Riddle's Phantom

Chapter 1 – Hermione's Accident

Hermione woke with the feel of anticipation for the coming day. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping, it was going to be a wonderful day, she could just feel it.

She quickly tossed off her covers and ran for her wardrobe, throwing on a pair of faded blue jeans and a tank top. She practically skipped over to the mirror above her nightstand and brushed out her hair. She still refused to do it by magic because she felt that it could do damage to her hair. She looked in the mirror over her shoulder to Parvati with her split ends which weren't hidden by hair spells and charms this early because she was still sleeping.

Once she had brushed her hair, she waved her wand at her bed and it was instantly made. She hated to leave without doing that because she didn't want the house-elves of Hogwarts doing work she felt she should do herself.

As she jogged to the door, she grabbed a hooded sports jacket and a pair of flip-flops before bounding down the stairs into Gryffindor common room. Ron and Harry were nowhere in sight, and neither was anyone else for that matter at seven in the morning. She would solve that, though.

Hermione raced across the common room to the boys' staircase and straight to Harry and Ron's dorm. She tip-toed across the dorm to Ron's bed and with a grin spreading about her face as she fought back giggling, she jumped on the bed.

"RON!"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!" Ron screamed as he shot up out of the bed in surprise as Hermione laid there giggling uncontrollably. She had learned to do that this summer and she loved doing that ever since, the look on his face never ceased to amuse her. "Hermione!"

"I- I'm s-s-sorry-... you j-just have no id-idea how funny it i-is," she managed between giggles.

"It's not funny!" Ron growled groggily as he picked up a pillow off the bed and began to hit her with it.

"Y-Yes it is-s," she laughed as she took the feather light blows of the pillow on her shoulder while holding her stomach.

"Hey, you two," Harry mumbled as he threw one of his own pillows which hit Ron in the head. "I'm trying to sleep over here."

"Aye, so am I," Seamus grouched as he stuffed his head under a pillow. There was a grunt of agreement from Dean as he rolled over and pulled the covers up over his head.

Hermione pressed her lips together as she looked at Ron who was still glaring at Harry. She had to bury her face in one of Ron's pillows as he sneaked up on Harry, a pillow rose high above his head. She peeked out from behind the pillow she had her face buried in to see what was happening, but that was a bad idea as she burst into fits of laughter when Harry rolled over and whacked Ron in the face with his remaining pillow.

"Serves you right," Harry said as he stifled a laugh at the shocked look on Ron's face. Harry had opened his mouth to say something more, but he didn't have time to finish as Ron brought his pillow down on Harry.

Ron himself was laughing now as Harry jumped up from out of his bed and grabbed a pillow to hit Ron back with. They jumped back and forth between their beds, Hermione still giggling as she watched the scene, but somewhere in the process, one of them hit her.

"Hey!" Hermione yelled as she grabbed a pillow and joined in, feathers exploding from the three pillows that were swinging through the air.

A few minutes later, the Golden Trio fell to the floor in a fit of laughter on a pile of blankets and feather beaten pillows. Hermione had been right, this was going to be a good day because it wasn't often anymore that they laughed like this. Things had been getting pretty hectic, not only around the Order's house and with Dumbledore gone, but in the school as well as everyone crept around in fear.

Things seemed more awful and unruly since Dumbledore had been killed at the end of their sixth year. He was what made Hogwarts feel safe, and it wasn't that McGonagall wasn't doing a good job of taking over where Dumbledore left off, it's just people didn't take to her like they had him. He had been kind and somewhat aloof, or at least he acted it, where she was strict and calculating which might prove useful. But there seemed to be no one to prove that to because most students hadn't returned and the new arrivals had went off to Bulgaria or France or Germany, America even.

Voldemort was more powerful than ever now and the end of the war was drawing near. Life loss for families had been costly yet not as much as there was in the first war. People feared to even go outside their homes now because of the growing threat with people under the Imperius Curse.

Things had really hit home though when Charlie and George had been killed, as well as Lupin and Tonks. Their deaths had been horrendous, Charlie was found with a look of horror on his face as he reached for his brother, George, who had been blasted into a wall, collapsing his rib cage which punctured his heart causing fatal internal bleeding.

Hermione remembered how hard it had been on Ron and the rest of the Weasley's. Poor Mrs. Weasley had spent four months in St. Mungo's, and Ginny had become even more quiet as Mr. Weasley sat up nightly and cried. The family had been left in shambles, but none were as bad as Fred who had lost not only his twin, but his best friend. He didn't joke anymore, and now all he would talk about was revenge for his brother.

Lupin and Tonks had really been a sight like no other, almost like they were characters plucked from some kind of Romeo and Juliet tragedy. Lupin was lying on the floor, half changed to a werewolf and half human, his eyes blank and glassy.

Wormtail had killed him. Tonks had abandoned her fighting and rushed to Lupin's side, but it was a sad mistake she made. Voldemort himself had killed her. She was lying next to Lupin crying as Voldemort sneaked up on her and used the Killing Curse upon her. She froze there, her hand in Lupin's and her lips on his, and that's how they were found.

Hermione hated to think of what could happen to Harry and Ron, she didn't want to imagine life without either one of them. That's why she cherished moments like they were having then, even if it was only a half-hearted giggle. It still showed hope and she clung to that like there was no tomorrow.

"I'll let you two get ready and then we can figure out something to do," Hermione sighed as she finished helping them make their beds. She had convinced them to do just as she did each morning and make their beds to save the house-elves trouble. Dobby had told them that the house-elves weren't happy about it, but he also said it had made things for him easier because he was the only one that would clean Gryffindor Tower anymore thanks to Hermione's S.P.E.W. campaign.

Hermione left the boys' dormitory, a smile still firmly in place on her face as she walked over to the couch and curled up there with a book as Crookshanks purred contentedly beside her. When Harry and Ron finally joined her fifteen minutes later, the sun was pouring into the windows, heating the cool fabric of their clothes and the chairs they were sitting on.

This had to be Hermione's favorite part of the year, but this year, there was something different about it, something final. Possibly because there was another two months of school and everyone had started to get spring fever, but the finality of it all was because this was their last year. They would never return to the school, at least not as students and in a way, Hermione was saddened by this, but it also excited her because she wanted to get out in the world and prove herself.

The silence between the three of them as they listened to the birds outside chirp, put Hermione into a reverie about her future. She would be more than happy once the war was over and she was out of school. She would get a job as a dentist, carrying on her mother and father's business, but improving it with her magic.

She would live in a little flat in downtown London for a while and then she would save up enough money to buy a house in the country where she would live with Ron. She had dreamed of that for two years now, marrying him after he and Harry finished Auror training, and the two of them moving in to their own little country cottage. It was her own fairy tale, her loving and hopeful wish, but most of all, it was what kept her fighting for everything.

She looked over at Ron as he stared out the window. She loved the way he looked in spring. His freckles were a bit more noticeable, though not as much as they were in summer, and his hair had a blond shine to it. He had definitely matured, Quidditch filling in with muscle where he used to be nothing more than lanky and thin. She herself had even grown into maturity fully now, not only just mentally and emotionally.

She was a good bit taller, her face thinner and more beautiful. Ron had told her so. She was a bit thinner around her waist as well, but it was a good thinner, not horribly thin, but curvy. She didn't look like a little girl anymore, she was a young lady now and she showed it well in the way she carried her newly filled out body. In her mind, she had always been the woman she was now, but the difference between now and then was that she looked it.

She smiled to herself as she recalled the first time Ron had seen her since the end of their sixth year, his jaw had dropped and his eyes had bugged out. She giggled still about the gawking look on his face. She looked over to him once more, she was going to love life with him if they made it through the war. 'No' she scolded mentally, 'You mustn't think like that. You'll make it... all of you. You, Harry, and Ron. That's why you came back to school where it is safe instead of doing like you planned at the end of last year. We'll make it because we're safe.'

She felt her throat tighten as she reminded herself that this was supposed to be a good day, she wouldn't feel like she usually did. She pushed her thoughts from her mind and began to scratch Crookshanks behind his ear. She continued to read, the sun almost blinding her as it reflected off the white pages of her book.

"What are you going to do today, mate?" Ron asked as he turned from the window to Harry who had been watching Hermione scratch Crookshanks on the ear.

"Nothing really. I was thinking about going to visit Hagrid," Harry replied as he rested his cheek on his fist and stared off out the window to the distant smoke rising from the hut that belonged to the game keeper. It was apparent between them, that this good day was starting to slip away to boredom.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Hermione butted in, not looking up from her book as she turned the page and continued to read while now humming to herself.

"Will you be joining us, or are you going to keep your nose stuck in that book all day?" Ron teased.

"I, Ronald, am studying for my N.E.W.T.s, something you should do as well," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. Ron just rolled his eyes, he would never understand and both Harry and Hermione felt that he would never make an effort to either because this was their last year at Hogwarts.

"I'm hungry, how about you two?" Hermione knew what Harry was doing as he said this. He was trying to avoid a fight between Ron and her. She would obliged and relent to his suggestion for his sake, there was enough grief lately, she didn't want to be the cause of more.

"Sure, let's go get lunch and go to Hagrid's," Ron agreed as he sprung from his armchair like he was sitting on needles. He stood there and waited, though impatiently, for Harry and Hermione to follow.

Harry stood slowly and stretched as Hermione marked her place in her book and looked over at Crookshanks who had stopped purring when she stopped scratching his ear. He gave an annoyed look and leaped from the couch as Hermione stood up off it. Ron rolled his eyes at her pace as she stretched and placed her book on the mantle, walking leisurely over to the window to look outside before they left.

On their way to the portrait hole, they were joined by Seamus, Dean, and Neville. The boys started their usual conversation about Quidditch as they made their way to breakfast, Hermione wishing she had brought her book with her instead of leaving it lay on the mantle. The discussion progressed to the usual argument about which team was better and only subsided a bit when Dean said that soccer was better. This led to the yearly spat between Ron and Dean about which was better, Quidditch or soccer. It only ended when Hermione said that they should be getting down to Hagrid's.

"I can't believe, after seven years, Dean still thinks soccer is better than Quidditch," Ron babbled after lunch as the Golden Trio left the Great Hall for Hagrid's. Harry and Hermione had decided to listen to his complaining because they knew that this was possibly the last time that they would have to hear about it.

Much to their displeasure, Hagrid had just finished baking and had offered them many of his muffins and cupcakes which were like rocks.

"No thanks, Hagrid," Harry passed.

"Big lunch," Ron added as he too passed up one of the rock cakes.

"None for me either, thanks, Hagrid," Hermione declined politely as she held up a hand to the tray between his gloved hands. He shrugged, sitting down at the table with them and helping himself to some of the baked sweets.

They spent the afternoon there, talking and drinking tea, just letting the day amble by. It was five in the evening by the time they had finally decided to leave, Hagrid saying something about having to get some animals ready for his class the next day, and ushering them from his hut. They were on their way back up to the castle when they saw Flitwick on his way across the sloping front lawns.

It was almost funny to them to see the short, almost elfish man hurrying across the lawn. He seemed to be in quite the rush as he neared them.

"Wonder what's up with him?"

"I think we're about to find out," Harry answered Ron as Flitwick slowed and finally stopped in front of them.

"Miss Granger, there you are. Headmaster McGonagall would like to see you," he informed in an important manner, though partially out of breath. "She should be in her office."

"Okay," Hermione replied as she turned to Harry and Ron who informed her that they would be at the lake waiting for her. She nodded and then left with Flitwick who was heading back for the castle. Hermione parted from Flitwick on the second floor and went to find the gargoyle that was the entrance to the Headmistress's office. "In memory of Dumbledore... open up!" Hermione spoke clearly, causing the gargoyle to spring aside and allow the spiraling staircase to move upward from the floor.

Hermione loved that McGonagall had made her password a tribute to Dumbledore. She had always felt that Minerva and Albus had had a close relationship, maybe even from the time when Minerva was one of Dumbledore's students.

Hermione stepped on the spiraling stairs, her mind wondering from one issue to the next as she contemplated what the Headmistress could want with her. Was it about her Head Girl position? Her grades? Was she in trouble? Did she forget something? Was there bad news from home? Hermione felt herself getting very nervous by the time she was at the door to McGonagall's office.

"Just relax, it might be nothing at all," she soothed as she raised her fist to knock lightly on the door with her knuckles. She knocked, but no answer came so she pushed the door open a crack. Peeking inside, she saw no one, so she called out figuring she might be on the second level of the office. "Professor? Hello?"

Hermione pushed the door open fully and stood in the doorway. She didn't want to leave, but she didn't want to go in uninvited, but then McGonagall never got angry about something like that. It seemed that Minerva favored Hermione so she let her get away with more. So Hermione walked inside and began examining the room with her eyes out of curiosity. She had only been in the Headmistress's office a few times before.

It still had its many spinning, whirling, whistling, knob-covered, silver gadgets and her favorite thing, Fawkes the phoenix. McGonagall had left the office just as Dumbledore had had it, whether it was out of fear of touching the unknown instruments, or else the pain it caused her to move the things. Fawkes on the other hand had been something that came back. He had left when Dumbledore's funeral ended, but he returned for some odd, unknown reason.

She smiled sweetly as she walked toward the perched bird which was getting near his Burning Day. He gave a vibrating but melodious coo from his throat as she passed by the chairs in front of McGonagall's desk. She was just about there as she raised her hand to pet him and knocked off one of the unusual silver instruments.

She jumped when she looked to the floor where the object lay. She had feared that she broke it as she crouched slowly and picked it up, sitting it back on the desk where it fell from. It didn't look the same though, some of the knobs had been move, twisted or pulled. There were large silver rings around a little silver ball in the center which held the knobs. The rings began to spin and flip around the ball like rings around Saturn or some other planet.

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip as the rings stopped and she wondered what she should do. Maybe if she put it back the way it was, push in all the knobs and twist them back to where they were, it would be all right. With shaking hands, Hermione pushed in the first of the knobs causing the object to whistle in an awfully loud manner like a teapot on a hot stove.

She stepped back and waited, but nothing happened after that so she moved the next knob, twisting it back in place so that the little arrow on it was pointing to the Roman numeral VII. She had barely enough time as the rings began to spin again, faster this time and in the opposite direction. They made a noise like slicing as the metal rings passed each other, cutting through the air around them. They slowed and came to an abrupt halt as nothing further happened.

Fawkes cooed again just as before as Hermione stared nervously at the instrument. She hoped that whatever this thing was, that it wouldn't cause any damage and that her putting it back in place might undo or prevent whatever it did or might do. She turned to Fawkes who bowed his head as though telling her to continue so she did.

Pushing one of the remaining knobs of the four that had moved, Hermione noticed that the silver ball on the center of the gadget began to glow like a light bulb. It was dull at first, but with blinking fashion, it got brighter and brighter until Hermione had to close her eyes and turn her head away from it. She turned back only a few seconds later as the light faded slowly. She was afraid to touch it, afraid that it might be hot and burn her, but despite her fear, she put a shaking hand next to it to feel for heat. None, it seemed to be just as cool as it was before so she continued to put it back right.

Pulling the last knob out, a jet of steam was released. She felt relief course through her as she stood there staring at it for a few minutes and nothing more happened. She had fixed it and that was that. Turning back to Fawkes, she didn't feel so horrified anymore. She went to pet the bird, but she realized something, he wasn't moving. Was he about to burst into flame?

She stepped back, not wanting to be in reach of the flames, but when she did step back, she stumbled over the chair which should have toppled, but it didn't. It stayed half tilted in mid-fall like it was resting on something invisible. Hermione was totally perplexed now. She ran her hand under the chair through the air that seemed to be holding it up, but there was nothing there.

Hermione turned to the door hoping to see McGonagall, maybe she had stopped it from hitting the ground just as Dumbledore had saved Harry from hitting the ground after a fifty foot fall in their third year. She wasn't there, though, no one was.

She looked to the portraits and that's when something even more strange jumped out at her. Two portraits were frozen as though arguing. She walked slowly over to them, running a finger along their frames. They didn't move, didn't speak, in fact, they showed no sign of even being a magic portrait.

"How odd," Hermione breathed as she touched the painted hand of one of the painted men. "What would freeze a pict-," she stopped suddenly though as she heard something.

There was a knocking like popcorn popping in a tin. She looked to the door, still no one there, but what was making that noise? She looked back to Fawkes, he was still perched like he had been when she expected him to burst into flames. What was going on? Her eyes then landed on something, the instrument on the desk. It was shaking like a clock on a bomb in a cartoon.

The silver gadget was shaking so badly, that it's spindle legs were bouncing on the desk, tapping and ticking like popping popcorn. Hermione rushed over to it, pulling out her wand as she went.

"Petrificus totalus!" Nothing, the spell only bounced off the object like it was rubber. "Stupefy!" Still nothing, once again the spell was deflected and hit a nearby wall where it died in a flash of sparks. Hermione then thought of making the thing vanish, maybe then everything would return to normal. "Evanesco!" Yet again, nothing happened except the deflection of the spell. She was frantic now as it began to shake and rock faster with each second. "Expelliarmus! Deletrius! Wingardium leviosa! Reparo! Quietus! Reducto! Protego!"

One right after the other, colorful lights and jets of sparks were sent bounding off the object. Nothing was breaking through whatever charm or magic was on the thing. Then without even thinking, Hermione leaped forward and grabbed it by it rings to stop it from moving.

She felt a strange feeling go through her when she grabbed it, though. Her brain felt like it had exploded, her body felt like every bone was being wrenched and jerked from out of its place. Her vision blurred with the explosion of a bright, white light, and her breathing halted as she gasped for air. Her body was jarred and she felt her eardrums split with a nasty blast much like the boom from a car exhaust mixed with the sound of a breaking window and the sound of squealing car breaks as well as a sonic boom. Tears formed in her eyes and then she felt some kind of jerking motion pull her forward like she was a doll with a pull string in her stomach by her belly button.

The feel of gravity seemed to be holding her back, but the drawstring pull acted too greatly and it jerked her forward. She felt things inside her body crack like her bones were coming unaligned. She screamed in pain and tears flooded from her eyes as she winced and felt a blast of wind against her aching body.

She hit something hard, the feel of gravity had finally given in to the tugging and pushed her forward. She was lying on her stomach, or at least what she guessed to be lying. There was pain shooting through her chest and she gasped and coughed as she tried to breathe, but nothing was happening. Was she dying? Was this what dying felt like? She was afraid to open her eyes, but some unknown force made her so curious that she felt she had to as she tried to push herself up off the floor, but she didn't have use of her arms.

Her head felt like someone had hit her with a baseball bat from behind and she felt something running down her cheeks from her ears. She was crying, but that wouldn't help her breathing and there was this loud thundering in her head and ears. She felt the ground around her thumping like someone was jumping up and down next to her. She wanted to call out for them to stop, but she couldn't find a voice in her throat which was taught and dry.

When her vision finally focused, she saw the feet of a suit of armor and a stone floor on which her cheek rested painfully. She then saw feet rushing for her, enough feet for five people. She was starting to feel very sleepy, but she felt the urge to fight sleep. If she went to sleep, would she ever wake up? Nothing could stop the fall of her eyelids though as she was overcome with a shut down off all senses and functions. It was like someone pulled a plug inside her head and she blacked out just as she saw red blur her vision. But before she had time to contemplate whether she was in danger or not, or if she was alive or not, she lost all consciousness.