A/N: Hats off to twztdwildcat who tapped the first triple-digit review for this story with #100. Thank you!

Okay. So. I decided to post this on Hallowe'en, as it includes, gasp, Hallowe'en, 1991. I know. It surprised me, too.

Chapter Five

13 October 1991

Once again, her dorm mates were having a lie-in. Hermione warded her bed with the strongest Imperturbable Charm she had discovered in her research. It was a spell that allowed her to target a thing or group of things to have a magical barrier placed around it.

No one messed with her books anymore.

Still, in the common room, she threw up a Protego. Wandless and wordless. Such a spell had made it so that she could successfully reach the floor on her feet instead of on her head. One of the first years, a platinum blond boy named Draco Malfoy, eyed her with disdain that seemed ridiculous.

"So, Mudblood. How'd you get in our House?"

She bit back her instinctive wish to hurl a charm at him that would turn his hair scarlet as a Gryffindor scarf. "Sorting Hat, same as you, Malfoy. And it's Granger."

He pursed his lips in an arrogant manner and moved to stand right in front of her. As if that would keep her from moving beyond him. "Everyone says you're smart. I think it's a sham."

That sparked her pride, but she really didn't want to see what the little pure-blood tyrant could do with his wand, so she swallowed back her temper. "You're entitled to an opinion. Opinions are like bums, you know. We've all got one, but showing them off all the time is crass."

He sputtered at her observation, but that enabled her to shove him aside with her shoulder and move on. She kept her shield active.

31 October 1991

"Troll in the dungeon! There's a troll in the dungeon!" Professor Quirrell panted as he ran up to the Head Table at the Hallowe'en Feast. "I thought you ought to know," he said.

And then, he fainted.

A stone-hard silence fell into the Great Hall. When it broke, there was a mad rush to get everyone to safety. Despite the fact that Harry Potter had been sorted into Gryffindor, Hermione still felt rather concerned for him, so when he dashed off, she followed. After all, she knew more ways of keeping a body safe than he did, she was pretty sure.

Wand out, she pelted after the first year, rounding a corner and watching as Potter stopped. She reached his side. "Hey."

Panting, he held up his hand. "D'you hear it?"

A grinding sound reached her ears and she guessed that was how he knew where to go. "Yeah. Girls' toilet."

Potter curled his face up in distaste, but he nodded. "Okay."

"Hey, Harry!"

Fred and George's little brother, Ron, showed up as they reached the toilet. He was out of breath, but he had his wand out and looked ready to, well, do something anyway.

"There! There it is!" Harry called. "Hey!"

Ron leapt past Harry as if he could take on the monster all by himself. "Oi!" Ron shouted, waving his wand. "What're you doing here? How the bloody hell did you get in Hogwarts?"

As if a troll could talk?

It had a tiny head on an enormous, massively muscled body. It snuffled and then hefted its club and roared, making even the water pipes rattle with the noise of its voice.

"Incendio!" Potter shouted.

The fire-making spell had no effect on the huge creature, but Hermione thought maybe it was the right thing to try again. "All of us. C'mon, now. One, two, three—"

"Incendio!"

The troll's vest caught fire! He roared in anger and swung his club anyway, though, and Hermione thought only of her shield. Tackling both of the boys like a rugby star, she gripped her wand and affected the most powerful spell for a shield that she'd ever read about. "Protego Maxima!" she shouted over both boys and herself.

She didn't remember what happened after that, but she woke up in the Hospital Wing with both Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey bending over her bed. "Miss Granger?"

Blinking rapidly to get the heaviness out of her eyes, she nodded slowly. Her speech was a bit slurred when she asked, "How's Harry Potter?" She knew he was famous, and she would have hated to be known forever as the Girl-Who-Let-the-Boy-Who-Lived-Die.

The matron rolled her eyes. "Oh, he's fine. Not a scratch, for all he was so foolish as to take off after a troll. And before you ask, Mr. Weasley is just fine as well. His brothers were in here, earlier, to check on you, Miss Granger."

She snorted, feeling sluggish and stupid. "What, in front of everyone? That's a first."

Her Head of House cocked his head. "Miss Granger. The boys from Gryffindor say that you cast a shield over all three of you."

"Yes, sir?" She wasn't sure if that was allowed or not. "But it was a life or death situation, Professor, and we're allowed to do magic at school, right? Just not in the corridors." She thought she saw the dour Potions Master's lips twitch and that made her almost smile, herself. Relaxing, Hermione tried to sit up, but found that her body was almost entirely enervated. "So. Why am I still here?"

"You did a fine job of protecting the boys, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey assured her.

Professor Snape didn't sound so sanguine, however. "You're here, Miss Granger, because in your unwillingness to behave in an intelligent manner like the rest of our House, you ran off without an adult into a gravely dangerous situation, in which you drained your magic. What spell did you use?"

So much for making her Head of House smile, Hermione thought. She darted a glance to the matron and tried to communicate to Professor Snape that this might be a problem to confess to.

He merely lifted one brow. "Well?"

She puffed out a breath and squirmed uncomfortably under the lavender-scented sheets. "A Protego, Professor Snape. Protego Maxima."

Both raven brows rose at that. He really appeared quite startled. "Really? Miss Granger . . . How did you learn that?"

She tried not to cringe before him, but she really had exhausted herself and couldn't seem to control the automatic response. "Research. Sorry?"

Madam Pomfrey snorted. "No apologies needed, Miss Granger."

"I'm her Head of House, Poppy. I'll decide if she should apologize for behaving in such an impetuous manner and taxing her magic in so doing."

"Oh, honestly, Severus!" And the matron tossed up her hands and stalked off. "I'll get her some more Sleeping Draught. You can administer it with the restorative potion after you've discussed this with your student."

"Fine."

Tensing in trepidation, Hermione watched Professor Snape murmur something under his breath while making a slight motion with his fingers. "There, now we have some privacy."

"Sir?" As far as she could tell, he hadn't done anything to add to their privacy. He hadn't even drawn the curtain around her bed.

"A spell I designed. Its purpose is to disguise the speech in a small space so that anyone listening in cannot distinguish what is being said. It's called Muffliato," he added after a moment. "You use the word as an incantation and make a subtle movement with your hand, like this."

He was showing her something not in any of her classes so far, so Hermione was once again feeling better about herself and wasn't anticipating any disciplinary action. "Like this, sir? No silly wand-waving?" she asked with a daring bit of cheek. She felt safe using it, because Professor Snape was the only one in her House who seemed to be actively concerned about her welfare. And where it might be his job, his job did not entail teaching her extracurricular spells!

And then, the pale man who had seemed to have no muscles with which to execute a regular smile did the impossible. He grinned at her. Only for an instant; if she had been yawning with closed eyes, she would have missed it. But he did. "Indeed. Show me."

She did as he did and he nodded his approval. "It will do. Now. You are clearly in need of some more advanced personal defense. When you are released from Madam Pomfrey's care, come to my office."

"Yes, sir!"

She was given her potions and Professor Snape went away.

"Granger? Hey, Granger?"

It was dark, save for the slice of moonlight that painted the stone floor next to her bed. Her head felt funny. Maybe I'm dreaming? she thought, seeing as how she saw no one, but heard her name clearly.

"Granger?"

Then, two heads popped up in the shadowed triangle between the moonlight and her pillow. "Weasleys?"

"You're awake!" One of them exclaimed softly. She couldn't tell which, as the tell-tale eyebrows were in shadow. She could have cast a Lumos, she supposed, but it would give their presence away and Hermione really didn't want to do that. "We just wanted to thank you, you know."

"For saving our git of a brother."

"And not getting killed in the process."

"Dumbledore was impressed. Told everyone at dinner how brilliant you were."

"And Ron and Harry, Fred, don't forget."

Ah, now she knew who was who. "George." The proper twin jerked his head in surprise and she suppressed a smug smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Told you, Granger. To thank you."

Fred nodded, his eyes wide. "Did you really cast a Protego Maxima? That's what Ron and Harry said."

Unsure if she should answer, she played it safe and just looked at them. That way, there was no lying but neither was she telling secrets that she should, perhaps, keep quiet about. Professor Snape's demeanor seemed to indicate that discretion was the word of the day.

Fred rolled his eyes and George tugged on a lock of her hair that was on the pillow. "C'mon, you can tell us."

"You don't talk to me all year and now you want to discuss this?"

Both the boys shifted with obvious discomfort. "You know why."

"I do. And I'm supposed to be sleeping and it's after curfew. You should go. Don't want to get into trouble talking to a Slytherin, do you?"

George grinned, surprising her. "Tonight? I think it'd be okay."

"Really?" She didn't believe that for a moment.

"Truly. So?"

"Not telling. I need to sleep or they won't let me back to classes tomorrow. Go to bed, boys."

Madam Pomfrey's office door opened, sending a soft light into the main room of the Infirmary. Hermione expected the Weasley twins to duck under her bed and hide until the matron had come out and checked on her, but she was in for a surprise for those boys hopped up to stand right next to her bed. "Madam Pomfrey!"

"Our favorite matron!"

"Better than anyone at St. Mungo's!"

Hermione couldn't help her laughter. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the different potions she had taken in the past several hours. Maybe it was the impudent looks under the ginger fringe on two identical faces. Maybe it was the expression of exasperated affection on Madam Pomfrey's visage.

"Granger! She can laugh!"

"Shocking!"

"Boys!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed at low volume. "To bed with you. It's after curfew."

"We had to come thank the heroine of the day."

"Honestly," Hermione protested. "I told them to leave, Madam Pomfrey."

"A rule to adhere to, boys. If a lady says to leave her bedchamber, you should probably do so."

Absolutely chortling, Hermione couldn't even breathe as the twins ran for the Infirmary doors. "G'night!" they called back to her.

"Are you quite all right, Miss Granger?" the matron asked, coming to sit next to the bed and wave her wand. As a diagnostic tool, a wand was far less invasive than her old pediatrician's stethoscope, sticks, and lights, Hermione decided.

"I'm fine, ma'am. They're harmless."

Madam Pomfrey snorted again. "Clearly, you are not well acquainted with them."

The reminder doused Hermione's urge to smile. "No, ma'am. I'm not."

5 November 1991

Some brilliant swot decided to celebrate Guy Fawkes' Day by hanging up an effigy.

Of her.

It was suspended in the arch between the common room and the girls' dorms without any visible means of support. Just a rope, anchored in thin air.

After some magical efforts that didn't dislodge the effigy with the wild brown hair, overlarge brown eyes, and open mouth, Hermione managed to use sheer force.

She tugged it down and set it on fire. In the common room. With witnesses.

Professor Snape entered just as the mess was settling into a pile of ash. "Your doing, Miss Granger? Do you object to Bonfire Day?"

"I just object to hanging people, sir. Even in effigy."

"Very well."

21 December 1991

"Professor Snape? I've got the book you lent me." Hermione didn't dare enter his office without permission, but felt comfortable enough calling in her purpose from the corridor.

He was standing at one of his bookshelves and didn't answer, so Hermione retrieved the heavy, leather-bound tome and leaned against the doorjamb to wait. To Protect and Defend, by Imeldine von Ritter. Not a school text, the book Professor Snape had lent her was geared toward a woman being able to take care of herself and her family. Having mastered the spells in the DADA texts for the first three years, this was the most advanced, Professor Snape had said, that he felt comfortable allowing her to learn on her own. Hermione was profoundly grateful for the opportunity and resolved to bake the professor some biscuits over the holiday.

"Hey. Mudblood."

"Oh, honestly, Malfoy. Haven't you got anything else to do?" The blond boy was oozing entitlement from every orifice on his body, she was sure. The image was gross, but it also amused her.

"Actually, I do. Accio text!" he called, with a lot of wand waving.

Frightened and furious, Hermione pressed the book tight to her chest and drew her wand. "No! That's Professor Snape's!" Without thinking about possible consequences, she focused and cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx.

"Hey!" Malfoy said as he fell to the floor. "Wait until my father hears about this!"

"Miss Granger? Mr. Malfoy? Is something wrong?"

Oh, now he shows up, Hermione groused privately, canceling the jinx with a whispered Finite. After a quick glance at her nemesis, who scrambled to his feet, she smoothed her face. "Not a thing, sir. Just here to return the book you lent me."

Their Head of House took the offered text with barely a glance. "And you, Mr. Malfoy? Here to return the steel tipped quill you borrowed?"

"Er, yes, sir. Here it is." Hermione had to give it to the boy; his delivery was smooth and he didn't even have to scramble to search for the quill in his robes. Crossing the corridor, he held up the writing implement. "My mother asked me to invite you to Malfoy Manor for a Yule celebration, Godfather." He added this last with a sneer, as if to say, You might borrow books, Mudblood, but he's not friends with your parents, is he?

She ignored the look and adopted a polite smile. "Have a good holiday, Professor."

"Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy? Come into my office."

Professor Snape closed the door and Hermione decided not to eavesdrop.

4 January 1992

George hugged his mum and waited whilst Fred did the same. "Bye, Mum. See you over Easter hols!" He tugged at his brother's elbow and leaned on their shared trolley. A short girl with a bushy, beribboned braid was disappearing at Platform 9 3/4 and he wanted to catch up with her before half of Hogwarts was around to comment.

Well, the Gryffindor and Slytherin half. Ravens and badgers couldn't care less. He knew this because he'd asked around. "C'mon. We gotta get to her before she disappears."

Fred nodded and they dashed through the slower moving crowd until they were right on Granger's heels. "Granger," they whispered. Loudly.

She kept walking into the wall, not even stopping to look at them. "She's not speaking to us," George declared, setting his jaw.

"Then we should speak to her."

They veered off, Fred checking into the cars while George waited for him to find a likely one where they could head off their prey. He almost laughed; this was great fun. Just before Granger boarded the Express, she stopped and looked, a frown clear on her little face.

"Bet she's looking for us," he whispered to himself. Not loudly at all.

They didn't manage to corner her for the trip up to Scotland, but Fred and George decided they could still use the time well and plan pranks. Epic pranks. They didn't blame Granger for avoiding them, not really.

"Besides," George said as he stretched out on one of the seats in their compartment, his eye on the corridor beyond the door. "We don't want her to whip her wand out on us, do we?"

His brother nodded and dug three little juggling balls from a pocket. "She'll think we're stalking her."

"Well, we were stalking her, Fred."

Fred pursed his lips and juggled a bit, mostly quiet until he missed one of the balls and he had to chase them down on the floor. He didn't want to have to use magic to juggle; it was a Muggle skill he was working on, having seen a street performer over the summer in Muggle London. "But why?"

George rolled his eyes. "Defense spells? Protection charms? Hello?"

"I just—" Fred paused and tried to find the right words. "I don't want her to feel weird with us, you know? Remember what Poppy said about a lady's bedchamber?"

George bolted upright from his lackadaisical posture. "She's only, what? A year younger than we are, yeah? I don't think we have to worry about a 'lady's bedchamber' quite yet, Twin O'Mine."

Fred smiled sheepishly, though his ears were a bit red in embarrassment. "Fair enough. Maybe we can pin her down on the trip down to London?"

With a grin, George agreed. "And until then, I've got this idea . . ."

14 April 1992

Fred—the one without the aberrational eyebrow—jerked his chin up when the door to Charms opened. He was standing at the end of the corridor as she left the room and he waved a small parchment aeroplane.

Curious, but unwilling to be humiliated by approaching him and having him turn from her— since their vaunted Gryffindor ethics didn't allow them to speak to a Slytherin in public—Hermione crossed the corridor to lean against one of the storage closet doors, pretending to look for something in her book bag. She was certainly not looking at the Gryffindor who seemed as if he were needing to visit the loo or something.

Boys!

As she found a pen and roll of parchment that she imagined she could pretend to use, the small parchment aeroplane dove into her hair. She tucked her writing implements back into her bag and retrieved the missive from her unbraided curls before putting it in a pocket. She certainly was not going to read notes from a Gryffindor boy in front of her classmates.

It wasn't until she was in the loo herself, rather later, that she felt able to open her letter. For a boy, the writer's penmanship was decent.

Dear Miss Granger,

In the interest of mutually beneficial magical development and education, your presence is requested in a private compartment on the H.E. down to London tomorrow. We'll get the compartment and figure out how to let you know where we are if you say yes.

Sincerely,

Mr. and Mr. Weasley

"Well, they certainly were trying for an O for style."

Studying the folded parchment, she leaned against the wall of the stall and frowned. Out of the hundreds of students at Hogwarts, the Weasley twins were still the only ones who had spoken with her, not to her. They were smart, and they listened to what she had to say.

When they bothered to speak with her at all.

Her inner pride told her not to bother. To ignore the boys as they had turned from her.

But then, she remembered how George had looked in the empty classroom last year. He'd been distressed, as she had. And they'd visited her in the Hospital Wing. After hours.

"Fine," she said on a quiet sigh. Ducking out of the loo, she found the first empty room with a table and drafted her reply, remembering the business letters she had seen her parents write for their dental practice.

To: F&G

Re: Development & Education

Sirs:

Thank you for your interest in our mutual education. I will be happy to meet with you on your terms. Please advise as to time and location.

Cordially,

HJG

15 April 1992

Hogsmeade Station

"Look, someone's carved their initials in here," Fred said. "Is she coming yet?"

"Whose initials? Can you tell? And no, not yet."

"Well, Stick your tie to the glass, there. No one's going to come after you. We're still on the Express, yeah?"

George snorted. "As if we'd worry."

"Well, we don't get caught, now, do we?"

"So, whose initials?"

"RJL, SOB—"

Having Stuck the tie to the glass, George chuckled and climbed to stand on the bench next to his brother. "No, seriously?"

"Look, see?" Fred pointed to the moulding at the top of the compartment. "And then there's PP and JP."

"Those are old carvings, Fred. No one who rides the train now made 'em."

"I believe you're right."

"We'll have to come back to this one."

"Yeah. Maybe add our initials as well, one day."

George grinned and glanced out the window. "When we've done something important, anyway. Look, there she is."

The boys jumped to the floor, trying ineffectually to straighten their hair. Fred noticed that his heart was racing, but put it down to the climbing up and down. George noticed his cheeks were hot, but decided it was because he was worried they'd get caught climbing in the compartment.

And when the little witch—whose brown eyes were cinnamon compared to their own, which looked more like clear tea—pushed her trunk into their compartment, George unStuck his tie while Fred closed the door. She eyed them skeptically, as if to say, Well? Now what?

They took a breath and greeted her as one. "Granger!"

Fred extended a hand. "Let me get your trunk."

"Have a sit."

"Comfortable?"

"Close the door, Fred?"

"On it!"

"Stop, already!" Their guest rose from the seat they'd pushed her into and stood, hands on her hips, glaring at them like their mum. "What is going on?"

Eyes wide in pretended innocence, George shrugged and settled onto the bench across the compartment from her. "Just wanted to talk, is all. We know you're learning more than the average second year."

Fred nodded and pointed to her vacated seat. "We've seen you hex the occasional git. And Professor Snape didn't dock a hundred house points from anyone over the troll incident. So we figure you're not in trouble with him."

"And from this you infer what?" She was studying them, her eyes narrowed as she examined their faces for something.

"That you could teach us stuff," Fred said bluntly.

George nodded. "And we could teach you stuff, as well. And I wanted to talk about that idea you had at the beginning of the year." He leaned forward, so Fred did, too. "You know, about having magic to use but not performing it."

Her face relaxed instantly and her eyes smiled. "Oh! Yes! All right, then." She bit her lip and then asked, "Is this like a secret sort of conference? Because I learned a spell to disguise our words while we speak."

Fred felt a surge of excitement jolt through him. It made him feel . . . odd, different, self-conscious, but really, really good. He didn't know what it meant, but he crossed gazes with his brother and saw a similar energized confusion in his eyes. They'd talk about it later. Alone.

For now, he was all about learning what Hermione Granger had to teach. "What's it called and how do we do it and will we get caught?"

She grinned a sly grin and pulled her wand from . . . somewhere . . . before whispering, "Muffliato," and etching shapes into the air with tiny motions. "I'll show you, and no, I don't think so."

"Wicked!"

A/N: Harry Potter, in this story, went after the troll simply because it was there. He's got that whole "saving people" thing, as I understand it. Note, Potter is not a bad guy in this story. He's just not My Hero.

Next chapter: TUESDAY. Really. I meant to stick to a schedule...