Chapter 294: Uneasy Hermione
The world fell silent—completely, eerily silent.
Hermione froze. The faint sounds she normally answered without thinking, the whisper of students chatting in neighboring compartments, even the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels… all gone. As if someone had gently pulled a thick curtain across reality.
She recognized this feeling instantly.
It was the same suffocating stillness she experienced in the tunnel leading to Atlantis. A silence so absolute that the soft grind of her teeth and the rustle of her robes echoed like thunder to her own ears.
But she did not panic.
Because Hermione Granger knew exactly who had arrived.
A warm presence brushed the edge of her senses—ancient, powerful, unmistakably reassuring.
Alexander Smith.
The same Alexander she had written letters to all summer. The boy she admired, who was rumored to wield magic that surpassed even Professor Dumbledore's. The mysterious prodigy who wore a gentle smile but carried a power far too vast for a second-year student.
"Hermione, what's wrong?"
His voice drifted from behind her, though she knew he had been in another compartment only moments ago, speaking to Luna. And yet here he was, a newly formed projection of him stepping from nothingness, as if reality bent politely to make room.
His expression was soft, calm, filled with the same quiet concern that always made Hermione's heart speed up.
"A-Alex– I mean—weren't you just in that room?" she stammered, quickly trying to smooth her wild hair as though waking from a spell.
Alexander reached forward and lightly ruffled the curls she was desperately trying to tame.
"I felt like you needed me," he answered simply.
Hermione flushed and immediately pretended she needed to straighten her robes again, though there was nothing to fix.
But her embarrassment lasted only a moment before worry returned to her features.
"Alexander… Ron said something unbelievable. He said Lord Voldemort is our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year."
"If that's true, then Dumbledore… he's—he's terrible."
The words tumbled out of her like water breaking free of a dam.
"You know, he allowed Voldemort to enter Hogwarts last year! Yes, the portraits said Voldemort was like a wandering spirit, but this is still a school!"
"In the Muggle world, if a headmaster did something like that—let the most dangerous criminal in the entire country hide inside a school—he'd be fired instantly! No, worse, he'd go to jail!"
Hermione's pacing increased, her breathing quickened.
"It's like—like the world's worst terrorist hiding inside the only school a nation has for its future! And everyone just—just tolerated it! He didn't even have a weapon, but still—"
She kept going, her words overflowing with fear, frustration, and sheer disbelief. She hadn't even realized she was out of breath until her rant dissolved into fast, shallow inhales.
Alexander waited patiently until she could breathe again.
"Hermione," he said softly, "your concerns make sense. But you're forgetting something."
He tapped lightly on her forehead.
"We are wizards. And the knowledge we study isn't just for exams. It's power—real power."
Using her own analogy, he continued:
"If Hogwarts were a Muggle institution, it would be the most elite military academy in the world. Dumbledore commands the strongest force on the continent, and much of that force lives in this school."
"Voldemort was—and is—the leader of a terrorist group. He has no weapon now, but he possesses the world's most advanced escape method. No one can catch him."
"He only had a single operative here—Professor Quirrell."
"And last year was actually Dumbledore's perfect moment to flush out that hidden threat and corner him."
Hermione listened, absorbing every word.
"A small team like Quirrell," Alexander continued, "is harmless against an entire school of armed, well-trained young wizards under the direct protection of the strongest wizard alive."
"This year is the same. The young Voldemort—the fragment in the diary—was subdued and turned into someone on our side. The old Voldemort is alone. He's surrounded by enemies, with fewer moves than ever."
Hermione's eyes widened. Understanding dawned rapidly.
"So… last year Voldemort escaped, but a piece of him was captured—and that version is the one teaching us now."
"And if the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position came from Voldemort… then if Voldemort himself teaches the class…"
Her eyes sparkled with sudden realization.
"Does this mean we might finally stop switching teachers every year?!"
She jumped up in excitement.
Only Alexander could make her forget herself like that.
"And that room?" Hermione asked quickly, now thinking clearly. "Are you still there? Or is the one in front of me just an… extra body from your necklace?"
Alexander smiled.
"I was in that room. But I felt Hermione Granger needed help, so I came. Both magically and personally."
She didn't answer, but her ears turned pink.
---
They walked back toward the compartment with Hermione's luggage, where her roommates—Lisa DuPin and the other Ravenclaw girls—were chatting.
Inside, Luna was crouched beside a shimmering mist Alexander had conjured. Within the mist, the conversation between Ron and Harry played like a floating memory.
"The Wizard's Hairy Heart!" Luna announced suddenly, eyes widening.
"It makes perfect sense. Voldemort must've torn out his heart, just like the story. That's why he became so cold. And Professor Dumbledore must have found it! And brought it back to Hogwarts!"
Alexander blinked.
The comparison was shockingly accurate.
The diary fragment was Voldemort's faint conscience—the part of him capable of empathy. Cast aside, forgotten. Without it, the monster was born.
And Luna, without knowing any of the real secrets, had pieced together something frighteningly close.
"Yes," Alexander said with a small, impressed smile. "It's almost exactly like that."
He flicked his wand gently.
The mist dissolved, revealing the dark night outside the train window. Stars glittered across the sky like scattered diamonds.
Hermione leaned closer to the glass, breathing out softly.
The silence of earlier was gone.
But the unease in her heart had finally faded.
End of Chapter
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