The Secret War | Dramione

Chapter 11

Hermione was at Hogwarts, barefoot and in her nightgown. The door that led to the grounds stood open, letting in a draft of cold air. There were several people gathered outside, preparing for some kind of magical event. Her thick, woolen sweater was the only thing that kept the chill from sinking into her bones. She looked around. It was eerie. It was as if the battle had never happened. The walls, pillars and corridors of Hogwarts were still intact, and the staircases ran like clockwork.

Then Hermione remembered the year was 1945 and she was nothing but a ghostly visitor.

There was an elderly wizard walking down the corridor in front of her. He halted when he heard a voice.

"Headmaster Dippet!"

The voice echoed in the hallway.

Hermione turned. A plump witch with flyaway hair was hastening towards him.

"What is it, Professor Merrywood?" Dippet asked, adjusting his long, purple robe.

"It's Tom Riddle sir," she said out of breath. "I don't know what's happened. He's in your office—asked to see you. He's not well, Headmaster, not well at all."

Dippet's face fell. "The graduation ceremony starts in two hours, we don't have time—"

"I insist you see him, Headmaster. We can't leave him in such a state—"

Hermione followed Dippet and Merrywood to the seventh floor. When they reached Dippet's office, he opened the door cautiously. Huddled in a corner of the room was Tom Riddle. He was shaking. His robes were torn, and there was blood on his face and hands.

But even with the blood that marred his face, Hermione could see that he was incredibly handsome.

He had hazel eyes, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and thick, dark hair.

"Tom, what's happened?" Dippet demanded.

The boy lifted his head slowly, as if coming out of a long stupor. He looked at Dippet, then at Merrywood almost like he'd forgotten they were there. Then something flashed across his eyes. Some kind of recognition. "I need to see Dumbledore," he said.

Dippet stared at him in consternation. "Professor Dumbledore is seeing to the graduation ceremony. He has amassed quite a crowd, many wish to congratulate him on his recent—"

Tom's mood changed instantly. "I don't care! Call him at once!"

Dippet took a step backward, stunned at Tom's reaction. "Now Mr. Riddle, this is most unlike you..."

Tom cradled his head in his hands, and suddenly Hermione could hear his thoughts echoing inside her own mind.

Dippet didn't understand. He'd have to make him see...why couldn't he just get Dumbledore?

Dippet was looking at Tom with increasing concern. Hermione guessed he had never seen him in such a state before.

"Mrs. Merrywood, call Professor Dumbledore, tell him it's an emergency."

The plump witch nodded and left the office.

"Now see here, Mr. Riddle..."

Tom was consumed by panic, his eyes wide. He was no longer listening to Dippet.

Nothing mattered anymore, not after what he'd seen, not after what he'd done. But it would be put right. Dumbledore would put it right.

"What is it boy, what's happened?" Dippet asked. "Were you attacked?"

Tom began rambling, but none of what he said made any sense.

Dippet's eyes widened. Riddle had lost his mind. He crouched down, and pressed his wand to the boy's temple.