Dangerous Games

Chapter 9: Helping Hands

----

...I found what seemed to me a simple crystalline salt of a white colour. The phial, to which I next turned my attention, might have been about half full of blood-red liquor, which was highly pungent to the sense of smell and seemed to me to contain phosphorus and some volatile ether. At the other ingredients I could make no guess.

The mixture, which was at first a reddish hue, began, in proportion as the crystals melted to brighten in colour, to effervesce audibly, and to throw off small fumes of vapour. Suddenly and at the same moment, the ebullition ceased and the compound changed to a dark purple, which faded again more slowly to a watery green.

- Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

----

"Be careful," Riddle ordered. "Wolfsbane has a tendency to explode with hemlock and lupin roots."

"I know," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Who corrects you in Potions class?"

She threw in the thin white flowers from a safe distance and backed away at the quick geyser of noxious fumes. "Why does three-fourths of the HJ7 potion consist of poison? Are you planning to kill yourself?"

Riddle explained patiently, "When I add the mint leaves and yew bark, the poisonous effect of the other herbs will be neutralized enough that I won't die."

"So you'd rather be in severe, agonizing pain. Oh, yes, makes perfect sense now." Hermione inched toward the cauldron hesitatingly. Then, deeming the boiling liquid writhing within it safe, stuck her wand into the viscous liquid. "Temperature, exactly zero degrees Celsius."

"The pain will draw the darker personality forward where it will thrive in the thrill. The yew bark will temporarily kill the dual personality and allow the darker side full reign. Unfortunately, the potion is only predicted to last approximately two hours. Better than Polyjuice, but nonetheless..."

"Why the darker side?" Hermione asked. "Few will find it practical, and the better self will be more embraced by the magical community."

Riddle laughed. "You speak as if I was your Gryffindor friend, Harry. I'm not doing this for the greater good; I'm making the potion strictly for personal gain."

"Always nice to meet someone so fundamentally honest."

Riddle was still chuckling as he glanced at his watch. "That's all I need you for tonight. This needs to set for two days."

"Did you find any information for me?" Hermione asked, holding her ground and reaching out her hand emphatically.

Riddle stroked his chin with a lazy smile. "I could make you beg for it. Or at least work for it."

Hermione replied forcibly, "I have."

Riddle glared at her, and Hermione matched him eye for eye, unrelenting. He finally shrugged one shoulder and softened his gaze.

"Yes, I found some information. There's a book over on the desk." He gestured in the general direction, finally turning away.

"Thank you." She snagged the book and flounced out.

~888~

Lanyon, you remember your vows: ...And now, you who have so long been bound to the most narrow and material views, you who have denied the virtue of transcendental medicine, you who have derided your superiors -behold!"

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

~888~

"And so we'll continue our lesson on sentient to sentient transfiguration next time. You are dismissed."

But then Professor Dumbledore rested his gaze on the Gryffindor side of the room. " Miss McGonagall, Miss Shannen, please stay behind."

Puzzled, Hermione halted her motions to pack up. She set down Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7 and approached Dumbledore's desk. She stared at the auburn-haired Professor, and when he lit his eyes on hers, a wave of horrified revelation swept through her, forceful as a black flood.

Despite her conscientious efforts to create a forward Time Turner, she had gradually lapsed into the rhythm of her new world. Her real home seemed like a distant, impartial memory. Riddle had substituted Harry and Ron and, in contradiction, Draco. Minerva had replaced Pansy. Dumbledore had easily replaced both Professor McGonagall and his future self. The only person who seemed to have kept his original character was Hagrid. With all of her adaptations to her new environment, she had accidentally forgotten that this was not her true reality. And when she finally looked down in shocked shame, she realized Dumbledore had deliberately reminded her of her purpose in a single glance. He freed her from him as he turned to Minerva.

"I wanted to speak to both of you about your desire to become Animagi. Have either of you begun your preparations?"

Minerva nodded enthusiastically. "I followed your advice, and I'm undergoing the charm procedure. I'm halfway through with the transfiguration," she boasted, swelling proudly.

Insufferable show-off, Hermione thought bemusedly.

Dumbledore blessed Minerva with a smile. "Well done. And you, Charlotte, have you progressed?"

"Somewhat," Hermione replied, avoiding Minerva's gaze. "I've gathered the ingredients, but I've yet to find time to mix them in the delicacy necessary for the cauldron. My work with the Time Turner has occupied most of my time. I'm close to finding the complete set of spells for the hourglass, but I still have to find the rest of the incantations and then cultivate the charm that will cause it to go forward. The information on such things is limited."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, then said slowly, "I believe you genuinely wish to become an Animagus, correct me if I'm wrong. So if I gave you the curriculum for the rest of the year in Transfiguration, will you study what you need to study?" A twinkle had crept into his bright blue eyes.

Hermione stammered incredulously, "W-what do you m-mean, sir?"

"I mean I'll allow you to skip Transfiguration classes to make the Animagus potion as long as you complete the Transfiguration requirements by the time you leave Hogwarts" -Hermione noted the wording- "and if you pass the exams. I have faith in you."

Minerva was shooting barbed daggers at Hermione, so she thought she should just agree and escape the tabby cat while she could.

"Yes, sir. I would appreciate that, sir."

Dumbledore stroked his beard in pleasure. "Very good. You can leave now, Minerva, I'd like to speak a bit longer with Miss Shannen."

Minerva was about to flounce out when Dumbledore called diplomatically to her retreating back, "Don't forget to come for tea this afternoon. We need to discuss your scholarship into university."

Considerably happier, Minerva departed.

Shaking his head with a knowing grin, he reapplied his attention to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I wondered about your outburst at the Gryffindor table during Hallowe'en and your rumored friendship with Tom Riddle."

"Friendship?" Hermione scoffed. "Hardly, Professor. The association is purely business, I assure you. I help him, he helps me; we don't kill each other, we benefit each other."

Dumbledore interjected with a hand raised, "Be that as it may, Hermione, I think the relationship, however strained it is, must end. Tom is not someone..." Dumbledore chose his words carefully, "someone to tangle with. The Headmaster may not see it, but Tom... there's something... off key about him. I feel responsible for your safety here. With Tom, that safety... may be compromised."

"I recognize your concern, Professor," Hermione assured his, "but he's helping me create the Time Turner, and he's been invaluable in the research. I can't just cut him off. Not yet."

"I'm worried, Hermione. If you depend on him too much, he'll want more, he'll take advantage of your precarious position. I know he knows you, Hermione, and you've done well with him so far." Hermione tried to interrupt, but Dumbledore spoke over her. "But he is clever, cleverer than anyone in this school except Hagrid and I understand. That calculating mind may find an alternate use for your many talents."

Hermione stiffened and, with obdurate insistence Harry and Ron had encountered during her house-elf liberation cause, said, "I'm sorry, Professor, but even if I have to ally myself with Slytherin's Heir, I'm getting home. Almost anything is worth that."

Dumbledore cautioned, "Don't mention that to Tom or you'll place yourself into a quandary not even I will be able to rescue you from."

"Maybe, Professor." She twisted on her heel.

"Hermione?"

She paused.

"How did you guess he was Slytherin's Heir?"

Hermione turned slowly, searching for the right words.

"He... Riddle... lived... lives in my time, too, Professor," she said guardedly.

And then she did leave.

~888~

--I had taken a loathing to my gentleman at first sight. So had the child's family, which was only natural. But the doctor's case was what struck me. He was the usual cut and dry apothecary, of no particular age and colour, with a strong Edinburgh accent, and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir, he was like the rest of us; every time he looked at my prisoner, I saw that Sawbones turn sick and white with desire to kill him.

--...O my poor Harry Jekyll, if ever I read Satan's signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend.

- Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

~888~

Hermione was shaking as she entered the Potions classroom. How quickly Riddle had charmed her into almost forgetting who he really was, who he would become, what he would do. Then she realized she was aiding him in his pursuit of power.

"Maybe I was meant to," Hermione whispered to herself. "Time's an odd thing. Maybe I did it and that's why he became what he did. Or," she said, speaking her fears, "maybe I'm just speeding up the process. Oh, by the stars," she groaned in something like despair, "there are too many details, too many possibilities, too many ways to change the future. The strands of time are just too delicate, everything's too macrocosmic for me to comprehend." She buried her head in her hands.

"Are you all right?" A familiar voice asked. Hermione looked up and saw a tentative Minerva looking down on her.

"No, P- I mean, Minerva. I'm not all right. There's too much to think about. My head's about to explode." She once again hid her face in the palms of her hands.

"I feel like that sometimes."

"Oh, I assure you you've never felt like this."

"I can imagine."

Hermione glanced up. It seemed the stiff Head Girl was trying to make amends. Hermione offered Minerva a tremulous smile. Minerva returned the friendly offering, then giggled self-consciously.

"Do you want to help me in this subject?" Minerva asked gently. "I'm good at wand-waving, but Potions leaves me flat."

Hermione's plastic smile gave way to genuine pleasure.

"Sure," said Hermione, relieved at the renewed friendship.

As they began the potion written on the board, Hermione stole a glance at the Slytherin side.

Riddle was staring back, and he did not look happy. Without any pretensions to the clandestine, he levitated a strip of parchment to Hermione's seat and dropped it on her desk.

Curious, she unfolded the note, and read the words, turning cold.

The potion is ready. I'm testing it tonight. Don't come.

-Tom

----

This is the moment/ This is the day

When I send all my doubts and demons on their way.

Every endeavor/ I have made ever

Is coming into play/ Is here and now- today!

This is the moment/ This is the time

When the momentum/ And the moment are in rhyme!

Give me this moment/ This precious chance.

I'll gather up my past/ And make some sense at last!

This is the moment/ When all I've done

All of the dreaming/ Scheming and screaming become one.

This is the day/ See it sparkle and shine!

When all I've leaved for/ Becomes mine!

For all these years/ I've faced the world alone

And now the time has come/ to prove to them I've made it on my own!

This is the moment/ My final test

Destiny beckoned/ I never reckoned second best!

I won't look down/ I must not fall!

This is the moment/ The sweetest moment of them all!

This is the moment/ Damn all the odds!

This day or never/ I'll sit forever with the gods!

When I look back/ I will always recall

Moment for moment/ This was the moment

The greatest moment of them all!

----

~888888~

Chapter 10: Murder, Murder

----

And then all of a sudden he broke out in a great flame of anger, stamping with his foot, brandishing the cane, and carrying on (as the maid described it) like a madman. The old gentleman took a step back, with the air of one very much surprised and a trifle hurt; and at that Mr. Hyde broke out of all bounds and clubbed him to the earth. And next moment, with ape-like fury, he was trampling his victim under foot and hailing down a storm of blows, under which the bones were audibly shattered, and the body jumped upon the roadway.

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

----

Hermione found herself imbued with a feeling of cold dread. The enormity of exactly what she had been brewing with Riddle finally made itself known from that little-used state of mind called 'repressed realization.' While the creation had been nothing but interesting, even slightly entertaining to her intellectual mind, she had lost slight of the potion's purpose. She saw now the Gryffindor recklessness with which she had entered into the entire predicament.

She coulod not fully concentrate during the Potions class, worrying to the point of paranoia about what Riddle would do under the influence of the HJ7 potion. Her mind flickered over the numerous atrocities Voldemort had initiated throughout his reign of terror: the perfection of the Cruciatus Curse, Dark Marks hovering over houses where blood had saturated every inch of carpet, countless reports of tortures...

Now's the time he creates the Dark Mark, Hermione thought suddenly, recalling a previous conversation, when he had revealed a side project involving, simply for sport, a spell for tattooing, a replication of the tattoo he had acquired the previous year at a Muggle shop.

She began shivering again.

Little did she know she was being observed by the very subject of her thoughts, and he was stroking his upper forearm where the tattoo graced his pale skin. He was grinning coldly. Tonight would not be interrupted.

~888~

No, there is no choice/ I must put aside

The fears I feel inside/ There's no place to hide.

So it comes to this/ One last final chance

That only I can take/ Now everything I've fought for is at stake!

Like a warning light/ Glimmering in red

Like crimson bloodshed/ Shimmering in red

Beautiful and strange/ See the colors change before my eyes!

See how they dance and they sparkle/ Like diamonds at night

Leading me out of the darkness/ And into the light!

11:58 PM. Consumed 10 centiliters of Formula HJ7. Salty, bitter taste. Stings the tongue. Warm in the gullet. Heat spreading strongly through my veins. A slightly feeling of euphoria. Lightheadedness. No noticeable behavioral differences.

I must be wise/ I must try to analyze

Each change in me/ Everything I see.

How will it be?/ Will I see the world through different eyes?

Now the die is cast/ Nothing left to do!

Time alone can prove/ My theories true!

Show the world...

My God! - What's this? Something is happening! I can't explain!

Something inside me/ A breath-taking pain

Devours and consumes me/ And drives me insane!

Suddenly/ Uncontrolled

Something is/ Taking hold.

Suddenly/ Agony

Filling me/ Killing me!

Suddenly/ Out of breath

What is this?/ Is this death?

Suddenly/ Look at me- Can it be?!

Who is this creature that I see?

Free!

--JEKYLL & HYDE "Transformation"

-Instantly the spirit of hell awoke in me and raged. With a transport of glee, I mauled the unresisting body, tasting delight from every blow; and it was not till weariness had begun to succeed, that I was suddenly, in the top fit of my delirium, struck through the heart by a cold thrill of terror.

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

~888~

She had been sleeping easier since Hallowe'en, but tonight, staring at the November's half moon, she knew she would not be able to sleep at all. She started to read one of the newer books on Time-Turners Riddle had given her, but she could not focus on the words, and her attention drifted back to he who had given her the book in the first place. She wondered what was going to be left in his aftermath. And she wondered whether he would regret anything he did during his transformation. The latter she worried about with more than anxiety. Too doubtful. After all, he would not stop, but would continue to transform until he had found the permanent potion that would change him from Tom Marvolo Riddle into Voldemort.

Hermione could not believe that she had helped the most evil wizard of her time create his power.

She slipped into an uneasy slumber, still leaning her head against the windowpane, a tear slipping down the glass.

~888~

Murder, murder!/ It's a curse, man!

Murder, murder!/ It's perverse, man!

Murder, murder!/ Nothing's worse than

Bloody murder in the night!

Murder, murder!/ On our doorstep!

Murder, murder!/ So watch your step!

Murder, murder!/ Take one more step,

You'll be murdered/ In the night!

Murder, murder!/ Once there's one done,

Murder, murder!/ Can't be undone!

Murder, murder!/ Lives in London!

Bloody murder in the night!

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpts from "Murder, Murder"

~888~

"Morning, Charlotte," called Minerva, still slightly guarded. "Charlotte?"

Hermione stirred against the window.

"Charlotte," Minerva goaded, shaking Hermione gently. "Wake up. Charlotte?"

"Has anyone screamed today?" Hermione mumbled, half-asleep.

Minerva pulled a face, nonplussed. "Huh?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. "Hmmm? What?"

"Nothing," Minerva said, looking oddly at Hermione.

As her consciousness took hold once again, Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, no," she whispered under her breath. "What have I done?" She hastily grabbed her dressing robe and rushed down to the Great Hall.

"But Hermione, your still in your nightgown!" Minerva called after her, in vain.

No one was shrieking in terror, and Riddle was not at the Slytherin table, so Hermione relaxed a notch and sat down at the Gryffindor table. Maybe nothing had happened last night.

"Good morning, Charlotte. Nice gown."

Hermione jumped and turned around to see Riddle smirking down at her. His hand rested on her shoulder. Now very conscious of her nightclothes, she pulled her robe closer around her.

"Good morning, Riddle," Hermione choked out. There was an awkward silence.

"Well," said Riddle, "aren't you going to ask?"

Hermione swallowed, perspiring a little. "How... was... last night?"

Riddle gave her a wide, ecstatic smile that left Hermione terrified.

"It was a success, Hermione. A success. And I even have an inkling on how to make the effects permanent."

"What did you do?" Hermione hissed.

"I?" he said, grinning still. "I didn't do anything."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Hemrione muttered, standing. She pushed her face in front of his. "What did you do?" she articulated.

His smile only grew. "I told you. I didn't do anything."

Without warning, a blood-curling scream rang throughout the Hall.

Both Riddle's and Hermione's heads snapped toward the Entrance Hall. She gave Riddle was last glance before she ran in the direction of the scream.

A small crowd had gathered on the marble floor before the front doors, attracted like flies to carrion. There were assorted gasps, and a few people stumbled from the scene, gagging and throwing up in a corner.

Hermione shoved through the group, then halted, stunned.

The boy's extremities were strewn around the trunk in a rectangular shape, and he had been gutted. The intestines and other organs dotted the blood around him, looking like an expressionist, grotesque painting. The heart was separate from the rest of the body. It lay about a meter above the head. Someone had eaten half of it. From what was left from the head, it seemed the murderer had given the unfortunate a frontal lobotomy, a procedure that left the boy aware of exactly what was going on around him. The tongue lolled out of a mouth filled with concealed blood and eyes stared accusingly at Hermione.

Painted on the Great Hall doors was a crude outline of the Dark Mark.

"By the stars," Minerva gasped, coming up from behind. She put a hand to her mouth, holding back bile. "That's Percival."

"Peeves?" Hermione rasped. "He killed Peeves?"

"What's going on?" asked Professor Dippet, hurrying down the stairs in a frenzy. Riddle had entered the Hall and was watching the events unfold lazily. Professor Dippet glanced over him and rested his eyes on the slaughter. He clutched his heart, and his face turned gray. "Oh, my word. What... who... b- no- it can't be. No."

Professor Dumbledore flew into the Hall like a fury. Hermione looked at her later Headmaster and fell to the ground. Harry had once told her that Dumbledore looked different when angry, but now he was furious, and it exuded from him in an aura of pure, unadulterated power. He took in everything with his cold blue eyes that were devoid of any twinkle.

"Who did this?" Dumbledore looked around. His gaze rested on Riddle, who did not budge from his casual position. Riddle gave no indication that Dumbledore's suspicions were not baseless, but Hermione could almost feel the tension, the sheer power, build between the two.

Dumbledore was the first to break the eye contact, having more important things to worry about at the present. He said slowly and clearly, "Everyone, leave this place now. Minerva, gather all the teachers you can find." He did not deputy Riddle. "I said, 'everyone, leave.'"

This time, the crowd obeyed, and escaped from the carnage gratefully.

Hermione stumbled into an alternate corridor, hardly observing where she was going. She fell against the stone wall, gasping for breath.

"I did it," she whispered. "I caused this."

While she was chanting this revelation, she was oblivious to the figure approaching.

He gathered her in his arms, holding her face against his shoulder. She clung to him, not caring who was holding her, just wanting comfort.

"Death comes to us all, Hermione, and it is only with death that we can eventually conquer it."

Hermione looked up and found her in Riddle's arms. She ripped herself away.

"No," she muttered, shaking her head fervently. "No."

Riddle nodded, and he pressed her against the wall bringing his mouth down close to hers. "Yes."

His cold lips pressed deeply into her own responding mouth. She softened beneath him, her muscles relaxing as he pulled her against him. The kiss was almost chaste, with nothing more than the simple contact, but the action seemed more intimate, like a hand slipping up her thigh; calculating and seductive, devious and sinful. Hermione moaned slightly, and Riddle pulled away.

His eyes were wide with awe. He touched Hermione's face gently. Hermione peered at him shyly from underneath her lashes, all horror forgotten.

"That... that was..." Riddle stammered. Then he leaned down and kissed her again, fingers clenched tight against her hips, bringing her against him. She reached up, running a hand through his hair, tousling it further, and her mouth parted.

Suddenly, "You bastard!" He was thrown across the hallway into a suit of armor. The assortment of metal crashed to the ground, Riddle tangled in the middle of it. "How dare you? Dumbledore was right! You do know how to charm those who can benefit you. Well, I could tell him. He knows I've been helping you with your project, and I daresay he could guess whatever you were up to. He wouldn't blame me."

"Yes," Riddle hissed, "but what about everyone else? You're already a suspicious character, a Gryffindor who spends time in Slytherin company. Dumbledore could not prove my guilt last year, and he won't this year. He can't. You know that, don't you? He may believe your innocence, but see where his opinion landed Hagrid and where I am positioned. There is nothing Dumbledore" -he spat the name- "can do to me. I don't care if you leave me now. You've done your task admirably."

He ceased his tirade abruptly, his eyes oddly pleading. Hermione was breathing hard, still angry that he had taken advantage of her, and she had let him, angry that she had not heeded Dumbledore's advice. But that furious passion cooled, and she began to calm down.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," she proclaimed, "Go to hell."

"Please, Hermione," Tom said softly. He disentangled himself from the suit of armor and stood gingerly. Hermione was shocked to realize his tone was sincere. "Please, Hermione. I can do without you, but I don't want to." He took a step closer. He was encouraged when Hermione did not move back. "It's a pity you weren't Sorted Slytherin. The things I could teach you. That power that you don't even realize you have could be set free. It's what I've been saying all along."

"You killed him," Hermione said uncertainly.

Tom cocked his head slightly. "It may be hard for you to comprehend, but I, Tom Riddle, did not kill him. You seemed to have deduced I'm Slytherin's Heir; I was responsible for Myrtle's death. But..." his brow furrowed, "I could not ever directly kill anyone. I can't... find it within myself to kill, though I don't mind others carrying out the murders." He looked at his hands in wonder. "That's why I wanted the transformation. I wanted to kill, I wanted to have the power to do so. Who I kill doesn't matter, does it? Only that I can. But yes, I guess, technically, I did it. And that's a remarkable achievement for me. I did it. Or part of me did it. My Hyde was responsible; I had guesses of what would occur, but how I was... that into which I changed... wasn't really me. I am cruel; I'll admit it. I am manipulative; I'll admit it. I like to have my way; I'll admit it. But I am not pure evil, which is impossible with medicinal aid or insanity. It may be difficult for you to believe, but there is come- a little- compassion," he stepped closer, slipping his hands onto her shoulders, "some tenderness, some conscience."

"I don't believe you," Hermione said. The lie was blatant.

He chuckled in his throat, the vibrations running from her shoulders and down her arms, the sensation surprisingly sensual.

"Just not running from me denies that statement, and you know it. I could kill you now. That was one primal act that my Hyde desired to do to you. Hyde is only a part of me, meaning his feelings are mine, I give them to him. But I don't kill you. That should be enough for you."

For one moment, Hermione leaned in toward him, and Tom tilted his chin down to receive her again.

Voldemort.

Flight of Death. Avada Kedavra.

Dark Mark.

Thousands dead at his hands.

'When he came back as Voldemort, no one suspected that charming, intelligent Tom was behind the horrible murders,' even if he was odd. Even if he was a Slytherin.

Hermione fiercely pulled back and took out her wand. "I'm going to tell you something, Riddle, and listen well. I don't know what to think of you, but nonetheless, it doesn't matter anyway. I am going to leave, and I don't want you to follow me. I might join you in the library occasionally; we may work together in class; but I do not want any sort of emotional connection between us at all. We are not friends, we feel nothing, we are business partners. I help you, you help me. Quid pro quo. Something for something. You like having people in your debt, like any good Slytherin, but I'm not one of those people. We've worked for each other. I can leave you and we'd both have lost something, purely business related. I can do without you. Like you said."

Tom smiled, and Hermione's skin crawled, not entirely with revulsion.

"You so eloquently stated before that I can charm those who benefit my needs. I never needed you. I could have easily completed that potion on my own; I think you knew that unconsciously all the time. You intrigued me, Hermione. I wanted to explore that power I sensed immediately in your face. But you're wrong, you owe me, Hermione. Very possibly, you owe me your life."

Hermione, trembling violently by now, set her chin, and articulated carefully, "Stay away, Tom. Leave me alone."

"Okay," he whispered, "I'll give you my progress through correspondence. But you will never be alone." He deliberately ran a finger along the line of her jaw, watching the contact with pleasure. Hermione resisted the impulse to take his finger into her mouth, then kiss the ends of his other fingers.

"Like it or not, you will never... be... alone."

~888~

-I am the man/ Mark my words well

With whom you'll share/ Heaven or hell.

'eaven, I fancy, 'as no place for me

And I can find hell on my own!

Like it or not/ You will never be alone.

After tonight, you will never be alone.

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpt from "Lucy Meets Hyde"

-Edward Hyde would pass away like the stain of breath upon a mirror; and there in his stead, quietly at home, trimming the midnight lamp in his study, a man who could afford to laugh at suspicion, would be Henry Jekyll.

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

~888888~