Hermione discovers just what her Father is capable of, and makes a decision that could come back to haunt her—or help her with her plans going forward.

Hermione faced her Father, who was now watching her very closely. “Father, perhaps it might be easier if I might be able to ask a few questions?”

Voldemort chuckled, “It would seem that your thirst for knowledge is quite voracious, child. Very well, ask away.”

Nodding, Hermione sat up a bit straighter. “Did you truly modify Potter’s memories the night you’d returned?” Voldemort nodded once. “And he did have a piece of your soul, like I’d thought he did?” Again Voldemort nodded. “I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit over the last couple years, about why you went after the boy in the first place. There was some kind of prophecy wasn’t there? Something that was overheard, but perhaps not in its entirety?”

Lord Voldemort stared at his daughter in complete shock!

How had she deduced that?

As he continued to stare at her, to her credit, she didn’t flinch at all under his scrutiny.

“How did you come to that conclusion, Daughter?”

“Well, a few things really. First, Professor Trelawny is an absolutely rubbish Divination Professor, but she was hired by Dumbledore a little over a year before the attack on the Potters. Why would Dumbledore hire the woman? Unless, she actually gave a prophecy, and it would’ve had to been a doozy, otherwise why offer the bint his protection? Secondly, I’d imagine the person who overheard the prophecy would’ve been someone on Dumbledore’s staff, but loyal to you? Professor Snape perhaps?” At this Voldemort nodded again, considering his daughter with quiet astonishment. “And finally, after thinking about it, I’d realized that there might be additional horcruxes out there, other than the ones I have, Nagini and Potter?”

The Dark Lord had always thought of himself as the smartest, most cunning wizard in the world!! But sitting here and listening to his only daughter voicing her theories, which were based on fact, left him completely flummoxed, a bit wary but otherwise immensely proud at how brilliant his child was.

“I’d imagined you’ve already figured out what they might be, Daughter?”

“Well, it was conjecture for the most part, until I found the one you placed in the Room of Hidden things. So I took it and placed it in my beaded bag, which is heavily warded.” Her father’s expression darkened, but she quickly reassured him. “There are multiple enchantments on the bag, but I felt it prudent to remove it from anywhere Dumbledore or Potter have access. I did recognize it as the Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, so I’d surmised that you probably were able to get access to other Founders artifacts, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup?”

At this the Dark Lord stood, his aura growing darker, swirling in agitation, but Hermione just sat there remaining unfazed by her Father’s show of power.

“What else have you discovered, Daughter?” Voldemort snarled menacingly.

“Father, please don’t be angry with me. I’m telling you this for your own well-being. If I could figure such a thing out, don’t you think Dumbledore might? Or perhaps someone loyal to the man? I may detest the Headmaster, but he’s not a complete imbecile, despite evidence to the contrary.”

“You are correct in that the man isn’t as daft as he appears. He knows Legilimency. How are you sure you haven’t betrayed my secret unknowingly?”

“Professor Snape gave me a text on Occlumency at the end of my second year. He can probably explain his reasons better than I can, but I’ve been practicing since then. It’s difficult, as I haven’t had an experienced Legilimens to properly guide me, but I’d like to think my shields are adequate.”

Without giving Hermione any warning, her Father made eye contact, silently casting the spell. Hermione felt the instant push into her mind and she brought down her shields quickly, bringing up random facts from Muggle texts, novels and any other information she could shove forward. Not one to be easily dissuaded, the Dark Lord pushed harder at her mental walls, causing Hermione to shift focus again to strains of music, singing lyrics and musical theory. The next push went even deeper and Hermione could feel her mental walls being assaulted from all sides as her father tried to find a way in—when she felt like she couldn’t take the strain any longer she silently thought ‘expulso’ and her father was thrown from her mind in a rush.

Voldemort stared aghast at his only child, who was sitting there visibly shaking in near exhaustion. Never had anyone been able to throw him out of their mind. He realized he’d must have been in her mind for at least 10 minutes, and she hadn’t cracked, no matter how hard he’d pushed. Her eyes were wet from tears leaking down her cheeks in silent admonishment of the torture he’d put her through. But her countenance was one of controlled anger as she lifted her chin mockingly. Without missing a beat she stated in righteous indignation, “I trust you’re satisfied, Father?”

Voldemort smiled genuinely for the first time since he could remember.

“You continue to impress me, Daughter. I will not apologize for what just happened. I warned you of what kind of person I am.”

“I wouldn’t have expected an apology, Sir. I am, however, understandably tired and would like to be taken to my room to freshen up. Perhaps we could continue this discussion at another time?”

Just then Lucius came into the library to see to his guests and found Hermione and the Dark Lord sitting in a secluded part of the library.

“My Lord, forgive me for interrupting,” Lucius noticed the young witch appeared to be unwell, “Yaxley is in my study, and he wishes to discuss something privately with you.”

Voldemort stood quickly and gestured to his follower, “Lucius if you wouldn’t mind escorting my daughter to her rooms and see that she is given a ‘calming draught.’

“Of course, my Lord.” Lucius bowed watching as his Lord stalked out of the room. When he had left, he turned to the young witch and offered her his hand, which she took a bit hesitantly. Together, they strolled down the hall and up another set of stairs to the third floor. When they reached Hermione’s room, the young witch halted Lord Malfoy before he could leave.

“I have something to return to you, Lord Malfoy.”

Hermione opened her bag and pulled out the diary that she had taken that day in Diagon Alley from Ginny Weasley. When she handed it to Lucius, he just looked at her in shock.

“Why are you returning this to me, Miss Granger?”

“I would imagine, Sir, should my Father request whether or not the book is in your possession? It might not look favorably upon you if it is not.”

Lucius nodded warily, “But that still does not answer my question.”

Instead of answering the question directly, Hermione decided on a different tactic. “What is most valued in Slytherin House, Lord Malfoy?”

Lucius thought for a moment at the question Hermione posed to him. Slytherins admired power and wealth, ambition and cunning—but most within the house were Purebloods of substantial wealth. No...it wouldn’t be any of those things. Lucius looked down at the young witch, who seemed to be barely holding herself together, but still had that fire and determination burning from her eyes.

“Loyalty, Miss Granger. Slytherins are loyal to each other.”

“Usually that is true, but I was the exception to that rule. I’ve received no loyalty from within my own house. So I ask you again, Lord Malfoy. What or whom are you loyal to? If you had to make a choice, which would you choose?” Hermione didn’t wait for a response as she handed the diary over and bowed her head in thanks.

“Thank you for sponsoring me here, Lord Malfoy. I do appreciate it, and please trust that my reasoning will become apparent in time.”

“I will leave you, Miss Granger. Please don’t hesitate to come to me directly, should you be in need of anything.”

“I will. Thank you.”

With that Hermione stepped into her room and silently closed the door, allowing the tears to fall unchecked from her cheeks. Her own Father had invaded her mind callously and without warning. It would seem that he was indeed as heartless as he had warned her.

She could well imagine if she were anyone else, they’d be dead right about now.

Moving towards the ensuite, she took her trunk out her bag and enlarged it—placing at the end of her bed. She grabbed some fresh pajamas and underthings and went to take a hot shower. Once the water was running, she walked inside the shower placing silencing and protective wards and immersing herself in the scalding water, crying empty tears. She had known deep down on some level that this would be difficult, and she’d tried to prepare herself accordingly.

Perhaps she was overly optimistic and needed to develop a contingency plan after all.

When her shower was finished, she wandlessly dried herself and dressed in a set of navy blue pajamas. Trying to tame her hair was another issue altogether, so she just settled for a simple french twist. She cast a refreshing charm on her face.

Walking out into her room, she first noticed the calming draught sitting on the nightstand, obviously left there by a house elf. The next thing she noticed was her Father sitting in an arm chair by the fireplace watching her closely.

“Daughter, I’ve come to finish our discussion.”

“Of course, Father.” Hermione sat down demurely, placing her hands in her lap and crossing her legs at the ankles.

“I don’t offer praise easily, and I’m sure you will come to find that I expect far more than I’m willing to give in return. Nagini has told me that she shared some of my history with you. Affection is a concept I’m unfamiliar with, but I can appreciate intelligence, ambition, cunning and resourcefulness. As such, you have exceeded my expectations, Hermione—and I hope you continue to do so.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what to think of her father’s confession. “I’m sure it will take us both time to become used to each other. As for our previous conversation, I’d only wanted to suggest that you might wish to check to make sure the other horcruxes are secure. I’d imagine you might have left one or more with trusted followers, and it would seem prudent to verify they’re still intact.”

Voldemort tilted his head in consideration. “Perhaps that might be a wise idea. Please humor me and share with me whom you suspect I might’ve entrusted them to?”

Hermione smirked inwardly. “From my research you had several loyal followers, some of whom were incarcerated. I’d imagine the Lestrange’s were favored, as well as the Malfoy’s and the Black family?”

“I see,” said Voldemort silkily, “perhaps it would be best if we table this discussion until I’ve had a chance to verify that my property is where I left it. I will be leaving for a few days on business, but Nagini will be here to act as a chaperone.”

“It will be nice to see her again, I’ve missed talking with her.” Hermione smiled genuinely.

She watched as her Father stood and left the room without another word.

Hermione could now see why her Father was so feared. He radiated a power unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She truly hoped that she hadn’t made a gross miscalculation where Lucius Malfoy was concerned.

Only time would tell.