Author's Note: This is for the secret santa fic exchange on the tomioneconvention. If you have time, I'd recommend dropping by. There were a lot of great fics written by a lot of great writers, including the story Winterblume wrote for me. Thanks WB! Also, thanks to ozzymandius for beta'ing this whole thing without (too) much complaining. This story would be quite the piece of crap if she didn't look it over.

This story is completed. Because I am utterly evil, I will upload each chapter slowly so you will have to suffer. It is five chapters long including the epilogue. I will probably upload one chapter once every two weeks, so be on the lookout.

If you're bored, I worked on a crack!fic with Serpent in Read, Lady Miya, Alassea Riddle, doorstepofdoom and ozzymandius. It's titled Adventures of Antarctica and the author is Tomione Forum. If you're interested in reading complete, utter madness, go read that.

And on that note, I hope you enjoy reading.

**For my convenience, Polyjuice Potion has been changed to have an effect over an entire day rather than just an hour**

Insurgence of Obsurity

For doorstepofdoom

Chapter 1

"Work harder!"

Hermione felt the whip sting against her back, and had to stop herself from crying out in pain. The flimsy rags that she had to wear bore no protection against the sharp leather as it slashed down repeatedly on her skin. Hermione had learned over the years, though, that offering any kind of protest or letting any pain show was the best way to further motivate her torturer. If she knew what was best for her, she would keep her mouth shut and just accept it.

Augustus Rookwood, her master, sneered down at her. He was wearing the long, billowy wizard robes that Hermione wanted to wear so badly. However, she knew that it was a mere fantasy; she was a lowly slave while he was one of the most respected purebloods in society. Their social statuses were miles apart.

"I'm sorry, Master," Hermione whispered in submission, never taking her eyes from the ground. While she was relatively new to the whole slave aspect of life compared to the other girls, she knew that eye contact was as good as a death wish. It pained her to act so weak, but she knew it was the only way to keep herself from getting hurt even worse. Purebloods did everything they could to show themselves as superior to muggleborns and, more importantly, women, and they regarded eye contact as a sign of equality.

"Get back to work, you little shit." Rookwood growled at her. "Do you think I don't see you slacking off? Do you think I'm blind?" Hermione hurriedly shook her head, but she knew her response didn't matter to him. He was already angry, and the only way to quell his raging emotions was to let him unleash them on her via the whip until he was satisfied.

He lashed down again, and Hermione had to clench her teeth to prevent herself from crying out in pain. Her knuckles tightened around the piece of cloth she had been using to wipe the floors, turning almost white. "I see you looking at the books as if you can read," Rookwood snarled, emphasizing each word with a lash. "Did you think you could understand them?" He smirked down at her, not waiting for her to answer. "Stupid mudblood. You can't do anything."

With a malicious smile on his face, he kicked her so that she ended up sprawled on the floor. Her back ached, and she was sure that there were at least three gashes where blood was freely flowing, dripping onto the floor. Rookwood laughed cruelly, and for a second, Hermione thought he was going to continue with his torture. She wasn't sure how much more she could withstand before she cracked.

However, fortunately, he eventually decided that she wasn't worth his time and that he had better things to do. With a sneer and a couple more threats, he departed, leaving Hermione to groan softly on the kitchen floor.

As soon as Rookwood was out of sight, her fellow servants scuttled out from their hiding places. When she had first arrived at the manor, she was offended that they didn't stand up for her. They were supposed to stand up for each other, weren't they? But after a while, she knew that it was perfectly reasonable for them to hide. There was no way they could stand up to Rookwood, and any efforts would be wasted. It was better if less people were hurt, anyway, and she wouldn't have let them suffer because Rookwood was angry at her.

"Hermione!" The mother of their little group, Hannah Abbott, crawled out from her spot under the sink and was the first to reach the bleeding girl. She pressed a cool cloth to her back, and Hermione grimaced as it stung her wounds. "Are you alright?"

"Of course she isn't alright. Does she look alright to you?" Bella rolled her eyes. Every since Hermione had arrived at the Rookwood manor, she had learned it was best to steer away from the girl. She was problematic, always trying to pick fights and taunting everyone else. Only Hannah could control her, and even her grasp on Bella was very unstable.

Hermione had had to hold back her fiery hot temper on multiple occasions, but found that Bella knew how to push just the right buttons. Sometimes, she had almost lashed out and tackled the girl outright, but Hannah held her back, reminding her that physical fighting was immoral. However, when Bella and her fat mouth just wouldn't shut up, Hermione entertained the thought of disobeying Hannah's order just for once.

She reminded herself that Bella wasn't worth a punch from her, but looking at Bella's haughty expression, she often wanted to quit thinking for once and just let her body follow its impulses.

Hannah merely ignored Bella and continued patching up Hermione's wounds. "Lavender, be a dear and go get me something to wrap these with." The little girl, barely older than six, nodded before scuttling off.

"How stupid can you get?" Bella had decided that she had nothing better to do with her time than to stay and annoy Hermione. Hermione gritted her teeth, but tried to keep her anger inside. She was wounded. There was no need to start a fight now. Not that she was afraid that she would lose, because she wouldn't, but because she didn't want to hurt herself even more than she already had.

"Bella," Hannah reprimanded. "Be nice." She looked down at Hermione. "This will hurt a bit, dear." Before Hermione could respond, she felt something hard jab at her wounds. She let out a small gasp of pain, slightly annoyed that Bella was here to watch her moment of vulnerability.

Bella smirked, as if enjoying the show. The girl was about the same age as Hermione, though she had been working as a slave for a lot longer than Hermione had. Unlike most other girls, Hermione had been taken when she was eleven. Most girls were made slaves at birth, but since her parents were muggles, she hadn't been deemed a threat until she had started showing signs of magic.

All magical girls were considered threats. Upon birth, all daughters were forced into slavery. Their only job in life was to be a servant, and reproduce should her owner want her to. Other than that, there was no task for the women to do, and therefore, the wizarding world did not see it fit to give women more rights.

It was not a matter of blood statuses. Pureblood, half-blood and muggleborn women were all treated the same. It was a matter of gender.

The Ministry monitored muggleborns less strictly than the others, just because it was extremely rare for a witch to appear from two non-magical people. That was why Hermione hadn't been taken until she was eleven, and by then, she had already received some education. Unlike the other girls, she could read and write quite decently.

She did not know much about magic. She had never held a wand before, and while she had looked at some incantations for spells in books, she still didn't know the proper wand movements. Magic was the only way she could escape this place. Rookwood didn't even know she could read, so he was underestimating her greatly. However, all the men guarded wands heavily, making sure to keep them away from the women.

For now, she was trapped here, resigned to her punishment. She would have to deal with the tortures that Rookwood dealt to her until she could get herself out, or a savior could come and rescue her.

If that would ever happen.

"Hmph." Bella sneered, as Lavender came back with some bandages, trying to avoid the bigger girl. But Bella deliberately stepped in front of Lavender, grinning as the little girl visibly cowered in fear. Bella, on the other hand, just seemed amused. "Going somewhere, little Lav?"

"Go find someone your own size to pick on, Bella." Ginny Weasley appeared out of nowhere. She had been assigned to clean the upper floors. When she saw Hermione, she gasped and roughly pushed Bella aside, ignoring the other girl's hostile glare. Instead, she quickly dropped down next to Hannah and squeezed Hermione's hand.

"Hey, Gin," Hermione said weakly. Over the years, Ginny had become her best friend. She knew that her family was unlike the rest. Arthur Weasley truly loved his wife, and the two of them had produced many able sons over the years. They had wanted to keep Ginny as well, but the law forced them to hand her over to the government, where she was assigned to the Rookwood manor.

Ginny's family was the only reason that she still had faith in wizards. That there were still some men out there who appreciated women for who they were, and not for their usefulness as slaves. And judging from the way Ginny described her brothers, the whole Weasley family was quite different from the rest.

"Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you to stop egging him on?" Ginny scolded. Although those were words that Bella would've said, Hermione felt herself smiling; unlike Bella, Ginny meant well. It pained her to see Hermione getting hurt every day, just as it pained Hermione to watch Ginny being tortured.

"I wasn't egging him on, Gin. I was just staring for a little too long at the book in the living room." Hermione shrugged. "He caught me. I'll be more careful next time." She caught Ginny's frown. "Come on, Gin, I'll just avert my eyes faster. It's not like he can see everything."

She hadn't told Ginny that she could read and write. She didn't know why she kept it from her. It wasn't because she didn't trust Ginny, but perhaps Hermione believed that it was a secret that she would never tell. It was the only thing she had to remind herself that she, and all women elsewhere, were not fit to be slaves. They could learn just as men could.

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Bella cut her off. "Stupid is as stupid does," Bella sneered, plucking the bandages out of Lavender's small hands and tossing them into the trash. The little girl protested, but Bella just shoved her aside. "Don't touch me, you mudblood. You have no right to spread your filth on my perfect skin."

Lavender was too young to know what that word meant, but Hannah stood up quickly, a look of anger on her face. "Bella! That is enough!" she yelled. Bella glared back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Go to your room and stay there until I tell you to come out. This has gone too far. You've crossed the line."

"Fine, I'll go. I didn't want to stay here and look at someone as ugly as her, anyway." Bella gestured to Hermione, who just scowled at her. She was about to leave, when she suddenly spun around and pointed an accusing finger at Hermione. "YOU!" she screeched, and the other four girls jumped visibly at the volume of her voice. "You can't control me! No one can control me!" Before anyone could say anything else, she left the kitchen, stomping all the way down the stairs to the basement.

For a minute, there was silence. Then, Hannah let out a sigh and went back to her work, fishing the bandages out of the empty trash can before applying them to Hermione's back. Hermione and Ginny exchanged looks and Ginny rolled her eyes; if possible, Ginny hated Bella even more than Hermione did. There had been a couple of occasions where it took nearly all the girls to pry Ginny off of Bella, while Bella just sat there, cackling rather insanely.

Hermione wondered why Rookwood hadn't already sent her off and asked for a replacement. Perhaps he liked her insanity. The two of them certainly had a lot in common, that was for sure.

"The psychopath strikes again," Ginny muttered under her breath when a long string of curses was heard from the floor below. Hermione supposed that she should feel lucky they even got a room to sleep in, but after living with Bella for five years, she wished to sleep anywhere but in the same room as the girl. Bella had a colorful vocabulary, and she wasn't afraid to unleash it anywhere she went. The walls in the manor did nothing to block out the sound. "She's insane."

"She is just troubled. That is all," Hannah said. Ginny merely rolled her eyes, and Hermione couldn't help but agree with her; they were all troubled, but Bella took it to a whole new level. Everything she did was just terrible; there was no way she could use that excuse to weasel out of all the horrible actions she had committed.

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny scoffed, and then her face brightened considerably. "Hey, you're all patched up! Nice work, Hannah." The elder woman merely nodded, before standing up and heading back to do her other duties. Hermione shot Hannah a grateful smile, but she had already disappeared into the next room. It was a well-known fact that Hannah did not like Ginny as much as she liked the others. If Ginny was even the slightest bit bothered by this, though, she did not show it.

Hermione sat up and was glad that the pain on her back had reduced considerably. She stretched slightly and stood up, barely registering the sting on her back. Hannah had patched her up more times than she could count, and Hermione knew that the woman had saved her life multiple times already.

"Yay, my partner in crime is back." Ginny grinned excitedly, starting to hug her, but then realized that it wouldn't be a good idea given the condition of Hermione's back. Instead, Ginny patted her shoulder awkwardly, before turning around, her eyes zeroing in on Lavender.

"Off you go. Nothing to see here." Hermione had forgotten the little girl was even there. Lavender looked at Ginny, before switching her gaze to Hermione. Hermione could detect worry in her eyes, and it warmed her heart considerably.

"I'm alright now, Lav." Hermione smiled gently and bent down to hug her. After a moment of hesitation, Lavender wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck, making sure not to touch her back in any way. "Go play with your friends now. I'll be okay."

"Plus, she has me to look after her," Ginny piped helpfully.

"That doesn't reassure me in the least." Hermione snorted, and Ginny mockingly placed a hand on her chest, over her heart. Lavender looked between them and then nodded, before skipping off to the next room. Hermione smiled as she watched her go; Lavender reminded her of herself when she was younger. The same innocence she had before she was taken away.

It was truly devastating to see someone as young as her being forced into labor.

"Now that we've gotten all that troubling sentimental stuff out of the way, who's up for a little eavesdropping?" Ginny said cheerfully, heading towards the door. "Rookwood's son is coming home from Hogwarts today. I bet he'll have a lot of juicy gossip for us." Ginny rolled her eyes when Hermione pointed towards her back. "Oh, quit that. You won't be straining your back at all."

"Gin, I'm handicapped."

"You're walking perfectly fine. Stop complaining." Ginny dragged Hermione out of the kitchen. "Maybe little Augustus Jr. will have learned something at his school so we can listen to an intelligent conversation for once." She giggled, more to herself than to Hermione. "On second thought, probably not."

After yet another uninformative session of eavesdropping, Hermione said goodbye to Ginny to try to sneak off to the library. She didn't know why Ginny kept insisting on listening in on the father-son conversations. They offered absolutely no information—the two of them just bragged to each other the whole time—and Ginny most likely couldn't understand what was being said, anyway. Her parents had tried to teach her as much as they could, but they didn't get very far before the government took her away.

Hermione's parents, on the other hand, had had eleven years before Hermione was taken. However, she made sure that other people didn't know that, always lying and saying that she was taken away and made into a slave at birth. She didn't want other people to become suspicious of her, and she wanted even less to be punished just because she could read.

Hermione slipped quietly into the dimly lit library. It was such a shame that they never used a library so big—there had to be thousands of books in the room. But perhaps, it was better that they didn't, or else she wouldn't be able to sneak into the library every night. It was always empty when she arrived, so she could often spend hours there just by herself, enjoying the company of books.

She had discovered the room accidently when she was sweeping Rookwood's bedroom. That was always a hassle, because he didn't trust any of his servants enough. He always stood there, watching them as they worked, barking orders. Whenever they did something he didn't like, he used his whip. That whip was his best friend; he carried it everywhere and didn't hesitate to use it whenever he was unhappy.

When he was in a good mood—which he rarely was—he let them go after they finished their duties, barely minding them at all. Unfortunately, the majority of the times, he was quite angry when she went in, and he always made sure she made the room sparkle before dismissing her. The room itself was huge, and to go over the whole thing once already made Hermione more tired than ever. However, on the very worst days, he would make her clean it at least three times before he was satisfied.

It was on one of those particularly bad days that Hermione had trooped tiredly out of his room, wanting to just sag to the ground and curl up into a small ball. She was relieved that he had finally let her go, because she was sure that if she stayed in that room any longer, her hand would've fallen off due to fatigue.

She was so tired that she wanted nothing more than to return to her room and fall asleep on the floor. Surprisingly, her feet wouldn't stop moving. They seemed particularly active while the rest of her body was almost asleep. Hermione's brain let her feet control her movements while it dozed off.

Hermione didn't know where she was going, and soon the familiar corridors vanished and she was greeted with new hallways that she had never seen before. She knew that she would get in trouble for continuing onwards, and she should just turn around and walk back, but she reasoned with herself that she was already lost, so she might as well keep going on. Plus, her curiosity was already piqued; there was no stopping her now. Her parents always said that it was her biggest weakness, but she supposed that it was not a bad one.

When she got to the end of a long hallway after taking several turns and twists, Hermione arrived in front of a huge, black door. After debating with herself for quite a while, she finally decided to take the risk and open it, praying that Rookwood wasn't behind the door with his whip, ready to punish her for venturing in to a part of the mansion that she wasn't supposed to.

However, she was glad that she had decided to go in. Behind the big black door were bookshelves filled with rows and rows of books, stacked neatly next to each other. She had found the Rookwood library.

Ever since then—that day more than three years ago—she kept coming to the library whenever she had free time. She made up stories every time someone questioned her. Ginny, especially, grew slightly suspicious of her slipping away every evening, but there was nothing she could do about it. Hermione felt slightly bad for lying to her, but the library was far too precious for her to abandon. She also knew that Ginny wouldn't get it; she didn't share the same passion for reading as Hermione did.

She had thought about teaching Ginny how to read multiple times. Surely, once Ginny knew how pleasurable it was to read, she would appreciate it more. However, she couldn't help but think that Ginny might not necessarily like it, and then she would've just exposed her biggest secret for nothing.

Hermione plopped down onto her favorite sofa, letting out a sigh of relief. Sometimes, by the time she got to the library, she didn't even want to read; just sitting comfortably on the sofa, surrounded by books, was enough to make her happy. The softness of the sofa calmed her nerves, and she had almost fallen asleep multiple times. Those times that she did fall asleep, she scolded herself when she woke up; what would've happened if Rookwood walked in while she was sleeping? He wouldn't even torture her; perhaps, he would go straight to killing her for infecting his library with her "woman germs," as he liked to call it.

Today, she wasn't too tired and she wanted to make sure she read while she still could. Her back barely bothered her at all against the soft surface of the sofa. Grabbing a random book off the shelf, she opened it and looked inside. Its pages were glossy, and the text was written in an elaborate script.

The Triwizard Tournament

Hermione blinked. She had never heard of such a thing before.

A competition that takes place annually. Three contestants are chosen at random to complete three stages. The winner will be determined by the number of points each individual has at the end of the competition.

Hermione scowled; obviously, this was just another competition for men to feel superior about themselves. Their egos were already huge enough; they didn't need to inflate them even more. She wondered why she had never heard Rookwood talking about such an event before; he certainly was one who would use it as an experience to brag about his power and strength.

However, the book had said that the contestants were chosen at random. And the fact that Rookwood hadn't mentioned it to his son at all meant that he must have not got chosen. Hermione blinked; if someone as powerful as Rookwood didn't get chosen, it must mean that it was really random indeed, not some event run by purebloods.

If that was the case, she had a decent chance of being selected if she chose to participate. Hermione frowned down at the paper; though it hadn't been said, it was quite obvious that this was a competition only for men. She would have to find some way to change herself into a man temporarily. An idea sparked in her mind; if she could win this thing, then she could prove to everyone that women were just as able at magic as everyone else was.

It was still a long shot, but Hermione felt herself nearly bursting with excitement. At last she had found something she could do which would help the women. She had always tried to stand up to Rookwood as much as she could to set a good example for the other females, but she had found that it did little good. They were all still stuck here, and their living conditions hadn't improved, so she supposed she wasn't helping anyone much.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't recognize the sound of footsteps until she heard the library door slowly creak open. Panicking, she shot up, looking for a way to escape. The intruder was coming in through the front door, so there was no way she could leave through there.

Unfortunately for her, that had been the only way she had left from ever since she had discovered the library. After the first few days, she thought that no one would come to the library while she was there, so she didn't need to think of an emergency exit. She had let her guard down, and now she was going to get caught.

She quickly picked up her book—unwilling to leave any evidence behind—and sprinted to hide behind one of the tall bookshelves. While she usually appreciated the fact that there was so many books that all the shelves were completely filled, now she really wished there was an empty spot. There was absolutely nowhere she could put the book down, and just randomly placing it on the floor would cause suspicion to arise.

However, she supposed that once Rookwood saw the empty hole in the first shelf, he would be even more suspicious if the book just disappeared all together. Quickly, she dropped the book on the floor and frantically started to look around for a place to hide as the door opened.

There were two voices, and Hermione recognized one as Rookwood's. The other was that of a woman's, and Hermione almost fainted when she recognized the voice.

"Come on." Rookwood's voice was rough, but it was strangely devoid of all the anger it usually held. It sounded so…bare without the underlying menace. "I said hurry up and close the damn door before someone comes here."

"Yes, Master," Bella breathed out, shutting the door behind her. The second it clicked shut, there was a loud bang and then the sound of kissing filled the air. Hermione grimaced as Bella started moaning like crazy.

"I love it when you call me Master," Rookwood said, his voice full of lust as the snogging resumed. Hermione's mind was whirling. As it stood, Rookwood had complete power over Bella, which meant that he could easily order her to do whatever he wanted her to, and she would have to obey. However, Bella didn't sound like she disliked it.

That must've meant that the two of them were snogging because they both wanted to. Hermione made a face. She always knew Bella was insane, but to be insane enough to willingly snog someone who tortured her every day brought it to a whole new level.

A sudden thought struck Hermione's mind; had she actually seen Bella be punished? The answer would be no. She came back from cleaning sometimes with red marks all over her skin, but those could be magical illusions. She remembered often thinking years ago that she never got to see Bella scream out in pain while Bella was often present to watch her torture sessions.

Did that mean that Bella had never got tortured before, even though everyone else believed that she had? Was that why she was always so smug—because she was in fact too good for torture?

Hermione didn't know what that was supposed to mean. By law, a man could choose any wife he wanted. The wife would not have to become a slave, but still had to listen to every command her husband gave. Rookwood, however, already had a wife. And as far as Hermione knew, it was against the law to have two. The Ministry already thought it risky enough to grant one woman the privilege of not being a servant. Hermione didn't think they were generous enough to allow two.

She, however, couldn't care less about what they did. She just wanted to get out of there and pretend that she had never seen them and that she had never discovered the library. She slowly tiptoed backwards, hoping not to make enough noise to make them suspicious and come looking for her.

Ironically, she walked around in a circle and tripped over the very same book she had put down just moments ago. Hermione held her breath after she fell with a thud to the floor, although she knew it wouldn't do her any good; judging from the lack of moaning from the pair, they had heard her.

"What's that?" For once, Bella sounded slightly frightened. Hermione allowed herself to feel slightly triumphant that even Bella wasn't above the law, but her momentary happiness was quickly burst as Rookwood spoke up.

"Don't worry; I'll handle this." There was a rustle of fabric, which Hermione assumed was him taking out his wand. "Don't move," he called out, his voice giving a hint of the malicious tone that she was so used to hearing. Hermione quickly ducked behind the next bookcase as the sound of his voice drew closer. "Stay where you are."

Hermione knew there was no way that she could defeat him. He had a wand, and she did not have a particularly strong body. There were no other exits that she could spot. A plan started formulating in her head, but she knew that was little chance of it succeeding. However, if she continued to stand where she was, he would eventually find her and torture her. If she was going to go down, she would go down fighting.

Quickly and as quietly as she could, she ran as far away from him as possible. She then began taking books out of their shelves and placing them gently on the floor. As his footsteps drew near, Hermione sped up her actions. Once the books were cleared out, she had a clear way up to the top. She quickly climbed up the shelf, grabbing one of the biggest books she could find as she made her way to the top.

Rookwood was rounding the aisle next to the shelf she was on, and she held her breath and waited. Too late, she noticed that Bella had a clear view of her, and from the look on the girl's face, she had definitely seen Hermione. There was nothing Hermione could do but wait and hope that Rookwood could come close enough to her before Bella started screaming her location.

Surprisingly, Bella made no noise and stayed near the door. Hermione could barely believe her luck as the girl began determinedly looking everywhere but at her. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but before she could ponder any longer, Rookwood walked right below where she was positioned. Mentally counting to three, she thrust the book off the top of the shelf, praying that it would hit him.

It almost did miss him, but it managed to clip the back of his head before falling heavily to the ground. Rookwood fell to the floor with a dull thud, his wand clattering out of his hand and landing on the floor next to him. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, before she registered the movement out of the corner of her eye; Bella was moving at full speed towards the wand.

Hermione climbed down as quickly as she could, jumped down the last few ledges and dove for the wand. Bella let out a nasty shriek and reached to grab it too, and the two of them engaged in a tug-of-war contest.

"Give it to me!" Bella shrieked, baring her teeth at Hermione. "I deserve this! I have been waiting for so long! I won't give it up to the likes for you!" She scratched Hermione's hand so hard that it drew blood, and Hermione grimaced, determined not to let go.

"Stop it. It's going to break." However, neither she nor Bella relinquished their hold over it. Trying to distract Bella, she quickly asked, "Why do you want to leave here so badly, anyway? You looked happy snogging him."

"Do you think I enjoyed it?" Bella growled. "I need to get the fuck out of here and that was my only option. I am not going to let you take away my chance. Let go!" She gave a particularly hard pull and Hermione's grip slackened slightly.

Bella took the chance to wretch the wand out of Hermione's grip completely. However, Hermione pounced on her. She had barely wrapped her hand around Bella's wrist before the girl Disapparated away, taking Hermione with her.

Hermione had never Apparated or Disapparated before, so the feeling took her completely by surprise. She felt like she was being squeezed through an extremely narrow tube, and her grip on Bella's arm almost slipped. To make it worse, Bella was trying to pry her fingers off. However, Hermione knew that should she let go, she would slip into somewhere she didn't know how to get out of. Her other hand was too short to reach Bella's wrist, so she could only hold on tightly with one hand and pray that she wouldn't let go.

They arrived in an alley, and Hermione fell on top of Bella. The girl let out a grunt of pain and tried to push Hermione off of her, but Hermione used the opportunity to grab the wand out of Bella's hand and pointed it at her. Bella looked at her, and then to the wand, and then back at her again.

And then she laughed.

"Go ahead," she said, a cruel smile on her lips. "Curse me if you dare, mudblood." The girl actually guided the wand's tip to her forehead, pressing down on her own skin. Bella's face then transformed into a nasty snarl. "Curse me and you'll regret it."

Hermione looked down at her. She never knew Bella wanted to get out of the manor so badly that she would sacrifice everything she could to make that a reality. She knew that even though Bella wasn't tortured, she still suffered.

However, every time Hermione looked at her, she could only see the girl that would make fun of and hurt all of her friends. And no matter what she had gone through, that girl was not one Hermione had any sympathy for.

"Stupefy," Hermione whispered, remembering that spell from one of the first books that she had read. Surprisingly enough, the spell worked; she hadn't expected it to on her first try. Bella's hand fell limp at her side, and her head tilted slightly. Her eyes were open, but unseeing.

Quickly, Hermione dragged her to a more secure location. Bella had got her wish; she was out of the manor. However, after that, Hermione did not deem it to be her responsibilities to help the girl. She had to manage by herself, just like Hermione would have to from now on. There was no way she could return to the manor; by the time she got back, Rookwood would've already noticed her missing and put the two together. It didn't take a genius to deduce that it was her who attacked him in the library. And by the law, any woman who assaulted a man was charged with a death penalty, no matter how severe the injury was.

Standing up shakily on her feet, she quickly exited the alley and looked around. It was a bustling street full of people, though most were men. A couple of women trailed behind their husbands uncertainly, and there were a couple of lucky wives that happily walked besides their husbands. However, there was no woman walking alone, so Hermione quickly transfigured her rags into long robes and trimmed her hair with a bit of magic to make herself look manlier.

Hermione almost felt giddy; she had never used magic before, and the feeling was quite pleasurable. It was fun to swish around a wand and then watch something happen. However, there was plenty of time to do it afterwards, so Hermione quickly moved down the street, trying to avoid any eye contact.

She was starting to wonder where she was going when she suddenly stopped in front of a busy looking shop. Hermione looked up at the sign and saw the words "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" written on it. Hermione's heart almost stopped; Ginny was a Weasley. This must be the shop run by her family.

She felt a little guilty about leaving Ginny behind, but she reasoned with herself that if she managed to pull through with her plan, she would manage to get Ginny and all the other women at Rookwood's manor out of there. And if she died, then they wouldn't be affected at all. There was nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

She pushed her way into the shop. It was crowded, and Hermione couldn't help but notice that there were more children than adults. She quickly found out why; it was a joke shop. There were things flying all over the place and sprouting glitter.

That stuff, however, did not hold Hermione's interest. Instead, she started making her way towards the back of the store, trying to find the owner's office. She had to push through a lot of children playing with a deck of cards, and they glared at her when she stepped through them. Hermione, however, paid them no attention as she made her way towards the back.

She could see the door when suddenly a huge spider jumped out of nowhere, bared its fangs and started to run towards her. However, after working as a slave for so long, insects—no matter how big—did not seem to bother her. With a look of distaste, she simply wacked it on the head and kept walking. The spider seemed too stunned to do anything but stare at her retreating back.

"Wow, that was bloody brilliant!" Hermione almost jumped. There, in front of her, was a boy whose hair was as red as Ginny's. She could see the resemblance between the two of them, and knew that this had to be one of her brothers. Her heart clenched slightly; she had always dreamed of meeting the Weasley family. However, she didn't feel quite as content now that Ginny wasn't here.

You're doing this to save Ginny, she reminded herself. Stop feeling sad and actually do something, Hermione Granger.

"Hello." She smiled, trying to act as manly as she could. She stuck out her hand formally, and the boy shook it, looking at her with a puzzled look on his face. Did she do something wrong? "May I speak to you in private?"

The boy looked momentarily stunned, before nodding. "Yes, sure." He gestured towards the door and Hermione followed him inside. It was a lot quieter inside than out there in the store, where everything seemed to be exploding rather loudly.

"Ronnikins, didn't we tell you that only employers were allowed in here?" Hermione almost jumped again for the second time in the span of just a couple of minutes. There were two other brothers sitting in front of her, though they were both identical. This must be Fred and George, Hermione thought to herself. Based on their nickname for the other boy, Hermione deduced that he was Ron, the brother closest in age to Ginny.

"He wanted to speak to me." Ron gestured towards Hermione. He looked at her kindly, and Hermione knew why Ginny loved her family so much. They were unlike any other men that she had ever met before, and she had met quite a few at Rookwood's pureblood parties.

The three of them looked expectantly at her. She knew that she had just met them, but she couldn't help but feel as if she had known them her whole life through Ginny's stories. It didn't take her long to decide that she could trust them.

"My name is Hermione Granger, and I am a girl," she said to clarify things, and watched as Ron's jaw dropped. Fred and George merely raised an eyebrow each at almost the exact same time, and Hermione could detect a look of amusement on their faces. So far, though, there didn't seem to be any resentment directed towards her. She took a deep breath before continuing, "There's something I need you to do for me."

Hermione stood in front of King's Cross station, feeling rather confused.

After she had explained her dilemma to the Weasleys, they immediately brought her to their family home and introduced her to Ginny's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Both of them were extraordinarily nice, and they both supported her plan to enter the Triwizard Tournament. Ron then offered his hair, telling Hermione that he would be going out of the country with his friend in a couple of days anyway, so he wouldn't be there to enter.

She had taken Polyjuice Potion, something they told her would let her take the appearance of Ron as long as she took it once a day. They were nice enough to give her a whole case of vials of the potion, and even went so far as to buy a new wand for her. She knew that they weren't particularly wealthy, so she felt extremely bad, but they reassured her that they wanted to see Ginny so they wanted her to succeed.

Mrs. Weasley had handed her a ticket to enroll herself in the competition. However, now that she finally had a good look at her ticket, she did not know what to do with it. Platform 9 and ¾. She looked at it bewilderedly. It had to be a typo; there was clearly no platform that was 9 and ¾. There was a platform 9 and a platform 10, but nothing in between.

She spent a good thirty minutes walking around, but she could not find platforms 93, 934, or any number with the arrangement of those three numbers. She briefly wandered over to platforms 3 and 4, but there were no people there who wore wizarding robes, so she deduced that platforms 3 and 4 had to be just ordinary platforms.

She was just walking over to platform 9 again to investigate, when she suddenly spotted another individual wearing wizard robes. Feeling rather excited, she charged over and nearly knocked him over. He scowled at her, but she paid it no mind and merely beamed at him.

"Hello, I was wondering where platform 9 and ¾'s was. I can't seem to find it, though that's what it says on my ticket." To prove her point, she shoved her ticket in his face, ignoring the way he seemed to flinch away. "Do you know where that is?"

"No," he said curtly, making a move to walk away. However, he was the only one she had seen wearing wizarding robes; she couldn't let him walk away. If he left, then she would never be able to find the registration place by herself.

She spotted the ticket that he was trying to keep from her. Without thinking, she reached over and snatched it out of his hand, not noticing the way his face darkened. "Hey look, yours says platform 9 and 3/4s as well!" she said excitedly.

She had barely had the chance to talk to Ron, but she had immediately got the impression that he liked to blurt out whatever was on his mind. It felt very foreign to her, but she decided she needed to keep the act in place lest people started to get suspicious.

However, she had never been cut out for acting, so she figured—based on the disgusted look on the boy's face—she was overdoing it.

He snatched his ticket back, making a show of wiping it off on a nearby wall. Hermione made a face, though the boy smirked when he saw it, looking amused rather than angered. He jerked his chin towards a brick wall.

Hermione blinked back at him, rather confused. "What about it?" He nodded towards it again, and Hermione looked at it. It looked rather plain, like all the other brick walls in the station. "Yes, it's a very nice wall," she said uncertainly, unsure of what he wanted to hear.

His lips merely quirked up; now he was definitely amused by her. He was looking at her as if she was just a little toy to be played with, and she didn't particularly feel comfortable with the look he was giving her. However, now that she had got a good look at him, she couldn't deny he was handsome; his dark hair fell over his forehead and his cheekbones were high which enhanced his features even more.

"Walk into it."

Hermione blinked, and then scowled at him, crossing her hands in front of her chest. "Do you think I'm an idiot?" she said. He raised his eyebrows, and Hermione knew he had noted her sudden mood change. Well, if he wasn't going to be helpful, she had better things to do than to listen to him spout insane ideas.

"On the contrary, if I did believe you were, I would've sent you on that train," he said smoothly, gesturing towards the many people who were waiting at platform 9. Hermione would never admit it to him, but had he told her to board the train, she would've done so without a second thought.

Hermione glanced over at the wall, and then glared at him. For someone who seemed to be in a rush to get away from her only moments ago, he certainly seemed content to stay right where he was now.

"If I run into the wall and look like an idiot," Hermione warned, unsure of what other possible ending could come out of such an idiotic action, "I'm going to blame you."

He smirked at her childish threat. "Go ahead."

"I'll sue you."

"Yes, yes."

Hermione glared at him one last time for good measure. Then, she looked around to check and make sure that no one else was watching her perform an extremely stupid action. However, with people bustling around them, no one even stopped to look at the two boys standing in front of a very solid wall.

Hermione took a deep breath. She had conquered both Rookwood and Bella over the course of the last twenty four hours. Surely, this was a walk in the park compared to everything she had recently faced.

She began running. She changed her mind halfway, but couldn't seem to stop fast enough. Closing her eyes, she braced her hands in front of her to prevent her face from slamming into the wall, but strangely, she never felt the solid brick against her hands.

She opened her eyes and nearly gasped. The place was even busier than King's Cross had been. There were several desks open with long lines. The words "Triwizard Tournament" flashed above in bright letters. All around her were men; men signing up to put their name in the lot in hopes of getting picked to participate in such an honorary event.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she was knocked over by the boy who just entered platform 9 and 3/4s. She fell to the ground with him on top of her, suddenly aware of how close they were. It seemed to stun him for a while, too, until he clambered off of her and stood up, brushing himself off.

She knew there was no way to tell that she was a girl; the Polyjuice Potion had disguised her as Ron so well that there was not a single hint of Hermione Granger's existence. However, he shot her a smirk as he walked away, one that made Hermione think that he seemed to know everything about her already.

Shakily, Hermione got to her feet and made her way towards one of the lines. She placed her hand in her pocket to check if she still had her identifications and a vial of polyjuice just in case anything happened. Her wand rested safely in there as well; after buying a new one for her, Mrs. Weasley had tossed Rookwood's in the fire to burn, erasing all evidence.

"Yo, Ron!"

Hermione spun around and was greeted by the sight of a boy with brown hair. He had a huge grin on his face, and did not look terrifying at all. She had been warned that all men were as evil as Rookwood was, but she didn't think that the Weasley family or this boy in front of her was particularly frightening. The boy who had helped her get on the platform, she wasn't so sure about.

Hermione glanced down at his hand and was relieved to see that he was clutching his identification. "Hello, Dean," she read off. "What are you doing here?"

Dean looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "Signing up for the tournament, of course. Why else would you be here?" At that, Hermione gave a weak laugh and nodded. Dean looked at her suspiciously, but said, "And what are you doing here? I thought you were going to America with Harry."

"I was." Hermione nodded. "However, I changed my mind and decided to stay here." She grinned the way she had seen Ron grin. "I wanted to give the tournament a try."

"Glad to see you're finally seeing the light." Dean clapped her on the back, and Hermione immediately stiffened. Dean, however, didn't notice her reaction and continued, "I suppose Harry is still planning to go?"

Hermione didn't really know about this Harry person, but she supposed that since Ron was still going to America, Harry would be going with him as well. Hermione nodded and said, "Couldn't convince him."

Dean merely shrugged, not looking too bothered. "Oh well. You tried."

The two of them talked some more, but it was mostly Dean talking and Hermione listening. On the occasions that Dean asked her a question, she took longer to respond and racked her brain to make sure she was answering with the right information. Dean seemed to get slightly suspicious during her long pauses, but he brushed it off.

Hermione learned a lot about Ron's life. How his father studied muggle objects, which was frowned upon by much of society. How, even though Ron was a pureblood, his family was considered to be at the very bottom of the pureblood society.

Dean also talked a lot about Ron's brothers, asking how they were doing. He didn't mention Ginny at all, and Hermione didn't expect him to; she didn't even know if he was aware that Ron had a sister. However, it still hurt how girls were offered no recognition in the world. She had always known this fact, but now that she was out of the Rookwood manor, it slapped her in the face.

She got to the front of the line and handed over her identification to the man behind the desk. He flipped through a couple of pages, looking rather bored, when suddenly his eyes opened wide. Hermione fidgeted; was there something in there that was wrong? A sudden thought flashed through her mind. Had the Weasleys betrayed her? She pushed that thought away; it wouldn't do her any good to doubt the only people who had been nice to her.

"Mister Weasley," the man said, looking up. Hermione nodded hesitantly. "I have never seen you enter before. And I believe you were going to America? What made you change your mind so suddenly?"

Hermione mentally yelled at Ron; he hadn't told her him leaving Europe was such a big deal that everyone seemed to know it. Hermione, however, forced herself to be calm and answered, "Yes, but I decided that I wanted to participate in the tournament this year." She gestured around. "I couldn't miss this."

"Yes, but that has never bothered you before." The man glanced at her, though Hermione couldn't tell if he was suspicious or not. He merely shrugged. "I suppose people change." He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled her name down, before stamping her identification. "Good luck, Mister Weasley."

"Thank you," she said, but the man had already focused his attention on Dean. Hermione wondered if he had made small talk with her to be polite, or if it was part of his job. Deciding not to linger around any longer lest she made anyone suspicious—if even the man at the counter knew that Ron was travelling, who knew who else knew—she started to head towards the brick wall to get back to King's Cross.

However, before she could get there, she passed by a reception desk; and at the very front of the line was the boy who had helped her, looking quite smug indeed as he handed over his identification to the receptionist. The man looked at it—Hermione was surprised to see his cheeks take a pink tinge when their hands touched—and then handed it back to the boy.

"Very well. Thank you for entering, Mister Riddle."

Hermione blinked, and then was suddenly aware that the Riddle boy had turned around and was staring directly at her, as if he had somehow sensed that she was looking at him. She quickly averted her eyes and stormed away, but not before she saw the smirk that had appeared on his face.

She stomped away, wanting to get out of there quickly. She almost ran into the wrong wall, receiving several strange glances as she straightened herself and stormed to the other wall that would take her back to King's Cross station. However, all the way, she could see Riddle's infuriating smirk branded in her mind.

"I'm sorry," Ron apologized as she walked grumpily next to him down the street. "Mum wants me to show you around." He glanced at her. "She really misses Ginny, you know. You are a replacement of her."

Hermione nodded. She had not taken the potion—obviously, or else there would be two Ron Weasleys' walking together—so she was back to her original self. While she did appreciate Mrs. Weasley's attempt to make her accustomed to the outside world, she couldn't help but be rather fidgety; what if Rookwood decided to come here? What would he do if he saw her? While she hadn't necessarily been that memorable, she had worked for him for around five years; surely, he would be able to recognize her.

"Feel lucky that you don't have to do this every week," Ron grumbled. "I know it's dangerous for her to walk by herself on the streets, and Dad often doesn't have time to shop for food, so it's always me who does this. Fred and George are the only ones home, and they always find a way to push this onto me."

Hermione merely shrugged, patting him reassuringly on his arm. "It's not that bad, I suppose."

"Yeah." He glanced at her. "I'm sorry. You've been through a lot worse and here I am complaining about going to the market." He sighed and muttered under his breath, "Still. This bloody sucks."

Hermione smiled at him as they arrived at the market. Ron was instantly bombarded with questions—why did he decide not to go to America? Why did he decide to enroll in the Triwizard Tournament? Who was that girl over there?—and Hermione quickly shrunk into the shadows. She felt that the less she talked, the better; she couldn't screw up if she kept her mouth shut.

Hermione slowly trailed after Ron as he made his way around the market. He seemed to know everyone. For someone who seemed to despise coming to the market, it didn't seem as though he disliked it too much; he greeted everyone with a cheerful smile on his face and engaged in conversation with nearly everyone.

After an hour, Hermione sighed. Ron was still talking to numerous people, and he hadn't even bought half the things that Mrs. Weasley had assigned him to buy. She had started to drift away. At first, it was only a couple of feet; she started getting hostile looks when she went over to a store by herself, and she hurried back to Ron.

However, after a while, she grew more daring and starting going off further. There were some times where she went so far that it took her a while to find her way back to Ron. She made sure to stay in the shadows to not receive too much unwanted attention.

However, that was when she saw the bookstore, and all common sense flew out the window.

She rushed in to it, uncaring that the clerks were giving her strange looks for coming in without being accompanied by a man. She flew down the aisles, taking in the shelves of books; it seemed to have been so long since she had been in the Rookwood library. If there was one thing—other than her fellow servants—that she missed about the manor, it was its endless rows of books.

She hurried down an aisle, nearly bursting with excitement, when she suddenly froze in her tracks. Right in front of her was Riddle himself, and he looked down at her rather irritably. Hermione wanted to run back down the aisle and go as far away from him as she could, but that would make him suspicious. She didn't need to make him suspicious; she was a girl now. There was no way he could tell that she and the Ron Weasley he met the day before was the same person.

She didn't trust herself to speak normally. He already seemed to be more perceptive than everyone else, so she didn't want to risk having him connect her to the redhead he met yesterday. Feeling rather foolish, she quickly latched herself onto his arm, squealing.

"Oh my," she breathed, giggling. "Are you reading a book? Aww, let me see it." She leaned in, trying to get a glimpse of what he was reading about.

He pushed her off of him roughly. She landed on the floor awkwardly, and her butt stung where it hit the ground. He glared down at her with a look of disgust on his face. Hermione supposed she didn't blame him; if someone had latched themselves onto her like that, she wouldn't have been too pleased either.

"Dark Arts?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. She mentally smacked herself; how stupid was she? Riddle raised an eyebrow and stared at her suspiciously, and Hermione wished she could just curl up into a ball and disappear.

"Yes," Riddle said calmly, though it was quite obvious that she wasn't off the hook yet. "And what do you know about it?" He sneered. "Can you even read?"

"Of course I can." Hermione scowled at him, momentarily forgetting to use her flirty personality that she had adopted for herself. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I am completely stupid." She suddenly realized what she was saying and bowed her head down. "Forgive me."

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had never liked saying such words at the Rookwood manor; it made her feel inferior for all the wrong reasons. She did not have anything against apologizing, but she did not feel that she should apologize for defending herself.

Riddle sneered down at her. "You don't deserve my forgiveness." He kicked her into the shelf, sending several books tumbling onto the ground. Several moments later, a store employee came over to check on the commotion.

"Is everything alright here?"

"Yes, everything is fine," Riddle replied smoothly. Hermione thought for a moment that the man was going to help her up, but instead, he just nodded and left. Of course, Hermione thought bitterly to herself as she pulled herself up. I'm a woman. There's no way he'll help me.

"Stay out of my way," Riddle warned, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Hermione merely scowled at him. "And mind your own business."

Hermione noted that he held the book in almost a possessive way. It had caused such a change in emotion. He had already been rather disgusted by her, and after she looked at the book, he had become extremely unpleasant.

Hermione wondered if it was because of the specific content of the book, or if he was irritated that even a woman could deduce what he was reading.

He walked past her, and then kicked her to the ground once more before exiting the aisle. Hermione could only glare at his retreating back, wishing with all her might that she could just pull out her wand and curse him. It would wipe the smug look off his face if he discovered that a woman could curse him.

However, she didn't feel like he was worth the risk. Instead, she merely placed the books neatly back on the shelves, smacking herself for even finding him intriguing when she met him at King's Cross. He was nothing but an arrogant man who had a nasty temper. There was nothing interesting about him at all.

"Gentleman of the wizarding world, we are now gathered here to reveal the people who have been selected to have the honor of participating in this year's Triwizard Tournament. However, there has been a slight change in the rules this year." The news reporter paused for a dramatic effect. "There will be six people participating this year instead of the usual three. They will compete in teams of two, and will share the glory of being victors."

"That's great," Ron said, eating his dinner next to her. His mouth was wide open as he chewed, but Hermione found it rather endearing. She merely smiled at him and refocused her attention on the radio. "You have a higher chance of getting in."

"Oh Ron, do chew with your mouth closed." Mrs. Weasley sat down next to Hermione, and by looking at the older woman's face, it was obvious that she was just as anxious as Hermione was. Mrs. Weasley caught her looking and smiled gently at her. "It'll be alright," she reassured.

"Without further ado, I will announce the six fortunate people who have been selected," the news reporter said. Hermione crossed her fingers nervously. If she wasn't selected, then she had no idea what else she could do. She would have to live her life in the shadows. There was no way she could return to the Rookwood manor; he would probably kill her on sight.

"We have Phineas Black," the news reporter started. Hermione knew that all around the nation, wizards were waiting anxiously to hear their name called. But Hermione was sure that no one wanted this as much as she did. "And Pollux Black. What do we have here? Twins! The Black family must be rejoicing."

Hermione didn't care about the others. She just wanted to hear one particular name called.

"Abraxas Malfoy," the news reporter continued. Hermione recognized that last name as one of the wealthy purebloods who always came to Rookwood's parties. "Peter Pettigrew. Tom Riddle." Hermione narrowed her eyes at the mention of him. Tom Riddle. So that was his name.

"Please," Hermione whispered under her breath. Ron looked over at her, but she didn't pay him any attention. "Please."

"And finally, the last lucky man," the reporter said in a strangely cheerful voice. "We have a first timer! What luck! You know as they always say, some people just have better luck than others." Hermione didn't quite particularly pride herself with luck—she had been born as a woman after all—but she wished with all her heart that the reporter was talking about her. "And the last contestant, but certainly not the least, is Ronald Weasley."