3.

Dartmoor - September 1997

Hermione wished she could glare at the wizard squatting in her brain. Had a thousand years in a locket sent him absolutely round the bend? Even if she trusted that Snape was working on the side of the light —even then— he was recognised as the right hand man of the ruling Dark Lord.

As a part of his cover, he'd be forced to hand her over as Undesirable Number Two.

"You have Phineas Black in your voluminous bag. Call him."

"Arrogant—"

"Ah, arrogance, just another word for…bossy."

Hermione's face burned. Gods, how much of her was truly Slytherin? She was well aware that she could be quite ruthless and sharp and…and bossy.

"You also are loyal and take great care of your own. I protected those I loved to my last breath."

Hermione scrubbed her hands over her face and quickly cast a notice-me-not spell around her bed as well as muffliato. She glanced at her watch. It was almost two. Harry would need to come and sleep soon. She glanced at Ron and that sour turn twisted in her belly. No, she couldn't trust him to stay awake if he felt he needed sleep. Necessity was exposing him to be a wizard on whom she could not rely.

With a sigh, she summoned Phineas' portrait from her bag and set it against the headboard. She wrapped a moth-eaten blanket around her shoulders to ward of the night-chill. "Headmaster Black?"

A huff and a grumble were distant and faint, but growing closer, until the sour-faced former Headmaster stalked into the golden frame. "It's late, you do realise that don't you, you impertinent chit?"

Salazar's lips pursed. Hermione could practically see them. "Repeat these exact words: "The Augury is here and the Heads of Slytherin must heed my Call."

Hermione did and watched in disbelief as the little man blanched, staggered in his frame and…and then bowed, deep and low.

"My Lady," Phineas Black murmured, no hint of mockery in his aristocratic voice. "How my I serve?"

Hermione blinked and Salazar was already whispering. She straightened her shoulders and wet her lips. "Please, I require a meeting with Headmaster Snape. In good faith, and I trust that he will keep this conversation only between himself and you, Headmaster Black, and only you"—yes, Salazar really loathed Albus Dumbledore—"there is an entrance to the Chamber of Secrets to the right of the fireplace in the headmaster's private sitting room. Have him meet me there, in the Chamber, tomorrow at noon."

Phineas bowed. "As my Lady commands." And he retreated from his frame.

Hermione sank forward onto her elbows and buried her face in her hands. "That was…weird."

"Weird, as in a magical sense, yes. Those words, spoken aloud since the prophecy, are a solemn bind to my Heads of House. Severus Snape cannot betray you. Trust me."

Hermione rolled her eyes, willed herself up and secreted the empty frame back into her bag. She cancelled the spells shrouding her and with a sigh, flopped back onto her mattress. It groaned and creaked under her. A few hours and her insane life had taken another wild flip. But…her trust in this wizard seemed to be written in her flesh and bones, she couldn't explain it. Logic defied it. But…if it got her out of this bloody tent and saved the wizarding world from all-out war, saved Harry, then she would follow him. She had to.

"All right, how do I get into Chamber of Secrets?"