Hermione remained within the confines of the Library the next few days, avoiding Riddle whenever was possible between classes, lunch and curfew. She spent most of her time catching up on her subjects or trying to come up with some sort of a new plan. However, the latter was proving to be difficult because not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before. Non-verbal spells were now expected, not only in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too.
Yet another useless Divination class was over, and Hermione made her way down the staircase quickly, ready to make her way to the Library but stopped when she saw Riddle making a sharp turn toward the other end of the corridor; his footsteps were quiet but he was taking long strides, as though he didn't want to be followed. She immediately recognized the place as the Room of Requirement location, from when she, Ron and Harry created Dumbledore's army. Hermione hid behind a pillar and watched him pacing back and forth in front of the wall; sure enough, the huge double door appeared magically and magnificently on the brick wall and he pushed it open without hesitation.
Hermione jogged toward it, watching hopelessly as it disappeared before her eyes. She came to an abrupt stop in front of the bare wall, closing her eyes expectantly. She reopened them to face the familiar door and smiled victoriously. Hermione pushed the handle and walked inside the enormous messy room; Hundreds if not thousands of shelves scattered around the place full of the most precious and insignificant things, lost things. Thousands and thousands of books (either in tottering piles or in bookcases), filled the room, and Hermione even saw a huge stuffed troll laying by a dirty cushion.
The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket -- but propped against the wall facing her was something that didn't look as if it belonged there. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. She frowned, certainly it wasn't Latin or any other language she had studied about. She looked around the untidy room and caught a glimpse of a small piece of broken mirror. She picked it up and stood in front of the big mirror, reflecting the odd inscription from the small piece of glass she was holding. Ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desire.
"I show not your face but your heart's desire.", she mumbled. Hermione had to clap one hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She had found the mirror of Erised Harry had told her and Ron about. She remembered when Harry had mentioned that he saw his parents on it. She stared at her reflection on the mirror, curious to know what her heart was craving. Hermione found no surprise when she saw a reflection of herself standing in the middle of the boys she missed miserably.
"Harry!", she cried. The boy with jet black hair, bright green eyes and light skin smiled at her, placing his left hand on her shoulder. Hermione felt a tear roll down her flustered cheek and smiled softly, turning her attention to the taller boy. "Ronald!" The red haired boy copied Harry's gesture, smiling gently at his best friend. She let out a small sob. "Oh, how I was wish you were both here." The reality of the situation was proving itself unbearable for Hermione, and she was doubting herself now more than she ever did before.
"I don't know if I can do this." She whimpered, dropping to the floor weakly. "I just don't know what to do. ", she looked back at the mirror, locking her gaze on Harry's – who continued to smile at her tenderly. "Harry, I need your bravery and ambition to accomplish this – " she turned her gaze to the mesmerizing blue orbs that belonged to her favourite ginger "And Ron – I need your idiotic ideas and uncanny sense of humour... ", she chuckled slightly.
A sudden noise from across the room caused her to flinch, and Hermione quickly hid behind a pile of old objects, occasionally peering through the small hole between a broken lamp and a rusty cushion. Hermione gasped – around ten electric blue pixies with about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill she was sure she could turn deaf, were trashing around the room, causing mischief wherever they passed. She thought back to the awful Lockhart's lesson about those little beasts and scrunch up her nose at the irony of borrowing his last name. She quickly grabbed her wand and aimed it steadily at the pixies.
"Immobulus." The tiny creatures froze in mid-air and Hermione stuffed them inside a small cage on a shelf. Taking on last glance at her reflection on the mirror, she gave on last gloomy smile at the two boys who waved happily at her and she made her way out the room of requirement.
Meanwhile, comfortably sitting on his armchair by the provided fireplace, Tom Riddle read intently through the page he has been studying for the last half an hour- taking a small break from the Dark Arts.
The Pensieve is an object used to review memories. It has the appearance of a shallow stone or metal basin, into which runes and strange symbols are carved and precious stones are fitted. It is filled with a silvery substance that appears to be a cloud-like liquid/gas; the collected memories of people who have siphoned their recollections into it. Memories can then be viewed from a non-participant, third-person point of view.
"There has to be way to get my hands on that pensieve," Tom murmured to himself thoughtfully. He absentmindedly caressed his ring as he stared keenly at the green flames.
♡
Hermione was the first to wake up in her dormitory next morning. She lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the ray of sunlight coming through the gap in her four-poster's hangings, and savoured the thought that it was Saturday. Judging by the sleepy silence and the freshly minted look of that beam of sunlight, it was just after daybreak. She pulled open the curtains around her bed, got up and started to dress.
"Up already?" she let out a small yelp and looked around frantically, her eyes soon locking on Penelope's nervous ones. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Hermione."
"S'alright," Hermione mumbled and slowly pulled on her knee-lenght, grey skirt. "I'm just not used to people talking to me anymore, I suppose." A sigh came from Penelope and she sat up on her bed, watching Hermione carefully. "I know neither me nor Cepheus have been good friends and – we've been ignoring you..."
"Practically everyone has...", countered Hermione. Penelope nodded understandingly. "I'm sorry. We were just – creeped out I believe." The curly haired girl fixed her Ravenclaw robes and smiled at the sleepy one. "I forgive you, Penelope. And please forget that with Trelawney. That woman's daft. "Penelope chuckled and laid back down on her bed. "You got that right."
Hermione savoured the peaceful quietness surrounding her in the Library, one book on a hand and a cup of pumpkin juice on the other – which the Librarian, Aileen Klaus, had kindly provided to her under the condition of being extremely careful not to spill it anywhere. "What a coincidence to find you here, Lockhart." A voice said suddenly, causing Hermione to choke slightly on her drink. She glanced up in shock to face those dark eyes she has been avoiding successfully, until this very moment.
She greeted with a tiny nod of her head and forced her eyes back to the Arithmancy book. She didn't know yet how to react around him, but she was sure she shouldn't show weakness - not only did he despise that but it could also kill her - or worse, ruin her plan!
"You know, it's not very lady-like to ignore someone." He snarled smugly, a small hint of amusement on his dark eyes. "I've been thinking... about -- what I saw" he trailed off. Hermione hastily glanced back at him. "Will you tell me who's that wizard?"
Hermione looked back down at her readigs, trying to ignore his question.
"Unless, of course, you want me to tell the Headmaster your dirty little secret..." he whispered. She watched him warily as he twirled his wand on his long fingers – something he always seems to do when he's deep in thought. She felt slightly taken back with his small threat, she never thought of that option, it never occurred to her Riddle could tell the Headmaster; she could be taken to interrogatory, to the Ministry, or...Azkaban.
He was staring back at her with the same scowl he always presents her, awaiting her reaction. She sighed in defeat, slamming her book shut. "What is it that you want, Riddle?"
"Simple, " he laughed darkly. " I want you to do a little task for me." She furrowed her eyebrows and waited patiently for him to elaborate. "I want you to find a way inside the Headmaster's office and to look for his pensieve – it has the appearance of a shallow stone and—"
"I know what it is Riddle, I've seen images of it.", she lied. He nodded his head slightly impressed. "Very well, I believe you won't find any trouble to do this task then."
"And what if I fail?", she asked quietly. Riddle glared at her furiously. "Trust me LockHart, you do not wish to fail me."
♡
Things had gone back to normal for Hermione - well, as normal as they could get for a time traveler. People were no longer staring at her every time she passed them at the hallways or simply sat at class or at the Great Hall; She and Penelope were back at speaking terms since that morning, two weeks ago, and Cepheus too apologized.
One morning in early-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow and a frozen lake. No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Ravenclaw common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Slughorn's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.
"Have you found it yet?" asked Tom Riddle, one potions class, "I'm beginning to get a bit impatient."
He was looking over at Hermione as he spoke. Hermione, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, turned to face him quite annoyed. "Of course not!" she shrieked, not once making eye contact. "I haven't gotten the time. And it's very difficult to access the Headmaster's office without the password. You should know that."
Tom had been even more unpleasant than usual since the day he asked her to find the pensieve; he'd always give her furious looks whenever their eyes locked. She was taking too long, and it infuriated him. "I'll get the password from Dippet. You get me the pensieve... I'm tired of waiting." He snarled quietly, scribbling quickly on his parchment as Slughorn chatted about the Potion they were to brew.
"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"
"You'll find I can be very...persuasive." It was true. There wasn't a person he couldn't fool into doing as he wished. Riddle had been born with the natural talent of manipulation. And he was a master at that. And Hermione knew it too, so she didn't doubt him when he said it; instead, she feared for her fate the time he'd give her the password.
When she left the dungeons at the end of Potions, she came face to face with a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet were sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound came from behind it.
"Excuse me, I need to pass." Hagrid said, sticking his head through the branches; his eyes widened slightly at the sight of Hermione and a small smile tugged at his lips. "Hermione. How are ya? Sorry I really need to take this to the Great Hall. "
"Hello Hagrid. Oh, I'm sorry. It was nice seeing you." Hagrid nodded his head and walked off to the Great Hall with his tree, where Professor Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.
"Befriending that filthy half-breed, I see." came Riddle's cold drawl from behind her, "Just when I thought you couldn't stoop any lower, Lockhart."
Hermione opened her mouth to snarl a comment back at Riddle just when Slughorn came up the stairs. "Ah! Miss Hermione. And Tom m'boy. Divine that I found you two here. I was hoping I could have a talk with you two, my top class students." He beamed excitedly, patting his enormous belly out of habit.
"Yes, Professor?" inquired Riddle while placing his hands behind his back, adding to his elegant posture. "What can we do to assist you?"
Slughorn contemplated Tom with adoration, causing a sickening feeling to rise at Hermione's stomach. The man has absolutely no idea that he was staring admiringly at the Future Dark Lord; the most feared and heartless wizard of all time; the reason why she had gone 50 years back.
"I was hoping you two could come with me to the Headmaster's office? You see, Professor Dippet's birthday happens to be in two days and since he's out at the Ministry, maybe you two could help me decorate it as a surprise." Slughorn eyed them hopefully. "Only if it doesn't cause you any trouble, of course."
Tom's lips curled up slightly; a look of accomplishment crossing his eyes. "Of course, sir. I'll do my best to help." He then directed his gaze to Hermione, who shivered slightly. "And miss Lockhart as well, if she doesn't mind." Both eyed her impatiently, awaiting her response.
"Erm—" she cleared her throat and forced a smile at the Potion's Professor. "Of course, sir. "
The three of them made their way in silence toward the Headmaster's Tower at the Seventh floor. Hermione kept taking discreet glances at Tom now and then; one time their eyes locked and a smug expression adorned his handsome features, causing Hermione to glance back at her feet quickly. They had arrived at the Gargoyle corridor, where the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office is located.
At the end of the corridor, five first years could be seen playing with several bewitched snowballs, bouncing off the back of one another's heads. One ball hit Slughorn's back, causing the fat man to shriek and glare warningly at the eleven year olds. "Detention." He roared maniacally, losing his laid back posture for a moment. "All of you. Detention now. Go to my office and wait for me there."
The eleven year olds, took off running with scared expressions. Slughorn turned to face an amused but collected Tom, and a flustered Hermione, and sighed. "First years..." He mumbled. "You've got to be harsh with those."
Tom saw this as his opportunity to achieve his wish and took a step closer to Slughorn, putting on his best smile. "Sir, perhaps it would be best if you were to take care of their detention now—I mean those first years were clearly mischievous, it would be a shame if they touched any of our potions – or even destroy your hard work, Professor. "
Slughorn gave him a look of despair. "Tom m'boy, you don't think they would do that, do you? " he then glared at the floor in thought. "By Merlin, you're quite right. Can't have those boys destroying months of work... It would be a shame. Such a pity... "
Riddle nodded his head. "Sir, we don't mind coming back here later. This is a top priority—unless, of course, if you don't mind – Miss Lockhart and I can take care of this while you're at it, sir."
Hermione watched in astonishment, as the master of manipulation worked before her eyes. It was very well done. The hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery... Hermione didn't doubt for a second that he had done it more than once.
"Well," said Slughorn, looking warily at Riddle, but smiling slightly at him. "Well, it can't hurt to let my two trustworthy students in there without vigilance. I know you two have good intentions, Tom and Hermione. I appreciate it."
"Well, don't go too over the top, you see," added Slughorn, "Mr. Dippet is a very reserved old man..."
Tom and Hermione nodded their heads and watched as Slughorn began to walk away from them, but before disappearing to another corridor though, he turned and smiled slightly at them. "The password is Asha Eggs. Make me proud. " he winked.