Dangerous Games

Chapter 11: Letters or You've Got Mail

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-Animals trapped behind bars at the zoo/ Need to run rampant and free!

Predators live by the prey they pursue/ This time the predator's me!

Lust -like a raging desire/ Fills my whole soul with its curse!

Burning with primitive fire/ Berserk and perverse!

Tonight I'll plunder heaven blind/ Steal from all the gods!

Tonight I'll take from all mankind/ Conquer all the odds!

And I feel I'll live on forever/ With Satan himself by my did!

And I'll show the world/ That tonight and forever

The name to remember's/ the name Edward Hyde!

What a feeling to be so alive!/ I have never seen me so alive!

Such a feeling of evil inside!/ That's the feeling of being Edward Hyde!

With this feeling of being alive/ There's a new world I see come alive!

It's a truth that cannot be denied/ There's no feeling like being Edward Hyde!

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpt from "Alive"

-"This Master Hyde, if he were studied," thought he, "must have secrets of his own; black secrets, by the look of him; secrets compared to which poor Jekyll's worst would be like sunshine..."

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

-The most racking pangs succeeded: a grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death. Then these agonies began swiftly to subside, and I came to myself as if out of a great sickness. There was something strange in my sensations, something indescribably new and, from its very novelty, incredibly sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil; and the thought, in that moment, braced and delighted me like wine. I stretched out my hands, exulting in the freshness of the sensations; and in the act, I was suddenly aware that I had lost in stature.

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

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Dear Hermione, 11.3.1943

As I promised, I will give you records of the progress I make. I will edit details you would rather not hear (or read), and you will have to decide what is true or fiction.

The changes are painful, as we discussed, but in the end, it's a good pain, like how one's muscles feel after exercising for the first time. Sometimes the veins in my eyes rupture, causing the whites to turn red. With my black eyes, I look extraordinarily like Nagini. I find it amusing. I have had to sneak into Pomfrey's stores to steal some of the less used medicine for hemorrhages.

Dumbledore, the meddling fool, came and inquired about my progress. He suspects, but I had created a potion that mimicked the feelings of euphoria, but failed to make someone completely good. He had a Truth spell on his wand, I could tell, but I told him the complete truth, so he had to leave empty-handed of evidence. He is getting annoying.

I don't think I have killed anything intelligent, but the Forbidden Forest has opened its arms to me. And speaking of murder, Peeves can be found haunting the west fifth floor corridor. He's bound to come down any day now. He did not see who killed him, thank the stars; the one thing I regretted on my first experiment was my lack of caution. My Hyde has since then grown more cautious.

I'll see you in our corner tonight in the library. Madam Pince often gives me authority to stay after hours as long as I lock up behind me. I have more information for my potion that I persuaded from a unicorn. He wasn't happy to give it to me, but he didn't have much choice.

Love always,

Tom

Dear Hermione 11.7.1943

If you want, you can come to the Slytherin table this evening. Cenia misses you. Maybe I'm exaggerating... but only a little. I think you earned her respect by stabbing Avery with your fork. She's had a run-in with him before and can empathize.

My Hyde stumbled into your 'friend' Hagrid with that brute of a gamekeeper Ogg. Apparently a gamekeeping lesson. Ha! Little does Ogg know that Hagrid has more know-how of that forest than his tutor is aware. I 'almost' slipped the location of the Acromantula, but decided against it after I had reduced that great oaf to tears in insinuations, and not just about his creatures. Ogg is not a kind man.

I have obtained ingredients in preparations for a permanent potion. I must admit, my dear, you gave me the idea for the primary ingredient.

The changes are coming easier each time, and each transformation is new, painful, but quicker.

In answer to you question two days ago, yes, I feel completely different as my other self. Robert Louis Stevenson only saw the tip of the depravity possible in a human. My other self is significantly restrained, but it's only because of the chamomile in the HJ7 potion. In the permanent transformation potion, this will not be the case. The thought of this makes me slightly queasy, but as my darker side experiences more, like a newborn child, he becomes smarter, more devious, more likely to fool other more-civilized people into thinking I am ordinary.

I have noticed that I have mixed my 'I' and 'he' together, but technically, I am he, and I am not. It is difficult to explain, but I think you understand. You tend to, don't you?

Even the centaurs fear me now.

I found something that will be of interest to you. Hint: use a translation spell on all the versions of the incantations for the hourglass. You'll find it out on your own without my help if you just think about it.

Tom

~888~

-Am I the man that I appear to be?/ Or am I someone I don't know?

Is there some monster drawing nearer to me?/ Becoming clear to see?

Will what I fear to be be so?

What is this strange obsession/ That's tearing me apart?

Some strange deranged expression/ Of what's in my heart?

This is a deadly game I have to win!/ This is a fight I dare not lose!

I have an adversary steeped in sin/ Who wages war within

In ways I can't begin to use...

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpt from "Streak of Madness"

-Evil besides (which I must still believe to be the lethal side of man) had left on that body an imprint of deformity and decay... This, too, was myself... I have observed that when I wore the semblance of Edward Hyde, none could come near to me without a visible misgiving of the flesh. This, as I take it, was because all human beings, as we meet them, are commingled out of good and evil; and Edward Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil.

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

~888~

Dear Hermione, (burned after reading) 11.10.1943

Does a pentagram of candles conjure or is a circle more effective? I cannot seem to find the answer anywhere.

The Baron has reined in Peeves and is teaching him how to change from a ghost, which he finds boring, to a poltergeist. The lessons are becoming increasingly destructive. He's worse than a ghoul. I do not know what the Baron was thinking when he started Peeves' death clock at the beginning of the year. You'd think he'd choose a Slytherin over a Ravenclaw, no matter how crafty and mischievous that Ravenclaw may be.

The Forbidden Forest seems to never end. Werewolves are said to run the entire wood in a night, but I can't seem to get very far myself. It's almost like I'm being pushed from the outskirts. Maybe the forest wishes to claim me. The thought is intriguing.

Last night, in the midst of making love to Cenia, I wondered absentmindedly what it would be like under your fingers. For the first time, I reached a climax, and Cenia felt happy she had caused it. Ha! I set Obliviate on her in a fluster. I've never been flustered before. I've decided it's not desirable; it slows reason.

Instead of numbing the pain, the more I take the potion, the more painful the change is. I wonder why.

Love,

Tom

Dear Hermione, 11.13.1943

You've been avoiding me. I miss you. And I am beginning to miss myself. I have decided to take the potion in the afternoons. Or maybe I haven't. My Hyde has been shaking the bars of his cage. He has had his taste of freedom and now desires nothing else. He is not content with the brevity of his chances, and he is beginning to despise my power over him. However, in each transformation, he augments he own powers. I fear the same mistake made by Henry Jekyll will occur with me. He may appear in any of my classes. I hope he realizes that, should he do so, he will reveal to the school precisely what we've done, and he would be thrown into Azkaban and not experience any more freedom. I think he does know this, and this is the only reason he doesn't overpower me.

I do not think you understand how different this Hyde is from me. His power, or free use of it, is exhilarating, but the things he does to help me continue my experiments are unnecessary casualties. He does not care about the messes he makes. They are pleasurable to him, this chaos, and he covers his tracks well. That does not hinder my knowledge that he has committed such atrocities.

I am concocting the new permanent HJ7 potion now. I hope to take it after I've graduated, safely on my own. You should be long gone before that time. At least, I hope you are, though we need to speak of some things. That idea you had after translating will not be successful. The charm of which you were thinking is similar to the backward Turner's spell, but it will melt metal and glass, which is not recommended with an hourglass.

Love,

Tom

~888~

-This familiar that I called out of my own soul, and sent forth alone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign and villainous; his every act and thought centered on self; drinking pleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture to another; relentless like a man of stone.

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

~888~

Dear Hermione, 11.20.1943

The permanent potion is nearly finished. The near completion has imbued me with euphoria. At last, I have created something of importance, of practicality. Then again, that is why one does a NEWT coursework internal assessment.

On a side note, I have discovered the way to brand my Mark on anyone, so that experiment was rather more of a hobby, don't you think? Like your Animagus experiment. How has that Potion progressed? You've been skipping Transfiguration to make it, no? What do you think you'll become?

Before, I said Cenia missed you. Now Avery misses you. His wounds have healed, and he is intrigued by a violent Gryffindor. He's been pondering your naked body. Watch yourself in empty rooms.

Yes, that new incantation seems more accurate. Perhaps change the accents a little. Ask Flitwick about that; he's the Charms Master. It seems that, aside from the accents, the Time Turner is almost ready. You have the enchanted chain (though it may need to be renewed after breaking from the original Turner) and the incantation. All you need now is to immerse an already charmed hourglass in your spells. That hourglass won't come cheap. And then it takes four months for the spells to sink in. You might have a problem.

Love,

Tom

Dear Hermione, 11.24.1943

You're avoiding me again. Hagrid informed me that he hasn't seen you for a week. You've leaving your oaf all alone, Hermione! Where have you been hiding? Not even Minerva knows, though she was a bit snarly when I asked; she wondered for what insidious reason I was asking.

Peeves has come out of his shell a full-fledged poltergeist. The mischief is beautiful.

Love,

Tom

Dear Hermione, 12.03.1943

Potion finished. Am storing in a safe place. Where are you? I find you!

Love,

Tom

Dear Hermione, 12.15.1943

I'm going to hurt someone if you keep hiding like this.

Love,

Tom

~888~

-"...and you can do but one thing, Utterson, to lighten this destiny, and that is to respect my silence."

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

~888888~

Chapter 12: The Time Turner

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-The doctor, it appeared, now more than ever confined himself to the cabinet over the laboratory, where he would sometimes even sleep; he was out of spirits, he had grown very silent, he did not read; it seemed as if he had something on his mind.

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

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Hermione stretched in her four-poster. She had been up the night before until three in the morning. That private library she had found was her sanity, and she could finally hide from Riddle.

He had slowly started to make certain uncomfortable affectionate gestures to her after admitting that while he was making love to Cenia, he had been aroused thinking of her. The caresses were not blatant: a hand on her shoulder, a finger on her lips to quiet her when they sneaked through the school after hours, an arm around her waist in jest. They seemed merely friendly, but his dark eyes suggested something different. Despite his help, she wanted him far away. She still had trouble reminding herself that Tom Riddle was Voldemort, and the guilt she felt after having a good time intellectually with him ate at her constantly. She ached to tell Dumbledore or Hagrid, but she knew she could not; she had to face these problems on her own. She was avoiding the future Headmaster as much as she could.

---

-"If he be Mr. Hyde," he had thought, "I shall be Mr. Seek."

-Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

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The private library seemed to belong to Dumbledore. His handwriting was found here and there in books. However, if Dumbledore knew she found refuge, he permitted her to stay.

"Morning, Charlotte!" cried Minerva excitedly. "Happy Christmas!" Minerva jumped onto Hermione's bed and bounced until Hermione sat up, resigned.

"Why should I get up?" Hermione asked, trying to sound menacing, but grinning at the future-Professor McGonagall's indecorous behavior. "It's not like I got anything."

Minerva winked knowingly. "Can you be so sure?" Minerva opened Hermione's curtains to reveal a small pile of gifts on her trunk. Hermione's mouth fell open.

And for one moment, she understood how Harry felt on his first Christmas at Hogwarts. Because she was half a century away from her family and friends (and because Christmas had already passed for her back in her time), she had not been expecting anything and had braced herself to the fact. The gifts had caught her off-guard, and the gestures by her various newfound friends of 1943 touched to the very center of her heart. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, and a pleasant warmth spread from the general area of her chest to her fingertips.

"Goodness," said Minerva, startled. "It's nothing to cry about. I can take them back..."

"No!" Hermione cried, laughing through her tears. "It's okay, I'm fine. I'm just... you don't understand what this means to me."

Minerva smiled gently. Without a word, she touched Hermione's hand companionably, then left her to her gifts.

At first, Hermione just sat there, still and smiling, basking in the clutter, hustle and bustle of the pure happiness surrounding her. Then she blinked and looked at the brightly-colored packages.

She received a copy of Animagi: What Animal Are You? from Minerva, a box of homemade fudge from her 'family,' and a note from Professor Dumbledore that said simply:

I overviewed your Animagus potion with the aid of Professor Figg. Everything seems to be in order. Well done.

Happy Christmas,

Professor Dumbledore

A box with a crude assortment of holes on the side wiggled a bit, and Hermione approached it warily; the card on the side was in Hagrid's distinct scrawl. Hermione was prepared for some odd beast.

But when she slipped off the top from the box, she practically squealed with delight. A pure black fluffy kitten squinted up at her and uttered a piteous mew. Hermione melted and reached in to retrieve the poor kitten who had doubtlessly been in the box all morning. The card said:

I found this one in the corner of me hut, meowing for its mamma. As far as I can tell, this one doesn't have a mamma no more, but I thought you'd enjoy her. Happy Christmas, Charlotte! Come see me.

Love,

Hagrid

P.S. Her name's Midnight. She won't respond to nothing else.

Hermione laughed out loud with pleasure. She pressed the kitten against her cheek. The cat responded with an easy purr and an attempt at bathing the scant fur on its paw. Hermione quickly predicted the less-than-ecstatic reaction of Crookshanks, but decided her cat back home would get used to her.

Then she spotted a small, hastily wrapped something that had been hidden by the other gifts. There was no card or identification that she could see, so she ripped the paper and out fell an hourglass and a note.

Dear Hermione,

This is already enchanted, so you only need cast the forwarding spells after you put it on your chain. I have completed the permanent HJ7 potion. It needs to set for four months, the same amount of time needed for the incantation to permeate the hourglass. What a coincidence. Perform the spell now!

Love,

Tom

Hermione looked at the tiny hourglass. She suddenly hated her predicament and that she needed Riddle's help to get through it all. She hated that she was now completely in his debt. She hated him because she was so grateful, so attracted.

But she could not not take this opportunity. She had everything she needed, and she really wanted to get home...

So...

Like she was in a trance, she removed the gold chain from her neck, then threaded the hourglass onto the chain. From under her pillow, Hermione retrieved her Time Turner journal and turned to the page that had the complete list of spells written in order in her neat, precise handwriting. With her wand, she searched down the list for the specific spells she needed. When she had found them, she closed her curtains and began.

I will not tell you all that went on during this time, but had anyone been observing her while she performed the incantations would have been mesmerized by the authoritative tone of her voice and easy flow of movement. Even Midnight did not move a single muscle or mew as the hourglass began spurting out thin, green rays of light and steaming. Hermione performed these spells as an artist and a master.

After the procedure was complete, Hermione dropped her wand and flopped back onto her pillows. Midnight mewed inquisitively, but in transferring the raw power that had been invested into the Time Turner, Hermione had been drained to the point of collapse. She was fast asleep.

She finally woke up at noon still exhausted but elated. Midnight had curled up against Hermione's neck, and her tail was tickling Hermione's nose.

Hermione sat bolt upright. Then, in a stiff manner, she dressed and went to the Great Hall. Midnight did not follow her new mistress and concentrated on a spider in the corner. Lunch.

Hermione's eyes scanned the House tables until she reached Slytherin; Riddle was conversing with the few friends that had stayed at Hogwarts. More students during this time, it seemed to Hermione, remained at school than went home for the winter holiday.

Riddle looked up deliberately.

"Good morning, Charlotte," he said genially. "Did you have a pleasant Christmas morning?"

Hermione just stood there for a minute, then she leaned over from behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in an awkward embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear.

Riddle was looking quite pleased at her gesture, and he touched her hair in acknowledgment. "You're welcome, Charlotte. As you know, I want you to succeed just as much as you do. It will be better for us all." He indicated the luncheon before them with a flick of his hand. "Would you like to join us?"

Hermione smiled and forgot that they were Slytherin and she was Gryffindor. She never liked those distinctions anyway. However, she sat on Riddle's left side; Avery was on his right.

~888~

-Henry! At last. What could possibly be more important that your own engagement party?

John, I am close to/ A breakthrough discovery!

Something spectacular!/ Something sublime!

Finally, a light in the darkness/ Has come to me!

Now it is only a matter of time!

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpt from "The Engagement Party"

~888888~