Dangerous Games

Chapter 5: Class Competition

"Wake up, Charlotte. Charlotte... Charlotte, wake up. Breakfast appears in minutes."

It seemed Minerva was shaking her, and Hermione was awake, but hoping with enough of her heart to merit accident magic that everything was just a very real, painful dream.

"Charlotte... For Ishtar's sake, she's a sound sleeper... Charlotte..."

Hermione raised an arm in acknowledgment. "Okay. I'm awake, I'm awake..."

"You may be awake, Charlotte, but now humor me," sighed Minerva, "and get up."

Hermione obeyed, and sat up so suddenly that Minerva shrieked and tumbled head over heels off the bed. Minerva stood, dusting herself off and straightening her hair, laughing wholeheartedly, and again Hermione was awed by the vast difference between Professor McGonagall and Minerva.

"What's first class?" Hermione asked, grabbing her schedule from her night table.

"Transfiguration," Minerva replied with relish. "Professor Dumbledore teaches that. It's my favorite class, and I'm doing my NEWT coursework with him." Minerva puffed herself up proudly in a way startlingly reminiscent of Hagrid. "I'm going to become an Animagus."

"Oh, really," Hermione said, unable to hide the secret humor from her voice. Minerva looked hurt, and Hermione tried to make amends. "No kidding? What method are you planning to utilize? the potion or the charms? The potion is extremely difficult, but the charms require too much accuracy that are almost impossible. Complete, proper, pure preparations and the degree of magic within a witch. At least the potion doesn't delve into a person's own raw power."

Minerva smiled, mollified. "Well, I'm going to ask Professor Dumbledore which might work better, but I'm better at wandwork than potions-brewing, so I think I'll do the charms. But," Minerva asked, eyebrows raised, "how do you know about the procedures?"

"I was planning to do my coursework in the area of Animagi at my old school for the NEWTs as well, but now... I hadn't planned on transferring."

Too true, thought Hermione mirthlessly.

"What school did you attend?" Minerva inquired. "You sound British, but Hogwarts is the main school in the Kingdom."

Hermione thought quickly. Let's see, Merlin's Academy, no that's too south... The Fay's School... no, it doesn't exist yet... oh, this might work... yes... "Mab's Circle," Hermione replied. "Mum wanted me nearer to home, but Dad finally convinced her Hogwarts might be less expensive. It's the one thing Dad insisted on. Mum's a little domineering, and it's taken a little time. I think when Mum finally looked at the bills, she agreed. Of course, the electric bill soared, too, but that's another story..."

"You're Muggle-born?" Minerva asked, surprised. "You'd better be careful. We share almost all our classes with Slytherin- Headmaster Dippet's trying a new diplomatic program, but it's a lost cause. Riddle's in every one of our classes, and his gaggle of girls never shuts up. If you ask me," Minerva whispered with venom, "he acts modest, but I think he rather enjoys the attention he receives from half the girls at school. But I'm not one of them," Minerva added, in a way that made Hermione suspect if she had not been one of them in the past.

"What's he like?" Hermione asked casually.

Minerva fluttered her hand dismissively. "He's Head Boy, which makes since in name because his head's so swollen it wouldn't fit in the Great Hall if he would just drop that 'innocent' facade. But never mind, you'll see him in first class. Just sit on the other side of the room unless you want to hear girls giggling and flirting with him. Oh," she said, slinging her book sack on her shoulder, "and he's really smart. I'll admit he's smarter than I am. The problem is that he doesn't mind flaunting it. Just a warning."

"Duly noted," replied Hermione. This ought to be interesting.

~888~

"Your last year in Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore announced, standing in the split between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. "You are aware that you now have the opportunity to graduate with the highest honor Hogwarts has to give. I am talking, of course, about your NEWTs. Hopefully, over the holiday you have thought about what might interest you in the way of your coursework, should you so choose to take the exams. A few examples include apprenticeship, experimentation, or delving into some of the most difficult aspects of magic... Those wishing to participate in the NEWTs, please stand and state your subject of coursework."

To no one's surprise, Riddle and Minerva stood; Head Boys and Girls were required to take the NEWTs, and more often than not, they were the only ones. However, a new figure stood as well.

Hermione.

Dumbledore spared her a glance, then turned to Minerva, nodding her go-ahead.

"I plan to become a registered Animagus," Minerva exclaimed.

Dumbledore smiled at her, then faced Riddle. Riddle said flatly, "It is my hope to create a formula that will separate the polar personalities of man, good and evil. I do not require professorial assistance; I work alone."

"Very well," Dumbledore assented with more than a touch of coldness. "That is permitted. Miss Shannen?"

Hermione swallowed self-consciously. "I- um- I was originally planning to transfigure into an Animagus as well, but I suppose now, under the circumstances, I can do that as extra work in my spare time; I've been preparing for the transfiguration since fifth year, and I have enough research. For my coursework, I would like to invent a Time Turner that takes the turner forward in time."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, but a knowing smile twitched the edges of his flowing beard while the rest of the class began buzzing with incredulity. Minerva was staring at Hermione as though she was a traitor, and Riddle was giving her that look of calculation she now attributed to him, though she had known him for such as short period of time.

"Very good, Miss Shannen, and constructive," said Dumbledore softly. "Now, back to my Transfiguration class..."

~888~

Lisa, all my life I've been possessed
By one great all-consuming quest
And that's my driving reason to survive!
-"Possessed" JEKYLL & HYDE

Sometimes I see
Past the horizon
Sure of my way
Where I am going,
But where's the prize
I have my eyes on?
Where?
There is just no knowing! And when despair
Tears me in two,
Who can I turn to but you?
You know who I am...
-"Possessed" JEKYLL & HYDE

~888~

The girls who usually were never seen away more than a three meter radius from Riddle tore themselves away from their boy and circled menacingly around Hermione outside the Transfiguration classroom. The leader, a rather plain girl with straight brown hair, planted herself directly in front of Hermione and threw herself into Hermione's face.

"What are you trying to do, you stupid, Mudblood Gryffindor? Everyone here knows Tom is the smartest at Hogwarts, and some Mudblood transfer is going to steal his reputation, see?"

Hermione's eyes were wide, innocent. "I wasn't trying to make Riddle look bad, though I don't regret it. My goal is purely personal, and you wouldn't..."

"-And you're pretending mine is an easy extra credit assignment," Minerva interrupted, genuine tears turning her eyes red. Minerva's friends were all glowering at Hermione.

Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. "I'm not trying to one-up anyone. I have my own reasons to construct the Time Turner, and that idea is fairly recent, but I've wanted to become an Animagus since my third year. I'm sorry if I stole anyone's thunder. I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, right," snorted the Slytherin leader, and the whole group swaggered away to attach themselves like barnacles back onto their favorite boy. Minerva's crowd walked away in the opposite direction, one girl putting an arm around Minerva's shaking shoulders.

Hermione sighed heavily, finding herself alone in the middle of the corridor. Resigned to another familiar year of solitude, she headed in the direction of the Potions classroom. Another class with Slytherins. Joy.

~888888~

Chapter 6: The Library

After a grueling Potions class with Mistress Professor Figg, Hermione was exhausted. The weight of the class had only been lifted slightly by the fact she had been completely ignored. Better than being insulted and interrogated, anyway. She had not had to face the future Voldemort and his gang; she had kept to the back corner, and most of them had not noticed her. Unfortunately, and ironically enough, she would still have to face her own House at lunch.

She arrived there early, sitting where she had sat the previous evening. There were a few Gryffindors scattered up and down the table, but suddenly, the Great Hall doors swung open for Minerva's friends. When they saw Hermione, they halted. The good-hearted, cheerful countenance that had graced Minerva's face before was replaced by a stiff, emotionless mask.

Hermione's heart wrenched, but she complied to the unspoken command. She shouldered her pack, gathered up a plate of tuna sandwiches and sweet pickles, then hurried out of the Hall to her usual refuge: the library.

Madam Pince looked up, and Hermione gasped. The stooping, vulture-like librarian had not changed a bit.

"No food permitted," Madam Pince snapped.

"Oh, please, Madam. I'll be in that corner over there, you won't even notice me, and I'll just read."

Madam Pince stood, stepped around the desk, and bent down to peer into Hermione's eyes. Hermione tried not to blink.

Madam Pince sniffed, then said reluctantly, "All right, girl, but if even a crumb is left on the tables, you'll never be allowed in here with food again." The librarian retreated reluctantly to her desk, and Hermione could breathe normally again.

Happily among her true friends again, she carried her plate to the farthest corner of the library.

And froze.

She tried to sneak quietly backward, but she hit a shelf, causing a few books to fall. Hermione gave a strangled cry and began to run.

"Wait," commanded Riddle. "Charlotte Shannen, correct?"

Hermione halted in her tracks with her back still to Riddle. She nodded tremulously at his question.

"Madam Pince is going to kill you if those books stay on the floor, then tear you to pieces and kill you again for extra measure."

Hermione juggled a bit and returned the books to their proper places. She started to leave again.

"Come sit with me."

Hermione shook her head, but she still did not speak.

"There's no one here, no one to accuse you of fraternizing with an enemy, no one to accuse you of showing off..."

Hermione turned slowly.

"How would you know they're doing that to me?"

Riddle gave a secretive smile and shrugged.

"The Gryffindors are proud of Minerva, and they have every right to be. Most of them can't stand it that anyone can be more ambitious and intelligent than she," Riddle explained. Then he stroked the chair next to him. "Come on, I won't bite or drink your blood or anything. All the other corners are taken, and the rows around me usually end up filled with girls who pretend to read the spines of books about the Revolution of the Dust Bunnies. This is the only quiet corner there is, and I think that's what you want, isn't it?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then thought reluctantly, Harry and Ron are going to kill me when they hear about this, realizing that everything Riddle said was true. She did not want to leave the library, but there was nowhere else to sit. She was familiar enough with the unchanging library to know the boys usually sat near the Quidditch books, girls preferred the self-help books, and Ravenclaws in general claimed the rest of the library. Only the back, among the more obscure titles and subjects, had Hermione ever found peace.

Apparently, Riddle had the same objective as she.

Slowly, apprehensively, she set her plate on the table and sat down- only to jump right back up as she heard something hiss sharply at her.

"Oh, so sorry," said Riddle, grinning, not sounding sorry at all. "Meet Nagini."

Had Hermione not known he was Parselmouth, she would not have noticed the surreptitious hissing that Riddle directed toward his loyal serpent. Nagini, after a very condescending slither at Hermione, moved out of the chair and around Riddle's arm.

Hermione sat down again, a little harder than she should have, perhaps. Riddle did not seem to notice her icy glare, or at least he chose not to acknowledge it. He just turned back to the book over which he was taking notes.

Hermione opened her book bag and retrieved Animagi: the Facts and Fictions about Transformation. Then she positioned the book so she would not have to look at Riddle and began eating her lunch and reading.

The next two hours passed uneventfully, and as soon as the bell rang for the next class, Hermione gathered her books and walked determinedly away, refusing to give Riddle the satisfaction of her running from him.

"We're going to the same class, you know!" Riddle called after her.

"Then go with your fan club!" Hermione yelled back, glaring at the girls who had squatted in the near library aisles.

Madam Pince was going to say something about the disruption, but Hermione left so fast, she have had a Firebolt under her robes.

~888~

...with something of a slyish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity and kindness-- you could see by his looks that he cherished for Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affection.

- Robert Louis Stevenson, DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

~888~

Weeks passed. Minerva still would not talk to Hermione, and the Slytherin girls still itched to curse her to the other end of the world. Of course, the fact she raised her hand at every question asked by a teacher at the same time Riddle would did not boost her status with either of them. Old habits, including the more annoying ones, were hard to break.

However, Riddle, unlike Minerva, did not seem to mind the competition. He never spoke against her, and when he could not answer a question himself and Hermione could, he generally just laughed good-naturedly.

The only friend that did not leave Hermione's side was Hagrid. Like he would be in the future, Hagrid had the rare, simple gift of loving people unconditionally. Hagrid was Hermione's anchor to sanity in such a time and with such solitude, and when she was not in the library (in a corner she had never discovered before as far away from Riddle as she could be), she went to the hut near the Forbidden Forest where he was training for gamekeeper with Ogg, the present, or past, gamekeeper. Hagrid would always put aside whatever he was doing, and they would talk about simple things such as with what creatures Hagrid worked, and what he had done that day, sometimes about his father who had died two years ago. Hagrid ventured a few questions about Hermione's family and the friends she had at Mab's Circle, but Hermione quickly explained to him she did not want to remember home.

She spent most of her time in the more obscure sections of the library.

After two months, Hermione concluded that she would have to slightly transfigure a magic hourglass (which was really expensive) small enough for her chain, which she continued to wear almost religiously; then she had to create a spell that would allow it to go forward in time (which was extraordinarily difficult without a clue to the charm that caused a Turner to go back in time).

No matter how many books she read, she was given trite, unspecific descriptions of the Time Turner and its properties. She kept telling herself, "The next sentence... the next paragraph... the next page... the next chapter... the next book," but it was never in any of these. She was at the library so early in the morning, she had to wait for Madam Pomfrey to undo the spells on the door before she could go in, and Madam Pince had to kick her out at night when she closed the doors.

As Halloween neared, Hermione found herself waking up in the middle of the night and not going back to sleep until an hour or two later. She began pacing the Gryffindor common room when these bouts of insomnia made themselves known with all the subtlety of an exploding cauldron.

Soon, she could not stand the silence and left the common room, careful of the telltale signs that betrayed the caretaker's, Apollyon Pringle, approach. She had to be especially careful in this day and age because the methods of punishment were a bit extreme (if more effective), precisely those that Filch in her time enjoyed and mourned so much.

The week before Halloween, Hermione transfigured one of her robes into a modest two-piece bathing suit. She would cover herself with a Warming Charm, then drag a towel to the lake. She found pleasure in swimming the circumference of the shore. Sometimes, the giant squid, only a baby at this time, loved swimming next to her or under her. The night was a silver beauty that she had rarely seen at home, in her time. She had to keep reminding herself that she was home at Hogwarts, no matter what time. This truth had been confirmed in sixth year: she had had her first fiery fight with her parents during Christmas holiday, and she had returned to Hogwarts in a huff, only to realize she felt more comfortable among the gossiping portraits and stone flags of the corridors than she was in her own home among the objects of her childhood.

When she would finish swimming 'round the lake, she would sit halfway on the shore and let the water shimmer against her skin. The moon was remarkably bright, quickly approaching full, and she would look about her, unconsciously looking for Hagrid's vegetable garden and the Whomping Willow.

Occasionally, she would cry when she realized these things that were so familiar to her did not even exist yet. Then she would dry herself off and head back to the school.