Hermione was fighting to keep her eyes open as she finished her last patrol of the halls for the night. The thought of the Arithmancy work and Transfiguration essays she hadn't yet completed made her footsteps even heavier. But as tedious and time consuming as some of her Head Girl tasks were, she adored the responsibility. Hermione took pride in the fact that hundreds of younger students were able to depend on her for answers and help and, most importantly, for a pristine example of what a Hogwarts student should be.
She was just about to take a shortcut behind a portrait of Wendelin the Weird up to the Gryffindor tower corridor when she heard a faint shuffling of shoes on the stone. Wishing students would simply stay in bed so she could head that way also, she set off back around the corner from which she'd just come. She passed the Charms classroom, thought of the honesty charm she hadn't quite mastered, and sighed as she saw a young student with flowing hair the color of a unicorn's tail in the distance.
Hermione began to catch up to the student but then hesitated. There was something odd about the way the girl was walking. Her chin was ducked, and her head swayed from side to side as she slid her feet. Was this actually a sleepwalker?
Hermione moved in front of the girl to stop her. She gently put one hand on the girl's shoulder and the other on her opposite elbow and peered into a dazed face she didn't recognize. The girl hadn't even noticed Hermione or the fact that she was being prevented from moving. Her small, glazed, Arctic blue eyes were only half open and clearly not actually taking in their surroundings. Hermione had never seen a sleepwalker before, but it looked more like magic than sleep was involved in the girl's odd behavior.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" Hermione hoped she wouldn't startle the girl. "Hello?" Hermione gently patted the girl's shoulder to try to fully wake her.
With still no response, Hermione left a hand on the girl's shoulder and pulled out her wand. "Ennervate,"
The girl's head snapped up, and her eyes focused on Hermione, quickly displaying surprise and confusion followed by slight fear.
"I'm Hermione, Head Girl. Can you tell me your name?"
The girl hesitated, still attempting to figure out exactly where she was and what she was doing there. "Bryony," she said looking around.
"What are you doing out here Bryony?"
"I… I'm not sure," she said, becoming alarmed.
"It's nearly midnight. What's the last thing you remember doing?"
"I went down late for dinner. I… was by myself… I'd stayed late in the library to study. I really don't…" Bryony was getting more confused and frightened.
"What house are you in?" Hermione redirected.
"I'm a Ravenclaw." Bryony was relieved to finally have a sure answer.
"Well let's get you off to bed." Hermione led the young Ravenclaw back to her dorm. She was relieved the situation seemed to be innocent enough and wouldn't have to take more study time to report it. This wasn't a student sneaking out to see a young lover or chasing an adventure. But what exactly had Bryony been doing in the hours between dinner and midnight?
"Hermione, your notes are trailing into the butter," Ron advised offhandedly with a wave of the toast in his hand.
"What? Oh…" Hermione acknowledged belatedly. She rolled up the portion of parchment she'd already thoroughly studied and continued reading.
"What do you reckon our odds are against Hufflepuff this week?" Ron asked Harry, recognizing that conversation attempts with Hermione would be futile.
"They've got talent, but it's new talent, untrained talent. If we play like we've been in practice, I think we'll have the match." Harry answered.
Ron nodded in agreement and returned a small wave from Julius Halor, the year's new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who was crossing the Great Hall to the staff table. Professor Halor valued the few students who'd advanced to the seventh year in his subject and never failed to offer a small wave of acknowledgment anytime he met one of them in passing.
"Do you reckon Tom Riddle's curse on that job still holds now that he's dead?" Ron asked to nobody in particular.
Harry glanced in the direction of Ron's gaze at Professor Halor, who was now greeting Professor Slughorn, and shrugged. "Well, we'll know at the start of next term I suppose."
