Where the hell am I?
Hermione shivered in the biting wind, hugging herself tighter inside the thin wizard robes. She had to stay warm. Term started tomorrow. Dumbledore would notice something was wrong the second he saw her. She had to survive until then.
Thank Merlin she'd brought the wand. She flicked it and whispered, "Incendio." A small fire bloomed in front of her, pushing back the freezing night air.
London weather really is the worst.
She muttered it under her breath, then lifted her head and looked around. This wasn't St. Redelia Orphanage. When she'd stepped out of the car she'd still seen the orphanage gates, but the moment the driver left everything had changed.
This wasn't a place for humans. The trees towered too high, the shadows too deep—like the Forbidden Forest back at Hogwarts. She'd only ever watched it from a safe distance. Never once stepped inside.
Heart hammering, she warmed herself by the flames, then started walking, desperate to get out.
Huff… huff… huff…
A deafening snore rattled the branches overhead. Leaves rained down like confetti.
Hermione dropped into a crouch, heart in her throat. She parted the bushes with trembling fingers.
A massive shape lay sprawled on the ground.
Trolls.
Not one—five or six of them. She didn't dare count properly.
Trolls had the brains of toddlers and the strength of freight trains. If one spotted a little witch like her, she'd be squashed into paste before she ever saw Hogwarts.
She clamped both hands over her mouth, breathing through her fingers in short, panicked bursts. Think. You've read every book in the library. There has to be a way.
Levitation Charm on their clubs while they slept? No—the book said they grip those things like lifelines. One twitch and they'd wake up swinging.
Why am I even thinking about fighting them? They're asleep. Just slip past, double back the way I came, get to the street, get back to London—
She took a slow, silent breath and crept forward, careful not to snap a single twig.
The deeper she went, the more trolls she saw.
Is this… their nest? A full-body shudder rolled through her.
Wand clenched so tight her knuckles hurt, she kept moving. One wrong sound and she'd have to fight. But right now fear had her magic so shaky she could barely light a match, let alone duel a troll.
She'd rather face Snape than this.
Rrrrrrr—
One troll sat up, rubbing its bleary eyes. It grunted, kicked its sleeping buddies awake.
Hermione froze, then flattened herself behind a bush, barely daring to breathe.
Tom Riddle. If Tom were here he'd know what to do. He was so strong, his magic so precise—he'd handle these idiots without breaking a sweat.
She stayed glued to the dirt for over two hours while the trolls stuffed themselves with berries, argued in grunts, and finally lumbered off.
When she finally stood, her legs had gone completely numb.
The night air cut straight through her. She wanted a warm blanket. She wanted the dry, herbal smell of Snape's quarters. She wanted to be anywhere but here.
"Gruuuh!"
A troll had spotted her. It pointed one sausage-thick finger and roared.
How?!
Hermione bolted toward the nearest cave mouth, silently thanking Tom for putting this body through hellish workouts. Without the extra stamina she'd already be troll chow.
She skidded to a stop at the entrance and jabbed her wand at the ground.
"Spongify!"
The earth turned to soft, sucking mud. The trolls' feet sank instantly.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Boulders floated up and slammed across the opening, sealing it.
"Spongify! Spongify! Spongify!"
She poured spell after spell into the soil until the whole cave mouth was a quagmire. Even her own foot would sink to the knee if she stepped wrong.
Safe. She was safe.
Hermione pressed both hands over her mouth, eyes stinging with tears. She never wanted to feel this again.
Outside, the trapped trolls bellowed and pounded uselessly against the stone.
She backed deeper into the cave, hands over her ears.
Then she saw them.
Hundreds of tiny white spiders crawling up the walls, heading straight toward her.
Spiders?
Why so many—
"Incendio!"
A weak flame sputtered to life. It wasn't the eight-foot inferno Tom could conjure—just a modest campfire—but it was enough to light the cave.
No spiders inside. The ones she feared hadn't appeared.
Outside, the sun had set. All she could do now was huddle in the dark, wait for the trolls to leave, and pray the cave stayed safe.
---
Back at Hogwarts, Snape stared at the letter in his hand, surprised.
Sender: Tom Riddle.
Dear Professor Snape,
Hello. It's Tom. I'm writing to let you know I might be late for tomorrow's Sorting Ceremony. My good friend Hermione Granger seems to have been dragged into some kind of wizard trouble—I'm not sure, but I found traces of magic in her room.
I'll handle it as quickly as I can. If possible, please tell Professor Dumbledore so I don't get expelled on the first day.
Sincerely,
Tom Riddle
Snape crushed the envelope in his fist and strode out, robes billowing. He found the white-bearded Headmaster in his office.
"Albus!"
"Severus?" Dumbledore blinked, pulling himself out of a light doze. "What's happened?"
"Read it yourself." Snape tossed the letter onto the desk.
Dumbledore's lined face grew serious as he scanned the page. "Severus, we must keep Tom calm. A wizard duel is no place for an eleven-year-old."
"He's not warning me—he's informing me!" Snape snarled. "The idiot boy is already on his way to find his little friend! Learned a few spells and suddenly thinks he's invincible!"
Albus placed a gentle hand on Snape's shoulder. "Calm yourself, Severus. We can still catch up. Tom is only a young wizard; he won't locate her that quickly, will he?
I'll go after Tom. You find Hermione."
"No," Snape cut in. "You're better at locating people. I'll drag that brainless whelp back to school myself."
He didn't wait for an answer. Black robes swirling, he swept out of the office.
---
"Sir, you're sure you want to get out here? It's just ruins ahead."
Tom flashed a bright smile. "Positive. I buried a pet here when I was eight. Thanks for the ride."
"Want me to wait, young sir?"
"No need. My aunt lives nearby. I'll stay with her tonight. Have a good evening."
He waited until the car disappeared around the bend, then slipped into the dense woods.
He'd come prepared—thick cotton layers under his robes and a pink down jacket tucked under one arm (straight from Hermione's closet).
He followed the faint emerald trail on the ground. Less than half an hour later it vanished. Tom downed another vial of tracking potion—one he'd found in an extra-curricular book. Add a single hair from the target and you could see their footprints glowing green.
He tracked Hermione's steps until he reached a clearing full of trolls.
Tom walked straight through them, head high, as if they were scenery.
These morons had eyesight like drunk badgers. Two big leaves over his shoulders and they'd never notice a moving bush.
Idiots.
Ten minutes later the footprints ended. A massive boulder blocked the path. The ground in front of the cave mouth was churned soft—clear Spongify work—and covered in troll prints.
Clever girl. Softened the earth to trap them, then levitated the rock to seal the cave.
One problem, though.
Tom lifted his foot. A stream of tiny white spiders scurried past him, heading straight into the cave.
He remembered these from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. They only lived near one thing: Acromantula nests.
Hagrid had one in the Forbidden Forest. Nasty, horse-sized beasts that considered humans a delicacy.
He floated the boulder aside. In the last light of sunset he saw inside.
Hermione crouched against the far wall, hands clamped over her mouth, eyes wide.
Three enormous Acromantulas clung to the ceiling, blind white eyes glowing. Each one was the size of a carriage horse.
The moment the boulder moved, Hermione whipped around and raised her wand—then froze.
The person standing there wasn't a troll.
It was a boy—taller than her, broader, dressed in warm layers with a pink down jacket tucked under his arm.
He stepped forward and gently draped the jacket over her shoulders.
This was the first time she'd ever really looked at him. She'd seen the face in the mirror dozens of times, but never like this.
"Tom?" Her lips were cracked from thirst. "You…"
"Hello, Hermione. First time meeting in person." Tom grinned. "I'm guessing you read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. White eyes mean the Acromantulas are blind. Smart move covering your scent with mud."
"But you've never been to Diagon Alley, or you'd know their venom sells for a hundred Galleons a pint. Lots of high-level potions need it."
The conversation drew the spiders' attention. All three turned eight milky eyes toward Tom.
"You idiot—run!" Hermione grabbed his hand and tried to yank him away, but she might as well have pulled a statue.
She had also underestimated how calm he was.
"Relax," Tom said softly. "Acromantulas are terrified of fire. Remember the book Flaming Flames and the Application of Incendio? There's a way to boost the spell's power…"