Chapter Seven

Young Voldemort

Hermione's POV

After being sorted Albus called on Minerva to see Hermione to the great hall for dinner. It seemed that hardly anything in this castle had ever changed. As they winded through corridors on their way to the Great Hall Minerva found it necessary to discuss every last detail of the school. Here and there she would point out rooms and give a brief description of the classes that took place in those rooms. Hermione was only partially listening to Minerva, interjecting a nod here and there as was needed. She had become rather distracted by the memories that these unchanging halls brought about. It was within these very same walls that her, Harry, and Ron had shared adventure after adventure. It seemed that they were always getting into some sort of trouble from battling trolls to conducting a secret wizard army. Her eyes softened as they past by the Transfigurations classroom. She recalled her very first transfiguration lesson. They were to turn their familiars into a goblet. Of course, Hermione hadn't had any trouble in morphing her familiar into a fine cup. Ron, on the other hand, had only been halfway successful due to his broken wand. She could so clearly remember Scabber's tail wiggling around where the handle should have been "And here we are, the Great Hall." Hermione had been so wrapped up in her memories that she very nearly didn't hear Minerva announcing their arrival to the Great Hall. The tall, grand doors split apart before them, and Hermione relaxed as the familiarity of the room surrounded her. Even fifty years in the past the great hall was still summoning huge, succulent feasts. Idle chatter filled the room and echoed against the enchanted, high vaulted ceilings. Tonight, a marvelous, cloudless night sky loomed over head. Thousands of lit, white candles floated high over the tables, and cast the room in a pale, yellowish glow. It almost felt as though she was coming home, but just almost.

Minerva led Hermione to the end of the Gryffindor table where a couple empty seats were waiting to be filled. Hermione took a seat next to Minerva who seemed very concerned about the sobbing girl sitting across from her. Her arms were crossed over the table in front of her, and her face was buried into them as she shook with her quiet sobbing. Another girl with a caramel, wavy bob haircut and delicate frame sat next to Myrtle trying desperately to settle her down. Silently Minerva and Hermione exchanged curious glances before she made a move "Myrtle…" Her voice was soft, but also very cautious. As if she was afraid that the girl would cease to exist if she had spoken much louder.

Minerva extended a hand Myrtle's elbow in an attempt to comfort her "No!" The other girl cautioned, her hand futilely outstretched. She was too late. Minerva's extension of kindness had regretfully backfired. A very loud sob was extracted from her, and Myrtle's shoulders heaved with the force of her outburst.

Minerva quickly retracted her hand "Augusta, was it Tom again?" She asked not daring to make a second attempt at comforting Myrtle. Before Augusta could answer, another loud wail came from Myrtle confirming Minerva's suspicions—and turning a few heads from some of the students farther down the table.

"Tom?" Hermione inquired as the Myrtle girl continue to sob relentlessly.

Minerva nodded solemnly, her lips pressing themselves into a flat, displeased line. With that firm expression on her face Hermione could see a faint glimmer of the strict, future transfiguration professor she had once known. Minerva crossed her arms over her chest "He is an arrogant, narcissistic troll from Slytherin house." She shook her head disdainfully "Myrtle has had a crush on him ever since we started Hogwarts. She has made countless attempts at catching his attention, as have many girls in this school, but he always mercilessly turns them down." Her eyes hardened with smoldering hatred "It's as if he thinks he is too good for any girl here." Hermione glanced sideways at Myrtle with both understanding and pity. She knew what it felt like to have an unrequited love and sympathized with her. Minerva's sharp gaze turned back to Augusta "What did he do this time?" She asked, struggling to contain her outrage.

Augusta sighed "She asked him to the Halloween ball."

"And? What did he say?" Inquired Minerva.

"He rejected her like usual." Myrtle let out another loud, heavy sob and an apologetic look crossed over Augusta's face for speaking so thoughtlessly. She turned her attention back to Myrtle "Now, now Myrtle. Don't worry so much about that terrible Tom." She said softly "It's not just you. He doesn't seem to like any girl in this school." Her words were meant to be soothing, but had the exact opposite effect. Myrtle stood up from the table and ran from the Great Hall still heavily sobbing "E-Excuse me." Augusta murmured as she followed after her friend. Minerva watched as she disappeared through the large doors. Hermione could tell that she was itching to go after the both of them, but stayed put as to be polite.

"Minerva," Hermione began with an understanding smile "Go ahead, I know my way to the commons room." Minerva nodded and sent Hermione a grateful smile before chasing after the two other girls. Hermione's eyes lingered on the doors leading out of the room for a long while. She was also worried about the three of them, but she was aware of the fact that she didn't know them well enough to provide any kind of help. With a soft sigh she returned to the plate of food in front of her. She took small, dainty bites of her roast beef. Being surrounded by a room full of strangers was a bit unnerving, and so Hermione was feeling a little too nervous to eat normally.

"It seems as though your newly found friends have abandoned you." His voice had a smooth, honeyed drawl to it. Hermione glanced up to see a face that she recognized. It was that strange boy from before. The one that had dumped her off at the door of the school and then vanished into the shadows. He shot her a dazzling white smile "May I?" He asked politely, motioning gracefully to the empty seat beside her with his hand.

"It depends, do you always act so rudely to the damsels you are trying to save?" Hermione replied, letting him know that she hadn't forgot about the way he had left her the other night.

That dazzling smile faltered as a look of realization crossed his handsome face. It was obvious that he had forgotten who she was. He feigned a low chuckle "Not usually." The strange boy replied his dark eyes catching hers "It seems that even valiant knights can have a bad day." Hermione had to admit that he was a very charming person. He spoke in such an eloquent manner that it was difficult to want to reject his request to sit next to her. He possessed a dangerous amount of charisma.

Hermione quirked her brow into a high arch "And you consider yourself a valiant knight?" She inquired, a smile playing at the edges of her lips.

He shook his head, a few stray tussles of raven black hair falling over his forehead "Not by any means." He took a seat next to her, and she didn't object "However, I do pride myself on being a gentleman." He replied with a mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes. She couldn't manage to look away from those obsidian depths.

"Is that so?" Hermione replied softly, slowly falling victim to the obsidian depths of those dark eyes.

"It is so." He replied smoothly "Now then, as a gentleman, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tom Riddle." Tom Riddle… The name played over and over in her mind like a bad vinyl record. She had heard that very same name somewhere… if only she could remember… It was right there at the tip of her tongue.

Then it came to her… Every last drop of blood in her veins turned icy cold. Tom Marvolo Riddle. This boy… Hermione began memorizing every last detail of his face, encrypting it into her memory. Years after their crusade in the Chamber of Secrets, on a particularly dark night, Harry had told her about meeting Voldemort's young counterpart. He told her both about his mannerisms and appearance. He had given her such a highly detailed description because that face had been the reason behind many sleepless nights for Harry. This boy that sat next to her—this charming, polite, eloquent speaking boy was the very same monster that would take everything from her fifty years from now. Hermione abruptly stood up, not even bothering to return his introduction "Excuse me, I'm not feeling too well." Her words were stiff, and just barely made it passed her lips.

"Pardon me?" He replied, appearing to be both confused and irritated by her sudden departure.

Hermione forced a smile that she was sure didn't look a bit natural—it would have to do "It was nice to meet you Tom." She said barely containing the tremor in her voice. She had never been a very good liar, and Hermione could tell that he was not fooled "But I really must go." Before he had time to stop her, Hermione bolted out the doors of the grand hall and took off at a run.

Tom's POV

What in the bloody hell had just happened?

Tom followed her with his eyes as she all but hurled herself out of the great hall. The conversation seemed to be rather successful in his opinion. That strange girl was reciprocating their light banter and seemed to be enjoying herself. Then without warning her whole demeanor changes. He replayed that look of pure terror reflecting in those doe brown eyes. Tom was all too familiar with the kind of fear that she had shown him. He had seen it many times before in the children at the orphanage, and in the faces of his followers. It was the kind of fear that one would express when facing a monster. But they had only just met, had they not? Surely, she did not have a reason to be afraid of him. Yet, that look on her face, the way her shoulders had trembled just slightly suggested otherwise.

Tom frowned deeply. Her strange reaction to his name was both mysterious and perplexing. The vast majority of the witches in Hogwarts found him attractive, and charming. Most of the girls he came in contact with threw themselves at him. In fact, the only exceptions were those few girls that were marked as his deatheaters, and that prudent witch Minerva McGonagall (She was such a kill joy that he suspected she had been raised at some sort of nunnery). That girl was neither one of his deatheaters, nor a prude—He could tell by the way her eyes became all moony before he disclosed his name. So why had she reacted that way? What did she know? No one was afraid of him without a damn good reason.

Again, he replayed her delicious look of fear. Those horrified doe brown eyes, he simply couldn't stop thinking about them. He couldn't read her. She put up an impeccable mind block. During their conversation he was silently using legilimency. With being mere inches away from her, his use of legilimency was significantly stronger than when he had been tables away. By all means he should have been able to break into whatever mind barrier an unsophisticated seventh year Gryffindor was able to conjure; however, as he poked and prodded around the barrier Tom quickly discovered that it was iron clad. These thoughts drew Tom to two very important questions. The first was the most obvious and also the most pressing: Who was this witch? The second would be the hardest to answer: What was she hiding? Those two questions circled Tom's head as he stood up from the Gryffindor table, and walked out of the great hall with the intent of stopping by the library. He would find a way to get what he wanted out of that girl.

Hermione's POV

In her rush to put a great deal of distance between her and the young dark lord, Hermione hadn't realized that she was heading to the library until she was already there. She was a bit out of breath but recovered quickly enough. As Hermione glanced around the large library she was pleased to know that this safe haven of hers hadn't changed any in the last fifty years. The floor to vaulted ceiling book shelves still lined the walls in massive rows that was laid out like a maze. If you weren't careful you could actually get lost in the library. Hermione faintly recalled the time that Neville Longbottom got lost in those shelves for three days. No one had even noticed that he had been missing until he emerged from the library three days later, crying and very hungry. Pushing her old memories out of her mind, Hermione knew that she had more important things to think about. Such as the fact that she might have classes with Voldemort.

Hermione allowed her body to use muscle memory to find that secret alcove in the back of the library. She had stumbled upon the spot in her second year when Harry and Ron were becoming entirely too unbearable to study around. The place was a comfortable bay window seat wedged between two huge bookcases. It was secluded, quiet, and sported a fantastic view of the black lake. She had spent many of her days and nights studying there. Since she had been there so many times in the future, it took Hermione no time at all to find the window seat. A sad smile tugged at the edge of her lips as she sat down on the plush, purple padded seat. She folded her legs against her chest and crossed her arms over her knees.

Outside the window a blazing sunset reflected against the murky, black surface of the lake. A multitude of red and orange hues streaked violently across the sky before fading into a lighter pink. She had seen this view many times before, but this time seemed so different. It carried a kind of finality with it. She had spent her first day here in the past, and it would only be one of thousands. She nestled her chin into her arms. How could she possibly live in this time? Today Hermione discovered that she was attending the same Hogwarts that a young Voldemort was. A shard of ice shot down her spine. She hadn't suspected that the young man she was idlily chatting with would one day be the darkest wizard in history. He just seemed so normal and-oddly- polite. When Ginny had once told her that he had a charm about him that was practically irresistible, Hermione had scoffed at her. She just couldn't imagine how a monster like him could have an ounce of charm. Today she saw it firsthand. Tom Marvolo Riddle keep a flawless appearance of a polite, charming young man. He had mastered fooling people, and that made him all the more dangerous. He was like a wolf wearing a sheep's wool.

"I trust you are feeling better?" Hermione felt her heart stop dead in her chest as she looked up to the owner of that smooth baritone.

She quickly jumped up from the window seat, as if it had burned her "Uh, yes, I feel much better t-thank you…" Hermione stammered as she headed past him.

Just as she came to be shoulder to shoulder with young Voldemort, he stuck out his arm and pressed his palm firmly against the bookcase. Hermione was trapped "Usually I would go about this in a much different way, but you have provoked my curiosity." Hermione's eyes widened in fear as she looked up into those cruel, obsidian depths. Tom forced a smile "I know that you lied to me." This wasn't good. He was far too perceptive of her reaction. If she lied to him again what would he do?

A/N: I hope that you all have enjoyed this chapter. See you again next time!