A special thanks goes out to my first three reviewers on this fic. Thank you so much for the compliments!

Disclaimer: The characters and other JKR possessions do not belong to me.

Coming up: Some arguing, some planning, and a special event in Hermione's life.

…

August 31, 1944

They had been in the broom closet for one horrendous hour.

Of course, if one had to choose the most horrible part of the closet, they would initially choose the closet's sparse furnishings, which consisted of five brooms, a garbage bin, and a pail all unorganized in a small, claustrophobic room. There was no light, as wizards could use a simple Lumos spell to create it, and there were random cobwebs in the corners and stains on the walls with questionable origins. Obviously, this closet was made for those naughty students who had detention and had to clean the hallway by hand, which would make the chooser even more apt to pick the surroundings as the most terrible part of the closet.

Now, if the unfortunate person happened to sit in the closet for a few minutes, they would change their minds and recognize that the source of the terror stemmed from the overly exhausted humans occupying it.

After the group was adequately healed, they all agreed to hash out a plan. Harry and Malfoy were arguing in the middle of the small space about how to go about finding Dumbledore, which was pointless, since both boys were too drained to realize they were rambling. Malfoy, making his thoughts known through obnoxiously loud and arrogant comments, voiced that they should just rush out and try to find him, while Harry kept on reminding him that it could be the middle of the school year and a bunch of people could be walking around just waiting to notice them.

Ron was in a dark mood and took to muttering sarcastic comments under his breath, some of which consisted of phrases like "well eventually someone is going to get mad at us for taking their snogging closet" or "we can just all starve here". He deemed the most productive place to carry on his endeavors was sprawled lazily next to Hermione; which, in turn, caused the overworked chestnut-haired girl to feel more and more annoyed with them all, because Harry and Malfoy refused to listen to her, and Ron was taking up her designated personal space in the neat little corner she occupied.

Snape tried to quell the arguing at the beginning, but then he gave up and cast a Silencing Charm and the Lumos Spell before sitting on the garbage bin, his back facing them, and nursing the headache that was Harry and Malfoy.

As Hermione watched the argument unfold, she knew that they should have had a plan a long time ago, yet her brain was too exhausted and her limbs were too weary to attempt anything. Now that she was out of immediate danger, her body, to her brains consternation, wanted to curl up in a bawl and sleep into the next decade.

Oh Dumbledore, she thought, why couldn't you have made this easier for us? Couldn't we have had more time to plan? Couldn't we have known?

As Hermione thought this, she sank lower against the wall, her tailbone protesting with rage and her eyes squeezing shut in frustration. Despite her dirty appearance, her tired limbs and mind, the reality of the situation hit her hard in the face. They were running blind. The group, caught up in the danger and excitement of the moment, had not asked Dumbledore about the logistics of his plan. This irritated Hermione, because they had once again jumped to Dumbledore's plans without having a course of action. They just took a leap of faith, thinking that it was the only option to saving their world.

And even better, this particular group of people couldn't get along.

"What is the big deal with someone seeing us? We have our Hogwarts robes on," Draco argued, trying to intimidate Harry with his aristocratic Malfoy glare.

Harry, who was a good couple of inches taller than Malfoy, countered his glare and towered over him. His control had snapped, and as his fists balled at his sides, he yelled, "Because, Malfoy, our robes are torn up, dirty, and bloody. We all smell like corpses, and oh, by the way, WE'RE FROM THE FUTURE!"

At the word future, the Boy-Who-Lived shoved the ferret, too far gone into the argument to comprehend the limited space the closet provided. Malfoy pushed him back, and Harry tripped over Ron's legs, taking a very irate blonde and a couple of innocent brooms with him. Ron grunted as they landed on him – their limbs entangled at odd angles – and he quickly started to dodge two pairs of malevolent hands, both of which were out to kill the others.

Snape, who previously had his back to them, had grown weary of their arguing and turned around slowly and dangerously, and the four teenagers could feel the wrath brewing underneath based on the vein protruding from his forehead. The boys stopped fighting. Ron and Malfoy looked up at him with terror, while Harry gazed at him defiantly. Snape noticed Harry's insolence, and his nostrils flared, meaning that his anger was to a degree that neither of the boys had ever seen. Hermione simply raised her eyebrows in amusement in the hopes that he could curse their mouths shut.

He didn't disappoint.

"You two," he hissed, pointing sharply at Harry and Malfoy, "have been arguing for one bloody hour. One bloody, sodding hour! Do either of you have any idea how long that is? That's like having to listen to a bloody story from a relative that no one gives a damn about for a whole afternoon. You," he growled, turning his attention to Ron, "have been no help at all. Your sarcastic comments have only served to make me think of all the ways I could force your mouth shut. And trust me Mr. Weasley, I know every diabolical way in the book. And you," he hissed as he got to Hermione, "I thought you could control your two pets, but obviously you can't, and every single suggestion you made was redundant and unintelligent. You are a disgusting waste of life!"

Any other girl would have cried at his words, but Hermione smirked, because she hadn't even been able to finish a sentence since they got in there, making his accusation false. Also, she had always thought it was hilarious when Snape's monster vein made an appearance. She found it even more amusing that Voldemort had never been able to break Snape's mind, had never been able to discover the secret. The brunette certainly felt satisfied with herself when she realized that all the Dark Lord had to do was make the Potions Professor sit in a room with Harry and Malfoy and have them argue for hours on end.

'Oh Voldemort', she thought humorously, 'you forget the simple things in life'.

Snape, oblivious to her thoughts, took her smirk as an insult and sneered, causing his vein to take on a strange shade of purple. He tried to move to where Hermione was sitting so that he could loom threateningly over her, but since the space didn't allow it, he contented himself with simply brandishing his wand at her. "Wipe that smirk off your face Miss Granger, or I will curse you until your insides hurt."

Hermione's smirk grew to a sarcastic smile. "You could Professor, except that it would delay the mission even more, and you would have a hell of a time trying to hide my body," she pointed out while eyeing the closet, emphasizing her point. She then looked from her seething Professor, incoherent from anger and mental fatigue from her last comment, to the three boys in the room and saw that she finally had a chance to talk.

Boosted by her adrenaline, she seized her opportunity and stood, careful not to upset the remaining brooms on her right, and finally spoke her ideas. "Okay, so I cast a spell to see what time of day it is not too long ago. Right now, it should be around three in the afternoon."

"And how is that going to help?" Malfoy interrupted, his tone deceptively bored, even though Hermione knew he was livid and tired. Harry and Ron were on either side of him with malicious looks on their faces. They looked at each other without assessing the risk factor, gave a nod, and punched him hard in the arm. Malfoy howled in pain as Harry and Ron snickered, and out of the corner of her eye Hermione saw Snape raise his wand.

She quickly continued before he could cause any harm. "Okay, think about it. Dumbledore planned this, and he knows a lot more about the laws of time than we do." At her logic, the group visibly calmed down, except for Snape, who still had a dark look on his face. She smiled and mentally patted herself on the back. "That means that he wouldn't have been stupid enough to make us travel back on a day where there are loads of people meandering about."

"I beg to diff—" Harry and Ron punched their blonde nemesis harder than the previous before he finished his sentence. Snape sniffed, because, as Hermione guessed, he probably thought that Malfoy deserved that one.

The brunette tried to quell her laughter before soldiering on, aware that after her brief adrenaline rush, the day's events were starting to take a toll on her. She wanted to leave the broom closet as fast as possible so that, no matter where they ended up, she could sleep. "So, I think that we are relatively safe today. We just need to stay away from teacher's offices and common areas."

Hermione then turned to Harry, an idea popping into her head. "Did you lose your invisibility cloak from the battle?"

Harry hesitantly checked the pocket of his robe and smiled. "Nope. Still have it."

Hermione, her body now so relaxed that she was slightly delirious, looked at the raven-haired boy and smirked, feeling no need to consider the consequences of her actions; and he smirked back, knowing what she was thinking. Hermione then turned her mischievous gaze to Snape and Malfoy, her fatigue affecting her level of compassion for their predicament. Malfoy looked befuddled and Snape looked positively murderous, silently warning Hermione to not do anything she'll regret. At their reactions, Harry quickly held the cloak out for Hermione and Ron and swiftly opened the door.

Before ducking under the cloak, Hermione turned back and said, "There's no room for all of us under the cloak. We'll wait for Dumbledore in the Transfiguration office," and left before the other two could say a word.

When the door clicked shut again, Snape sighed heavily. He didn't know if that insufferable Gryffindor girl was right about the date, but he sure as hell knew that permanent Disillusionment charms were blocked from Hogwarts. His eyes narrowed at the list of dreadful possibilities that could happen as they made their trek over to Dumbledore's office, mentally cringing at some of the thoughts that passed through his mind. He looked at Malfoy, knowing the boy wouldn't make it any easier "The war has made that witch ruthless," he sighed. He then looked at his Slytherin companion for a response, but, instead, Malfoy looked so confused that he had to ask, "What's wrong with you boy?"

"Why are we going to the Transfiguration Office?" he asked, not well versed in Dumbledore's history.

Snape sighed, fixed the their tattered, bloody robes, and cast a temporary Disillusionment charm on the both of them. "You'll see. And follow carefully. Those Gryffindors may have an invisibility cloak, but they forgot to fix their appearance."

Draco sighed. "How very Gryffindor of them."

30 min later

As Snape and Malfoy stumbled into the Transfiguration office, the trio was already having tea with a younger, red-haired Dumbledore.

It was a small, quaint, pentagonal shaped office that would appear plain had it not been decorated with some of Dumbledore's most eccentric possessions. Snape recognized bobbles and mysterious objects from when he was - or is going to be, in this case - at Hogwarts scattered on the younger Albus's desk – a medium sized, but sturdy, rectangular oak that resided in the middle of the room facing them. There were selves everywhere that were overfilled with a large collection of books. The floor was covered in the future Headmaster's favorite oriental rugs - so mismatched yet so unique – and the walls were decorated with portraits of strange colorful places and even stranger people. The one window to the right of the bookshelf seemed to let in enough light to illuminate the world.

The Slytherins looked at the scene and then looked at each other, both livid and disgusted that Harry, Hermione, and Ron, all sitting in a row, looked clean and happy with teacups in their hands while they just went through a particularly annoying experience.

On their way over to the office, it seemed like the five people that were currently residing in the school had to find a way to cross their paths, making them take detours that led them around the castle twice. It didn't help that, during the times they had to recast the Disillusionment charm, all the portraits noticed them and wondered in an obnoxiously loud voice at who the intruders were and what their purpose was; which, in turn, attracted curious people like flies to honey, making the two Slytherins have near miss encounters with several people.

Dumbledore, oblivious to the hostility, smiled brightly.. He then conjured two extra seats to the left of Harry and placed two extra teacups on his desk. "Please sit down," he admonished as he poured some tea for them.

Malfoy and Snape rigidly walked to their assigned chairs, ignoring the tea, and rudely appointed Dumbledore as their enraged glare target. The wizard being targeted, however, seemed rather amused by their behavior and waited expectantly for them to sit. Once they were situated, they turned their death glares to the three Gryffindors, who had three knowing grins on their faces, which incited a slight growl from Malfoy. Hermione noted that their fatigue had caused the two Slytherins to lose their decorum, with Snape openly acting on his hostility and Malfoy sounding like he belonged in a zoo.

Ron was about to comment on Malfoy's slightly animalistic behavior when Dumbledore interrupted. "I'm assuming these are your friends?" he questioned, directing his gaze at the trio.

"Yes," Hermione blurted before Ron could answer. She then gave the red head a warning look before plastering a smile back on her face, trying exceptionally hard to not pass out from the exhaustion of battle. Despite her body being clean, she was sure her cinnamon-colored eyes were glazed over and bloodshot from days of not sleeping.

You can sleep later Hermione. We need to get this done first.

The brunette tried sitting up a little straighter in her seat and focus on her Headmaster's younger, friendly face to keep her awake. She saw the questioning look in his blue eyes and decided being blunt was the best decision. "We need help."

"What kind of help are you asking for Miss—?"

"Granger," Hermione finished, rearranging a rogue curl behind her ear.

What followed was an awkward silence, as Hermione didn't know what to say. Her mind was fuzzy, and the memory of her last moments in Dumbledore's office was avoiding her grasp. She tried not to get frustrated, tried to remember that she was still trying to save the future and that she had to recall what she was told in order to move on. Hermione looked to her left at Harry desperately, and he gave her a questioning look. He furrowed his brow at her, which caused Hermione to catch a glimpse at his infamous, slightly visible scar on his forehead. In a flash, her repressed emotions overtook her, and she felt the events from Dumbledore's office replay in her mind.

Can you please retrieve the vials that are midnight purple, Miss Granger?

The melody is dark, but it's not mourning. It seems to be summoning something.

It would appear that we are at a loss.

Hush Harry. We don't have time.

This door will lead you to a place in time where Tom Riddle's life was treading a very thin line.

You five have a choice.

When you meet me, tell me to look in the drawer.

'Oh, in the drawer,' Hermione remembered, her intense thoughts finally settling into sadness. She looked back at younger Dumbledore, and tried to focus even though her feelings from her flashback lingered in her mind. 'Be strong' her exhausted brain encouraged as she returned her attention to Dumbledore. Shaking her head slightly, she said, "We need you to check the drawer."

At the young girl's words, grave understanding shadowed his face, and the corners of his lips curved slightly downward, showing the distress her comment gave him. He sat down in his chair behind the desk, clasped his hands together under his chin and stared pensively. "So, the seer was correct," he pondered aloud.

"The Seer?" Ron asked, confused.

"Yes, Mr. -?"

"Weasley."

"Right, Weasley," Dumbledore repeated as he reclined in his chair. "Yes, the resident Divination Professor, Madame Silwen, decided to recite a prophecy in the middle of tea last week." He smiled reminiscently at the memory.

Hermione put some effort into leaning forward, more than a little intrigued and asked, "What prophecy?"

Dumbledore paused as if he was trying to remember the prophecy, but really, the Time Travelers could tell he was considering whether he should impart his secret on them. He then shifted his gaze to a random spot on the wall and repeated "the drawer" under his breath before finally deciding that they were worthy enough for the information he held.

"The summary of the prophecy," he declared, unclasping his hands and resting them on his desk, "is that we are housing a child that will one day try to turn the world into shadow and blood. He will divide the wizarding world and suck the magic out of those who oppose him." The wizard leaned closer to the group sitting before him, searching for something in their faces. "And you three are telling me that this prophecy is true?"

The two Slytherins stared gravely while the trio looked at one another with knowing looks. Hermione, seeing that no one else would speak, took a deep breath. "Yes, Professor, it is, because, unfortunately, we have lived it."

She took out her wand and put it to Harry's temple, asking with her eyes for permission. As emerald green met cinnamon, he looked at her questioningly and Hermione smiled back in reassurance. Harry nodded, giving her silent consent.

"I assume you still have your Pensieve?" she asked, turning back to the future Headmaster. Dumbledore nodded at her question and took out his wand. "Then take this memory and see for yourself," she insisted while wordlessly withdrawing a silver strand of memory from Harry's temple and connecting her wand with Dumbledore's, hoping that Harry concentrated on giving the wizard the right images.

Memory in hand, the Professor headed towards a small door Hermione hadn't noticed before. From what she could see, it was a small back room that contained a trunk, which she assumed contained the Pensieve. After ten minutes of waiting, he reemerged and returned to his seat, his blue eyes twinkling while he absentmindedly twisted his beard around his fingers. "It would appear that the prophecy is correct," he informed them, as he gave a thankful nod to Hermione and Harry. He then stared at the green-eyed boy peculiarly. "I assume you are the Boy Who Lived?" he inquired.

Harry nodded in response.

"Well, how odd."

Harry felt his green eyes squint and stare at him in confusion. Hermione, her lips quirking at Dumbledore's last comment, took the opportunity to ask, "Excuse me sir, but, was that all the prophecy mentioned?"

Dumbledore moved his level gaze to Hermione and replied, "No, of course not, Miss Granger." He clasped his hand together again and placed them back under his chin, a gesture he does when he discloses important information. "Most of the information is already known by the pictures I saw from Harry's visions. But," he paused, lost in thought. His eyes clouded over, but just as quickly, he returned his attention to the Time Travelers. "But," he began again, "his soul must be whole in order for it to be conquered."

At his words, everyone comprehended the reason Dumbledore had sent them back in time. They had to stop Voldemort from dividing his soul. They had to take away every chance he had to ever return to this earth.

As Hermione glanced at Snape, she could see his brain working on a plan. She figured that he was the only one out of the five Time Travelers that knew exactly how to conduct the mission, and for some odd reason, the Potions Master kept that information a secret. Hermione didn't know the exact logic behind his decision, but she knew it was Dumbledore's orders. No one else would keep vital information from them.

As soon as Snape noticed Hermione watching him, his face went blank and he turned nonchalantly to look at Dumbeldore. "Is there a way to let them repeat their 7th year here?"

Dumbledore's face produced a slight smile as he thought of the possibility. The teenagers held their breaths while they waited for him to reply, knowing that they needed to be here in order to get to him. At last, after long painful seconds, he nodded. "Yes, I can simply tell the Headmaster that you have all been privately tutored and have decided to join Hogwarts. A bit far-fetched in my opinion, but it is the best excuse, and they are more than likely to believe me. However," he paused as his features sculpted themselves into a look of urgency, "if anyone becomes suspicious of you, then records will be checked. So, I suggest you lot not let any doubt surround your reputations."

The group stared at him gravely, silently telling him that they understood. The twinkle returned to his eye and he stood briskly from his seat. "Very well then. I will go inform the Headmaster. After the sorting, I will come back and escort you to your Houses. I'm assuming that you four are willing to return to your original lodgings?" The four adolescents nodded in response. Dumbledore then stood up and calmly walked to the door, opened it, and left.

Snape, without a second thought, got up and started pacing. The students could see that he was racking his mind for a way to make use of the gift they were given. After a couple of seconds, he stopped and looked at them with the same intensity he employed during tactic meetings. "You four need to figure out your stories," Snape commanded.

"Us four?" Ron asked, confused and scratching his head. "What about you?"

"I have a mission to do that will not allow me to stay at Hogwarts," he snapped as he started pacing again. "You four are charged with the task of destroying the Dark Lord."

"How?" asked Harry, running a frustrated hand through his already messy hair, feeling agitated that Dumbledore had kept information from him again. "We haven't been given anything. We were just shoved into some sort of loony time portal with the hopes of possibly saving the world from utter ruin. And what's even better is that the wizard who practically pushed us through gave us no time to prepare and no achievable goals aside from changing the fate of the Earth. And Merlin, if that's the only thing we have to do, then the whole world can be thankful at how easy our task is. They'll be saved in no time!"

Hermione, feeling his frustration at the world – Dumbledore's secrets, the mission, his tiredness – put her hand on his arm and squeezed. He was probably the most drained out of all of them, and Hermione knew, from the bottom of her heart, that The-Boy-Who-Lived always questioned why he was dealt this fate. He always felt as if he wasn't meant for this, and that the forces above had given him a task that nature would not allow him to complete. Harry just wanted to be a normal boy, and everyday, Hermione wished she could take his burden. She knew that Ron wished the same as well, if only to give him a joyful period of freedom.

Snape, not comprehending the source of Harry's anger, decided to ignore his outburst for his own sanity. Instead, he solemnly answered, "That, I'm afraid, was not enclosed to me. Dumbledore only informed me to use any means possible."

"Well," Harry snapped, incensed by Dumbledore's secrets, "why can't he tell us? Does he think that we have the time to sit and think? No, we don't. Riddle is gathering followers as we speak, while we sit here and think about all the things that Dumbledore should have told us!"

By this point, Snape's vein was pulsating erratically, but he controlled his anger for the sake of his task. The Potions Master quickly snatched the plain black wooden box Dumbledore gave him and started muttering spells to lift the wards he previously placed on it. When the wards were lifted, he opened it, took out three small black objects and placed them on the floor. With a swish of his wand, he enlarged the objects, and they took the shape of regular-sized trunks.

Malfoy eyed them with disdain. "I assume that's for the Golden trio," he stated darkly.

"Sorry Malfoy," Harry said, his left over hostility giving his apology an insincere edge. "Obviously Dumbledore didn't expect that you'd be tagging along with us."

"Well sorry that I wasted my time saving Weasley's ass and getting stuck on one of your wild adventures, Potter," he retorted mockingly, offended that he didn't get a trunk.

Before Harry could reply, a flash of red hair hurried past Harry and Hermione to Malfoy's chair and faced him full on.

"Sorry Malfoy," Ron said grudgingly but genuinely to the shock of the others in the room. "I never said thanks for saving me." The red head then extended his hand in the blonde's direction, and together, they made history – a Malfoy shaking hands with a Weasley.

It would be a complete understatement to say that Harry and Hermione were shocked.

"Now that the fluff is over -." Snape drawled, obviously pressed for time. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him for ruining the moment as Harry coughed to quell the awkwardness. "—we need to move on."

His manner turned brisk as he opened the trunks with a slight swish of his wand. "These are accessories that Dumbledore anticipated a use for in this mission of ours. They include time appropriate clothes, refillable toiletries, and other items that you Gryffindors should look through once you are alone in your dorms." He then withdrew a tiny brown square from the main black box and enlarged it. "Mr. Malfoy, I will allow you to use my travel kit. Do the necessary spells on them to suit your needs. I will ask for provisions from Dumbledore when he returns."

He then grabbed another item from the box and enlarged it in his hands. It turned in to a stack of papers, and he swiftly handed them to the trio. "These are your birth certificates. These will give you proof that Hogwarts is allowed to provide your education, but if they are researched, there will be no information present under the name on those certificates, so if I were either of you three, I would be cautious about who I trust," he warned, looking at the three of them pointedly. By that time, the Gryffindors only had the strength to nod in agreement. Snape saw their acknowledgement and continued. "Of course, Draco, you will have to wait for yours. I cannot stay here for very long, so I will ask Dumbledore to make one for you."

Finally, he closed the black box and walked over to Hermione. She stared at the box quizzically, thinking it too simple to hold this vast amount of information. "Miss Granger," he addressed sternly, "you are entrusted with this black box by Dumbledore's orders. You will find the three vials and another packet with facts about seventeen year old Tom Riddle. Dumbledore has faith that you will know how to use them."

"But how-?"

"Oh hush Miss Granger," Snape snapped. "I am telling you everything I know right now. Despite your opinions of me, all of you," he emphasized, looking at each one of them, "are going to have to trust me." He then looked at all of them even closer, his eyes squinting in what looked like a desperate attempt to assess them; and then suddenly, all tiredness forgotten, his black eyes opened wide and became slightly teary from the plead hidden deep within them. Even Ron, who was completely indifferent towards the unfeeling dungeon bat, found this display surprising in its intensity.

"You need to kill him," he said urgently. "No matter what it takes. Be on your guard and be smart. Do not give your trust away. We have a future to save."

8:06 PM the same day

"Have you memorized your identities?" questioned Snape, weary of having to spend hours with a bunch of sarcastic teenagers in 1944. His attempts at making them memorize facts about Tom Riddle and drilling their new identities into them had the group on the verge of total collapse. Their afternoon spent together had caused a rapid rise in tempers, and their bodies were begging for rest.

"Yes," Hermione replied, attempting to be cooperative even though her mind screamed for a warm bed. "I'm basically me, except in 1944." Apparently, Dumbledore didn't think that her name was a threat and allowed her to keep her identity.

"And I'm her brother," Harry added monotonously, his body shifting into auto pilot in it's attempt to save his brain. "We're twins. End of Story. Shouldn't be too hard."

"I'm Ron Smith. I'm utterly unoriginal and boring," Ron answered sarcastically. He was a little miffed that Dumbledore couldn't be more original with him.

Harry, Hermione, and even Malfoy snickered.

"Oh c'mon, Ron. I didn't even get a new name," Hermione said consolingly.

Harry, on the other hand, had forgotten his frustration in favor of making fun of Ron. His best mate had to undergo a slight change in appearance to fit his description in his birth certificate. Now, Ron was a brunette, and he was clear of his freckles, which made him look less like a Weasley and more like Harry. Needless to say, it was extremely hard for the Boy-Who-Lived to stop sniggering, earning him several punches in the arm and dark glares.

Hermione, despite his attitude, was sure Ron wouldn't have a problem with it, at least not the same problem that Malfoy had. In the past couple of hours, she had witnessed a grown man whining about the cruelty of life as Snape and Harry held him to a chair while she performed a glamour to turn his hair from white blonde to dirty blonde. The brunette had lived long enough to see suffering, but nothing was compared to the petulant rampage of Draco Malfoy.

"This isn't fair!" he whined, tugging on a handful of his hair to emphasize his point. "This right here is what makes me a Malfoy."

"And that is exactly why we have to change it," Hermione countered, her fatigued brain not having the energy to provide her with the sarcastic edge she needed. "You can't be a Malfoy in this decade. Your grandfather goes here."

Malfoy's stare turned livid, but instead of turning away, she summoned the small tank of Gryffindor strength left and stared back. "Listen Draco," she demanded, using his first name for the first time. "If this is going to work, we are going to be civil to one another – or even better, friendly – and call each other by our first names. That way, people here can believe that we have all been home schooled together for however many years."

"And as far as I'm concerned, the know-it-all is right," Snape agreed, cutting off Draco's retort. He gave the blonde Slytherin a warning glance before firmly stating, "So you lot will behave and try to destroy that bastard. Now Draco, what is your last name."

Draco rolled his eyes but complied, his hair forgotten. "I am Draco Rothschild, a fairly prominent pureblood family."

"I've never heard of that name before," Hermione commented.

"And neither has anyone here," Severus replied snappily. "And you better keep it that way Granger."

Just as Snape was about to continue, they heard a knock at the door. Snape, irate that he ran out of time, answered it and found red-haired Dumbledore waiting patiently to be received. As he walked in, his blue robes floating teasingly around him, he found the tense atmosphere surrounding him amusing, causing slight befuddlement in the Time Travelers. The corners of the Professor's mouth twitched slightly as he motioned with his hands for the teenagers to follow.

Before they trudged out of the room, Snape firmly reminded them to stay on their guard and to plan their mission. Malfoy was the only one who made an attempt to acknowledge him – the others either not caring or not aware of their surroundings - and as the door closed, his mind used a great deal of strength to remember that Snape was leaving, and he fleetingly wondered whether his favorite teacher would be alright, whatever he was doing.

8:40 that same night

The House of Godric Gryffindor was the same as it will be in the future. The common room was small and cozy, with a warm fire that complimented the homely red and gold color scheme. There were always people milling about, studying at the many work desks, playing, or gossiping about the latest break up. The walls and floor were draped with beautiful carpets and portraits, adding to the comforting atmosphere of the room. Then there was the trio's favorite feature about the room – the two oval-shaped windows in the tower, which allowed any Gryffindor to watch the night sky or the grounds below and be at peace with the world. On rainy days, they would look out the window and quietly observe the wonders of nature, never for one second thinking about the strife they were going through.

These details, particularly the last one, depressed the Gryffindors, because this tower created some of their best memories, but none of the people who participated and made appearances were born yet.

At their entrance with the Head of House, the tower fell silent. The trio felt as awkward as if they had just appeared naked. Harry took his glasses off and wiped them as Ron shifted his weight, trying to make the situation less awkward. Hermione was mentally losing her cool – her lack of sleep contributing to her volatile temper – but outwardly, she stood frozen in place, afraid to move.

Professor Landers, the current House Head, greeted her tower with a smile. "Good evening," she boomed, in a friendly but authoritative tone. "We have some knew developments."

"Obviously," someone remarked sarcastically.

"Don't make me deduct points, boy," Professor Landers threatened. She stared at the boy for two more excruciating seconds before continuing. "We have three new home school students who have been selected into the House of Godric Gryffindor – our House. I expect you all to welcome our newcomers warmly and," she paused, staring at the same boy she had threatened earlier, "no pranks tonight. You know I will not hesitate in taking points away." She then turned on her heels, gave a small encouraging smile to the trio, and left, leaving the Time Travelers alone in a room full of curious Gryffindors.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not attempt to move, knowing that when they did, the stampede would follow. Nevertheless, Ron, being foolishly courageous, hesitantly raised his hand and waved, which triggered the hurricane of students wanting to know all about them. Ron and Harry tiredly tried to dodge their questions as they pushed their way towards the stairs, but Hermione got lost in the crowd. She knew she wouldn't be able to make it to the stairs without being mauled to death, so she decided, against her body's protests, to take a better, more frequently traveled route from the portrait hole to the library.

9:00 PM Library

As soon as Hermione opened the doors, she pushed her curls from her face and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of mahogany, worn leather, and thousands of old and crusty pages. The smell had always comforted her, and in spite of her mental and physical fatigue, the presence of books made her feel safe, and she needed the relief they offered to come to terms with the events of the day.

As if by magic, her feet carried her rapidly towards the restricted section, disregarding the fact that she needed special permission, and started searching the shelves. She wanted to lose herself in a book, and the books in the restricted section interested her enough to the point where she could let go of reality in any subject matter for hours. The brunette scanned the shelves, desperate for a book, but her searching efforts were discouraged by the thoughts her rogue mind was flashing to her consciousness.

The witch saw the scenes of the Order's planning period for the defense against the Dark Lord. Those images made Hermione feel as if Harry, Ron, and her failed. Their side had been too tentative, too safe to combat the evil that wanted to take over the world. The fear made them blind to the attack being planned on Hogwarts, and once it happened, they couldn't make it stop. The Death Eaters were everywhere killing everything and everyone in their way, ruthlessly searching Hogwarts for the infamous Harry Potter. The Seer had been right about Tom Riddle turning the world into shadow and blood; he gave the world a preview as he murdered young wizards and witches at a school, not differentiating between their bloodlines, but killing for the sake of killing. Hermione was bitter, and she felt that she could have done so much more to prevent all those horrible events from happening.

Now, they had a second chance, and Hermione's head was spinning from the luck Dumbledore bestowed upon them. They had left their world with no time to seriously think about the repercussions and the unexpected changes their Headmaster's plan would create, but they had walked through the portal regardless to possibly, unknowingly give the future a chance at freedom.

Hermione was even more astonished at the amount of work Dumbledore spent on the planning of their mission. He gave them fake birth certificates, clothes, and other essentials, knowing that they would all agree to go back in time and to attempt something that has never been attempted before. Who knew whether it would work? There were so many things that could go wrong with something as risky as their endeavor.

Yet, they had to try for the sake of the future, for every innocent who died, everyone they loved.

And what about Tom Riddle? She knew the description of his appearance, and she knew a little about his history, but Harry, Ron, and her had not even discussed how they would lure him to his death. Their plan would contain plenty of risks, and it would take a long time to achieve, possibly time they didn't have. But no matter what, they had to kill him.

Hermione shuddered, because despite the fact that she knew she had to do it, she didn't like thinking and planning murder, even if the person they planned to kill will turn out to be a raging lunatic.

And how exactly were they going to kill him? They couldn't do it quick, because then Wizarding Law Enforcement would demand their lives. Would they curse him? Stab him? Strangle him? The younger Dark Lord was already a puzzle to the young Gryffindor, and it frustrated her that she couldn't simply solve him and start heading back to the future.

As she thought the word 'puzzle', her mind snapped slightly, causing Hermione to wake from her reverie and think. There were two objects hidden in Hogwarts, two objects he needed, and two parts of him that he wanted to throw out of his body. She also knew, from Harry's Pensieve experience, that one part of him was already missing, and she guessed that destroying it was part of Snape's mission. The chestnut haired girl, chastising her tired brain for forgetting, remembered that they couldn't simply curse him and leave. They had to kill his soul, every part of it, before they could truly be free.

And what about the 'midnight memories' (as Hermione had dubbed them in her mind)? She would have to do research on colored memories and hope that the procedure to watching them would be fairly simple. Could she simply pour them in a Pensieve? She knew that the memories were legit, because the ones that were tampered with were a sickly yellow, but how could a whole memory turn a dark shade of purple? As her mind worked, her feet moved, and in a matter of minutes, Hermione was breathing like she was running a marathon. She zigzagged through the shelves deftly, not knowing where she was going but knowing what she would find. Her chestnut hair became wild, and she gave up all attempts at trying to remove the strands from her face. She had a long day, and after the horror of the morning, Hermione felt a little piece of happiness as she perused the shelves.

Well, at least until someone interrupted her rhythm.

She knew it was a someone because she ran into a springy object, a quality most inanimate objects in a library lack. As Hermione slowly came back to reality, she distinguished a mass of black robes and a gray sweater, two articles of clothing essential to the Hogwarts uniform. She retreated a couple of steps, but still, she couldn't help but notice the smell of soap and mint and she comprehended, with her pulse beating ever faster, that she had run into a very dark-haired, tall, very annoyed man.

Hermione smiled weakly and straightened her robes. "I'm sorry," she apologized, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "I didn't realize that you were standing there."

"Obviously," the boy replied in a deep baritone.

Hermione tried not to look startled by the coldness and the biting sarcasm in his voice. By the sounds of it, she had run into someone who had already judged her and disliked her because of her mistake. She didn't let that feeling deter her, however, and she stepped forward, causing the boy to take a couple of steps back. The Gryffindor frowned in confusion, and she quickly grabbed the book she wanted and started to head off. Before Hermione could take one step away, she felt a strong force pull her back.

"I need that," the boy said firmly, with a slight threat in his voice.

Hermione was chilled by it, as if he had threatened her death; but truth be told, Lord bloody Voldemort had threatened her far worse than death, so she would not let some random prat in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library take something away from her. She summoned all of her remaining strength, her tank almost empty, to participate in what would hopefully be her last row of the day. "I grabbed it first," she said, and mentally cringed at how not intimidating she sounded.

"Yes, you insufferable girl, you did," he retorted, his voice lowering dangerously, "but I need it more, and I was standing here before you, so give me the book." At his command, he tugged firmly on the object in question.

Hermione was not going to relent, and she hoped her strength wouldn't give up on her as she turned around to face him. "Why do you need it so much?" she asked boldly, raising an eyebrow for effect. She popped a hip to look defiant, but inwardly, she mentally slapped herself for her bad choice as she swayed slightly from the exertion of her motion.

Not noticing, his expression turned dark and foreboding, like the calm before the storm, and the force of his menace took Hermione aback. "It is none of your business," he replied curtly, his hold tightening. "Now, curfew is soon, so use your common sense and hand me the book."

The Gryffindor girl knew that he was not going to give up until he had it, but she also felt like she couldn't argue for much longer. Letting her instincts take over her body, her adrenaline kicked in, her hand braced on the book, her pulse raced, and she quickly tried to justify in her weary mind what she was about to do. He's not a threat, he's not a threat, he's not a threat, he's not a threat. Voldemort has tried to kill you, and this boy only wants a book. Oh Merlin, here it goes.

She looked up, and saw that the boy was still waiting expectantly, arrogantly, and that smug look gave her the courage to lift up her foot and stomp on his unsuspecting toe. The boy hissed from the pain and loosened his hold on the book, giving Hermione the chance she needed to yank it from him and run out of the library, not worrying about the consequences that boy would have for her in the future. She would deal with them when they came.

When she was in the safety of the hallway panting, sore, and wanting to curl up in a ball on the floor, she acknowledged how outrageous that boy's attitude came across. He spoke with authority, like he was the only one with the right to have the book, and he threatened her, like he knew she was going to give in. The audacity! Only Voldemort would have that kind of demeanor.

At that thought, Hermione's emergency energy reserve sparked again, and she mentally slapped herself in the face. As she arrived at the portrait hole, she looked down at her book titled Soul Magic: Dangerous and Dark and grasped why that unfriendly boy wanted the book.

Tom Riddle, a.k.a. Lord bloody Voldemort, wanted to separate his soul, and Hermione ruined his plans by stomping on his toe.

A/N Another Special Thanks: Thank you to everyone who read my first two chapters. I'm grateful that you even took the time to click on my story. Please Please Please review if you can and give me criticism (of the constructive kind), suggestions, a shout out, anything you want. Feedback helps me a lot when I'm trying to make my story better. So, once again, thank you so much for reading my story.

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