#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
The next day, a calm Sunday as far as Hermione can tell, is a great relief after days of Tom Riddle's companionship. No sounds permeate her ears from the exterior walls leading to the Common Room, and there is not the smallest need for food given Pokey's visits with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But moreover, there is not a lurking Tom Riddle in her peripheral vision, such a relief after days on end of his company. And though Hermione will have to leave for her meeting with Dumbledore at some point, this time of loneliness comes as a relief, even if it prompts her memories of the future.
After hours of writing and studying, both academic and extracurricular subjects, Hermione prepares herself for departure, adorning her school robes rather than the inappropriate pajamas that cling to her skin warmly. She shoulders her sweater, Time-Turner hidden underneath the clothing, before pulling up her hair, adorning her shoes, and sweeping from the light of her room.
Her eyes are quick in their search for the Dark Lord, finding no Tom Riddle in the Slytherin Common Room and prompting her to rush quickly away and up the stairs to the Transfiguration classroom. She walks faster than normal, a pace usually set by the Dark Lord, in her attempts to flee from the boy before her meeting with the intelligent professor--and later Headmaster--of Hogwarts. Hermione knocks lightly on the door, the older man's voice echoing an "enter" and sending her inward.
"Miss Granger, please sit," Dumbledore offers from his seat at the professor's desk, gesturing to the first row of tables where she easily accepts the invitation, sitting. A deep feeling of sorrow permeates her heart at the deja vu of this moment--Dumbledore had said just this in Hermione's last meeting with him, the day of his death. But the gleaming in his eyes seems to reawaken her presentness, her back straightening under the weight of her task. "Now, you're probably wondering why I've asked you here."
"Yes, sir," Hermione responds with an air of sweetness, yet seriousness.
"Well, Hermione, I am quite sure that you have not been honest with me and Headmaster Dippet," the old professor remarks, prompting Hermione's mouth to clench shut in fear of it falling open in shock.
"Sir?"
"You have seen battle, though it is not due to Grindelwald," Dumbledore says, looking at her with the all-knowing eye of his wisdom. "You have lost your family, but not because they were Aurors. You entered the Slytherin House, yet not due to your cunning. You have befriended Tom Riddle, although it was not due to a genuine wish for friendship. Miss Granger, you are not from this time, are you?"
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Hermione, though never doubting such a progression, finds herself slightly shocked by his deductive ability. As far as she can remember, Hermione's facade has been especially flat in the vision of this mentor, her paranoia of discovery reassuring this notion. And yet, here she sits, hiding surprise within her staring.
