Hermione chewed on her toast, trying to ignore Harry and Ron who were trying to write a list of spells they could use against Voldemort. Hermione shook her head. She didn't suppose wingardium leviosa would be much use against the darkest wizard of all time.
"Why can't you just let the staff deal with it?" she asked, taking advantage of Ron's confusion to take the last sausage from under his poised fork. "I mean, they have Fluffy. Just how much protection do they need?"
Ron finally moved and stabbed his fork directly onto the plate where the sausage had been. The fork screeched on contact with the crockery, and Hermione winced. Ron opened his mouth to respond, but was stopped with the arrival of the owls. Hermione scanned the flurry of wings for the school owl she had used the previous week. She saw it dip towards her and it dropped a large brown envelope into her waiting hands.
She ripped it open and drew out a sheet of writing paper, covered in her father's illegible handwriting.
"Dear Hermione.
It certainly sounds like you're enjoying your time at Hogwarts, which is nice to hear. I've enclosed a few things that I think should... I think the term is "keep you out of mischief" but you always seemed to do that on your own steam, so perhaps "keep your nose out of a book for a bit" is more relevant. I'm sure your exams are going far better than you make out, though I know from experience you won't rest with the nerves until you get your results. Best of luck, not that you need it.
Lots of love,
Mum + Dad. (Mostly Dad, let's face it.)"
Hermione grinned, and peered into the envelope. She moved her plate aside and turned the envelope upside down onto the table. It had been packed with newspaper cuttings paper-clipped together and a couple of them fell onto the floor. Hermione bent under the table to pick them up, and returned to find Ron holding one of them, staring at it.
"Hermione, what on earth is this?" He turned it over to reveal a square made up of smaller white and black squares.
"That, Ronald, would be a Crossword."
"Which is...?"
Hermione sighed. How magical folk were supposed to be more advanced when they didn't even have crosswords, she didn't know.
"It's a type of logic puzzle, with words. There will be clues to what go in the spaces."
Ron took the crossword from under the paperclip and unfolded it. Sure enough, there was a list of clues. "Unusually remote colossal body," he said. He frowned. "How is that a clue? It's not even a question."
"It is if you look at it the right way," Hermione retorted, "though that particular clue doesn't make sense. Are you sure it doesn't say celestial?" Ron grimaced and passed her both the block and the individual crossword.
"I still don't get it."
"Well, the word unusual at the beginning usually means that there's a scrambled word in there, probably remote as it's the next one. The celestial body is the clue. The answer is meteor; it's acelestial body and it's an anagram of remote..."
"What's a meteor?"
Hermione sighed. "I give up."
Hermione took out a biro and filled in meteor in the relevant space, then turned to the other clues.
"What's that?"
"A muggle quill with ink that won't sink through this thinner paper," Hermione replied, not looking up from filling in "Impel" for "Dreadful lie about politician's drive (5)"
"Oh."
It suddenly dawned on Hermione that she had revision to do, so she gathered her things together. Defence against the Dark Arts was soon, and it would do well to forget the details of the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct amongst other details. She decided to take her notes to the room she had found previously.
She turned the relevant corner clutching her bag, as it was too heavy to leave on her shoulders. Crouching behind the statue, she carved the word Minerva into it under the lines. She smiled as Minerva disappeared and the words A slow, solemn square-dance started to appear onto the stone.
"It's a chess game," she said, at the statue.
The wall behind her moved as usual, and a small globe of light appeared next to Professor McGonagall in her office. As Hermione settled herself into the familiar desk and table, a book that had been left on the table caught her eye. As soon as she moved her hand towards it however, it slid far enough away from her that it was out of her reach. She grimaced and retrieved Standard Book of Spells Grade 2 from her bag. It had been in the common room that morning, and Hermione had taken it to get an idea of what they would be learning next year. She found what looked like a useful page and took out her wand under the table. She stared at the shuffling book, hoping she could be quick enough to freeze it before it moved away from her. She quickly drew her wand out from under the table and shouted, "Immobulus!"
The book only had chance to slide a centimetre or so before Hermione's successful freezing charm stopped it. Hermione cackled and grabbed the book. The Anthropomorphic Book of Anthropomorphism in Transfiguration it said, in faded text. She blinked. She had never been in want of a dictionary more and wondered whether there was a spell for defining things. The book shuddered and leapt out of her hands as it broke free of her freezing charm. Hermione let it go and turned to the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct. She didn't see the book leap back onto the bookshelf and through the wood to the other side of the stone wall, in its desperate bid for freedom.
Professor McGonagall jumped as a book hit the floor in her office. She leaned around her desk to see it lollop towards the bookshelves on the other side of the room, and she took out her wand quickly. "Immobulus!" she shouted. It stopped moving, but starting growling instead. She walked over to it, and picked the book off the floor to bring it to eye height. "If you were really anthropomorphic, I'd use petrificus totalus on you, not immobulus. Nevertheless, you are useful." She took the book back to her desk and put it down. As it moved to the left a millimetre, she squinted as menacingly as she could from over the top of her glasses. It moved back. "Much better," she said. "Now where did my—"
Hermione looked from behind her hands, down at her notes. "Yes!" she exclaimed, upon realising she had managed to memorise the whole thing. She leant back in her chair, taking in the rest of the room. An ornate chess set sat on the table in front of her, where the moving book had been, and Hermione drew it towards her. No matter how much her father had tried to teach her chess, she was still useless. The thought was that if she could understand crosswords and riddles she could understand chess, but it was not to be. Hermione didn't move any of the pieces, but stared at the board for a few minutes. The pieces looked back at her, until eventually one of the rooks spoke.
"Are ye just going to stare at us, or are ye going to play?" it asked.
Hermione jumped, not used to chessmen with a Scottish accent. "I don't think that's wise; I'm not very good at chess. In fact, I think the more accurate word would be useless. That and you're not my chess set."
The rook shrugged. "We can always help, and we'll move back to where we were afterwards. She'll never know, then."
Hermione looked around, not entirely sure what she was expecting to find. "Fine," she said. The rook grinned and moved back to his starting square, as did all the other pieces.
"White or black?" it asked her.
"Black. Then I don't have to make the first move."
"Someone always has to make to make the first move."
"Yes, well, I'd always rather it wasn't me, if you don't mind." Hermione tried not to blush.
"First to check, or shall we go to checkmate?"
"Better be first to check. I have studying to do, you know."
"Sure, sure."
The rook smirked and kicked the pawn in front of him forward two squares. Hermione moved the pawn in front of her queen forward two squares. The pawn in front of the white king moved forward one square. Hermione moved her queen forward two squares. The white kingside bishop moved through the gap created by the king front pawn only four squares. Through the gap between pawns and queen, the bishop turned to face the king.
"Check."
Hermione put her head in her hands. "How many moves was that?" she asked.
"I believe that was five. You moved two pieces. I moved three. Rather pitiful, if you don't mind me saying." The rook shook its head and walked diagonally across the squares to where it had been before, to G5. "Back to previous positions, comrades," it said. Most of the pieces walked off the board; the rest rearranged themselves to where they had been before.
"I did say I was awful," Hermione muttered, and retrieved more books from her bag to continue revising.
The rest of the exams continued, as did Hermione's use of the room. When she wasn't in the common room or with Harry and Ron, she was in the room revising. She found that although the library was quiet, being there meant that people knew where to find her and ruin her revision. Hermione liked the silence of the books, even though she often felt like she had interrupted a conversation when she walked into the room. She often found that when curfew came, all she wanted to do was to continue curling up with all the books and the ever-talkative chess set that kept trying to persuade her to play again.
Professor McGonagall grew used to seeing Hermione at breakfast and then a few moments later, have a ball of light appear just as she was finishing her own toast. The light would reappear every hour until meal times, or on the occasional afternoon when Hermione had an exam it would disappear for a while. One morning, McGonagall noticed that she hadn't seen the ball of light in a while. The room was indeed empty, and the chess set told her that Hermione had left before lunch and not returned. She left her office with a collection of library books to renew just as a Phoenix patronus appeared before her.
"I have received an urgent owl from the Ministry, Minerva. I leave the school in your capable hands for this afternoon. I trust I shall not be long." McGonagall nodded, and the patronus disappeared. Dumbledore disappearing to the Ministry was normal, so she thought nothing of it.
Ten minutes later, she rounded the corner to come face to face with Hermione, Harry, and Ron. "What are you three doing inside?" she asked them.
"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione. She looked determined, and McGonagall wondered whether the change in character was a good thing.
"See Professor Dumbledore," she repeated, confused. "Why?" It seemed strange that only minutes after he had left, a group of first years would be looking for him. That and for what would they want to see him?
"It's sort of secret," Harry said.
Professor McGonagall felt her nostrils flare. She had been left in charge for a reason, because she was just as important as Dumbledore was. Whatever they wanted to talk to him about, they could just as easily talk to her. "Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said, coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."
"He's gone, now?"
McGonagall wondered whether Ron or Hermione were capable of speech any more. "Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time – "
"But this is important."
"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?" She looked down at him over her glasses just as she had on the Anthropomorphic book of Anthropomorphism in Transfiguration.
"Professor. It's about the Philosopher's Stone."
Professor McGonagall's heart stopped for a moment. The strength in her arms left, and her books fell to the floor. She left them on the floor, to stare at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. After all they had done to keep the Philosopher's Stone secret from the students, here they were about to discuss it with Dumbledore! "How do you know..." she managed.
"Professor, I think - I know - that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."
"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said. "I don't know how you found out about the stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine." She bent down and gathered up the fallen books, casting a quick Immobulus on one particular book that Hermione stared at for a while.
Professor McGonagall walked away with her books, passing Professor Snape on the way. They nodded at each other, not unlike bikers who pass each other on roads, and she eventually made it to the library.
Hermione, after trying to follow Snape unsuccessfully, kept with Harry and Ron all afternoon into the evening. By the time it came for them to go through the trap door, she was in a dream-like state. It felt to her as though she was watching herself stun Neville, create flames against the Devil's Snare, help Harry catch the door key and follow them into the next room. It was only when she found herself at the edge of a huge chess set that she came to.
"...Hermione, you go next to Harry instead of that castle," Ron said.
Hermione looked at the rook. It reminded her strongly of the one that had persuaded her to play in the secret room, and she was suddenly very glad that Ron was the one directing. It wouldn't do well to lose to this set in five moves. Before long, she found herself in Snape's room with Harry. She recognised the bottles as the ones she had seen in Professor Snape's bag back in Diagon Alley over the summer. They were lined up on a table with a roll of parchment lying next to them.
'Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find.
One amongst us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, are all different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.'
Hermione grinned. "Brilliant. This isn't magic, it's logic, a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't an ounce of logic; they'd be stuck in here for ever." Hermione was reminded of the crosswords that her father had sent her via owl, and grinned again. There were some perks to being muggleborn – this was one of them.
"But so will we, won't we?" Harry said.
"Of course not. Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison, two are wine, one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us back through the purple."
"But how do we know which to drink?"
"Give me a minute."
Hermione read the paper several times, looking up at the bottles. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering. "Second left and second right are the same, so we don't want them. If they're both nettle wine, then far left is poison and so is the fifth bottle, if they're both poison... Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides ...so it can't be. Far left has to be poison..." she continued muttering, while Harry watched her. "...and if far left is poison then second is wine, so... different are those who stand at either end and we've used up both wines from the two poisons, but if you would move onwards, neither is your friend so far right takes you backwards. Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides so that leaves..." Hermione grinned, staring at the smallest bottle.
Harry looked at her, expectantly.
"Got it. The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire, towards the stone," she said.
"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow." Harry looked confused, at best. "Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"
Hermione pointed at the far right hand bottle.
Harry looked at it, and picked it up to hand to her. "You drink that, go back, and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy. Go straight to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm not match for him really."
Hermione blinked. "But Harry, what if You-Know-Who's with him?"
"Well, I was lucky once, wasn't I?" He pointed at his scar. "I might get lucky again."
Hermione fought the urge to tell him that it wasn't as simple as that. She hugged him instead.
"Hermione!"
"Harry, you're a great wizard, you know." She didn't have the heart to tell him that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was bound to be better than an eleven year old.
"I'm not as good as you."
She hadn't expected that. If she'd realised that locking herself in a bathroom with a troll would lead to declarations of brilliance, she would have done it before Halloween. "Me? Books, and cleverness? There are more important things, friendship and bravery. Do be careful, Harry."
"You drink first. You are sure which is which, aren't you?"
"Positive," she said. She picked up the bottle at the end of the table and looked at the fire in front of her, which Harry would have to go through. She shuddered at the thought.
"It's not poison?" Harry asked, mistaking her shudder to being a reaction to the contents of the bottle. Hermione hadn't even tasted it, but now she felt strangely cold. She hoped this was a good sign.
"No, but it's like ice."
"Quick, go, before it wears off."
"Good luck, take care—"
"GO!"
Hermione twitched, and walked straight through the purple fire. The fire now behind her flickered, and she heard the fire at the other end of the room surge as Harry must have walked through it. She walked past the troll, resisting the urge to kick it as she went past, lest it woke. She re-entered the chessboard, to see the pieces back in their starting positions. She skirted past the board, glad that she didn't have to play her way across the board to get to Ron. That certainly would have ended well if she had. Ron was crumpled in a heap in the corner, as though he had been dragged off the board. She prodded him with her wand, to no avail. She tapped the knee of the knight closest to her, and it turned to face her.
"Aye?"
"I was wondering if you could help me move him. You see, I don't think I'm strong enough to carry him..."
If it could have raised an eyebrow, it would have done. Nevertheless, it jumped off the horse, and helped her carry him towards the room with all the keys and brooms. Thankfully, the keys seemed to know which direction she had come from, and didn't attack her when she touched the brooms. Balancing Ron on the front of the broom, she edged it forwards.
Soon enough, she found herself hovering above the Devil's Snare pushing the trap door open. She flew through, clinging to Ron and screaming "ALOHAMORA" in the hope that if she crashed into the door in the other end, she might still have all her limbs. Sure enough, she and Ron crashed through the door, and it clicked behind her. From the force of the door, the broom tipped sideways and they both fell off.
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione opened one eye, to find herself looking at one Professor McGonagall, who seemed too shocked to be angry.
"What on earth...?"
Hermione took advantage of the shock, to hit McGonagall with a barrage of words, explaining why they'd gone through the trapdoor, and how Ron had been hurt, and that they'd reached the potions and she'd left."
"Potter?"
Hermione nodded.
Professor McGonagall flicked her wand behind her, which let out a silver cat. That cat streaked out of the door. "A message, Miss Granger, to Dumbledore."
"I don't need to send him an owl, then."
"Indeed not," spoke a familiar voice. Dumbledore rounded the corner, which sent Professor McGonagall into another wave of shock.
"I thought you had gone to London, Headmaster!"
"I did, Minerva. I came back. Now, I believe there is a student who needs my help. If you could escort Miss Granger and Mr Weasley to the hospital wing, I would be most grateful."
"Of course."
At that moment, more members of staff rounded the corner, who followed Dumbledore through the door to Fluffy. Hermione heard the beginning of a piece of music, before the door shut, leaving her alone with Ron and Professor McGonagall. She stood up, and looked down at Ron, who didn't seem too keen to wake up any time soon. She bent down to put him back on the broom, but McGonagall put a hand on her shoulder.
"Allow me, Miss Granger. Mobilicorpus."
With that, Ron rose into the air, limbs hanging limply. Hermione forced her mouth to close, and smiled gratefully at her.
"A fair sight easier than dragging the poor boy via broomstick, don't you think?"
"Yes, Professor. Reading The Rules and History of Quidditch hasn't done anything for my fear of flying, I'm afraid, just made me more wary of the bludgers."
McGonagall smiled. They walked in silence to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey didn't seem too impressed.
"And how on earth did this happen, Miss Granger?"
Before Hermione could respond, however, Professor McGonagall had spoken. "They, and Potter, were on their way to the Philosopher's Stone. Potter will be up shortly, Dumbledore has gone to get him."
"How far did they get?"
"Severus" room."
Hermione looked up at Professor McGonagall, surprised. "How on earth did they...?"
"I think you'll find that solving riddles is one of Miss Granger's strengths, Poppy." Professor McGonagall winked at her. Hermione tried not to blush too much, unsuccessfully.
Madame Pomfrey busied herself with Ron, and a few seconds later the door opened to reveal Dumbledore levitating Harry in front of him. Madame Pomfrey quickly ushered Hermione and McGonagall out of the hospital wing, so that she could attend to Ron and Harry. Professor McGonagall walked Hermione back to the common room, as it was after curfew. They stopped just outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, where Hermione turned to McGonagall.
"Professor, do you think that Harry will be ok?" she asked.
"I believe so, judging by past luck and a small entourage of staff. He should be here soon."
Hermione looked down at her hands, and worried a small piece of skin on her left forefinger. "Are you going to take away points from us, Professor?"
"I think not. That would rather destroy the point of having, what was it, "daring, nerve and chivalry", I think the hat put it at the beginning of the year?"
Hermione smiled. "Does the hat ever make mistakes, Professor?" She tried to read the expression in McGonagall's face, but to no avail.
"Perhaps once in a few hundred ears, yes, the sorting hat can be mistaken. However," and here she lifted Hermione's chin, "I think you'll find that you are exactly where you belong. Should you think differently, think how much bravery it took to go where you were tonight.
Don't try telling me that you only went because Potter and Weasley were going. You kept calm in solving the riddles; you managed to fly to help catch the key. You also kept your cool playing my chess board, which one of my rooks tells me is not as much of a strong point as your logic is."
They both smiled.
"That's better."
