Dark, Twisted and Time Turned

Chapter 3: Dear Headmaster

(*Warning: discussion of war)

"Here, use my quill. Have you used one before? Oh, excellent. We don't use any silly Muggle tools in our world, where we belong." Tom offers a small smile, seated on his bed while she sits at his small desk. Tom's room consisted of just his belongings, as there was apparently still some fear among his peers. Therefore, even though the orphanage was overcrowded, he did not need to share. "The Headmaster, Dippet, he and I get along quite well. I'll write him a letter as well to state I have met you and referred you to him. I would suggest you write the ministry, but I doubt you'll want to have your wand tracked. Nasty business, no freedom to do any quick charms."

Dear Headmaster Dippet,

My name is Hermione Granger, and I am writing to you regarding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have fled my home in a Muggle town to practice my magic where it is safe to do so: at your fine school. I was raised in an unfortunate family circumstance that I have recently escaped. I have found myself in possession of a wand. I have learned some magic from a tradesman I met, and now I find myself in an orphanage in Muggle London.

I have made an acquaintance, a Tom Riddle of whom is very helpful and willing to answer any and all questions I may have. He has suggested I write you in an attempt to take up formal magical education. I am sixteen years old, without an ounce of coin to my name, very little belongings, and nowhere to go. Therefore, I request that if you could offer your recommendation to the school's board, I would like to come to Hogwarts.

I would require assistance to purchase supplies, however, but Tom has informed me that the school is very accommodating to low-income wizards and witches.

Yours most sincerely,
Hermione Granger

She hands the letter over to Tom, who reads it over carefully.

"Excellent. Very well worded, I have no doubt you'll be allowed to come to Hogwarts. There's been so much displacement, what with the Muggle war and Wizarding war. Last year we had to host a few dozen students from the Russian school who couldn't get there. I won't even attempt to try to pronounce it; I'll surely butcher it. The Muggle war has been so devastating in Russia, even the magical barriers couldn't protect the school from the amount of bombing. Vanya- an acquaintance I met last year- said nearly the entire thing was destroyed beyond magical repair. Most of the students went to Durmstrang or Mohoutokoro," He pauses his speech a moment to tell her the address she was sending the letter to.

"Durmstrang is in Germany. Central European school. Mohoutokoro is in Japan, that would be the Pacific school. It's the smallest of the eight basic schools, so both schools could only take so many before we had to take a few students for the year. Oh, Hermione, you can't just post that. You'll have to call an owl." He leans out the window and whistles shrilly. After a few moments, an owl lands on the windowsill and he slips a knut into the pouch on it's leg. He takes the letter and ties it on for her, and then the owl disappears into the city.

"I didn't realize there were on-call owls in London." She remarks, fiddling with the quill. he glances over.

"Something new the Ministry postal service is trying. Really convenient, actually," Tom reaches to take a book down from the top of his wardrobe before pausing, and glances at her. "How are you feeling today?" She looks away. It had taken three days to cough up whatever black substance was inside of her. Tom had said it was a side effect of exposure to Dark Magic, and the more exposure she had to it, the more it would eat at her unless she treated it. On the second day, he handed her a potion that would help. She didn't question it's contents.