June 23 1982

The music flowed through her body, drenching her soul in its essence. She never felt closer to herself than when she was dancing. She had complete control over her body despite feeling like she lacked a physical form. The feeling was addictive. This must be what being high felt like. If so she could understand how an addict must feel when separated from their beloved poison.

And it was a poison. Her passion. It ingrained itself slowly but steadily into her system, to a point where she felt like it would kill her if she ever tried to separate it from herself. Not that she ever would. This was everything to her. Her dance. It was the only thing she had.

She had compromised her education for this. If this didn't work out, she would be completely lost. The thought punished her with countless sleepless nights. It scared her but at the same time it drove her towards her goal.

She didn't know long she had been in the studio. The other students had left some time ago. Looking out the window she realized that it was almost dark. She hadn't realized it had been that long. Looks like she had missed dinner again. She wasn't hungry anyway.

Grabbing her bag she started walking towards the changing rooms, wanting to get out of her sweat drenched leotard. She could barely walk, every bone in her body protesting her movement.

She swayed slightly and grabbed onto the nearest thing, which happened to be one of the barres. Her mind was suddenly attacked by an onslaught of images, one after the other in quick succession.

She saw an old man, standing at the top of rickety old stairs. The image was quickly replaced by her own. She was crying, sitting on a bed in a room she didn't recognize. The image dissolved into nothingness and was replaced by another. There was a young man who looked vaguely familiar saying something. She couldn't figure out what though.

The images stopped as suddenly as they had started and she felt someone grabbing her. She fought against the hands but stopped on hearing Ginny's voice, along her to calm down.

"Hermione, can you hear me ? I need you to open your eyes."

She hadn't even realized her eyes were closed until she opened them and felt a headache coming in from the harsh lights.

She took in the blurry image of Ginny and Madam McGonagall on their knees in front of her, worry etched into their faces.

"Miss Granger, do you think you'll be able to stand up ?"

She nodded weakly and started pulling herself up from where she had been slumped against the cold wall. As she stood up she felt herself sway again but Ginny grabbed onto her shoulders, pulling her arm around her own shoulders to support her.

"What happened ?" Her teacher asked.

Well, she would like to know too, she thought. What were all those images ? And who was that man in the cell ? And she could swear that young man looked familiar. But she couldn't, for the life of her, remember where she had seen him before. All the questions racing through her mind only worsened her headache and she cringed slightly, putting one hand on her forehead.

"I think she's tired, Madam. She missed dinner today. Again."

She wanted to bless and curse Ginny at the same time. While she had saved her the trouble of having to make some excuse for the teacher right now, she knew she was going to get in trouble for skipping meals again.

She heard Madam McGonagall sigh dejectedly from beside her and took a deep breath. Maybe that would clear her head a little.

"Miss Weasley, please take Miss Granger to her room and make sure she eats something. Grab her something from the kitchens."

She could hear the disappoint in the old woman's voice loud and clear but all she could think about was the things she had seen, or imagined, just now. But she just she knew she hadn't imagined all that.

So what was it ?

November 21st 1982

Knocturn Alley, London

He looked around at the various shops that seemed to be forcefully compressed into the narrow street. One didn't need to go inside any of them to know that nothing good could be found there. The entire place seemed of foul magic. Or maybe it was just the people. None of them looked like personal hygiene was a priority to them. A particularly ugly hag grinned at him, exposing her decaying teeth, beckoning him towards her with a twisted finger. However, she cowered back upon seeing his companion.

Fenrir Greyback inspired such fear in people. He wondered what she would do when she saw what he was capable of. The mere thought of the horror that would paint her face made him smile. But not today. That wasn't why he was here today.

Karkaroff had wanted him to meet this wizard who was an old friend of his and had, apparently, disappeared off the face of Earth for the last few years. But now he was back and he wanted Tom to go see him. Supposedly, he was a true master of the Dark Arts and could teach him things that even Karkaroff couldn't.

So here he was. Though he would have liked to come alone his Headmaster had insisted that the stinking old mutt accompany him since he had other matters to attend to. But he supposed the man had his reasons for not sending him alone. He always did.

"We are here."

He looked at old dilapidated shop with mild disdain. The place looked like it would crumble in on itself any second. He pushed open the door and it creaked loudly, almost coming off its hinges. What respectable wizard would live like this, he thought. He sneered as he took in the interior. The wizard couldn't even keep a tiny place clean, what could the man possibly teach him.

"Ah, boy, you're here. Took you long enough."

He looked up at the sound of the gruff voice and looked at the shadowy figure standing at the top of the stairs. The figure moved, or rather limped, slightly and finally he could make out the old man's face. His eyes widened slightly.

"Grindelwald"

"You are a sharp one, aren't you?

He gritted his teeth at the mocking tone in his voice but then relaxed his face, smiling charmingly at the man.

"I have heard great things about you, Sir. It's an honor to finally meet you." He said smoothly.

"Cut the crap, boy. Igor's told me all about you. You aren't here to kiss my arse. Let's get to business."

He nodded, smile dropping entirely, a cold look settling into his eyes.

Yes. Let's get to business.