The better way, Hermione determined, was to ask an adult.

She'd gone to Madam Pomfrey first, who had dramatically misunderstood Hermione's careful questions about what caused a witch's first period. Hermione came away with an armful of sanitary supplies and a few pamphlets about how her body was changing and how to take care of herself during her period, but no information on how to make her period start.

She'd considered going to Professor Snape to ask before considering the facial expression he'd had when the subject had been brought up. They'd been talking about research only he was privy to – and he'd shortly thereafter mentioned that the other secret information he had (how to fly) had been told to him by the Dark Lord. It probably wouldn't be a good idea, she decided, to tell him she wanted to forcibly start her cycle to gain more power, when that knowledge probably came from a Dark source. And any magic to do with blood was dodgy – a lot of wizards classified anything to do with blood that wasn't obviously healing magic as "Dark" without a second thought.

She then considered asking Professor McGonagall, before realizing that McGonagall would want to know why, which would reveal things that Hermione didn't really want to discuss. She'd probably be especially worried – Hermione had learned that blood, especially menstrual blood, had been a component in a lot of old rituals. And Hermione liked Professor McGonagall. She didn't want her to think she was a Dark witch.

Which had led Hermione to this.

She sighed.

"Professor Quirrell?"

"Y-y-yes, Miss G-g-granger?"

Quirrell looked up at her as she approached his desk after class, the rest of the students filing out, chattering. She waited until they were all gone before pausing, taking a deep breath, and steadying her resolve.

"I was wondering if you knew of a way to make a young witch start her period. To start her menstruating."

The shock on Quirrell's face was obvious, his jaw going slack and his eyes large. He gaped at her for a moment, before an odd look came over his face, and his face was rapidly pulled under control, his eyes looking at her calculatingly.

"Eager, are you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione didn't quite know how to answer that one. She was absolutely not eager to get her period – it sounded like a hassle she'd have to deal with the rest of her life, and if she got the choice, she'd rather not have one at all – but the magical benefits of getting it soon were too real to deny.

"Academic curiosity," Hermione said, keeping her voice light. "New research shows that women who start their periods later in life are more likely to have fertility difficulties. Medicine interests me, and I wondered what could help witches with such issues."

That was a stretch – women who didn't have periods until after 16 were at a marginally higher risk of such things. Hermione hoped Quirrell wasn't familiar with Muggle studies.

Quirrell was looking at her. He again raised an eyebrow.

"Miss Granger."

His voice was low, smooth, and utterly unlike Quirrell's normal voice. There was something hidden in it, something powerful, and Hermione shivered.

"Miss Granger. Tell me why you want this knowledge. Tell me honestly," he told her quietly, "and I might tell you what you wish to know."

He has disassociative identity disorder, Hermione thought faintly. There is no way this is the Quirrell who teaches me Defense.

Hermione swallowed hard.

"I learned that magical power grows linearly, and then exponentially, as a witch grows," she started tentatively. "I wanted-"

"Where have you heard of such knowledge?" Quirrell snapped, and Hermione froze.

"Um. Professor Snape let it slip. I was talking to him about- I think it was about exercises to increase my power, and he-"

"You are actively exercising your power to increase it?"

Hermione looked up at Quirrell, his eyes narrowed on her.

"…yes," Hermione admitted. "I want to be a very powerful witch when I grow up. The most powerful, if I can pull it off."

Quirrell continued to look at her with sharp eyes. Uneasy, Hermione continued on.

"Anyway, Professor Snape said that when a witch starts her cycle, her power reserves begin to grow exponentially, instead of just linearly, and I-"

"You are in your eighteenth month?" Quirrell finished for her, his lips twisting into a disturbing smile. "You turned eleven eighteen months ago?"

Hermione stared at him.

"Ah—this is my seventeenth, actually," she said faintly. "March will be my eighteenth. I- ah- I guess you've read the research and did the math yourself-?"

"I am familiar with this research," he said, his eyes glittering at her. "Unfortunately, it was not available when I was a young wizard, or I would have availed myself of such knowledge too."

Hermione froze.

Quirrell, previously the Muggle Studies teacher, was aware of secret knowledge Snape had gotten directly from the Dark Lord?

Hermione took a deep breath, steadying herself, exhaling carefully.

Hermione looked to Quirrell, trying her best to keep calm and betray nothing. She was a Slytherin, she was as emotionless as a rock, and she was unafraid. She was just asking a Professor for help with a problem, that was all. Nothing else was going on here.

"…I want to make sure I start my cycle in my eighteenth month," Hermione said. She bit her lip, looking at him. "And- you have familiarity with rituals. I wondered if there was one that you knew of that I could use?"

Quirrell looked at her, hard. Hermione fought the urge to squirm.

"There is," he said abruptly. He reached for a drawer in his desk, finally breaking eye contact, and Hermione exhaled in quiet relief. "It is not exactly intended for what you want it for, but it will work."

He pulled a slip of parchment from his desk, writing the name of a book on it and signing it.

"It will be in Chapter 8, if I remember correctly," he told her. "If anyone asks, you are doing an extra credit project on what makes hags different from humans."

Hermione didn't know the first thing about hags, but she nodded earnestly.

"Do not let others see you seeking power so openly," Quirrell warned her, his voice suddenly cold. "Ambition in Slytherin is a source of pride, but craving magical power… people will begin to whisper about you."

Hermione nodded. She considered for a moment, before letting her eyes meet his once more.

"I know. There was a reason I came to you," she admitted, her voice quiet. "I knew you'd understand."

Quirrell looked thrown by that, and Hermione felt a flash of satisfaction.

"…you were clever, in your choice, then," he said. He stood, and Hermione took the slip from him and gathered her books, recognizing her implied dismissal.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Y-y-you are welcome, Miss G-g-granger." Quirrell paused. "B-but I would get that book quickly, if I were you." His lips twisted again. "You are very literally running out of time."

Hermione would try to reassure herself later that she'd managed to walk very calmly out of the Defense classroom, but it had felt very much as if she'd given in to the urge to flee.