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Masters of Manipulation	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 28506 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Added Disclaimer: Nurse Ratchet belongs to Ken Kesey. He can keep her, by the way. *winks* I'm also not making any money by using her name in this story.

Masters of manipulation

Chapter fifteen

Obviously, Minerva wasn't pleased. That much was clear to Hermione and also to the normally very distracted Ernest Lovegood. The Gryffindor Head Girl sat against a bundle of cushions in her bed inside the infirmary, but even though she was still in a weakened condition and needed Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour, her mind was very awake. And she sure as hell was telling Hermione off about her little lapse in judgement.

'I know, I know. You don't have to rub it in, Minerva. You're not the one who's stuck with him come Friday,' Hermione finally snapped, after listening patiently to the tirade for quite some time. 'Besides, you better stop raising your voice now, before Nurse Ratchet over there throws us out.'

'Who?' Ernest asked, confused.

'Never mind, it's a Muggle thing,' Hermione replied.

Minerva was quiet for a moment, but she changed the subject back to the books. Apparently, she felt that Hermione would have enough punishment coming to visit soon.

'How are we doing with the books? Do we have any lead on Helga's yet?' Minerva asked softly.

Hermione shook her head. 'There is nothing to find on Hufflepuff's book. Pomona checked a large number of sources. It's almost as though that book never existed. Really, Helga Hufflepuff did a fine job in hiding her knowledge. So all I know is that Gellert Grindelwald has Rowena's, and he could have that book stacked anywhere in Europe. I have no idea where to start looking.'

'Can't you wait until he's, you know, gone,' Minerva whispered to her, so that Ernest would not hear what she said. But Ernest wouldn't have heard her, if she had shouted it in his ear, because he was still paying attention to the school nurse. Hermione figured he was probably making up a story about a Ratchet of some kind.

'I thought about that,' said Hermione to Minerva, 'but the problem is that we will have finished the ones from Godric and Salazar long before that. And I doubt Riddle will need me around once he has got what he needs. I have to get to that book now, before we're done.'

'You can't go to Germany, Hermione. It is too dangerous. It's what you said; you don't know where to start looking. And you're British and a Muggle-born witch. Grindelwald's forces will kill you, if you go over there.'

Lovegood was nodding in affirmation of Minerva's statement. It was ludicrous to even think about doing something like that, but Hermione, apparently, had other ideas. And she was somewhat thinking about executing them. She already had established the perfect day to do it, namely come Friday. And the longer she thought about it, the more attractive the idea of leaving this castle on Friday became. All she needed to find out was where Gellert Grindelwald would hide a book.

'Professor Dumbledore might know where he stashed the book,' Hermione said, thoughtful. She had been considering that possibility, ever since she found out who owned Ravenclaw's volume in this day and age.

Minerva gave her a surprised glance. 'What do you mean? Why would he know? They're not exactly friends. Dumbledore is the only one who Grindelwald is afraid of. That's why he hasn't come to Britain yet,' Minerva said somewhat upset.

Hermione didn't have the heart to tell Minerva what she knew about the friendship that once existed between her favourite Professor and the current dark wizard. So she came up with an, in her eyes rather lame, excuse and told Minerva that Dumbledore might have a shrewd idea on the matter, purely theoretically speaking of course. Minerva seemed to find that a reasonable explanation and Hermione was relieved she left it at that.

Hermione and Ernest were about to leave the infirmary to go to their next classes, because their lunch-break was almost over, when the door opened and the Scourge of the Nation entered. Hermione was shocked to see he wasn't alone. Tom Riddle was levitating a severely injured Rodolphus Lestrange.

'Augusta, you idiot,' whispered Minerva underneath her breath. 'And I thought we were in the clear when nothing happened during the weekend.'

The school nurse came running down the isle between the empty beds. 'Oh dear, oh dear, just put him in the bed over there, Mister Riddle.'

And she pointed toward the bed on the far end of the infirmary. She started fussing about Rodolphus's wounds the minute his body hit the sheets. Several bottles of Potions were visibly opened, before a pair of bed curtains flew close on their own accord, blocking the view on Lestrange and the nurse, but not on Riddle, who remained standing in the isle.

'What has happened to this dear boy?' the nurse asked, sounding concerned, while attending to Lestrange, who was out cold.

'It appears he was attacked by someone,' Tom said politely to nurse, but he deliberately said it loud enough, so Hermione's little group on the other end of the infirmary could hear it too, and he was eyeing them from across the isle intently.

'Not good,' Ernest said, understating the matter, and he grabbed his bag. 'Are you coming, Hermione? I believe it would be a prudent idea to get away from this area.'

Hermione felt it would be a prudent idea to get away from the planet, and she swore to herself that she was going to strangle Neville's grandmother the next time she saw her. She halted Ernest before he left.

'Ernest, could you warn Pomona about this, then I'll see if I can locate Rubeus,' Hermione said quietly.

'I have Herbology with Pomona next, so I can certainly warn her. But how are you going to find Rubeus, Hermione? You have Carefoch now, if I'm not mistaken, and she can be utterly foul to students who skip her class.'

'She can take some points from Slytherin on my behalf. I really don't care. I have bigger fish to fry than Professor Carefoch,' Hermione said, determined.

She picked up her bag and left the infirmary, waving goodbye to a worried Minerva. Hermione scouted the grounds vigorously, until she found Rubeus. He took the situation rather light-hearted, but Hermione felt relieved that, at least, he was aware of what had transpired now. She scolded Augusta one more time in her mind and walked back to the castle, contemplating on the situation.

Ever since Minerva involved the others, Hermione felt things had got messier. Sure, she was somewhat aware of the whereabouts of Mind over Matterbecause of them, but it had been very hard to keep them in the dark of the future. And because they were still in the dark about almost everything, they did not take matters with the same seriousness as Minerva did. Their involvement was a potential threat to their and Hermione's future.

Hermione did not feel up to one of Carefoch's famous tirades, and she was planning to avoid it by skipping Charms altogether and wait for her next lesson in the library. So she was walking down the corridor in that direction, when she got tugged by the arm and was thrown into an empty classroom. She felt that same, strange, jolting sensation again, as she had before on their contact, but he let go of her arm quickly enough. It appeared she wasn't the only Slytherin Charms' truant.

'Evans, I think it would be wise if you were to explain to that merry little band of yours that I will not, and I repeat, NOT allow any more attacks to take place on any Slytherin in this castle. And you best make sure they understand that, otherwise I will personally do the explaining,' Tom warned shortly, and he swirled out the door.

Hermione stood perplexed at this unusual behaviour. That was it?

'What a short speech, for him,' she thought stunned, and she left the classroom to continue her walk towards the library. She was walking in deep concentration, reminiscing over the events that happened and would be happening, when…

'Miss Evans, aren't you supposed to be in the Charms' classroom right now?' said Professor Dumbledore curiously.

Hermione jerked in surprise of hearing the sudden voice and she turned around to see him standing in the doorway to the Transfiguration's classroom. It was empty. And the man, who might be able to answer her Grindelwald problem, was watching her with a pair of twinkling light blue eyes.

'Well, uh… I… uh… had some urgent matters to attend to,' Hermione said feeling rather uneasy. 'Professor, can I ask you something personal, in private?'

Dumbledore looked at her over his half moon glasses and said: 'Certainly, as long as it doesn't involve my mishaps with a pair of Muggle binoculars.'

Hermione shook her head. It most definitely was not about something that innocent.

Dumbledore motioned her in and closed the door behind her. 'Have a lemon drop. I find that they help a lot in situations like these,' he said kindly to a nervous looking Hermione, and he offered her the bowl that contained them.

Hermione took one. It was an excellent way to stall for time, because she had no idea on how to begin and what she was going to say. She already regretted approaching the man. He probably didn't even have the answer.

'Sir, Professor, I need to find a book, and I think Gellert Grindelwald might be in possession of it,' Hermione blurted it out.

'I see,' Dumbledore said, sounding a bit disappointed. 'I thought I warned you about the dangers of that particular volume you have in custody, Miss Evans. You would do wise to find a way home. Not seek the others.'

'I have to,' Hermione said softly.

'And why is that, Miss Evans?' Dumbledore asked.

'I just have to.'

Dumbledore watched her for a moment, and then, he sighed. 'Those books contain far more than knowledge, Hermione. Surely you've realised the threat they possess by now. I cannot help you any further, especially since you, suddenly, seem in league with Tom Riddle.'

'I'm not involved with Tom Riddle,' Hermione said cross. 'I have a task to finish. And I need your help. Where would Gellert Grindelwald stash a dangerous and valuable book? I know you have the answer, Professor. I know you share a past with him.'

Dumbledore, abruptly, stood up out of his chair, but his voice sounded calm, when he said: 'This conversation is over, Miss Evans. I must inform you that I never respond to threats, never.'

'That wasn't a threat!' Hermione shouted, outraged at the thought. 'I have to destroy those books, Professor, and I need them all to do so. I know who holds the Elder Wand beholds Mind over Matter. I have to get to it, before…'

But Dumbledore interrupted her. 'It's pointless, Miss Evans. Gellert would never allow a book like that lying around. He will have placed it under heavy security. You will not get near it. It would be best to forget it ever existed.'

'I can't,' Hermione said, feeling hopeless. 'I just can't. We will all lose if I do.'

'Then so be it. I can not allow a student of Hogwarts to wander off to Durmstrang. It's too dangerous, Miss Evans. You will be killed when they realise who and what you are. Gellert does not respect your background. No matter how intelligent you are, he will order your death.'

'I know. Believe me, I lived it, I know. Voldemort is just as bad, if not worse than he is. That's why I need to get the book. Professor, I'm certain the Elder Wand will go to Lord Voldemort. I have to get the book now. I cannot wait. Will you help me, please?'

'I can't, Miss Evans,' Dumbledore said softly.

He had wandered toward the window and was looking outside. Though Hermione had a feeling, he wasn't taking in any of the outside landscape.

'I'm never getting near Gellert again, ever. I can't. It's just too…,' but he did not finish the sentence, and continued staring out the window in silence.

Hermione looked utterly disappointed at her role model for all these years. And she felt her temper rise, when she considered everything this man had sent Harry out to do for him. All those ordeals Harry had gone through, because he had manipulated him into going. This fully grown adult had sent a child to do deeds he did not dare do himself. He was just standing there, letting his old friend roam Europe, hiding away in this castle. She just knew that was what he was doing. Grindelwald wasn't afraid of Dumbledore. It was the other way around!

And she left the classroom quickly, before she would act on that building rage. It was a rage she recognised, and she realised Tom Riddle or Salazar's book did not have to be around her anymore for his influence to seep into her character. She ran up to Godric's Room and sat on the bed for a while, crying her eyes out. She did not know how to end this. She did not know how to get the job done that Helga Hufflepuff had given her. She would fail miserably and everyone would suffer because of her failure.

'I'm so sorry Harry. I'm so sorry,' she muttered. 'I don't know where to find that b… DURMSTRANG! Dumbledore said I could not go to Durmstrang. That's where the book is hidden! It has to be.'

And she started pacing the Room, thinking about every detail Viktor had told her about the Durmstrang Institute, hoping to find some clue to the whereabouts of Mind over Matter. And she recalled the argument between Krum and Luna's father. It was about Grindelwald's sign. Grindelwald had drawn it somewhere on a wall in the Durmstrang castle. Harry had told her all about what Krum had said to him about Lovegood's necklace after the wedding. What if it wasn't a mere drawing? What if it marked the entrance to something? Gellert Grindelwald would not have been likely to just carve the walls of Durmstrang for no reason at all. She had to check it out. She first needed to make some preparations, but Friday still sounded like a very fine time to leave this castle and move onto the next. She realised it was about time for her DADA lesson, and she cleaned herself up a bit and went downstairs. Her mind, however, was still dwelling on all the things she would need to acquire to go unnoticed on her little journey, and she sat down at a desk absentmindedly.

'Today will be a practical, and … Miss Evans? Miss Evans!'

Hermione felt someone nudge her warningly in the side. It was Lucretia Black. Lucretia nodded her head towards Professor Merrythought, who was watching Hermione sternly with her arms crossed over each other.

'I'm sorry, Professor, I wasn't aware you had started the lesson already,' Hermione apologised.

Galatea Merrythought nodded understandingly. 'That happens to the best of us sometimes, Miss Evans. But I take this lack of attention also means you've dealt with Boggarts in your classes at Durmstrang?'

Hermione stared at the witch in disbelieve. She had to have heard this incorrectly. Boggarts were a part of the third year curriculum, and that was what she answered the professor.

'I know, Miss Evans. It also is at Hogwarts,' the professor replied. 'Only for some reason, I've been unable to get an actual Boggart for a practise run in this class, and just in case it does become a part of the NEWT-exams, I feel its important for you all to have, at least, faced one before those finals.'

And Merrythought turned to address all the seventh years that were in today. Hermione heard some angry whispers behind her and she looked around to tell off the person who was interrupting her ability to listen to Merrythought. Because even if it was about something as boring as Boggarts, Hermione still wanted to hear what the professor had to say. Only the whispering came from Riddle and he seemed pretty pissed with Mulciber. So she turned back forwards and tried to tune into the conversation behind her.

'I did not know she obtained a new one. Avery destroyed the last. I thought we were in the clear,' Mulciber whispered.

'I told you to keep an eye on Merrythought, and to make sure there would be no such thing as a Boggart Practical in this class. I did not tell you to thinkthat we might be in the clear,' Riddle hissed back.

Hermione found this very amusing. Lord Voldemort did not want to face a measly Boggart? She snorted and leaned backwards in her chair, while whispering: 'What's the matter, Riddle? Scared of the bogeyman?'

There was no reply at first and Hermione was about to make another snide comment, when Tom leaned forward and whispered softly in her ear: 'I had no idea you would see no problem in sharing your deepest fears with this entire class, Evans. I can tell you right now that I, for one, will be very interested in observing it, dearest.'

Hermione bit her lip. She had not thought about the lesson in that way. This was indeed most inconvenient. During her third year at Hogwarts her Boggart had been Professor McGonagall telling her she failed all her classes. She still remembered very clearly how annoyingly loud Ron had laughed about that, since he, obviously, felt that the day Hermione Granger would fail one lesson was the day the world would stop rotating. She watched the wardrobe that stood behind Merrythought's desk. She doubted very much her Boggart would still be that harmless. She had seen too much, worried about too many dreadful things. But what could it be? Voldemort succeeding? Harry and Ron dying?

And, suddenly, she knew, she realised what her Boggart would be. It was something she had been concerned about ever since she first heard Lord Voldemort had resurrected. It was one of the reasons why she had moved her parents to a safer location after Dumbledore died and his wards around her parents' house were compromised. Her Boggart would be herself, betraying The Order of the Phoenix to Lord Voldemort in order to safeguard her parents' life. And there was no way she could allow Riddle to witness that. It was too informative for him. But how could she possibly stop…?'

A smile broke through on Hermione's face when a rather mischievous thought entered her mind. She turned her head sideways, so she could take a good look at Riddle's expression when she told him in front of his 'friend', her Boggart would probably behold another kissing session with him. She couldn't have dropped a bigger bomb. Mulciber was staring at her wide-eyed and with sheer disbelieve painted all over his face, while Riddle merely narrowed his eyes at her triumphant grinning.

'Any thoughts on how I can turn that into something to laugh about, my darling Thomas,' she said mockingly, and she continued in that same tone. 'But maybe I don't have to. I'm sure the rest of the students will do all the laughing for me, don't you think? I'm willing to bet you that my fear of your kissing abilities will make it across this castle within twenty-four hours. I wonder what it will do to your impeccable reputation. Just how many of those fan-girls do you think will remain after this news hits the streets? But maybe you'll get lucky. There may be a couple of them, who are willing to teach you how to do it properly and save you from a life without love.'

Hermione started snickering at seeing the appalled face Riddle pulled on that concept. She knew for a fact that he despised the clinging and giggling of those girls, and that, very same clinging and holding onto each other, would no doubt get a lot worse if Hermione's made-up Boggart would become public knowledge. She was keeping her fingers crossed that he would not call her bluff or tell her she was lying. But he seemed too disturbed with Hermione's revelation that he did neither. A few minutes later, not even Merrythought's defensive capabilities were strong enough to stop the huge fireball, which erupted out of nowhere in the back of the class. The Dark Lord's wrath caused everyone to run for cover and the Boggart never stood a chance.

Hermione felt victorious the entire day after that lesson, and the feeling had not subsided when she woke up the next morning. She was incredibly happy about her little ploy, and how it had turned out. But she was even more pleased about the fact that Riddle had not picked up on her lie for whatever reason. And she remembered what he had said a few days ago.

'You really need to pay more attention when you're around an enemy.'

'You too, Riddle, you too,' she thought, grinning.

Her day remained wonderful without any nasty incidents and her euphoric mood expanded tremendously, infecting all those in her presence. She passed the hidden door of the Room of Requirement three times to go to another meeting with the Head Boy, whom she had cleverly fooled. Upon opening the door, she noticed Tom was already in the Room and he was reading from Eternity in Time. It certainly explained why she had felt so rushed in coming here. The prick, practically, had forced her to come and it was not even eight o'clock yet. But he had also taken the decency of cleaning up the rubble and replacing the furniture, before she got there. And he had taken a seat in the far end of the Room, so she figured she could let it slide this time. After all, she was still in a very, very good mood.

'That's not what Slytherin meant when he said that,' Hermione said argumentative. 'You're twisting things around to fit your own view of Time in order to accommodate the text for your needs. I don't believe for a single second it's as simple as that.'

'Granger, I just read it to you from a book. And we all know how much you value everything that is written down,' Tom mockingly said, while rolling his eyes during the last sentence.

'And we all know how much you always want to prove an author's insanity, so why stop at that delightful habit right now,' Hermione retorted, matching his sarcasm.

'Where is that sentence?' Tom said to himself, ignoring Hermione's pun.

And he grabbed the book that lay on the table between them. Somewhere down the line, they had forgotten about their previous resolve to establish distant seating arrangements, since arguing about the contents of their notes turned out to be a bit hard to do from halfway across the Room. So here they were, seated next to each other, taking down notes on the theory inside the books, while disagreeing firmly on the contents and its meaning. Tom flipped through the pages to find the bit of information what supported his position, and he started reading out loud.

'In order to make lasting changes…,' he read to her smugly. 'Lasting changes, Granger. It says so right here. Unless you're saying, I wrote the book instead of Salazar, I think it is clear what he meant by that.'

'You're completely ignoring the rest of the text that surrounds that sentence. You'll need to see the context in order to fully appreciate the line. And the context clearly indicates that Time is not linear, and if that is the case, then the ability to make lasting changes in Time is not possible,' Hermione repudiated.

'Yet, here we are, going to a Christmas Ball this Friday. An event that I never even heard of before in my entire life, but it, apparently, is some kind of an annual tradition,' Tom refuted.

'Perhaps Time has not been around to correct the error, yet,' Hermione rebutted.

'Oh, please,' Tom said, giving the ceiling an ironic, hopeful eye. 'Let's keep our fingers crossed that Time does so before Friday, shall we? That way, we can avoid that entire dreadful event altogether.'

'As I recall correctly, Riddle, it was your idea to ask me to come with you. If you, suddenly, don't feel up to it, feel free to inform me about it. I have no objection to us not going together to that Dance whatsoever,' Hermione firmly stated.

'You're not a good listener, Granger. I said the event was dreadful. I made absolutely no remarks about the company,' Tom responded softly, and he quickly continued on the business at hand. 'Besides, even if Time is not linear, it doesn't automatically mean that it can not be changed permanently. You're being awfully narrow-minded in your take on Time. It's obvious that it requires some creative thinking.' He turned in his chair to face her.

'Oh, you mean the kind of thinking that would deem it wise to create multiple Horcruxes. Well, that certainly puts me in my place. I forgot how valid and sound those ideas are,' Hermione said mockingly.

'Hmm… That is such a typical statement for a Gryffindor. They all marvel at the concept of dying heroically,' Tom sneered, and he continued his display in an overly dramatic posture, throwing his arms in the air while speaking. 'Please, let us all weep for the brave, dying hero, who threw his life away for the Cause, because he did not have the brains in order to prevent himself from getting killed and win the battle for real.'

'There are some things worth dying for, Riddle. Besides, it happens to everyone, and it's not the end of the world you deem it to be.' Hermione had placed her arm on the back of her chair, and she was now eyeing Tom with righteous determination.

'That's where you are wrong, Granger. Dying is a foul, low some, human weakness, and I will never let myself be tarnished by it,' Tom spat at her.

Hermione shook her head in silence and she put her attention back to her parchment to see what the last thing was that she had scribbled down. It was pointless arguing with him about his fear of death. He would never see his error in judgement, until it was too late to fix it. But she felt his eyes prick in the back of her head, when she used her quill to scratch out the sentence, they had disagreed upon.

'So we disagree on the possibility of permanent change, but we do agree that Time is not linear and has certain recurring aspects?' Hermione calmly asked, and she waited for Tom's positive reply, before writing it down.

She was in the middle of her sentence, when he, suddenly, caressed her hair. 'You really care, don't you, Hermione,' he stated.

It was said as an observation, not a question. Hermione put down her quill and leaned back in her chair. She did not look at him, but she was thinking about what he had just said. Did she care? Really? About him? No, that couldn't be.

And that indescribable feeling was flowing through her body again, because Tom had not stopped touching her. He was now rubbing the back of her neck softly. And strangely enough, that weird electrical feeling did not disturb her as much as it had done before, so she did not pull away from him. It also didn't seem to disturb Riddle anymore, because he did not pull away from her either. It felt quite comfortable, familiar, and nice. Hermione closed her eyes for a second as she enjoyed the sensation. She turned her head and looked him straight in his eyes, and she said: 'Yes, I care. I care if someone with so much potential squanders it by striving after ridiculous concepts.'

That made him pull back, and Hermione felt a strong sense of loss when their contact was disengaged. And she wondered if Riddle felt the same, because he looked as distressed as she felt. They finished their meeting rather quickly after that and they left the Room each in a different direction.

'This is getting utterly disturbing,' Hermione thought.

After a short detour across the fifth floor, she returned to the seventh floor corridor and entered Godric's Room. She was busy assembling the stuff she might need on her little trip abroad to the Durmstrang Institute. Hermione had used one of her Hogwarts robes in order to Transfigure that into a Durmstrang outfit, which consisted of the classical deep blood red robes and the winter coat made from a shaggy, matted fur she had seen in her fourth year. From what Viktor had told her, it would be extremely cold there this time of year, so she made sure to add some decent gloves, and a pair of sturdy snow boots.

She grabbed her beaded bag and tossed the entire contents on the floor. Hermione, quickly, placed Phineas' frame back in there, before he would visit and see his surroundings. And then, she went through the rest of her belongings. She was planning to take the bag with her, since it would come in handy. But she did not want to be captured with it, and then have it reveal where and, most importantly, when she was really from. Hermione immediately tossed out several books, which were clearly from the wrong publication date, as well as a couple of potions that had been invented by Professor Snape. Those potions also had to stay out of her bag, but she was a bit reluctant about parting with them. The Weasley Twin Joke Shop Stuff had to remain behind also, but she did take the Peruvian Darkness Powder with her, since that powder was around today and she could definitely see the benefits in having that with her.

Finally, she was almost through checking her belongings. She picked up the last bit. It was a jar filled with a foul smelling, dark brown ointment, and she was tossing it back and forth between her hands. Dumbledore had said she would have need for it in the past, meaning in this day and age. But could she afford to take it with her? Hermione had no idea what the contents was. She had done some research on smelly ointments, but her search had turned up empty. At least in 1944 it did. She placed it back on the bed. It probably wasn't a good idea to bring it with her, if Lord Voldemort had invented it…

Hermione decided to go back to her dormitory and sleep on the matter. After all, she could always make a decision on whether or not to bring the wretched jar with her later on. If only those two idiots would have been a bit more forthcoming about the contents, she would know whether or not it was safe to travel with it.

'But noooo,' she grudgingly thought, 'we'll have to play the big mystery game.'

And for a brief moment, she remembered Hagrid had tried to warn her about something.

'We'll look after Harry, Hermione. He'll be all right. You, on the other hand, Hermione, you need to avoid...'

'I need to avoid what? The Durmstrang Institute? Grindelwald? Riddle? The Christmas Ball?' she thought, snickering at the latter.

There were just too many possibilities, if only Dumbledore had not interrupted Hagrid. She sighed tiresome. Perhaps tomorrow would bring the solution. And she stepped in between the sheets of her bed. Hermione fell asleep the moment her head hit her pillow.

xxx
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Masters of Manipulation