The following day dawned to find Hermione's red-rimmed eyes underscored by bruise-deep purple bags. She hadn't slept, plagued with images of Tom Riddle attacking muggle communities, perhaps that of her own parents. She wouldn't even know, considering that she had been too young to remember where her parents lived other than knowing it wasn't far off from London (had it been in the city itself?) where they had their practice.

What if his minions had already attacked her former home? Hadn't there been casualties in some cases? For all the muggleborn knew, they were lying in their graves as she laid with her professor and the orchestrator of their demise.

It was too much for her in light of all she had been through previously, and it coupled with the monstrocities she'd already survived at the hands of the wizarding world— she had been kidnapped, placed in what was essentially an orphanage for muggleborns, then sold off to the Malfoys as a whipping boy. There, despite the privileges afforded her, she was physically abused and treated as lesser. And then that abuse had turned to an even more sinister nature…

Now she found that she was complicit with the destruction of her own kind, or would be if she caved into Tom— Lord Voldemort— and agreed to whatever it was he wanted her to be, which sounded something like a partner, but more permanent and set to rule with him, or just beneath him; it was hard to imagine that he would allow someone like her full beside him.

"Alright, Hermione?"

She turned amber eyes bright in red sclera toward Ron, who had paused his eating to stare at his tired friend.

"I didn't sleep well," Hermione admitted.

Draco and Harry exchanged a glance, then her near-brother said, "What's wrong?"

Her eyes darted toward their professor before she could help herself. He was chatting with Professor Snape and did not glance her way. "Nothing."

"Are you disagreeing with him again?" Harry asked as he took in her expression.

She sighed and knew it was useless to fight them on this, she never could keep her emotions to herself; besides she still wasn't sure what to do with the information. Hermione had meant what she promised last night, but the cold light of morning struck cold terror in her; she felt they were on the precipice of something and she wasn't sure she could remain neutral, should remain neutral, not when so much was at stake.

"Yes, but I really don't want to talk about it right now," she settled on, to which her friends nodded and made sounds of understanding.

They ventured to a nice little shaded area by the Great Lake after that and she pulled out the most recent read she was on. This was a choice of her own, not one Tom had gotten for her, and it made her feel less oily knowing it wasn't at his behest.

The boys played around with the little Snitch Harry had with him and she listened and occasionally watched their antics. It soothed her, the normalcy of it all, and Hermione could almost imagine this was what life was like.

Hermione would have gone to Hogwarts in a world where muggleborns weren't seized from their homes. She would be looking forward to seeing her dentist parents for summer hols even while pondering that she would miss her boys.

She and Draco wouldn't be as close, but she hoped they'd still be friends in this other world. And she liked to believe she was enough of a Gryffindor that even without her experiences the hat would have placed her in the same house as Harry and Ron.

Her greatest worries would be how she did on her exams, upcoming NEWTs on the horizon, and whether she would receive the coveted Head Girl position.

It would be a good life, calm, happy. She would look forward to a career in the ministry where she could effect change— maybe grant greater rights to magical beings who were subjugated under wizarding kind.

Perhaps she'd work on changing antiquated misogynistic traditions or bettering muggle relations.

She could dream.

At some point, a paper bird floated through the air on hummingbird wings only to hover over her lap and unfurl before gently floating down.

When Hermione recognized the elegant penmanship, her pleasant daydreams evaporated.

Hermione,

I should like to introduce you to a few of my 'minions,' as you call them. Meet me in my office at 9 pm.

Love,

TMR

"Hermione?" She glanced up from the note which was wrinkled where her hand gripped it. Harry's browns knit as he studied her. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head.

"Let me see." The paper crinkled as her hand tightened; his own reached for her fingers and began gently trying to pry them loose. "Whatever it is, we can help you."

The other two boys were still as they watched the interaction.

Hermione's hands were slippery from the sweat. Images of swirled, skeletal metal masks flashed through her mind. Would they be dressed like that tonight? What if she didn't go? He'd be upset, but surely he'd understand that more than if she…

Harry scanned the words before she could fully digest that he had successfully torn the parchment from her hand. "Minions? Riddle really does have minions then? Do you know how many or what they call themselves or—"

"Calm down, Potter." Draco laid a hand on the dark-haired boy's shoulder. "Let her breathe. She's clearly stressed."

She felt like she was going to be sick. Draco laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and even that felt like too much for a moment. She glanced between her friends. They know. They're going to put the pieces together. They'll figure out everything.

"Breathe." Draco dropped to a crouch and took her curled fingers in his hand to massage them open. "It's okay, Hermione. Whatever is happening isn't your fault. It's just… we know he's dangerous."

"Yes," she croaked through a throat tight with tears.

"If you know anything about him that could help us, well. Professor Dumbledore thinks he's going to start a war eventually, one to rival the war with Grindewald." His grey eyes stared earnestly into her.

Harry twiddled the parchment between his fingers. "Can we give this to Dumbledore? If he's bringing his people here to Hogwarts, it could mean something bad will happen, and we need to be prepared."

Visions of Hogsmeade rose in her mind. She could hear the screams of pain and terror, and recall the coldness of that voice, the Death Eater Antonin. He might be there tonight. She didn't think she could face him.

"Hermione?"

She nodded slowly at her friend, then added, "I-I think it might be for the best."

This was it. She was doing it, betraying Tom. The thought made her stomach lurch.

It was the right move, Hermione knew. He was bringing dangerous men into the castle, supposedly to meet her, but what if he had other plans? Tom was nothing if not efficient. He wouldn't waste opportunities.

"These minions," she began slowly, taking a steadying breath as she settled on what to say, "they're responsible for the attack in Hogsmeade, and I think for those in muggle areas as well." She knew that, but it was harder to admit flat out.

The boys gaped at her. "You're sure?" Harry pressed. She nodded and Ron cursed vehemently. "C'mon, we need to see Dumbledore as soon as possible."

Hermione nodded and rose from the ground with one hand held by Harry and Draco each. She neatened her clothes and stuffed the book away, then gestured for the letter, which Harry reluctantly handed over. She placed it with the book and allowed them to lead the way, though she knew where the teacher's office was as well as they did, better than Ron most likely.

It felt longer than ever, the moving staircases slow in their rotations as they waited for them to turn toward them for accent, then again to mount the proper landing.

Corridors were longer, emptier, echoing with their footsteps, and paranoia crept in as she imagined the Defense instructor around every bend. He would wonder where they were going, ask after his massage, insist on speaking to Hermione alone. As a natural Legilimens there was no way she could lie to him.

That did not happen, and they eventually found themselves outside Professor Dumbledore's office. Harry rapped on the door and opened it when given leave, holding it for the others to enter first.

The old man blinked owlishly behind his half-moon spectacles. "Why, if it isn't the golden quartet," he mused and smiled at them.

Hermione normally would have balked at such a nickname, but now she was too nervous, as evidenced by the swooping bats in her stomach. It was fortunate that Harry usually took the lead.

"Professor, we come with news." He turned toward her and gestured at her bag; Hermione scrambled to produce the letter. "We have evidence that Riddle is up to something." He laid the parchment on the table for Dumbledore to scan.

"I see." The old man lifted it, adjusted his glasses, and read. "'Minions,' Miss Granger? How long have you been aware of these minions?"

She twisted her fingers anxiously. "Not long. I knew Bellatrix Lestrange listened to him, but I thought it was all political until recently, and then…"

"It's not merely political, is it?"

"No." She shook her head. Her gaze dropped to the floor and suddenly shimmered as tears filled her eyes. She felt guilt and shame fight for dominance. She shouldn't be doing this. Tom would be so upset with her if he found out. It was a betrayal of the highest order.

"Miss Granger?"

Her head snapped up. "Hm?"

"Is the school in danger with his underlings here?" Dumbledore asked gently.

She opened her mouth, but couldn't speak, so nodded instead.

"What can you tell me?"

She glanced helplessly at Harry, who said, "She told us she thinks his people were responsible for the attack in Hogsmeade."

Dumbledore's expression became grave. "I feared as much." He sighed. "I also fear that Horace will not believe he is a threat. He has always had a soft spot for Tom. Well." He pulled out a blank parchment and summoned a fresh inkwell and quill. "I will see who is able to come on such short notice that we may prepare."

"Like our parents?" Ron queried.

Dumbledore nodded. "Oh, and Miss Granger, it should go without saying that you will not be attending this meeting, yes?"

"Yes, sir," she murmured.

"Good. Then I suggest you four go somewhere and try to relax. I fear there is a long night ahead of us."

With that, the foursome exited the office full of trinkets and thingamabobs and magical majiggers. They paused outside and considered one another, then set out for the Gryffindor common room. It was as good a place as any to await the night.

Notes:

The story is completely written. I'll slowly be going through as I post and cleaning things up. Weekly updates will continue here, bi-to-tri-weekly on the Site That Shall Not Be Named (for patrons), but either way, IT'S COMING.

I am going to convince myself to start working on Cassiel's Lament again, hopefully before I decide to start the dark Dramione version of this story (which will be nothing like it; there will be no Voldemort, the only thing that will remain the same is that muggleborn children are taken from their parents after their first accidental magic). That Draco will not be the same as in this fic at all, because he will be a bit older when the two get introduced, in a world a bit darker.

No idea when it will be posted; like I said, I'm trying to make myself finish some more WIPs first.