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HERMIONE’S POV

The day after Tom asked me to the Hallowe’en Ball – and I said yes – he sat next to me at breakfast.

Rosa Parkinson, who was across from us, looked ready to kill.

Tom seemed more reserved than usual.

“Is there something wrong, Tom?” I asked, concerned.

He frowned and shook his head. “No…”

Parkinson glared at me. Watch your mouth, Argentum, she mouthed.

I raised my eyebrows at her. “Are you really telling me not to care about Tom? That’s ridiculous. Last time I checked, friends were there to look out for each other.”

Tom looked up at his name. “It’s true, Parkinson. Now, can you two please stop arguing?”

We returned to our breakfast, but then Professor Dippet stood up, looking grave.

“There has been a disquieting development,” he began. “This morning, our groundskeeper, Ogg, discovered a centaur dead in the forest. Judging by the state of its body, it had only died last night. It had been tortured using the Cruciatus Curse and killed with the Killing Curse, both Unforgivable Curses that can send the caster of these spells straight to Azkaban. Therefore, if any of you know anything about these events, I invite you to step forward, either now or straight after breakfast. Thankyou.”

He sat back down and the Hall buzzed with whispered conversation.

Some people glanced over at some fourth-years at the Gryffindor table, presumably Hagrid’s friends until last year when he was expelled.

I had no idea who it had been, I just sat there in shock. Some sixth-year boys a few seats down the table were huddled together, whispering among themselves.

One of the boys – someone Avery – glanced down the table at Tom.

Then I realised.

One of Voldemort’s Death Eaters had had the surname Avery, according to –

I pushed his name away and focused on my trail of thought. Avery had been a Death Eater. Another boy in the group, Abraxas Malfoy, I knew for certain to be Draco Malfoy’s grandfather and so he was probably a Death Eater too.

Combine that and their nervousness with a greatly reserved young Voldemort, the source of the crime was obvious.

I looked over at Tom accusingly. He met my eye and shifted uncomfortably.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I accused him.

I didn’t wait for the response, I just got up from the Slytherin table and stormed off.

Tom stared after me, looking lost and confused, but I didn’t turn back.

When I reached the Common Room, I mumbled the password and collapsed onto a couch. I put my head in my hands.

I had failed.

Tom was going to become Voldemort and kill Harry – and there was nothing I could do.

This mission was all a waste of time. I couldn’t do anything to save Tom.

Right then, I felt someone sit down next to me.

Tom.

I turned away. I had no interest in talking to a monster like him.

“What’s wrong, Hermione? I know you think I killed the centaur, but there’s no reason to get so upset.”

Of course that was a reason to be upset!

“You killed a centaur,” I said flatly. “How is that not a reason to be upset? Besides, I know what you’ve done. You’re a murderer! You’re a monster! And you’re evil, Voldemort. I don’t know why I thought you had a chance.”

“Why do you think that I killed that creature? And why did you call me Voldemort?” he asked sharply.

“You killed that centaur because it’s something Voldemort would do. And I’m calling you Voldemort because that’s who you’re acting like,” I asserted.

“How…how did you know?” Tom asked.

“I know exactly what Voldemort is like,” I said defiantly, but tears came to my eyes as I remembered Harry. “He killed my best friend.”

Tom looked bewildered. “How could I have killed your best friend? I’ve only killed one person, and she was a Hogwarts student.”

I knew who that was, of course.

Myrtle.

I tried to smile. “Never mind. Thanks for being honest.”

Tom grimaced. “Ah. I probably shouldn’t have told you that, should I?” I frowned. Tom rose to his feet, reaching into his pocket.

I suddenly realised what he was about to do.

“Obliv –”

“Protego!” I shouted over the top of him, then fled to my dormitory.

TOM’S POV

“Protego!” Hermione shouted over the top of me, then fled to her dormitory.

I sighed. Trying to Obliviate her hadn’t been a good idea anyway.

We were friends, were we?

Well, we certainly weren’t acting like friends.

I realised it was my fault. If I hadn’t killed that centaur, we would have been fine.

But I was still confused about her saying that I had killed her best friend. How could Myrtle be Hermione’s best friend?

Unless it was someone else.

She shouldn’thave known about me being called Voldemort, either.

There was something slightly off about Hermione Argentum.

She knew too much about me – that was certain.

There was no way she could know this much, unless –

She was from the future.

It made complete sense. Maybe, in the future, I would gain more power and become known as Voldemort…then I would kill many people, including her best friend.

I knew that if I had found that out before Hermione came, the idea would have filled me with delight.

Now it only filled me with disgust.

I resolved to go and talk to Hermione about it, but before I could even rise from my seat, I heard someone come in the door.

Rosa Parkinson.

She grinned at the sight of me, then came and sat down next to me.

She linked her arm through mine before speaking. “You’ll never guess what happened! Abraxas finally invited Cissy to the Hallowe’en Ball, and all the other boys already asked all the other girls. So the only two left are you and me!” She smiled widely.

“And Hermione Argentum,” I reminded her.

“Don’t speak to me about that – that – bi-”

“Don’t you dare call her that!” I snapped.

“Fine. Don’t speak to me about that girl,” she corrected herself, but still with the same amount of venom in her voice.

I felt a rush of anger. “Why not? You’re just jealous of her, aren’t you?”

She looked genuinely confused. “Why in the name of Merlin would I be jealous of someone like her? She’s a half-blood,” she spat spitefully.

“I’m a half-blood,” I muttered.

Parkinson immediately looked guilty. “Oh, Tom, I didn’t mean it like that! But why would I be jealous of her? Argentum is ugly, nerdy and just plain annoying!”

I pretended to think for a few seconds. “Hmmm, let’s see…could it possibly have anything to do with the fact that we’re going to the Hallowe’en Ball together?” I suggested sarcastically.

Parkinson just glared at me for a few seconds, then burst into tears.

“Tom…I thought we were meant for each other! But now you and Argentum have messed it up! I am going to kill that –”

She stopped herself just in time, then gave me one last death stare before running towards the door out of the Common Room.

I shrugged. “It never seemed to me that we were meant for each other…in fact, I never really liked you that much, Parkinson.

The faint sobs from outside grew louder.

If she was one of my followers, she would be dead by now, the part of me that was Voldemort muttered disapprovingly.

Hermione wouldn’t like that.

And why do you care what Hermione thinks?

You’re I love with her…

No, we’re just friends!

I sat there awhile longer, just thinking about the events of the morning, before I got up and went to class.

I really regretted killing that centaur now. I realised it was cruel, and I was evil.

Just as Hermione had said.