Author's Note: An update – gasp! Okay, okay, I know I'm, well, about a year late with this update, but if you read my author's page, you'll see that I have (what I think is) a pretty good excuse. Anyway, right now there is no writer's block, no loss of chapters, and no failed attempts at rewrites, so I promise that my next update will come a bit sooner than August 2010. Well, I hope that my extended leave of absence hasn't completely turned you all off to this story, and that you enjoy!

An Anonymous Letter

Riddle was everywhere.

He was always in the library, walking down the corridors, eating in the Great Hall; not to mention the fact that he was in every single one of Hermione's classes. And then of course, she had the distinct pleasure of patrolling the corridors with him every Sunday night. Just when she thought she had gotten rid of him, there he was, chatting with Professor Merrythought. A moment later, he was holding a set of doors open for tiny Professor Flitwick. She couldn't eat breakfast without seeing him swarmed by his followers; she couldn't study in the library without watching him taking notes from a book; hell, she couldn't even go for a pee without running into him on the way to the bathroom.

She was going to go crazy.

Had Riddle always been this omnipresent, or did Hermione's sudden hatred of him make her supersensitive to his every move?

That's not to say she didn't hate him before – he would grow up to become Lord Voldemort, of course she hated him – but now his attitude made everything ten times worse. Why did it seem like he was singling her out? Why was he was nice and pleasant to everyone else, but acted rude and sarcastic towards Hermione? In fact, he seemed to hate her as much as she hated him.

The worst part, though, was that no one knew. No one had any inkling of what Riddle was to become. Even Dumbledore, who had been "keeping an eye" on Hogwart's star pupil for past six years, could not fathom the depths to which Riddle would sink in the Dark Arts. Everyone thought he was such a model student, so charming and polite and smart – yet reserved and humble at the same time. And he played the part perfectly, so how could anyone doubt him? If Hermione hadn't known about his future, she probably would have been deceived, too.

" –ermione… HERMIONE!"

Hermione blinked and focused her attention from the Slytherin table to Harry, who apparently had been waving a hand in front of her face.

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'what?' I just asked what floor you were patrolling tonight. Haven't you been listening to anything I've just said?"

In reality, Hermione hadn't been aware that she had been on the receiving end of a one-sided conversation, but she didn't mention this. How could she possibly pay attention to what Harry was saying when Riddle was sitting right across the room?

She looked over at the Slytherin table again and resisted the urge to scowl. Riddle sat in the middle of a group of what looked like the surliest and most unpleasant students Slytherin House had to offer. Hermione recognized a few faces: Lestrange and Avery, the future Death Eaters; Purkiss, the girl who was as nasty as her name sounded; then there were a few who she did not know by name, but recognized as those who taunted younger students in the corridors. Overall, she concluded, it was a formidable group of people.

Hermione had just been noticing that none of these students ever spoke to Riddle at the Slytherine table; and likewise, he never spoke to them. In fact, now that she thought about it, Riddle was always silent during meals. He always sat rigidly in his chair, eating stiffly, as though observed by someone grading his table manners. He cut his meat slowly, taking small, careful bites, dabbing the corner of his mouth afterwards. For some bizarrely unknown reason, this made Hermione hate him even more. Who was he to be so perfect? Why couldn't he break his stupid facade for one moment and slouch in his chair or chew with his mouth open? Why did, out of all the people in the school, Lord Voldemort have to always set the best example? It was infuriating, really, and she –

"Hermione!"

The sound of Harry's voice brought Hermione back from her reverie and she snapped her eyes back to the Gryffindor table. Harry had finished his breakfast and was leaning back, eyeing her carefully. "Are you okay?" he said.

Hermione gave a stiff nod. "Of course I'm okay." She turned back to her plate and discovered that she had already finished her food.

"It's just… you've been daydreaming a lot, recently."

She looked up. "I have?"

"Yes. It's not like you."

"Well, I have a lot on my mind, Harry, as I'm sure you do, too. We're kind of in a… strange situation here." She put down her fork and snuck another glance over at the Slytherin table. Riddle was still in the midst of his Death Eater posse, contributing nothing to the conversation. Was he even listening to the others, or was he busy scheming his next Dark maneuver?

"You've been staring at the Slytherins a lot, recently…."

Hermione suddenly found herself irritated at Harry's prying. "So what, I'm not allowed to look at the Slytherins anymore?" When Harry frowned at her she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Or, are you afraid that my time spent patrolling the corridors with Riddle have tempted me over to the dark side? Think that I might become one of them?"

"Don't be stupid, Hermione; of course I don't think that."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

Harry raised his hands defensively. "Nothing! I was just observing in you an uncharacteristic aloofness that happened to coincide with a sudden interest in the Slytherins. I didn't mean anything by it. Seriously," he added at the look Hermione shot him.

"If you must know," she said tersely, "I've just been thinking about the situation that… inadvertently… led us to this predicament."

"Oh."

"Of course that causes my mind to wander to a few Slytherins."

"Of course."

"And I hope you don't find anything wrong with that."

"No, not at all. It's just…" He shrugged.

Hermione stared at him coldly. "Just what?"

"It's not a big deal. Forget I said anything."

"What, Harry?"

He paused, staring down the table. A group of seventh year Gryffindors sat at the end, eating in silence; they were probably still upset over Julie's death. After watching them for a moment, Harry turned back to Hermione.

"Ever since your Patronus lesson you've been acting strange, Hermione. I don't know what it is, but it's been over two weeks and you've barely said a word to me and you're avoiding everyone, and you just don't seem interested in things anymore!"

Hermione's opened her mouth, wanting to disagree, but she couldn't think of a good argument.

Harry continued. "I've tried to talk to you about what happened, but you won't hear a word of it. You haven't come up with a single theory in weeks. And Hermione, you haven't even been paying attention in class! It's just so strange, and I wish I knew what was bothering you…." He shrugged, defeated looking.

"You wish you knew what was bothering me?" Hermione repeated, her voice several octaves higher than usual. "What's bothering me, Harry, is that we are quite far from home right now, and I don't know how this has happened and I don't know how we can possibly get back! And Dumbledore doesn't know either, and no one knows what's happened to Ron." She paused, noticing that a few Gryffindors had stopped their conversations to listen in. After casting a quick muffliato, Hermione continued. "Don't you wonder what's happened to Ron?" she hissed. "Don't you wonder what's going to happen to us if we can't find a way home? How could we possibly go on living our lives, not knowing what happened to our friends and our family? How can you go on and care about things like whether or not I'm answering questions in class? Just because I haven't thought of any new theories lately doesn't mean that I'm not thinking about our situation."

Harry pursed his lips, and said nothing.

At that moment, the morning post arrived. Because Hermione had no reason to ever expect mail, she always ignored the flock of owls that circled daily around the heads of students. Lately she had been taken to observing the Slytherin table instead, watching to see if Riddle ever received mail. He never did, but Hermione was curious anyway to see if he ever would made contact with wizards outside Hogwarts.

While Hermione was still watching the Slytherin table, something big and feathery almost flew into her face. She ducked, and looked up just in time to see an unusual-looking black owl circle around her and Harry's heads, and then drop a letter between their plates.

She glanced at Harry, who looked just as surprised as she felt, before snatching the piece of mail away from the butter dish. The envelope was small, and on the front was written the words "Harry and Hermione." Wondering who could have possibly written to them, Hermione tore open the envelope and removed a yellowed piece of parchment. On the middle of the page were written five words.

I know where you're from.

A chill ran Hermione's spine as she read the letter over again. 'I know where you're from?' What did that mean? A million possibilities ran through her head, though none of them made sense.

"Well?" Harry asked. "Who is it from?" When Hermione didn't answer he reached across the table and plucked the letter from between her hands. He stared at it for a long moment before saying, "It's not signed."

"Nice observation, Sherlock," Hermione responded dryly.

Harry looked up over the top of the parchment and narrowed his eyes. "Who do you think it could be from?"

"I don't know. Who knows where we're from?"

Harry frowned and looked back at the letter. "I don't think they really know that," he said quietly. "Whoever this is, they're probably just trying to get information, or maybe trying to scare us."

Hermione considered this. "Maybe…" she said slowly. "Can I see it again?" Harry handed her back the letter and she scanned the words once more, searching for some sort of clue, anything that would give away the sender. "Did you see the owl that dropped it?" she said after a moment.

"Of course," he said. "It almost impaled itself between your eyes."

"It was a big, black owl."

"Yes."

"Well," she said, "it wasn't a school owl."

"And your point is…?"

Hermione paused. "That means it can't have come from a student," she said finally.

Harry looked at her skeptically. "So? People bring their own owls to school." His eyes refused to meet hers for a moment and Hermione knew that he was remembering Hedwig.

"Yes, but I've never seen this owl around here before." She lowered her voice and, forgetting about the muffliato charm, leaned across the table so no one but Harry could hear. "I don't think this owl came from anyone at school."

An uneasy silence passed between them as they considered this.

"Hermione," he said after a time, "I know I've come up with some pretty wild theories of my own in the past but this… this just doesn't make sense."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, no one knows that we're here. If no one knows that we're here, how could they know where we're really from? And do we even know anyone outside of school right now?" He shook his head. "I'm telling you, this is probably just someone's idea of a bad joke."

Hermione thought back to every encounter she and Harry had had with people who were unaffiliated with Hogwarts. There was the Hogsmeade trip, and when they had first apparated to Diagon Alley… but had they actually interacted with anyone during those instances?

"Why," she said, "would someone at school go through the trouble of sending us this letter? And why now? We've been here for over two months, Harry, and no one's paid us the least bit of attention before." Her mind, however, wandered back to that incident with Lestrange and Avery. Was it possible that they could have found out something?

"It might be You-Know-Who," he said darkly. "I wouldn't put it past him."

And the conversation had finally turned itself back to Riddle. How did this always happen?

Harry continued. "I bet he has sources on the outside. Or maybe he used some kind of Dark magic to find out…."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry," she said firmly, "let's not talk about this right now." Not wanting discuss Riddle with Harry, she folded the mysterious piece of parchment and slid it into her pocket. "This isn't the most appropriate time."

He glanced at the students around him. Many of them were gone already, or picking up and leaving their unfinished breakfasts behind. Although no one was paying them any attention, he agreed. "If you say so…."

Though they didn't speak of it again, Hermione spent the remainder of the day pondering about their mysterious correspondent. She and Harry took refuge in the Room of Requirement that morning; while Harry used the time to finish a Transfiguration essay, Hermione sat in an armchair, staring out into space. Occasionally she would take the note out from her pocket and stare again the words. However, no new meaning jumped out at her, no matter how long she stared at. She tried to decipher the handwriting – the untidy scrawl seemed somewhat familiar, but she could not place the author. Maybe the familiarity of the words meant that the letter had come from a student at Hogwarts after all.

After lunch, Hermione spent her time in the library, and then the Gryffindor common room. Although she felt completely foolish doing so, she situated herself next to various students throughout the afternoon. Under the pretense of getting some work done, or even asking about a class assignment, she would steal a glance at the student's notes. No one's handwriting, though, matched the handwriting on the letter.

She had almost given up her search – the day was drawing near a close and it was just about time to patrol the corridors with Riddle – when she sat down next to Charlus Potter on one of the squashy couches in the Gryffindor common room. He was busy taking notes from his Charms book and Hermione tried to glance at them as surreptitiously as possible. Before she could get a good look, though, he slammed the book closed and gave a loud sigh.

"I can't concentrate," he announced.

Hermione snapped her gaze back up from his book and looked around innocently.

One of the seventh year girls, Mary, was lounging in front of the fireplace. "I know what you mean," she said, her Potions book in her lap. "I haven't been able to concentrate properly on anything since, well… you know." She cast her eyes on the ground and uneasy silence passed between them.

"That's not what I meant," Charlus finally said. "Did you see the Prophet this morning?"

Mary frowned and sat up. "No. What happened?"

He reached into his back pocket and unfolded a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Here," he said, tossing it on the coffee table so Mary could see. Hermione leaned over and saw on the front page a large picture of a middle-aged man surrounded by hooded figures. The man in the middle was blonde, and his face hadn't been wearing such an unpleasant expression, Hermione would have said that he was quite attractive for his age. After a moment, she recognized him as an older version of the adolescent pictured with her old headmaster in The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.

"That's Grindelwald," Hermione said.

Charlus nodded gravely. "And look where he is."

The figures in the picture were walking down a cobbled street. Although Grindelwald himself wasn't paying the camera any attention, the others kept jeering at the cameraman, making rude gestures. She looked at the caption.

"He's in London?" she said.

Mary sat up. "London?" she repeated. "He's in the country?"

"I know," Charlus said. "There's been more reports of Muggle attacks, and Muggle-born disappearances, and now he's actually been sighted. I thought it was just his followers making trouble here. Everyone thought Grindelwald was more interested in overtaking his own country, but apparently that's not the case. He's here. And that's why I can't concentrate."

Mary stared at the paper, her mouth agape. Hermione shook her head. "That's impossible," she muttered. "Grindelwald never…" She stopped herself.

They both looked at her curiously. "Grindelwald never what?" Charlus asked.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "I'm just surprised. I never thought that he would actually come to London, that's all."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "The war's really starting to get serious here. It's scary." He stared off into space.

Hermione glanced at her watch. Although she had no desire to leave, it was time for her to start patrolling the sixth floor corridor with Riddle. "Charlus," she said, getting up, "I need to go. Can I borrow your copy of the Prophet? I'd like to read this article."

"Sure," he said. "I'm done with it. Enjoy."

"Thanks." Hermione took the paper and waved goodbye to him and Mary before setting out for the sixth floor.

Now, in addition to the mysterious letter, Hermione had something else on her mind: Grindelwald was in the country? And since when did he visit London? Hermione racked her brain, trying to remember the chapter on Grindelwald in Bathilda Bagshot's A History of Magic. She was certain that the book had never mentioned a trip of Grindelwald's into London. In fact, she was certain that Grindelwald never came to England at all. Okay, maybe some of his followers had stirred up trouble here; maybe Bathilda had glossed over that fact. But Hermione was quite sure that Grindelwald had never dared to leave northern Europe himself. Probably unwilling to cross paths with Dumbledore again, he kept the war do his own country. So what was he doing here now?

When Hermione reached her patrol spot, she sank to the floor, opened the paper in her lap, and started to read.

Grindelwald Begins His London Campaign?

Gellert Grindelwald was spotted for the first time in London yesterday with a small group of supporters. While the nature of this visit is not yet confirmed, Ministry officials hint that Grindelwald was in correspondence with the Minister of Magic throughout the day. No violence was associated with this trip; however, many are worried that Grindelwald will soon begin his campaign of Muggle-born purification in the United Kingdom. Some speculators even suggest that Grindelwald is planning a world-wide unveiling of the wizarding community, an act which would severely breach the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy. Drafted in 1692 by the International Confederation of Wizards, this decree…

"Ahem."

Hermione looked up from the paper and saw Tom Riddle standing overhead, his mouth pursed and arms tightly crossed. She frowned, remembering that she currently despised the boy. What with that day's mysterious letter and unsettling Grindelwald news, Hermione had almost forgotten about her vanished book and his attitude at the last defense meeting. Recalling how it had annoyed him last time, Hermione remained sitting with her legs crossed as she spoke.

"May I help you?"

He stared at her coldly, his gaze sharp enough to carve a hole through the back of her head. "What are you doing?" he eventually asked.

"Reading the paper," she said simply.

He arched an eyebrow. "I thought we discussed this already."

"Discussed what?"

A tinge of pink colored his cheeks. "Reading. More specifically, reading when you are supposed to be standing guard."

Hermione surveyed him from her spot on the floor. "I'm catching up with news on the war," she said brusquely. "Considering that we're supposed to be keeping a look out for Grindelwald and all, this might actually be relevant."

"And you couldn't have done this earlier?"

"No. I couldn't."

He said nothing. The two looked at each other for a long moment. And then, because she knew that Riddle was going to cast the Vanishing Charm before he even opened his mouth, Hermione stood and pulled her wand from beneath her robes.

"Protego!" she cried, just as Riddle made the movement to Vanish her newspaper. Her Shield Charm, having been practiced to the point of perfection during the days of horcrux-hunting, was so strong that it not only protected her from the spell, but also repelled it back at Riddle. There was a flash of white light and a split second later Riddle's Head Boy badge, which had been perched pristinely upon his chest only a moment ago, was gone.

He looked down at his chest, and for the briefest moment Hermione saw a look of surprise flash across his features. But just as quickly as it had come, the moment of weakness was gone. Riddle's face turned stony once more as he looked slowly back at Hermione. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. His temple was throbbing visibly from where she stood, and Hermione suddenly regretted her moment of rebellious behavior.

Finally, he spoke. "Your behavior at this school has been entirely and utterly inappropriate. Not only have you refused to follow orders, you have shown impudence and a complete disregard for authority. I shall have you reported to Dippet immediately, and I can assure you that this will not happen again." His voice was low and dangerous, and it sent chills down Hermione's spine. She stood rooted to the ground, petrified. What had she been thinking, to provoke Lord Voldemort? Here they were, in a deserted corridor with no eye witnesses… he could easily take her out and have someone else blamed for the murder. She wanted to run, but something held her back.

"Dippet does not tolerate liars," he continued, "and neither do I." He took a step closer, and she suddenly realized how much taller than she he was. Her heart began to pound furiously in her chest and she knew she should get out of his way…. "You ungrateful little –" And he raised his wand and Hermione, out of defense and pure fear for her life, raised hers, too.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried, before he could even open his mouth. His wand twitched, but Riddle seemed to have better reflexes than she thought. He stared at her in either disbelief or rage, or perhaps a combination of the two. And then, before Hermione could defend herself, his wand flashed and she felt a blow across her face, not unlike a slap. She reached up and, feeling where her cheek smarted the most, drew back blood on the tips of her fingers.

Riddle's face was bright red. "Wilkins…" he said between clenched teeth.

But Hermione didn't let him finish. "Langlock!"

And the rest of Riddle's sentence was muffled by the sound of him choking on his own tongue.

Hermione took advantage of this distraction and bolted, trying to get as far away from Riddle as possible. As much as she hated him, as much as she wanted to curse that smug look off his face, she couldn't possibly allow herself to fight him. This had to stop now, before things got too out of hand….

Halfway down the corridor she realized that silencing Riddle would not stop him from performing magic. Then, as if on cue, she heard his quick, sharp steps as he ran after her. Hermione found that her feet wouldn't move anymore and, her body still propelled forward, she tripped and fell heavily to the ground. The newspaper flew out of her hands and lay in the darkness, forgotten. Riddle approached her, his wand arm raised once again, and Hermione panicked.

"Avis!"

A flock of birds burst forth from her wand and with another sweeping motion they turned to attack Riddle. Still unable to speak, he roared his anger, swatting away the birds, but it was no use; they continued the attack, resiliently pecking away at his face and forearms.

Hermione picked herself from off the ground. "Keep away, Riddle," she warned, backing away. Her wand was trained directly on his chest. "Just stay away from me, and I'll let them go."

Riddle gave her a murderous look and continued shoo the birds. The exposed skin on his hands and face was bloody from their attack. A moment later he slashed his wand and the birds fell still to the ground.

"How dare you…" he snarled. Apparently the Langlock curse had worn off, reprieving him the gift of speech.

"How dare me?!" Hermione repeated. "Speak for yourself! Look what you did to me!" She pointed to her face, which still smarted.

"I have the authority to hand out punishments as I see fit."

"No you don't," she retorted. "You have the authority to take points away, not physically abuse students!"

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" he spat.

Hermione laughed derisively. "And you think I actually care about that? Come on Riddle; we both know there are more important things in the world than the House Cup."

He glowered at her.

"You intolerable swine!" Purple flames shot from the end of his wand and Hermione jumped out of the way, just missing them.

"Stop it, Riddle. I don't want to fight you."

But he didn't listen; his wand slashed again, and this time the flames grazed the surface of Hermione's skin. She felt a searing pain and cried out. Riddle took a step forward, whether or not to finish the job, she didn't know, but Hermione stopped him in his tracks once again.

"Furnunculus!"

Horrible, shiny pustules erupted all over his face and Riddle clutched at his head as he gasped in pain.

"That's it!" he wheezed. "I am personally going to make sure that you leave this school immediately! You and your brother are going to be out of Hogwarts faster than you can say 'Grindelwald!'" He paused to shoot another jet of light at Hermione, who deflected it with a flick of her wand. "Your game of smoke and mirrors has gone on far too long, and I refuse to put up with it any longer!"

"Smoke and mirrors?" Hermione repeated, feigning ignorance. She jumped sideways, narrowly escaping yet another curse. "I don't know what you're talking about, Riddle!"

"Oh you know exactly what I'm talking about," he sneered. "You and your 'brother' – you've been spitting out lies faster than Merrythought can hand out detentions since the moment you've arrived. You may have everyone else fooled, but you can't pull the wool over my eyes. I know you're lying about everything!"

Hermione stuck her chin out stubbornly. "I'm not lying," she said, but her defense sounded weak. "I told you – Harry and I came here to escape the war! We needed a place to stay!" She stopped, having been hit by a curse that caused large red blisters to form on her arms, and retaliated with a well-aimed jelly-legs jinx that sent Riddle stumbling to his knees. "And anyway," she continued, "you're one to talk."

"Me?" he said incredulously. "I'm one to talk? I – Head Boy, recipient the prestigious Special Services to the School award – have not stepped a single toe out of line since my arrival at this school –"

"Oh right. And I'm sure that Special Services to the School award was earned honestly. Hagrid certainly deserved to be expelled from school." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You're such a model student, Riddle."

Riddle's expression, beneath the hideous purple boils, was murderous. "Oh, so you've befriended the oaf now, too?" He shot another jet of light in Hermione's direction, and she dived away just in time. The two continued running down the corridor, breathing heavily and misfiring curses at one another in the darkness.

"He's another one!" Riddle panted as he tried to keep up with Hermione. "Spinning stories, causing trouble… oomph!" He doubled over as the force of a spell punched him in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. "Le- levicorpus!" he gasped.

Hermione shrieked as she felt her ankles lift above her head, suspending her body upside down in mid-air. She couldn't see Riddle through the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of her face, but she could hear his footsteps as he circled her on the ground. Taking a guess at his position, she blindly aimed a curse, and heard a loud crash. There was a flash of white light, and the sound of Riddle howling from the ground. What was going on? A clanging echoed throughout the corridor, drowning out the sound of Riddle saying something. It sounded as though Hermione's spell, having missed Riddle, collided with a suit of armor and toppled it over. There was another crash as he presumably kicked the armor aside, and Hermione struggled fiercely in the air, trying to get down again. Riddle started to shout an incantation, but she cast another Shield Charm before it could do any damage.

Having been suspended upside down for several minutes now, Hermione felt the blood rushing to her head. It was making her dizzy and lightheaded, and she couldn't see where Riddle was…. There was a moment of terror when she was sure that Riddle was going to curse her again – but the flash of light seemed to miss her, and Hermione took that opportunity to cast a Bat-Bogey hex in Riddle's general direction. She could hear the flap of the descending bogey and Riddle's disgusted cry, so she knew that she had hit her target.

He wasn't completely preoccupied, though, because a moment later Hermione heard a crack, and there at her feet she felt something smooth and muscular begin twisting around her legs. Horrified, she realized that it was a snake, and she struggled harder than ever to free herself from the enchantment.

"Liberacorpus! Finite Incantatem!"

But it was no use – nothing would release the hold on her ankles or stop the snake from advancing down her body. And it was moving fast, too, heading for her neck. It was going to strangle her soon if it wasn't stopped….

"Riddle!" she shrieked. "Stop it! Please! Make it go away!"

He didn't answer; all she could hear were the sounds of the bat-bogeys whacking him in the head, and Riddle unsuccessfully trying to curse them away.

As the snake approached her neck she reached down and tried to pry the animal away with her fingers. The snake was hard as a rock, though, and as much as she tried, she could not persuade it to move away.

And then, just when she thought all hope was lost, Hermione heard another voice. There was a gasp, and a woman's voice cried out, "Riddle! Wilkins!" Suddenly, the snake was gone and Hermione fell heavily to the ground. She lay stiff on her back for a moment before forcing herself into a sitting position.

Professors Merrythought and Slughorn were standing in the entrance to the corridor, looking distraught and shell-shocked. They were both wearing their nightclothes and had their lit wands raised high over their heads. As they hurried over, Hermione stole a glance at Riddle; the bat-bogey had vanished, but he was plastered from head to toe in what looked like sticky, grey glue. His face was still covered in shiny blisters and bloody scratches from the birds, and his hair and clothes were sufficiently disheveled. He glared at her and she turned away.

"What in the world is going on?" Merrythought shouted. Her eyes were wild as she surveyed each student. Hermione looked down at herself and saw that she was in no better condition than Riddle – her exposed hands and arms were all covered in burns and blisters.

When Slughorn saw what had happened he stopped in his tracks and gaped open-mouthed at the two. "Tom," he said incredulously. "What in Merlin's name just happened?"

Riddle opened his mouth to speak, but Merrythought interrupted.

"Not here," she snapped. "The corridors are too dangerous right now – we're going up to the Headmaster's office." She glowered at them both. "If this is why you didn't respond to the Patronus, Dippet is going to have your heads."

"The Patronus?" Hermione asked, just as Riddle said, "What Patronus?"

Slughorn let out a nervous laugh and Merrythought pursed her lips. "The Patronus," she said waspishly, "that told you to get down to the grounds. Grindelwald's men infiltrated the school tonight. Another student almost died. Now let's go before we get into anymore trouble up here."