For the first time, Hermione knew more than she was letting on.
Of course, there was too little to go to Professor Flitwick, but from what she had seen in the hallways, the Inspectors were out in full force. From the Deputy Headmistress, she learned that the Ministry appointees would of course be held responsible for their actions, and the Transfiguration teacher went on to inquire as to why she would think otherwise.
"Well, it's just that I haven't been in the wizarding world very long, but from what I have seen it appears to be spectacularly easy to get away with things. Wands-"
"-can be tracked, as can magic. I would recommend not taking devious purposes into account during the course of your magical education, Miss Granger. Magical Law Enforcement has as many ways of finding the truth as there are of concealing it. Your wand, for example, can be inspected for its most recent spells. May I?"
"O-of course, Professor." the Ravenclaw responded, drawing her wand from her schoolbag.
"Prior Incantato." the older witch cast, touching her own wand to the tip of Hermione's wand of vine and dragon heartstring. She remembered telling Neville the composition as a matter of interest, as his seemed to not be working for him. He insisted it was probably his own ineptitude and not his father's wand that made him a poor caster of spells, but she told him it was better that he look into it. She had never been terribly interested in wandlore herself, and she was a little doubtful about the way Olivander went on about the 'wand choosing the witch' as if they were sentient. At the same time, he likely knew significantly more about the subject than she did and it was likely a wand that 'fit' his father would not work well for the younger Longbottom.
Out of the tip of her wand came a gray, shadowed image of what appeared to be a knockback jinx in flight, which made McGonagall raise an eyebrow.
"I was practicing." Hermione said dutifully. "I need to stay sharp, see." She wondered how invisible spells would look if the same process were used, but there was something off and she decided not to ask. Earlier, Draco had been moaning about how unfair the Deputy Headmistress had been toward him, and though she was notable for being especially strict, the punishment was somewhat extreme for a first-year with a clean record except for being out of bed once. Of course, he was probably making it worse for himself by being indignant.
She scanned the hallways between classes, looking for the witch who had seemed to be following her before. Of course, if she's an Inspector, she's probably already disguised herself again. Professor Dumbledore did say that they could impersonate students and staff. As she looked around through a thin crowd of assorted students, Hermione realized she had no idea who or what she was trying to find- or even whether or not the 'Ministry appointees' were responsible. Just because they're here doesn't mean they let the troll in- anyone else would probably see this as a perfect opportunity, knowing the Inspectors would be blamed first.
After classes were over she found an equally frustrated Weasley at lunch, seated with Neville and one of his Hufflepuff friends. They appeared to be having a conflict about Quidditch, of all things.
"It's not a matter of who's got the best broom, Ron-"
"It makes a difference, Macmillan, just look at the school brooms against a Nimbus or even an old Silver Arrow."
"Ron, I met with Professor McGonagall today."
"I'm sure your marks are fine, Hermione." the redhead wizard said as he momentarily turned. "Oh, and I have to tell you about that night." It took only a moment for her to puzzle out which night it was, as she had heard about the unicorns.
"Fine. You first." she presented simply. Neville's friend seemed interested as he related what actually happened the night of the duel that never was. She interrupted him to point out that the Defense professor was not following decorum, though he insisted that was clear enough once he had gone back and thought about it. "Why did you never tell anyone this?" she asked at length.
"I was lucky Quirrell didn't report it- I reckon I'd be expelled by now if he had. Really, though, no one would have believed me." It was an idea worth considering. After being derided for avoiding a duel he started, she would expect him to come up with some excuse. Despite having one, he elected not to use it, most likely having decided that everyone else would also figure him for making excuses.
"And you're certain it was Professor Quirrell and not an Inspector?" she asked, noting Ron's visible consideration. "I may have run into one before they were announced, though I can't be sure."
"No, I reckon it could have been someone else. There was something off about him. Can't remember what it was."
"How can you ever be certain?" she asked, her frustration mounting. "I've been looking through some books- I could be talking to you right now, or I could be talking to someone else with a Polyjuice potion, or I could be talking to a Metamorphamagus, or you could be mind-controlled, or this whole conversation could have been a False Memory! How do you know anything?!" Hermione asked, hoping there was some light to be shed on the subject. That's assuming I'm not tied up in a basement somewhere with a screen in front of me and I've been Confunded so as not to think about it.
"Hogwarts has wards that warn us about dark magic, but it's not discussed. I reckon Dumbledore figures it's better to catch the git that did it rather than have it happen off the grounds. Polyjuice potions are hard to make, but there disguise spells that work well. I'm pretty sure those things are rare. My dad has to use Memory Charms all the time and he says they work best on Muggles, especially when you're fine tuning." Ron answered, trying his best to respond in the order the question had gone. "Really, though, I suppose anything could be possible. When I was five I wondered if I were just some character in someone else's dream."
"Did you really?" Neville asked suddenly. "I once thought the same thing!" He looked around, as if expecting to see someone. "Maybe we really are characters in the same person's dream." For some reason the concept seemed to excite him.
Hermione decided she understood Ron's point, but it did not need to be carried any farther.
"Either way, we have to have some way of knowing we're not impostors." she said, cutting off Neville's sudden wild fantasy. "We'll meet in your scheduled detention- I'll ask you questions from the train, then we decide on a code word. Neville, you might as well join us and do the same with Draco." The Hufflepuff responded with a confused expression. "Silver." The matter was cleared up.
That evening she had a fair amount of practicing to do. She was ahead in most things, but she could be more confident in her magical skill if she routinely worked on it. As it was, her spellwork seemed only average.
"You need to concentrate." Cho Chang explained in Ravenclaw Tower's common room, a coffee table with a blue and bronze cloth. "Consider this to be your mind." There was a Delftware cup of Oolong tea between them on the table, resting on a saucer that she remembered depicted a bird in flight. The other witch lifted a teapot and began to pour, even though it was already full.
"Stop-" Hermione pleaded, trying to interrupt her.
"You cannot fill a full cup. Your mind was already full prior to coming here." The porcelain cup was running over, and she made a mental note to ask Ron if wizarding families knew any housekeeping spells, as Neville had likely forgotten them. "You have ways of understanding things that conflict with magic."
"No, stop, I've seen Muggle kung fu movies-"
"And that is the problem. You have a culture, a heritage, and in your new home; the new reality is difficult to accept. You must become one with the new." Hermione contained her frustrated scream and sat on her own hands to keep from making any sort of gesture with them. "Even now you find it difficult to accept the way things are. I can see it, though you try to conceal it."
The idea gave Hermione pause.
She would continue to hold out hope that every single stereotype she had ever learned was untrue, but the idea that accepting the nature of magic was what was holding her back was a potentially legitimate point. As a student, she had always been adaptable, but levitating objects was the kind of development that would leave a voice in the back of her mind insisting that it was impossible.
"Thank you, Cho. I shall do my best to... empty my cup."
Looking through her books that night, she saw nothing relating to an invisibility potion, meaning it was impossible or simply not in the first-year curriculum. Either way, she would have to check the library soon as she would not be allowed to bring the school's books home over Christmas holiday, nor would she be able to practice magic. Her parents had received information about where she would be going to school the following year, what the wizarding world was, and why their child would be very much in danger if they chose to reveal any of it. It was a low blow, explaining the Statute of Secrecy in such a threatening manner, but she knew that they could hardly afford to take chances.
Of course, I could always elect not to go home.
The Grangers knew well enough that she was inclined to study as much as possible, but in years past she had always found time to come home and relax for Christmas with family. In truth, she was more than caught up on her work and expected all she would do was some light reading over the holiday. Hermione knew she could invent an absurd amount of homework for the average twelve year old, but that would mean lying outright. She would be saying something she knew to be untrue, and that was irreconcilable. Her parents had told her never to lie to them, no matter the reason.
And the actual reason would have them demanding I go straight home.
Though there was little that would count as evidence in the blind eyes of any court, Hermione had seen enough. There was evil at Hogwarts, there was no other word for it. Dean Thomas dying might have been an accident, but the troll's presence was intentional. The students had been informed that the Inspectors were only there for their benefit, but even if it were so, their proclivity to disguise themselves gave every other dark wizard a perfect smokescreen. Professor Snape's use of unicorn blood to save a student was a questionable one, especially without revealing what he had done, and more so that he simply happened to have it at the time. From Ron's story, the Forest's unicorns had been killed before, though perhaps it expired.
She wrote a short letter, settling on a half-lie.
Mother and Father,
I hope this letter finds you well, as I have decided to remain at Hogwarts during Christmas holiday. As much as I want to return home, there are many things I need to learn here and if I do not respond to your next letter, my tasks have consumed me. Please remember that I love you and I really hope to see you when we are released for Easter holiday.
Love, Hermione.
In previous letters she had told her parents of her classes, magic in general, and two boys with nasty tempers. It was unlikely they would be surprised by that development. Previously, she had not been a social butterfly by any stretch of the imagination, preferring the company of books to living people, and when she tried to get along with others, it turned out that they preferred her reading quietly in the library to being in their company. Hermione had head that it was bad for her to grow up alone, but Faulkner and Hemingway never seemed to mind her bushy hair and overlarge teeth. If anything, she was happy when Bathilda Bagshot joined the tea party, but she had never expected she would find fondness for anyone born in the twentieth century. The extreme was with Draco, whom she had decided to ignore the second day of school, but after the incident with the troll, they had to be on the same side, differences or no.
Hermione took the letter to the Owlry. I can't just keep thinking about it.
Patrolling the grounds by herself would accomplish little, and likely reveal that she knew something was going on. She could think of little else but going to the library for books on invisibility potions, so she could at least do it without being noticed, and possibly recruit Ron and Neville. Draco's still a variable. He doesn't want to be on the same side as Ron, but he must know that's the way it is. Taking an upper level book on potions over to a table, Hermione poured over it, looking for anything resembling invisibility in the table of contents. As it turned out, there were more than enough solutions of that description, but not only were the ingredients unrecognizable, the directions took the form of a narrative that seemed to assume you knew everything about what you needed to do. The ingredients seemed to be classified into 'decantalyzers' and 'catalysts' and 'dissolutionizers', probably based on function rather than what kind of thing you were throwing in there. She knew what catalysts were, sort of, at least in science experiments, but the function was most likely different in apothecary.
It pained her to search for an easier book, possibly one meant for third-year students, but she reminded herself that if she made a potion the wrong way and drank it, she could die. A simpler potion would be better for many reasons, one being the ingredients. Finding a particular brew in a mid-level book called 'The Draught of Darkness', she decided she could manage it between the ingredients and the instructions. Her parents were always encouraging her to be more confident and not 'limit herself', but given the choice she would sooner sell herself short than overestimate her abilities when her life was on the line.
The encounter with the Inspector, dark witch, or whoever it was had unnerved her, but as of yet there was no reason to assume she was being followed seriously, because there was no way of connecting her with anyone who knew anything about what was going on with the troll. She had been there at the time, but so was most of Gryffindor House, all of whom were more likely targets than a disappearing Ravenclaw. They're the ones who are going to be bull-headedly casting around suspicions and naming names to get to the bottom of this- Oh, what am I saying, I'm sure they're not all like that, but the Sorting Hat had to put them somewhere.
Collecting what instructions she needed for the potion, she copied them carefully and resolved to explain them to Ron in his mandatory detention, when there was serious doubt that it could be anyone other than himself.
The following day was mundane until Defense class.
Professor Quirrell had decided to complete their earlier lesson by pairing them again and reversing the tasks. Hermione would be running from Draco, with the same multiplier applied to produce a minute's head start for her, as opposed to thirty seconds. Determined not to be hit by some 'poorly timed' knockback jinx that would send her over the edge of a banister, she avoided the stairwell, heading to other parts of the third floor instead. Draco can't afford another infraction, but I've got a clean record. The best part is, our instructor isn't-
She nearly stopped dead in her tracks as she passed by the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor directly in front of her. Managing a neutral expression, she pushed herself harder to get past him, as if by keeping from breaking her stride she could convince him it was a coincidence she had chosen the Third Floor Corridor to escape her pursuer. She felt a stinging hex from Draco as she sprinted, and as she turned the next corner she realized that if there would be an exception for her, there would be an exception for him, however close he was to more serious punishment than indefinite detention.
Realizing she could hardly maintain her current pace, she resolved to duck into one of the castle's many identical broom closets. What's the point if you can't use brooms inside? The thought cost her a moment's concentration as she rounded a corner. A tripping jinx sent her painfully tumbling and Draco caught up in moments, however ragged he had run himself.
"Draco-" she breathed, breathlessly rolling over onto her back. "The Inspectors- may have been responsible for- the troll. I don't know." His expression shifted and he checked to see if there were anyone around. "So you'll know it's really- I'm not some impostor- the word will be- momentum." An irked gleam in his eye indicated he picked up the reference to the spell she used to catch him out on the stair. She noticed her nose was bleeding. I need to learn a healing spell...
"Very well. Yours will be bloody."