AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter, but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!

Can You Take the Jump?

Chapter 11

It was double date night. Harry and Ginny had invited them over for dinner and board games while the children spent the day with Molly. The evening had been fun and relaxing until a simple game of Scrabble had erupted a massive fight between the two siblings thanks to their ridiculously competitive spirit.

"Supposably is a word!" Ron argued.

"For Merlin's sake, in what world is supposably a word, Ronald?" Ginny scoffed. "The only language you know is English, the least you can do is know that supposably isn't a bloody word."

"Supposable is a word, so supposably should be one too!"

"It's not in the bloody dictionary!"

"And who writes the dictionary? It's people who decide whether a word is a word!"

"Oh, and you're people?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE A DRAGON TO YOU?"

Harry laughed at his wife and best friend's bickering, reminding him of back when they were still children. He turned to Hermione, eyebrow raised, "Aren't you going to stop them?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm winning anyway, so doesn't really matter to me."

Harry glanced at her points only to realize Hermione was beating all of them by an astounding 300 points. "If any of us want a chance at winning we need to get more wine in you." He pointed at the empty bottle of expensive red wine, gifted to Hermione at a posh international Ministry party last year.

"I'll get it." She stood up and headed to the kitchen, but stopped as a guttural sense of fear overwhelmed her body.

"Don't forget the bottle opener too!" Harry shouted over the bickering siblings.

"R-r-right." Hermione nodded, then faced the kitchen again, unsure why she was so unwilling to enter the kitchen. Her legs trembled, her breathing shook and cold sweats were starting to form on her hairline.

Unable to fight her curiosity, she swallowed her fear and took a small step towards the kitchen. For some reason, that short distance made a world of difference because the stench of blood hit her nose like a truck, physically causing her to stumble. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to turn around and look away, but she didn't. She took another step closer, only to instantly regret it. Sitting on the floor of the Potter's modern and large kitchen the Harry's youngest son, Albus Potter's impossibly pale face. All the blood from his small body pooled around him and soaked his clothes.

"No…" Hermione stood staring at the slumped figure in the middle of the kitchen. She was severely quivering on the spot, as she clutched the wall for support. She struggled to turn around, but managed to crawl back to the living area in search of Harry and Ginny, only to find them gone. Ron stood in the spot where he was sitting just seconds ago.

"R-R-Ron, Albus…Albus is…"

He stared blankly at her, but that wasn't right. Ron was an emotional person, so much so that he often made her feel guilty for being able to turn off her emotions. His ocean blue eyes looked into her, soullessly.

"Monster."

Her eyes snapped opened to a dark ceiling with light fixtures swinging precariously and other items were floating all around her and her magical core was twisting painfully, but she could feel the opposing force of her magical bracelet helping push her Obscurus down.

Her brain was on high alert, trying to make sense of where she was. She could feel the cold sweat rolling off her body and soaking her clothes and sheets. Her instinct was to place her hand on her chest to calm her pounding heart, but she couldn't move her hands.

She couldn't move at all.

She shut her eyes tightly and tried to prevent the panic from overwhelming her. Sleep paralysis something she developed during her first few weeks of Hogwarts, now that she heavily relied on muscle relaxants when she fell asleep.

"It's 1971. My name is Hermione Evans and I have a twin named Lily Evans." She chanted in her mind. "I'm sleeping in the Room of Requirement in Hogwarts."

Slowly, but surely, her fingers began to twitch and the paralysis faded. Her brain was firing the correct nerves as it realized she was awake. She quickly sat up on her bed and looked at the calendar and clock sitting by her bedside table.

December 14th, 4:30AM

She frowned at the time; she had hoped she'd sleep more, but the hours in which she was rising were getting earlier and earlier each week. Nonetheless, she threw off her blanket, letting the cold air touch her bare skin. The Room of Requirement was dark, barely any light filtered in from the outside. She grabbed her morning potions next to the clock and took them with practiced ease, not even grimacing at the awful taste.

She lifted her wand to tap on the stone on her wall in a specific order, much like the entrance to Diagonalley. The wall slowly unraveled to reveal a magical safe. With a flick of her wand, showcasing her magical signature, the safe opened to only find a single ring sitting in the space.

The magical ring readjusted to fit her finger perfectly as she slid it into her left ring finger. With the ring on, the diamond bracelet on her wrist revealed the latch to release her shackles. The moment the ostentatious piece of enslaving jewelry fell off her wrists, she felt like a tight, organ-rearranging corset around her waist was released. Everything about her body felt lighter, she felt healthier, and the distinct and chronic pain in her abdomen from her failing organs ebbed away.

With the bracelet, she didn't need to worry about destroying the castle in her sleep, but Dreamless Sleep Potion was still necessary to prevent the dreams from invading her rest. However, with her magic constantly suppressed at night by the bracelet, her body wasn't able to regenerate at the speed it could with the help of magic, so the toxic effects of her various potions—especially Dreamless Sleep—was building in her body. Not only that, but her tolerance to the potion's effects didn't decrease, which resulted in no more than 3 hours of sleep.

Hermione changed out of her pajamas and into some athletic wear. She stood on her yoga mat and spent an entire hour stretching out all the muscles in her overly tense body. With all the tensing and seizing she did in her sleep, if she didn't do this, her body would cramp. She flinched in pain while she stretched, but slid on some runners, ignoring her body's protests. With a quick flick of her wand, her shoes became waterproof, to prevent the snow from soaking her socks.

She walked the empty halls of the castle until she reached outside and breathed in the crisp air while taking in the beautiful scenery spread around her. There was something truly amazing about the Hogwarts grounds this early in the morning. Untouched by human pollution in any form, the bits of white snow glistened in the early morning sunlight, tree tips looked tall enough to pierce the sky and the lake's waters were so crystalline, her eyes squinted at the reflection. It was the first snowfall of the year, which meant a snowball fight tournament will be held later that day.

She started off her morning run with a 'light' jog. She practically ran half-marathons almost every morning in snow or rain. Her morning runs were her way of shaking off the tension she had from her dreams. Hermione Granger was never an exercise enthusiast, but Hermione Granger also never needed to work her body till the point of collapse just to think less.

Just 20 minutes into her run, a sharp and intensifying pain distracted her away from the beauty surrounding her. There was the stitch on her left side that was sending sharp shooting pain every second, causing spots in her vision and preventing her from breathing properly. She unzipped her jacket and lifted her shirt to reveal a large purple bruise coloring her pale skin over her ribcage. It was from Bellatrix's hex the day before, she knew it would leave a bruise, but judging by the pain, she had a fractured rib.

She leaned against a tree as she clutched her side and breathed in short breaths. Ordinarily, she would fix a fracture on her own, but ribs were difficult if there wasn't good visualization and angles. There was a possibility of the bone mending awkwardly, making her life more difficult than it already was. She attempted to get up again, but gasped at the stabbing pain. She pulled out her wand and threw a general numbing pain on herself and made her way slowly back to the castle and opened the large doors.

The castle was silent, not even the ghosts were roaming around. Instead of making her way to the Hospital Wing like a normal student, Hermione slowly made her way up to the Room. After a painful 30 minutes just climbing the stairs, she opened the door to reveal a beautiful marble bath house worthy of the gods. She poured bottles of expensive rejuvenating potions into the bath and swirled the water around.

She struggled to remove her clothes, but when she did, she took a moment to stare at her prepubescent body through a mirror.

With cells that can't magically renew itself as fast as other wizards and witches, her porcelain skin was dull and tinged with yellow along with the whites of her eyes due to her liver damage. Her hair was lackluster and she could see her skin sagging in areas due to her body's inability to absorb nutrients properly. Dark circles hung so low and dark it looked like some had socked her in the eyes. She looked like one of those beauty gurus she'd seen her nieces watch during Halloween makeup tutorials; "How to be a zombie".

With the help of the potions she threw into the water and the bracelet off, her sickly appearance would somewhat dissipate by the time she headed down for breakfast. The level of internal damage was too high for the effect of taking off the bracelet to be immediate; her body needed more time than other magical folk to cleanse away the toxins in her body.

She lifted her wand and angled her body in the mirror to get better visualization of her rib fracture, then held her wand properly against the fractured bone.

"Episkey."

She let in a sharp inhale as the bone righted itself inside her, but after the pain, her breathing came easier.

She stepped into the bubbling rose-scented water and sighed with satisfaction as the hot water soothed some of her residual aching muscles. She closed her eyes and recalled the memories of the previous night where Bellatrix and her friends ambushed her. She had managed to avoid the first few spells throw a few of her own, but an immobulus caught her shoulder and things went down pretty quickly afterwards.

At least for now, no one dared to use unforgivable, even Bellatrix Black herself.

She clenched her fist when she thought about how the children laughed at her. They were cruel little monsters, taking pleasuring in her curled-up position, as she tried to protect her major organs. To everyone's eyes, she was a nobody, a loser, a pointless waste of space.

That had been her plan. She'd never wanted attract attention to herself. Hogwarts was purely for the purpose of gaining intel and finding the Diadem. The problem was that her plan worked too well. She became Slytherin's punching bag, and there was nothing she could do about it. No one in the castle, except for Dumbledore had an idea of her true power.

All of her woes were a result of one thing; the damned Obscurus. She had never planned on being a helpless victim of bullying, but she had been terrified on what would happen if she actually snapped at the students. During the first month of Hogwarts, Hermione's paranoia that she'd blow up the entire school made her wear the bracelet day and night, but the rumor on her inability to use magic properly spread faster than the plague.

The result was devastating for her health, and by the time Halloween was around the corner, she physically couldn't get out of bed. Bedridden, Hermione was forced to take the bracelet off. The results were not instantaneous, but after four days of "having the flu", the lack of the bracelet and cutting down on the other potions except for Dreamless Sleep, Hermione found herself able to function again.

She probably should have notified her healers and parents about her relapse, but she couldn't. She feared they'd pull her out of school.

Now, she only wore her glittering shackles as she slept, but any other time she took the bracelet off for her personal health and safety.

To prevent any possibility of an Obscurus explosion, she made up for her lack of jewelry by avoiding her peers at all cost during the school day. She sat alone in class, she ate most of her meals in her little kitchenette in the Room of Requirement and she barely attended class the majority of the time.

Her tactical avoidance reduced her beatings, but the Slytherins were hard workers when it came to bullying. They sought her out, ambushing her when she was on her way to the loo or the kitchens.

Hermione lifted her hand out of the water to see that her fingers had pruned. She scrubbed off the sweat and grime built up from her nightmares and exercise, then quickly stepped out of her bath and dried herself off with a quick drying charm. She massaged lotion onto her skin and got dressed.

She took another glance at the full-length mirror to reveal her skin had its usual pallor, but no longer had the yellow tinge thanks to the potions in the water. The dark circles under her eyes lessened to look like someone who hadn't slept for about a week rather than her entire life. The luster returned to her hair allowing it to be shiny and healthy. To make herself a bit more presentable, she cast her usual glamour charm, making her dark circles disappear and give her skin some rosiness once more. She bit down on her lips to give them more colour and styled her hair into her normal neat and sleek pony tail.

Satisfied with how she looked, she turned to the clock. It was 7:00.

Time for breakfast.

She trudged down to the dungeons, careful to avoid any green ties, and tickled the pear of a large fruit painting, opening the doors to the Hogwarts kitchen.

"Evans." Sirius stood in the kitchen, frozen in shock. Getting a view of Hermione Evans was like sighting a rare species in the wild. "Uh, bacon?"

He lifted a large plate of bacon and offered it to her.

"Black." Hermione greeted in an equal amount of shock. She'd never encountered another student in the kitchen during meal times before. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting extra bacon for me and my mates. We didn't want to eat everyone else's as well."

"Right." Hermione nodded. "That's...courteous."

"Well, Remus was the one who though of the idea, so I can't take much credit. I did offer to grab them, though, if it counts for anything."

"Sure it does," Hermione smiled.

"Miss Hermione!" An elf greeted enthusiastically. "What is yous having for breakfast? Jelly will make anything!"

"So this is where you eat." Sirius observed how naturally Hermione ordered her usual bowl of oatmeal with fresh blueberries and a warm cup of tea, then sat down in her usual seat at the table.

"Is Mister going to eat with the Miss?"

The two glanced at each other, but then down at the plate full of bacon in his hand.

"No, just me, Jelly." She turned to Sirius. "You should hurry on to your friends, they'll be waiting."

"Right." He replied, but stood awkwardly without leaving. "If you want, you can eat with us Gryffindors, you know. Just a thought."

He quickly ran out of the kitchen, not allowing Hermione to respond to his invitation.

Jelly returned with her breakfast, "What has Miss smiling so much?"

Hermione hadn't been aware she'd even been smiling.

"Oh," she straightened her expression once more. "Nothing."

…

"Good morning, sis!" Despite the morning winter chill that reddened the tips of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, Lily cheerfully greeted her with a warm and big smile on her face. Her hair was tied up in a loose braid which went down to the middle of her back.

"Good morning, Lily." Hermione greeted in return, then proceeded to nod a greeting to her sister's roommates.

Lyanna Pearson, Marlene McKinnon, Mary Curtis were all good girls. Their youth and innocence shined through them like all children their age. Lyanna and Marlene had hopes of joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team next year, but out of the two, Lyanna had more academic goals in mind. Mary Curtis was a beautiful girl, and the ideal image of girl-next-door. Her golden ringlets bounced as she walked and her doe-shaped blue eyes glistened as she laughed at whatever was being said.

Hermione turned to the last person to arrive, racing after the group of Gryffindor girls. Alice Longbottom, neé Griffins, had long blond hair that she'd braided with a pink headband wrapped around her head. She was short, even for their age, and her smile and mannerisms reminded Hermione of Neville so much that she had to look away for a moment.

Sirius stood in the distance with the rest of the Marauders, laughing at something Pettigrew had said, or perhaps just laughing at Pettigrew. Hermione wasn't sure. He looked good. Loose. Nothing like the tension-filled and strict boy she saw at the Welcome Feast. He was so much brighter than she remembered him being in the future. It was hard to imagine them as the same person.

"Are you okay?" Lily pulled Hermione's gaze away from the boys.

Lily's searched Hermione's outer appearance, probably searching for any signs of bruises, marks, scratches or other forms of abuse. Everyone knew Hermione's relationship with the rest of her housemates was as bad as it could be, but there were also outrageous rumors that flooded the Hogwarts gossip mill every day, which trickled into Lily's ears.

"I'm fine, Lils."

"Hermione, people are saying that…"

"Lily, look at me." Hermione spread her arms out open and gave her sister a little twirl. "I'm perfectly fine."

Lily sighed, even patted her sister down to make sure she was telling the truth. In the end, she nodded with resignation, but glanced suspiciously at her sister. The thing about Hermione was, you could never tell if she was lying or not. Hermione was exceptionally good at healing spells due to her many years in the hospital and learning over the shoulders of some of the best Healers in the country. But Lily knew, no matter how much Hermione denied them, some of the rumors and gossip had to be rooted with some truth.

Lily looked like she wanted to say so much more, but she let her shoulders drop. "Are you coming to class today, then?"

Hermione smiled, appreciating her sister's self-restraint on her numerous questions and comments she probably had running through her mind.

"Why else would I be here? I even did my homework."

Lily scoffed at her sister's proud face of doing the required homework, but laughed nonetheless.

"Come on," Hermione gave her sister a one-armed hug. "We're going to be late for potions."

The sisters walked into the Potions Classroom, but separated as they settled into their separate seats.

Lily slid into her seat next to Severus at the front and center of class, she pulled out her books and cauldron, as well as her homework assignment and placed it on the top corner of the table to hand it in the second Slughorn asked them to. Her eagerness reminded Hermione of what she used to be like during her old school years. Now, she sat in the back corner, closest to the exit, in order to bolt as soon as she was allowed to.

"Good morning class!" Slughorn greeted. Although the words were directed towards everyone, he mostly meant it towards his favorite students.

"Good morning, Professor Slughorn."

"Today we're going to be practicing making Herbicide Potion! The successful potions will donated to the our very own greenhouse, where we grow most of our potion ingredients, as well as the lovely vegetables that appear on your plates for every meal!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, they'd learned Herbicide during the beginning of this week. Had the pace of education in this school always been this slow?

She placed her arms in front of her and placed her head down.

…

She was sleeping again. She no longer tried to hide the fact she came to class with no intention of listening or paying attention. She didn't even bring her bag, let alone a textbook or parchment and quill.

Like most of the other professors, Slughorn had given up on Hermione Evans. Despite everyone's expectations, and especially compared to her swotty sister, the Slytherin Evans was remarkably unremarkable, much to the professors' disappointment. Lazy, disobedient, and magicless, there was nothing spectacular about the odd student. The most wonderous thing about her was, how she even got into Hogwarts at all.

"Mr. Avery, please wake your partner and get started on your potion." Slughorn sighed as he waved his arm at his potions partner. "We wouldn't want your partner being the reason your stellar marks to drop, would we?"

To everyone else, Fredrick Avery had the misfortune of being stuck with Hermione Evans as a Potions partner for the past 3 and a half months. He'd arrived late, got lost on his way to the classroom, and the only available seat was next to the Mudblood.

"Oi, mudblood." He nudged Evans with the tip of his wand. Immediately, like he'd been poking her with a sharp knife instead of dull edged wand, she gripped the end of his wand tightly until her knuckles turned white. He attempted to pull his wand away, but she did not budge.

"You're awake, aren't you?" he growled. "We need to brew, mudblood." The girl turned her head to him, but made no effort on getting up. She opened her hazel eyes and stared at him, like she was waiting for him to say something.

"Mudblood."

No movement.

"Evans, get your lazy arse up."

This time, she lifted her head. "What potion?" She croaked, sleep still deeply seated in her normally higher-pitched voice.

"Herbicide Potion." He answered.

"Oh, yeah." She sounded dejected, upset even.

Without another word, she stood up and went to grab the ingredients for the potion without a glance at the board or his textbook spread open on his table. He watched with quiet amazement as Evans grabbed the many ingredients with ease, even going as far as checking the state of them.

In truth, Fredrick Avery was an average boy, and Potions was no exception. But what he lacked ingenuity, he made up with true Slytherin qualities. He was quick to realize Hermione Evans wasn't the idiot that everyone assumed, and he wasn't so stupidly prideful or blind with prejudice to let her genius go to waste. Like any good Slytherin would do, he used Evans's lack of desire to show off her abilities and used it to his own advantage.

Their arrangement had initially come about without prompt from himself, but rather from her own volition. The first time she helped him was during their first practical assignment. The individual assignment was challenging, since it was Slughorn's way of testing the level of potioneering for the entire class. Being less than stellar in Potions, Avery's result looked nothing like Slughorn's example at the front of the class or like the illustrations in the textbook. By the time their professor was making his way to inspect his potion, there was nothing he could do to salvage it. Ashamed of his potion, he waited for Slughorn's horrible verdict.

"My word, Mr. Avery! 20 points to Slytherin! This is marvelous! I dare say this might be better brewed than my own!"

Stunned by the turn of events, he had instinctively stuttered out a thank you only to realize that the potion on his table wasn't his. The cauldron wasn't even his. He only found out who had saved him as he was washing the cauldron at the end of class. Engraved on the side of the cauldron was her name: Hermione Katlin Evans.

He fully expected her to take advantage of the situation, but despite his expectations, she never mentioned the event ever again. Although their interactions weren't something they ever verbally agreed to, she was why Slughorn called him 'the student with the greatest potential in potions since himself'. They never interacted outside the Potions classroom and they seldom ever talked or acknowledged each other's existence during class, but their unspoken agreement had made him a star, and he loved it.

Avery watched with silent amazement as she made the potion with perfect ease. She never gave him any corrections or directions, but rather fixed his mistakes by adjusting the potion every time. Not only did that mean she knew the potion by heart, but the properties of every ingredient and the reason why each step was done the way it was. She didn't even ask for his help, in fact, if he did something, it just made her process more bothersome.

"Slughorn's on his way over to see how you're doing." Evans muttered as she shoved something into his hands, snapping him out of his thoughts. He quickly grabbed the mortar and pestle from her hands and resumed crushing whatever was inside, just in time for Slughorn's regular round check.

"Ah, Mr. Avery" Slughorn greeted with a large smile, "…and Miss Evans," he added as if an afterthought. He looked into their cauldron and studied their potion before raising his eyebrows. "Is that lemon I smell?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

Avery stopped grinding; lemon wasn't one the ingredients.

"Uh, no?"

Slughorn looked at their table and then raised his brow at the lemon peel on their table.

"I mean, yes." Avery corrected.

"Why have you decided to add this particular ingredient to the potion?" Slughorn asked him with an expectant look on his face. Seconds passed, but there was no answer.

"Uh, I'm sorry professor, I must have confused—"

"It's to lessen the foul scent of the potion." Evans quickly countered without looking up from her slow stirring of the potion.

Slughorn turned to her with newfound interest. "Herbicide is notoriously known to be fickle when it comes to adjustments in the potion."

"By using the zest instead of the juice, you can use the essential oils containing the smell, while avoiding the citric acid that would ruin the potion's delicate acidity balance."

"Fascinating Miss Evans, what made you think of this?"

Hermione turned away from the prying looks of her professor to realize the entire class's attention was directly on her. Her plan to throw all the credit to Avery was cut short when she caught Lily's proud smile. It was Harry's smile.

Purposely avoiding Avery's laser-like glare, she shrugged. "I read it somewhere."

"Interesting," Slughorn nodded as he sniffed the potion. True to her words, the nose cringing smell of Herbicide Potion was considerably less with their potion. "20 points to Slytherin for this enlightening innovation."

The rest of Potions went without a hitch, but Avery glared at Hermione the entire time. When second the class was over, Hermione grabbed her belongings and ran out of the room as if it was on fire, but was quickly followed by her bench partner. Hermione could hear rapid footsteps following her down the corridor and following her up the stairs. She could have outrun him easily, but she didn't want to face the retribution that would eventually come when he cornered her in the next class.

"How far are you going to follow me, Avery?" Hermione asked when she was forced to stop at the top of the staircase. Avery had taken 3 steps at a time to reach the top before she did, in order to catch up and stop her. Red-faced from anger or physical exertion or both, he leaned against the rail to catch his breath.

"You humiliated me." He spat out eventually.

She sighed, "It wasn't on purpose. It's how I've always made Herbicide, I just forgot to mention it."

"Where have you made Herbicide Potion before, mudblood?"

Hermione didn't answer.

Avery clenched his jaw at her silence. His fury amplified along with his curiosity. He couldn't figure her out. A mudblood with previous potioneering experience? That was rare to none. Not only that, why didn't she just use that brain of hers and make a name for herself in Slytherin. It would certainly reduce the amount of animosity she received. Did she have no self-preservation like a normal Slytherin? Why was she in their House?

It was no secret in Hogwarts that Hermione Evans was often victim of severe bullying by the hands of their peers like Bellatrix Black. If she had somehow shown her usefulness to the others, it might have lessened the bullying to some extent. Instead, she seemed perfectly content at being called an endless slur of names, all the while sitting blankly during class, acting like she hadn't been beaten the previous day with bruises or broken bones all over her body. This lack of response was one of the main reasons why her bullying got worse and worse over time. They wanted to break her. Force her out. Make her admit she didn't belong, and she didn't deserve to be there.

"Evans—"

"It was a careless oversight on my part. Don't worry it won't happen again."

It was the way she said this that made him angrier, like she was doing him a favor, like he should be thankful. "I never asked for you to do this for me, you just did it on your own. Don't act like you're better than me because you're not, mudblood."

She met his eyes. It was probably the first time he'd ever seen her eyes directly meet his. He knew she had hazel eyes, but they were different in this light, darker and ominous. They felt cold and endless, like she could see into his very soul. He instinctively turned his eyes away.

"True," she nodded in agreement, "but you didn't have to go along with it. We're in the middle of our fourth month now. Are you going to come clean to Slughorn and tell him that I helped you all this time?" She questioned, but they both knew the answer. "Potions was the only thing that makes you shine. You think your blood status is going to earn you any real points in life? A pureblood incapable of doing anything by himself." She was taunting him now, a cruel smirk spread on her lips as she shook her head. She slowly stepped up the stairs, putting herself on the same height as he was. "You cheated your way into everyone's graces, and now you're dependent on me. Would you like me to stop?"

Avery felt furious and embarrassed. He could feel his face heat up as he clenched his jaw.

"You should've known better, as a Slytherin. Nothing comes free in this world." She shrugged. "You can come clean to Professor Slughorn at any time. Sure, I'll get penalized for helping you cheat, but I can claim I felt threatened by you since you're a Pureblood and I was scared that you'd bully me too if I refused. I'll get ousted as a bullied Potions genius, but how do you think it'll end for you? The marks you've 'earned' until now will be disregarded and you might face expulsion. Not only that, everyone will know you were getting help from a mudblood and you loved it."

"You don't know that people will believe you over me."

"No?" She asked innocently. "You mean our muggleborn-loving Headmaster won't believe a helpless muggleborn like me?" She gushed, but she let out a cold laugh. "I could always as for a retest. Do you think you can brew a potion like I can?"

He paled. He'd screwed himself over. Changing schools wouldn't be enough, information like this was the type of gossip Pureblood housewives loved. The young Avery boy, one of the Sacred Twenty-Nine, received academic help from a mudblood. Every pureblood household in the country would know in a week.

Hermione watched as Avery tried to grapple with the truth she handed to him. She knew the benefits of having the upper hand. It was something she learned to appreciate and use when Kingsley Shacklebolt was grooming her to be the next Minister of Magic. She knew how to play the game, and she did it very well, it was what made her such an efficient and effective leader.

"What do you want?" he croaked.

A smirk formed on her lips. In that moment, he knew in his bones, Hermione Evans really was meant to be a Slytherin.

"Nothing now," Hermione reassured, "but I'll let you know."

Avery watched as Hermione walked away. He fumed at his own idiocy and at her for putting him in this situation.

Years in the future, he would wonder how she'd trapped him without his knowledge, only to realize that was because she hadn't approached him like a snake nor a lion. Gryffindors were obvious in their approach, loud and aggressive. Slytherins were sly and cunning, but it was what he grew up on, he would have been wary if she'd purposely approached him with her intelligence on display. Her methods were far more subtle and effective. She was a zookeeper, conditioning him and domesticating him until he was toothless and eating out of her hand. Everyone was out of their depth with this girl, he would come to realize. She could change the world.

…

Hermione threw an old cigarette case angrily on the floor as she let out a grunt of frustration. She sat on the dusty floor of the Room of Hidden things, giving up for the day. She closed her eyes and leaned back, resting her head on a ridiculously tall pile of 18+ magazines.

She couldn't find the damn Diadem.

She wasn't there when Harry found the horcrux, too busy running away from Vincent Crabbe's Avada Kedavras to pay any attention to what Harry was picking up from a room full of junk. She frowned, noting the absence of her Harry-hallucination that enjoyed popping up in the most inopportune times, but silent when she might be able to use him.

She lifted her wand, "Accio Ravenclaw's Diadem."

She knew it would be useless, but in vain hope she waited for a few quiet moments. Like she expected (yet hoped otherwise), the artefact didn't soar through the air into her awaiting hands.

She sighed, she'd been searching since the second night she got here, yet she was still left with nothing to show for her efforts. She got up from her little spot and dusted off her pants and stretched. She glanced at the nice watch she'd picked up from her scavenging to realize she'd completely missed lunch and it was now time for Transfiguration.

She picked up her book bag filled with books that had nothing to do with Transfiguration and headed to her class the long way around. The corridors were empty due to her tardy attendance, but she made no effort to pick up her pace. She loved when Hogwarts was quiet, there weren't any distractions to take your attention away from the beautiful and ancient castle.

The skies were bleak and the wind already had a chill, but she loved it more than the sun because it reflected her emotions. In her experience, there was nothing worse than having the worst day of your life, but it being bright and sunny outside.

Hermione looked outside, in the direction of Hagrid's hut to see the large man chased a few tiny chickens into their coop.

'Chickens?' She thought to herself. An idea started formulating as she watched a rooster trying to find the right position to sit down on top of the coop. 'It's easier than killing a Basilisk with a sword of Gryffindor, which I don't have, and help from a phoenix whose master doesn't trust me.'

It took her only two seconds to decide which direction she was going to go; one second to glance down the hallway which would lead to Transfiguration and another down at Hagrid's little hut.

Hermione knocked on the old wooden door of the hut near the border of the Forbidden Forest. She waited for her old giant friend to come open the door, slightly anxious to see him again. She hadn't seen him since September 1st.

"Hello?" She called out, when no one answered. "Hagrid? Are you home?"

"'ello?" A distinctive gruff voice called out from the patches in the back. "Is somebody there?"

The large man she'd been looking for appeared from behind his home with a small dog trailing after him, tail wagging and drooling. The pup gave her a curious glance and started walking over to her, but Hagrid made a clicking noise, which alerted the young dog to come back to his side.

"It's alright." Hermione said as she stared at the slobbering dog. He was long dead by 2013, but how could she ever forget Fang? She took time off work to give that dog a proper funeral. She made the same clicking sound Hagrid did, and Fang bounded over to her excitedly. He sniffed all around her, and started rubbing his body all over her robes.

"He likes ya." Hagrid noted with a smile.

Although there was much less white in his beard, he looked the same. The consistent and familiar face from her past gave Hermione a sense of comfort. He looked down at her inquisitively, probably not used to having young visitors such as herself.

"Hello," Hermione greeted. "My name is Hermione."

"Hello." Hagrid replied uncertainly, he fiddled with his clothes, suddenly very aware of his messy appearance.

She gave him her most reassuring smile. "I was wondering if you could help me Hagrid." She scratched Fang on the head.

"Me?" He pointed to himself. "You want me to help you?"

"Yes, I hear you're very good with animals." She gave a very pointed look down to the dog who was now lying on the floor and exposing his belly for her to rub.

Hagrid beamed at being praised at something he was proud about. "What can I help you with 'Ermione?"

Hermione smiled, "How many roosters are under your care, Hagrid?"

…

In the dead of night, Moaning Myrtle was startled awake by a rustling in her silent washroom. She slowly rose from her toilet and poked her head through the stall to see a small hooded figure standing in front of the sinks with a bag on her side. She couldn't see properly, but she was sure the bag was the one rustling around making the noise that had woken her.

Was it…clucking?

Myrtle moved toward the bag to figure out what this stranger had brought into her washroom, only to freeze at a sound the sent chills down her non-existent spine. It was a noise she could never forget, the sound that led to her death. The hissing sound sounded distorted and unnatural, but whatever it meant, the ornate sink started to move back and rearrange itself, revealing a long dark hole in the ground.

Myrtle gasped.

The hooded figure whipped around, but didn't do anything once they realized it was just a ghost.

"Don't worry. I'm going to kill it." The voice was soft and gentle, almost heartening. Almost.

"Y-y-you opened it!"

"Yes, yes I did."

The hooded figure turned around, ignoring the shell-shocked ghost, and opened up the bag to reveal 3 healthy looking roosters. They immediately started flapping around and running in opposite directions, trying to escape, but the person flicked their wand non-verbally and the roosters were levitated down the long and dark tunnel.

"What did you do?" Myrtle asked, wiping her tears away from her eyes.

"Something I should have done the second I got here. You can now rest in peace Myrtle. I promise."

The mysterious person picked up her empty sack and threw it over their shoulder, getting ready to leave, but Myrtle flew in front.

"Who are you?" She asked, looking down to get a glimpse of the face who'd opened the Chamber of Secrets.

Hazel eyes glowed from under the hood.

"The one who will kill the Heir of Slytherin."