10 | the knights of walpurgis
𝟿 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟺
THE COMMON ROOM was dark apart from the sconce lights upon the stone walls and the fire sputtering in the fireplace that cast low golden lights around him as he sat in the armchair and waited for the Knights to arrive. His long fingers curled around his yew wand, twirling it as he thought of his encounter with the girl that very afternoon.
When he went to seek his followers in the dungeons, he had only found Abraxas Malfoy and Alphard Black. He told them of a new recruit and a meeting in the Head common room all while his heart hammering in his chest. It felt ecstatic.
Malfoy and Black had watched him oddly, curiosity and concern in their faces but he did not care at that moment. Not while his mind was filled with a girl with untameable hair and cunning eyes.
The first time he had laid eyes on her, he had seen how she had held herself when Dippet introduced them—the stiffness in her shoulders, the alertness in her posture. He had seen the flash of something in her eyes before a practised smile broke across her face. At that moment, something inside him ticked to urge him to watch her.
And he was not disappointed.
The elated feeling brewing inside him was hard to ignore when she had sent Dumbledore looks of disdain whenever the old coot wasn't looking as he had longed for someone who wasn't in his house to share the same hatred. It wasn't surprising given that she had noticed his contempt for Dumbledore at the mere mention of the old wizard's name.
She was brutal. He had seen it first hand when she had berated those two witless cottonheads she called 'friends.' It was amusing to watch how they had easily fallen into obedience at her mere glares.
He knew she had been trying to gain his interest for the whole week which only heightened his fascination. It was almost laughable how desperate she was for him to notice her by sneaking into the restricted sections, perusing dark books, not to mention the dark warded books on the bottom of her bookshelf. And yet the fact that she had been interested in immortality—the dark arts, it had blown his mind away.
"I knew you were special and you, Tom will be the only one to get me what I want."
His head fell back against the back of the armchair as he took in a deep breath and gazed at the ceiling. The mysteriousness to this particular female almost had him entranced. She had known who he was, known him to be different, known him to be special for who he truly was. The thrill in his blood running in his veins hummed. Her potential was strong but the calls to achieve what desired was stronger.
Hermione Granger would be the perfect soldier-a tool to achieve his glory and Tom Riddle would make sure he achieved just that.
Inside the Head Girl dormitory, Hermione stood by the door, her ear pressed to the wood. She heard them before she saw them. She heard the portrait creaked open and sets of footsteps shuffled into the common room. After a while, she heard them murmur, "My Lord," in a greeting chorus that almost had her rolling her eyes. She had been waiting behind the door for a while before she made her entrance.
Their lord did not reply and the silence that came after that was so thick that Hermione could feel it from behind the door. When it became almost unbearable one of the Knights spoke up.
"Um...my Lord?"
Hermione was positive it was Avery.
"Yes, Avery?" came Tom's reply which confirmed her thoughts.
"You mentioned a recruit?"
She imagined Tom smiling maniacally at his Knights while twirling his wand almost threateningly.
"Indeed I did."
"Um." There was a shuffling of feet. "May I ask where he is?"
Tom clicked his tongue. "Patience, Avery. She'll be here in just a moment."
The groups started at this, nearly choking on their saliva.
"She-?" One of the Knights squeaked. "You recruited a girl?"
However Tom did not have the chance to answer him as Hermione chose that exact moment to make her entrance. She opened her door, to reveal herself to the group in the common room. The Knights wore horrified looks, particularly Abraxas and Alphard, whose face had gone white. She avoided their eyes as she scanned the so-called Knights of Walpurgis.
Abraxas Malfoy.
Alphard Black.
Reinhard Lestrange.
Evan Rosier.
Lorcan Avery.
Antonin Dolohov.
And Theodenn Nott
No girls.
"Knights, I present to you Hermione Granger. The newest member of our club," Tom Riddle announced. His mouth formed a sharp grin as his eyes examined her face. He motioned for her to stand next to the tall form of the Malfoy heir who was glaring daggers at the side of her head.
"But she's a blood traitor!" Lestrange cried while pointing an accusatory finger at Hermione. "They're just as bad as mudbloods, my Lord!"
Hermione noticed how Abraxas and Alphard's body had gone rigid with his comment.
"And a girl," Dolohov sneered quietly.
Hermione scowled.
Tom tilted his head to the side. "And how would you know she's a blood traitor, Lestrange?"
"She's been spending time with those—" Lestrange stopped just to glance at Abraxas before continuing bitterly, "with Hawthorne. Her whole family are blood traitors! Haven't you seen? "
"You think I am blind then?" Tom's voice was soft but the unheard threat in his voice was as clear as glass.
Lestrange paled but he continued on. "N-no, my Lord. That's not what I meant. I only meant that blood traitors are not allowed to join our cause."
Tom hummed. "When have I ever given the impression that I care about your opinion on who I recruit."
"B-But, my Lord!" Lestrange protested. "This isn't right! She is just as foul as mudbloods and she is a female. She doesn't belong in our cause!"
There was an eerie silence that followed his words. Lestrange's eyes grew wide, terrified and Hermione basked in the knowledge of him realising his mistake.
Tom Riddle's cruel laugh pierced the quiet and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He twirled his wand threateningly between his long fingers and Lestrange eyed it fearfully. If it was possible, the temperature inside the common room felt as if it had dropped several degrees even as the fireplace was still burning. The other Knights dared not to breathe.
"You dare tell me what is right?" Tom asked, the smile on his face turning into sneer, so unfitting for a face like his.
"I-I apologise, m-my Lord," Lestrange's voice quivered but Hermione did not miss the way his jaw hardened and his fist curled tightly even as he shrunk back in fear. The large silver ring adorned with an emerald stone on his middle finger glinted in the light.
Tom's eyes flashed red as he stared down at him for several seconds with hardened eyes, tilting his head, inspecting him as a cat would consider an injured bird hopping about. Finally he raised his wand, aiming at Lestrange as the sweat on the boy's forehead was now visible to their eyes.
But Hermione realised Tom's true intentions when Tom's dark eyes met hers and she knew immediately that he never meant to curse Lestrange himself but to show her his superiority above others and how it was handled when one decided to overstep. There will be no mercy. And Hermione knew Tom Riddle intended to use Lestrange to test her when he lowered his wand—shocking others in the room.
"Hermione?" And though his voice was low and soft, his eyes were sharp, filled with curiosity. It was clear to her what he wanted and she knew there was no room for her to refuse his order-his challenge.
Hermione did not hesitate when she gripped her wand and pointed it at Lestrange, her face void of emotion. She flicked her wrist and whispered the incantation she would never have thought of uttering.
"Crucio."
Lestrange barely managed to turn his head to glare at her as he dropped to the floor. He released a shrill scream that pierced her ears as he squirmed at Nott's feet who flinched. Hermione was shocked though she did not show it that she did not feel any sympathy towards him in fact, she felt satisfied.
Tom Riddle watched the girl before him. Pleased at how she instantly understood his intentions and how she barely flinched when she uttered her first Cruciatus. Her wild curls cracked with magic—and fuck, she was a sight for sore eyes. Tom knew at that moment that Hermione wielded power that he had never seen before. This girl was dangerous. A girl who held an innocent facade to hide her dark intentions much like himself. A girl who would promise pain to people she hated and Tom liked to think she would be creative in the ways she enact her revenge.
"Enough," he said softly to her and Hermione lifted the curse. "Do you understand now, Lestrange? You do not question me and my doings."
On the ground, Reinhard Lestrange was nothing more than a sobbing mess.
"Y-yes, my L-lord," he gasped, trying to stand up from the floor.
"Power is everything," said Tom. "And you Lestrange, do not have power like she does. I would have disposed of you for a more powerful soldier but unfortunately I still have use for you. The next time you are out of line, it will be your tongue I'm taking. I only have need for your family name and it does not require your voice."
Lestrange flinched.
Tom laughed. "Perhaps the next time you insult a woman, you should consider that cats indeed have claws, Lestrange."
Lestrange whimpered again and tried to stand up without any help as Tom curled his lips in disgust before turning to look at the Knights.
"I think it's time to assign our newest Knight her first task, yes?" Tom said, his expression filled with pride as he paced in front of the group. Turning towards the only girl inside the room, he spoke louder and clear, "Are you familiar with Chepeus Rowle?"
"Yes," Hermione said, remembering the seventh-year Ravenclaw. She looked up at him and saw expectation in his eyes. She hastily added, "My Lord."
"Good." An arrogant smirk lingered on his lips before it turned for the worse. "Chepeus Rowle is the heir to the Rowle fortune. I want you to recruit him. He would be the key to his family's money, power and influence-a valuable asset if he's on our side. You have a week."
Hermione bobbed her head in a quick nod. "Yes, my Lord. I will not fail you."
He stared at her before turning towards the two Knights she considered her friends. "Malfoy, Black?"
Abraxas answered as she watched him from the corner of her eye. "Burke mentioned it was purchased by a woman."
"A woman?" Tom repeated with a glint in his eyes.
"Yes, my Lord. A very wealthy woman," Alphard added.
Hermione saw how Tom's jaw clenched in anger as if trying to control himself from lashing out. Though, she wondered what item purchased by the woman that made him visibly furious.
"Get me her name," Tom ordered and they nodded. "Avery and Nott. How's the research going?"
"No one knows where it is," Avery replied.
"They said it's been lost for centuries now. After all, it was stolen from its owner," Nott added, making Hermione wonder again, whatever item they were talking about.
She'll have to speak to Harry about this.
Tom pursed his lips. "Continue the research. I want it found," he growled. "Rosier, Dolohov. Any news?"
"Dumbledore went to France yesterday. But my sources told us he went back to London this afternoon for some business," Rosier responded.
"London?" Tom queried, raising one dark brow. "Have they mentioned what business?"
"We don't know," Dolohov answered curtly. "But they say, he was meeting someone for an urgent matter."
Hermione stiffened but no one noticed.
Tom Riddle hummed thoughtfully. "Good. You may leave."
"My Lord," they all echoed. Hermione turned to leave like the others but halted on her tracks when Tom called her.
"Hermione, stay."
She turned to him, completely missing the withering glare cast at her way by Lestrange who was limping, helped by a scowling Dolohov, and the concerned looks by Abraxas and Alphard. She waited for the others to exit their common room before addressing him.
"Yes?"
Tom gazed down at her, taking in the sight of her caramel curls, freckled cheeks and innocent doe eyes. He did not know what to make of the unfamiliar feeling coiling inside of him but he chose to ignore it as he asked her, "Have you made a Horcrux?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, I haven't."
"Do you intend to?"
"I thought my interest in escaping death had given that away."
The corner of his lips tugged. "Do you wish to learn more about Horcruxes?"
To say the girl was surprised by his offer was the perfect explanation for her raised eyebrows and widened eyes. Hermione doesn't know how but of course she would not refuse such an offer to learn more about Horcruxes. Perhaps she would learn a way to destroy them.
"Yes," she said.
"Very well. We can start tomorrow in the evening if you wish."
"Of course," Hermione replied before a thought passed in her mind. "I didn't know you use our common room as a meeting place."
"I didn't," he said, "Not until tonight at least. I used to use the Room of Requirement but I made an exception for tonight. Our next meeting will be at our usual place."
"But the portrait? She could tell someone."
"I've already taken care of her," Tom stated confidently, lifting his chin slightly. "She won't say anything."
Hermione nodded but she was convinced he had threatened the portrait to burn her if she ever dared to utter a single word of their secret association.
"All right. Goodnight then," she mumbled and walked to her room.
"You know where the Room of Requirement is?"
Hermione stopped again. She turned her head to speak over her shoulder. "Of course. Seventh floor, left corridor. It only appears when a person is in great need of it. One must walk past it three times while thinking about what they need, and the door would appear."
Tom gazed at her strangely. "You seemed to know Hogwarts awfully a lot for someone new."
Hermione turned to him fully. She grinned. "My mother mentioned it to me when she and her friends decided to ditch classes for the whole day and needed a place to hide. Pretty useful if you ask me."
"Indeed."
//////
𝟷𝟶 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟺
The very next morning, the golden trio found themselves in Hermione's room discussing her first meeting with Tom Riddle's inner circle.
"He wants you to recruit who?" asked Harry, confusion on his face.
"Chepeus Rowle," answered Hermione who sat on her chair by the desk.
"Is that the same one who—"
"Who ambushed us in that muggle cafe? No, but I think this one might be his father."
"But he's a Ravenclaw innit?"
"Yeah but Rowle's a pureblood," said Ron. "I reckon he's recruiting them to get support from these families with seats in the Wizengamot and high positions in the Ministry."
Hermione nodded. "Exactly. Rowle is the heir to his family's fortune and influence. Riddle was wise to recruit him for his cause. Though I think Riddle prioritised power over blood. She tried recruiting your mother, didn't she? She was muggleborn but he was willing to look past that because she was a talented witch. And Snape—he was a halfblood but Voldemort still recruited for his skills."
Harry's jaw clenched angrily. "I don't want to talk about him," he snapped.
Hermione flinched. "Sorry."
It shouldn't have stung but Hermione knew Snape's betrayal had left a marked wound inside Harry. Dumbledore had trusted him and Snape had killed him in cold blood.
"So," said Harry, trying to brush his anger away. "How are you going to recruit him?"
Hermione paused. "I have no idea."
She shook her head and told them about the rest of the meeting and the other Knights' tasks, intentionally leaving out the part where she had tortured Lestrange.
"He's looking for the Slytherin locket," Harry said.
"Bloody hell. You sure, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Yes." Harry nodded, turning to look at Hermione. "He mentioned it was bought by a wealthy woman, didn't he? It was Hepzibah Smith. The woman he murdered after stealing the cup and locket, then framed her house elf for her death."
Hermione sat still, trying to process the information.
"That's why he went to work at Borgin and Burkes after graduating from Hogwarts. He's tracking the founders' relics," she whispered and Harry nodded. "But what about the item Nott said to have been lost for centuries now. Do you know what it is?"
Harry sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Afraid not."
Ron, who was sitting on the floor, paused before he leaned towards his friends, his blue eyes wide. "Do you think it has something to do with Ravenclaw? I mean, he made Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup into horcruxes, yeah? It can't be the sword of Gryffindor so it has to be Ravenclaw."
Harry and Hermione jerked their heads at him.
"Ravenclaw?" repeated Harry, thinking thoughtfully. "Yeah. It might."
Hermione opened her beaded bag, rummaging through it and pulled her favourite book of Hogwarts: A History. She flipped the pages of the book and stopped when she landed on the chapter about Rowena Ravenclaw. She started reading the chapter until she finally got the answer she needed.
"Here it is," she pointed out. She rushed to sit beside Harry. Ron did the same. "Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem—"
"What the bloody hell is a diadem?" said Ron, frowning.
"It's like a crown," Hermione answered before continuing to read. "Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, also known as the lost diadem of Ravenclaw, was the only known relic that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, the founder of Ravenclaw house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Etched upon its surface was Ravenclaw's famous quote: 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.' It was said to enhance the wisdom of its wearer, which is Ravenclaw House's most treasured attribute."
Hermione gasped. Harry and Ron turned to her.
"Claire and I went to the Ravenclaw common room last week. She told me all about the diadem and said that every Ravenclaw should know its story. The diadem was later found missing and never to be seen again but it was rumoured that only Rowena knows the person who stole it but kept it a secret until her death bed."
"Merlin..." whispered Ron. "So, no one knows where it is but Ravenclaw? And she's been dead for centuries! Then there's no way Voldemort could have turned it into a horcrux."
Harry sat up straight. "If somehow Voldemort did manage to turn the lost diadem into a horcrux? Who would have told him where to look, when nobody has seen the diadem in living memory?"
But Hermione wasn't listening as she frowned. "Why keep it a secret though?" she said aloud. "If she knows the person who stole it, why would she keep it a secret from the other founders? Why wouldn't she tell them who it was and tracked down the person?"
"Would it be possible for the person who stole the diadem passed it down to their generation and Voldemort had found them?" Harry asked nervously.
"It might," Hermione whispered, still confused.
Harry sighed and flopped back into her bed, staring at the ceiling of Hermione's room. "Fucking hell. It's so confusing."
"And we still had no clue who R.A.B is," mumbled Ron sourly.
"Maybe this would help," Hermione offered, rummaging again through her beaded bag. "I don't know why I haven't thought to check this first."
She pulled out a thick, heavy, dark green tome from her bag and dumped it onto Harry's lap. Harry grunted.
"What's this?" He asked, reading the title as Ron moved to join them on the couch.
"It's the extensive genealogy records for pureblood families all across Britain, printed in 1983. I nicked it from the Black family library," she said, shrugging as she sent a look at Harry.
"How's this gonna help?" asked Ron.
"Well, R.A.B was Voldemort's follower, right? So, he must've been a pureblood or at least a halfblood. We can check if any of the names here match his initials."
Harry flipped the book starting with the surnames that start with B. The book was full of detailed records of births, marriages and deaths, even scandalous affairs of pureblood families. He started reading the Black family tree ancestry from the birth of Pollux Black to the squib brother who was disowned, to the great great-aunt he never knew that married a Potter, to finding out how the Longbottoms and Weasleys were all related to the Black.
It was then that he spotted his godfather's name.
Sirius Orion Black. Born on the 3rd of November 1959 to Orion and Walburga Black. Disowned in the summer of 1975. Now, currently in Azkaban for the murder of the Potters, Peter Pettigrew and 12 muggles in 1981.
Harry gripped the edges of the book tightly until his knuckles turned white as grief thundered in his veins. But he stilled when his eyes landed on the next name.
Regulus Arcturus Black. Born on the 14th of May 1961, second son to Orion and Walburga Black. Died in 1979 for unknown reasons. His body was never found.
Harry stared at the name for a long time.
Regulus Arcturus Black.
Excitement trickled through Harry but he was not immediately sure why. He read the name again.
"I think I found him," he whispered.
"Who?" asked Ron, looking at him.
"R.A.B."
Hermione gasped, snatching the book from Harry to read it herself.
"Sirius' brother?" she whispered.
"He was a Death Eater," said Harry. "Sirius told me about him, he joined up when he was really young and then got cold feet and tried to leave—so they killed him."
"That fits!" gasped Hermione. "If he was a Death Eater, he had access to Voldemort and if he became disenchanted, then he would have wanted to bring Voldemort down!"
"Regulus...Arcturus...Regulus...R.A.B!" Ron exclaimed. "The locket! You don't reckon-?"
"Maybe," said Harry. "If Regulus did have the locket, it could still be inside Grimmauld place. Perhaps, in his room."
"It could have been anywhere in the house though," said Hermione in a rallying tone as she stood up from her bed and started pacing in front of Harry and Ron. "Whether he'd manage to destroy it or not, he'd want to keep it hidden from Voldemort, wouldn't he? Remember all those awful things we had to get rid of when we were there the last time? The clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket's hiding place, even though we didn't realise it at...at..."
Harry and Ron looked at her. She was frozen in her tracks with the dumbstruck look of one who had just been Obliviated: her eyes had drifted out of focus.
"...at the time," she finished in a whisper.
"Something wrong?" asked Ron.
"There was a locket."
"What?" said Harry and Ron together.
"In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we...we..."
Harry felt as though he brick had slid down through his chest into his stomach. He remembered. He had even handled the thing as they passed it around, each in turn trying to pry it open. It had been tossed into a sack of rubbish, along with the snuffbox of Wartcap powder and the music box that had made everyone sleepy—
"It could still be there," said Harry determinedly. "Kreacher nicked loads of things back from us."
"Then that's our first stop when we get back to our time," said Hermione. "Grimmauld Place."
After her meeting with Harry and Ron, Hermione decided to head to the library before lunch. She strolled through the crowded hallways, avoiding mingling students while adjusting the strap to her beaded bag. When she almost reached the corridor to her destination, two strong hands emerged from a door, pulling her inside a room. It was dimly lit but she suspected it was an abandoned classroom.
Hermione acted on instinct. She pulled out her wand and sent a stinging hex at her attacker.
"Ow!" yelped a familiar voice.
Hermione staggered back. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as a set of grey eyes blinked at her.
"Alphard?" she said in a disbelieving tone while the boy winced, rubbing the part where the hex had hit him. "What were you thinking?!"
"Shh," Alphard said, pushing a finger to her lips, prompting her to go silent. He moved hastily to the door, peering outside before moving back in, closing the door. "Clear."
"Alphard—"
"What were you thinking, Hermione?"
A voice sounded from behind, nearly making her heart jump to her throat. She whirled around to see a tall and imposing figure of Abraxas Malfoy standing there, glaring at her. His grey eyes were cold and hard—and for a moment she thought she was looking at Draco Malfoy.
"Brax, what—"
"You don't know what you've done," he said, closing in on their distance. "You don't know what you've got yourself into."
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"You bloody well know what I'm talking about!" he hissed at her, making her flinch because he was never once rude to her. His eyes softened slightly but his face remained hardened. "Why?" he bit out.
"Why what?"
"Why did you join him?"
"Why did you join him?" Hermione retorted.
"Don't turn this back on me." He glared down at her, clenching his fists. "You don't know him. Tom is ruthless and has no mercy. He will punish you and make you do things you do not want."
Hermione bristled. "Surely, you realised I've already figured that out? I tortured a man because of him."
Abraxas shook his head and started to pace inside the room. "I told you to be careful around him. I told you to stay away from him and yet you decided to do none of those things."
"Why do you even care if I became his follower?"
"For fuck's sake woman! Do I even need a reason to be a decent human being?"
Hermione grounded her teeth.
"Being Tom Riddle's Knight means signing your life away."
"You should have seen the way he looked at you when you tortured Lestrange," Alphard said softer than the blonde.
Something flashed across Hermione's face that made Abraxas stare at her for a long time. Then he laughed. "Don't tell me you're in love with him."
"I know better than to fall in love with him."
"Good."
"If you forbid me from joining his cause then what gives you the right?" Hermione asked.
Abraxas' eyes darkened. "We've known him since first year, Hermione. We were his friends," he managed to say. "We know the things he's capable of, the unmentionable things he has done. I'd rather be his Knight than declare myself his enemy."
Hermione fell silent, stunned to hear his confession—the reason why he followed Tom Riddle. And all these years, Hermione thought the Malfoys were loyal to the Dark Lord because they supported how he saw to change the views of the Wizarding World. But, she did not think they were loyal out of fear. After all, Lucius Malfoy had looked willing enough.
However, Hermione remembered what Harry said the night Snape killed Dumbledore. Draco had been scared because he knew he would be killed if he failed. He had lowered his wand, almost giving into Dumbledore's pleas and promises before Bellatrix and the rest of the Death Eaters came.
She glanced at Alphard, noting how he kept quiet after Abraxas' confession and she did not miss the flicker in his eyes before it was gone in a blink of an eye. Hermione briefly wondered if Alphard Black ever managed to leave the Death Eaters before he died. Perhaps he was killed because he tried to leave-the same way Regulus Black did.
"Then what are you saying?" she asked quietly. "That I should leave? I may be new but even I know he wouldn't accept it. It's betrayal in his eyes."
"No," Alphard answered instead, breaking his silence. "It's too late for that. He already gave you your first task."
Hermione stared off. Her heart was racing. Her first task as a Knight—as a Death Eater. She had completely forgotten of her new title this morning when she went to see Harry and Ron. She was to recruit a boy named Chepeus Rowle and Tom Riddle had only given her a week.
"Do you need help?" Alphard asked suddenly as Hermione's eyes snapped to his gaze.
"No," she immediately said. "No, I don't need your help."
"You sure?"
"Yes." She shook her head and leaned against the nearest wall. "Tom won't tolerate it if he knows you've been helping me. He will punish us and I-I need to prove myself."
The two boys stared at her but Abraxas' eyes were more intense, as if he could see right through her.
"Tell me, Hermione," Abraxas demanded softly as he moved closer. "The real reason you joined him. A reason for you to need to prove yourself."
Hermione's head swivelled sharply to him. "What?"
"Was it Harry?"
Hermione jerked against the stonewall she had been leaning against, shocked. Her ears went ringing, as though his question had been an explosion rather than a simple interrogation.
"It's Harry isn't it?" he concluded with a dawning expression on his face. "I've seen his face during the welcoming feast. I've seen the expectation on his face when he glanced at Tom. Sometimes, I've seen him glaring at Tom during classes. Harry wasn't very good at hiding it." He let out a humourless laugh. "Tom did something to Harry, didn't he? But Tom didn't know that."
She might as well be standing in a blizzard for the cold she felt was nothing compared to this.
Yes and no, she wanted to answer. It was because of Harry but for a whole different reason. Voldemort wanted power and to conquer the world but in the process of it, he will have to kill Harry. But it was not just about him. It's about the future and fate of the Wizarding World. Innocent lives were being killed—muggles, muggleborns and those who refused to follow him.
Her wand felt heavy in her hand as she kept quiet. Her actions were loud enough. She had revealed too much. Abraxas and Alphard looked at each other and for a moment she wanted to tell them-to tell her reasons because they had looked concerned enough for her being. But she couldn't take any chances. Dumbledore had said so.
"Never mention your task to anyone in this time—even if you deem them as trustworthy."
And for all she knew this conversation might be a trap, a set up to see if she truly was a loyal Knight to Tom Riddle. They did confess, they would rather be loyal to him than make themselves his enemy.
In one swift move, she stupefied an unsuspecting Alphard who fell on the stone floor with a grunt. Abraxas' shocked gaze fell onto his friend's unconscious figure before looking at her. A flare of anger burned in his grey eyes as she pointed her wand at him next.
"Don't," he warned her, his hand slowly moving towards his wand but unfortunately for him, Hermione noticed.
"I'm sorry, Brax," was all she said before she whispered the incantation. "Obliviate."