're a pathetic excuse for a wizard, who can't even cast a simple spell without causing an explosion?"
The sixth year face turned red, and he jumped to his feet, reaching for his wand. "How dare you, Riddle? You think you're so smart, so special, so superior. But you're nothing. You're a disgrace to Slytherin, to the purebloods, to the Dark Lord. You're a fool who believes he can defy him."
"Is that so, Avery? Well, why don't we settle this once and for all?" Tom smiled coldly, drawing his wand as well. "Let's see who's the better wizard. Unless you're too scared, of course."
"I'm not scared of you, Riddle," Alaric snarled, raising his wand. "I'll show you who's scared. Locomotor Mortis!"
Tom dodged the leg-locker curse and retaliated. "Expelliarmus!"
Their spells collided, creating a burst of light. The older wizard's wand flew out of his hand, and Riddle caught it. He pointed both wands at Alaric, who looked terrified.
"Looks like I win," Tom said, his voice filled with contempt.
He tossed Avery's wand aside and walked past him, searching for his best friend's familiar bushy hair and warm brown eyes. Yet, she was nowhere to be seen. Panic surged through him as he wondered if she had gone out alone in the dark.
"Hermione!" he called out, hoping to hear her voice.
Scanning the common room, disappointment washed over Riddle as he failed to spot the girl. Instead, he noticed Greengrass, one of Hermione's dorm mates, staring in the green flames of the fireplace as if lost in her thoughts. Approaching her, he cleared his throat.
"Hey, Ariadne. Have you seen Mia?" he inquired.
The forth year turned her head, her eyes brimming with sorrow. She looked as if she hadn't slept in days.
"Tom, I'm sorry. Mia…she's been attacked by the monster," she uttered.
Riddle's heart sank at these words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Grasping Ariadne's shoulders, he shook her.
"What? What do you mean? What monster? Where is she?" he demanded.
Overwhelmed with grief, the girl began to weep, hiding her face in her hands.
"I don't know, Tom. I don't know. It's awful. It's all my fault. I should have stopped her. I should have helped her," she confessed.
Riddle felt a wave of anger and frustration wash over him, making his blood boil and his heart race. He wanted to lash out at her, to make her spill the beans about what had happened. All the same, before he could open his mouth, a voice echoed from behind him.
"Tom, come with me. Now."
He spun around, and saw Pollux standing at the doorway of the common room. Blacks's face was grim, and his eyes were hard. He held a wand in his hand, as if ready for a fight.
"Pollux, what's going on? Where's Hermione?" Tom asked, his voice tense.
The older wizard shook his head, and grabbed Riddle's arm with a strong grip.
"There's no time for explanations. Just follow me, and keep quiet. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves," he said, his voice low and urgent.
Tom felt a surge of annoyance and doubt as he followed Pollux, leaving the common room and entering the corridor. A sense of unease crept over him, making his skin crawl and his stomach churn. He had a bad feeling that his life was about to change forever, and not for the better.
They hurried and silently made their way through the castle, carefully avoiding any students or teachers who happened to be awake. Riddle attempted to inquire about the situation, but the boy disregarded him.
"Black, what's going on? Where are you taking me?" he whispered, trying to keep up with Pollux's pace.
"Shut up, Tom. Just follow me and don't ask questions," the sixth year snapped, glancing around nervously.
It was evident that the wizard knew their destination and was determined not to waste any time.
Finally, they reached the Hospital Wing and entered through a side entrance. Riddle's eyes fell upon a row of beds, each one adorned with white curtains. In the background, he could hear faint moans and the clanging of metal. The air carried the distinct scent of antiseptic mixed with the unmistakable odor of blood.
Black guided him to the very last bed and pulled back the curtain. Tom couldn't help but gasp at the sight that greeted him.
"Mia!" he exclaimed, his voice breaking. "What happened to her?"
Hermione lay there, unrecognizable. Her figure was lifeless, her skin ashen and stiff, her eyes glassy and vacant. It was as if a petrified look had frozen her face.
Feeling a jolt of shock and horror surge through him, the fifth year Slytherin staggered forward, driven by an urge to touch her, but Pollux stepped in and blocked his way.
"Don't touch her. It's dangerous," Black warned.
Riddle gaped at him in disbelief.
"What do you mean, dangerous? What's wrong?" he demanded to know.
Rubbing his temples, Pollux let out a weary sigh. He gestured towards his sister, who was sitting beside Hermione's bed.
Cassiopeia looked at him with a sorrowful and sympathetic expression. She drew a deep breath before she began to speak.
Apologetic words spilled out of her mouth. "Tom, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Mia... her sleep paralysis has gotten worse since she was tortured," she explained. "Trapped in her own body, unable to move or speak, but able to see and hear everything around her... It scared her to death,"
The wizard felt a pang of guilt and regret wash over him. He wished he had known about this. He wished he had been there for her.
Black went on with her story. "But that's not all. She also started sleepwalking. It was beyond her control... Different places greeted her every morning, with no memory of how she got there... A voice in her head haunted her, a voice that ordered her to follow it."
A chill run down his spine. The rumors that had been spreading throughout the school came flooding back to him. Rumors about a monstrous creature hiding in the castle's depths.
"Did she... did she see the creature?" he asked.
Cassiopeia nodded solemnly.
"Yes, she did. So did I. And so did Ari," she said. "We were the only ones who saw it. And we were lucky enough to survive."
She stopped, her voice cracking with emotion.
"It happened last night. Mia had another bout of sleepwalking. She left the dormitory and headed to the second floor. Ari followed her, and I followed Ari. We saw her enter the girls' bathroom and ran after her. And then we saw it."
The witch trembled, shutting her eyes briefly.
"It was a monster. Enormous. A giant snake that could kill with a single glance."
Tom felt his blood freeze. He couldn't believe that such a creature really existed.
"What did you do?" he asked, his voice quivering.
Cassiopeia opened her eyes and gazed at him. "We had no choice but to run, to save our lives. But it was too late. The snake had already spotted Mia, attacked her, and drained her soul."
Clenching his fists, he asked, "What do you mean, it drained her soul? How is that even possible? How can a snake do that?"
"I don't know, Tom. I don't know," Black shook her head. "But that's what happened. It looked at her with its red eyes and sucked the life out of her. She's now like this, an empty shell, a lifeless body."
Tears streamed down her face as she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Just then, Madam Pomfrey arrived, wearing a stern and worried expression. She approached the Slytherin students, giving them a nod. "Hello, children. I'm glad you're here. I have some news," she said.
Bracing himself for the worst, Tom's stomach tightened. "What is it, Madam Pomfrey? What's wrong with Hermione? When will she wake up?" he questioned.
With sadness in her eyes, the nurse sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr Riddle. I'm so sorry. Miss Granger... she's not petrified. She's... she's gone."
The wizard's world shattered, a pain in his chest like never before. He stared at the matron in disbelief. "What do you mean, she's gone? She's right here. She's alive. She's breathing. She's..." he struggled to comprehend.
Once again, the middle-aged woman shook her head. "No, Mr Riddle. She's... she's lost. That creature, whatever it may be, drained her soul, leaving her in a state of living death. Miss Granger has no memories, no emotions, no thoughts, no hope. She's merely a hollow shell."
Overwhelmed by denial and rage, Tom pushed Pollux and Cassiopeia away and grasped Hermione's cold, stiff hand. Fear and sadness coursed through him as he turned to Madam Pomfrey standing beside him.
"Is there anything we can do to save her?" he inquired, his voice trembling.
The nurse sadly shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Mr Riddle. There's no known cure for the curse that has befallen her. All we can do is keep her comfortable and wait for her passing."
A lump formed in Tom's throat. "How long will that take?" he whispered.
Madam Pomfrey sighed. "It varies. Some linger for days, others for weeks or months. But they never recover. They never wake up. They remain trapped in a state of living death."