An: I wanted to add a "Voldemort raises [X] as his own" story to the ranks as well as a "Dark!Hermione" and a Dramione story so what did I do? Ta-da!

Short chapters for now, but it will get longer as the plot picks up speed, for now, hope you lovelies enjoy!

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Chapter One: Paranoia

It had been an accident.

Hermione didn't mean to hurt anyone—she didn't even know how she did it!

It had happened during art class, Hermione was making the most gorgeous painting in creation and Bradley had spilled green paint all over it—on purpose! Hermione knew it was on purpose.

"You ruined it!" She cried indignantly as he tried and failed to hide a smirk.

"I did you a favour," Bradley said in mock innocence. "It looks prettier this way."

"You covered everything up!" Hermione wailed, tears springing to her eyes as the teacher, Ms. Milton turned to their tables and demanded, "What on earth is going on here?"

"Bradley ruined my painting!" Hermione cried, pointing an accusatory finger at the offending person.

"Not on purpose!" Bradley said, actually trying to play innocent this time. "I knocked it over. Sorry."

"Liar!"

"Now, Hermione," Ms. Milton said, crouching in front of the girl with a smile. "He told you it was an accident and apologized."

"But—!"

"Get back to work," the teacher suggested as she stood and strode away to help other children.

Once she was out of earshot, Bradley turned to Hermione and smirked. Hermione glared back with angry tears in her eyes before crumpling up the ruined painting and taking it to the trash.

Hermione could hear Bradley telling the other children nearby how much of a crybaby she was and they giggled in agreement.

And the next thing she knew...well she didn't quite know how it happened but—

Hermione spun around, glaring at Bradley as she screamed, "I'm not a crybaby!" Right before every glass object in the room shattered.

Children screamed and covered their faces or dove underneath their desks as glittering fragments and exploding paint decorated the air before falling to the ground and spotting it with shimmering shards of glass and colourful paint splotches.

Hermione just stood there, shock in her eyes and hands clapped against her mouth as glass clattered from her hair. She was shaking and the angry tears that had filled her eyes swiftly became horrified ones.

What on earth had she done?

~~*~~

It would be an understatement to say that Tom Riddle was not expecting this.

The second he exploded the doors to the Potter residence, a spell had shot out, aimed for his head. The Dark Lord has barely enough time to put up a shielding charm before another spell was shot.

"Stay away from my family!" James Potter said with a guttural growl as he pointed his wand threateningly at Tom and stepped out of the cottage.

Tom chuckled beneath his silver mask. "Oh! This is a surprise. Tell me, Potter, do you think you can survive another duel with me? Without you precious mudblood wife on top of that?"

James gave a smirk of his own, "I was about to ask you the same thing."

Tom liked to replay that night in his head—it filled him with a healthy sense of rage he could use to overpower his paranoia. Because five years—five bloody years and he had yet to get his hands on Harry Potter.

All because James Potter was a damn good duelist.

Tom glared out the window of his major, a mug of butter-beer in hand as he watched Muggle England from a distance.

That boy was out there, being trained no doubt to end him. And all Tom could do was prepare, prepare and worry—

He closed his eyes, remembering how he and James had shot spells back and forth, how Tom had gotten in a stunning spell with a disarming one but James had somehow caught it from midair as he fell and froze Tom's body on the spot.

Had he not managed to break free with quick wandless magic, he'd surely be taken in by the Ministry.

The anger returned and the paranoia fled.

But for just once, Tom wanted to replace that anger with sick delight—delight that could no longer be gained from torturing his Death Eaters or killing random Muggle or getting a leg up on The Order.

But he couldn't, because Harry Potter was still out there, alive.

And that blasted prophecy wouldn't stop replaying in his head.

Sighing, Voldemort spun in his heel and threw open the dark wooden doors of his study.

A distraction. He needed a distraction.

~~*~~

Hermione has never been to a pub before, but she was pretty sure she never wanted to go to one ever again.

It was dark and smelly and everyone laughed too loud. She could tell her parents didn't like the place either because they were constantly looking around nervously and fiddling in their seats.

The only reason they were here in the first place was because of that strange woman with blue witch-y clothing coming to their house and calmly asking them to come with her.

But why did she have to choose a pub?

"Now, Hermione," The woman said in that same super soft and calm voice—a complete contrast to the patrons of the pub. "You said before you shattered all that glass you were angry?"

Hermione nodded with a frown. "Yes, but I didn't mean to!"

"I know sweetie, I know. Now!" She turned to Hermione's parents now. "This may seem strange, but your daughter just so happens to be a Muggle-Born witch."

"A-a witch?" Hermione's mother repeated. "Like with the magic and...?"

"Just the same," Annie smiled, holding out a wooden stick and shooting water from the tip.

Hermione gasped and looked down at her hands before looking back up. "Can...I do that?"

"Yes you can! Once you're old enough to go to school, that is."

And then Annie and her parents talked about school and books while Hermione tried to shoot water out of her fingertip while half-listening.

She imagined an elegant stream gliding from her finger like...

Hermione flicked her hand up and a bright gold light shot from its tip instead of water, crashing into the ceiling and causing rubble to fall.

The few patrons sober enough to worry for their life, cried out and dashed away from the area, Hermoine, her parents and the Annie woman included.

"I did it again!" Hermione cried, hugging herself and staring wide eyed at the rubble.

"No worries!" Annie chirped as with a flick of her wand, the rubble floated up and fixed itself. "Don't be scared, Hermione. How about we all get a calming drink?"

Hermione shakily followed the adults, hands buried in her dress pockets. Twice in the same day she destroyed something! That couldn't be good could it?

The solemn girl sat in a chair between her mom and a handsome man with dark curly hair and a scary smirk on his face.

"At your age," the man told her as her parents took their drinks and probably spoke more about school and how dangerous Hermoine was. "Most children displaying Accidental Magic can merely throw something backwards but you..."

The man's smirk broadened. "You are different."

"More dangerous," Hermoine said sadly.

"More powerful," the man corrected, sipping from his drink. "What is your name, child?"

Hermione paused, acutely aware that this was a stranger she wasn't supposed to talk to him, but even though his smirk was scary and his blue eyes had red at the edges like most of the other loud drunk people, she responded politely. "Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Hello, Hermione," The man said, and held out his hand to her. "My name is Tom Riddle."

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AN: A little set up before I start the actual story!

Any questions I will try my best to answer (so long as no spoilers are attached)! any question and comments and criticism, are certainly welcome!

Hope you liked!

Fantasy Fan OUT!