AN: I don't have a chance to respond to every review but I do read and appreciate all of them. I'm very grateful that so many people are following this story as we head into the third year.

ooOoo

Hermione stared at the chocolate bar that her rescuer held out before him like a talisman. She was gradually coming around to the idea that this was real, but she still didn't quite know how to react.

"The chocolate will help with the after effects."

She rather doubted that. There was no magic used in the chocolate making process, whatever her favorite childhood books may have said. Still, she was starting to feel rude just standing there, so she reached out and accepted the chocolate bar. She didn't make any move to eat it, nor did she break eye contact.

The man chuckled at that and introduced himself as Remus Lupin, the new defense professor. He didn't look particularly heroic. If anything he looked slightly run down, his neatly trimmed brown hair going to grey and his tweed overcoat obviously having seen better days. But his smile was sincere enough and after her experience with the dashing Gilderoy Lockhart Hermione would be perfectly happy to spend a year learning from a more ordinary professor.

Professor Lupin escorted her back to her friends' compartment. Along the way he explained that the creature he had driven off was called a dementor, one of many of the foul creatures that acted as a guard for Azkaban prison that had been turned loose to hunt for Sirius Black. Left unchecked a dementor would pull all of the happy memories out of their victim, leaving behind a husk that could feel nothing but misery and despair. They incapacitated their victims by pulling their worst memories to the front of their minds, and could only be controlled by specialized spells. The professor was concerned at the absence of the Ministry handler that was supposed to accompany the creatures whenever they left Azkaban.

They made it back to the compartment without incident, where Professor Lupin left them with a solemn admonishment not to leave the compartment until they were given the all clear by a prefect or a faculty member. He also reminded Hermione of the chocolate bar he had given her, insisting that it would help ameliorate the effects of the dementors' presence. With that he was gone, and the train car was quiet.

"Dementors?" Daphne asked, breaking the silence. "You saw one?"

Hermione broke off a piece of chocolate and nibbled on it before saying anything. Somewhat to her surprise the chocolate seemed to carry within itself a wave of warmth that banished the numb feeling plaguing her fingers and toes and significantly lessened the hollow feeling left behind by the dementor.

"I guess," she said, before describing her encounter with the dark creature. She neglected to mention the commentary from Tom Riddle. Even so, it was a harrowing tale. Blaise in particular looked quite shaken.

"Dementors are foul things," Daphne said. "We thought we saw something through the window. It never even got close to us, but still... I felt like I would never smile again."

She shuddered, obviously lost in thought. Blaise and Millie looked haunted, but also seemed reluctant to speak. An uneasy silence settled over their compartment.

Hermione shared out her chocolate bar, which did seem to raise her friends' spirits somewhat. It was still a rather subdued group.

Fortunately the Express had been stopped rather near to the end of its route. Once it was moving again they were at Hogsmeade Station quite quickly, and their little group soon became part of the general hustle and bustle that came with leaving the train. Hearing the chatter of so many other students helped Hermione banish the last of the otherworldly fear lingering from her encounter with the dementor, and she started looking forward again to the new school year.

Of course, before she could reach Hogwarts she had to run into Draco Malfoy. He and his two lackeys were standing a little ways out of the stream of moving students and appeared to be acting out some sort of drama. Crabbe and Goyle would loom over Draco, arms outstretched, and Draco would pretend to faint dead away. Then the three of them would share a good laugh and do it over again.

It took Hermione a moment to put things together. Everybody on the train had heard the story of Harry Potter's negative reaction to the dementors, and apparently Draco had decided to make sport of it. After her own experience with a dementor, Hermione was not amused by any attempt to make light of the horrible beasts. She was also a little surprised that Draco was so willing to make an utter prat out of himself. Her temper was just reaching its boiling point when Draco happened to look over and catch her eyes.

Over the course of the summer, Hermione had occasionally experienced regret over the way she had treated Draco. As horrible of a person as he was, she felt she was arguably sinking to his level by resorting to such extreme methods of intimidation, even if she was driven by necessity. But at that moment, seeing the look of fear written on Draco's face, she didn't feel anything other than a sense of satisfaction.

Making sure to hold Draco's gaze, Hermione shook her head once. His look of fear intensified before Draco deliberately schooled his features, wheeled around, and led Crabbe and Goyle back into the line of students headed for Hogwarts.

Hermione continued walking, mentally bracing herself for the inevitable reaction. She expected Blaise and Daphne to take her actions in stride, seeing as they knew about her little arrangement with Draco. She had never gotten around to filling Millie in on the situation-it was hard to explain without making herself seem at least a little like the bad guy-and that little byplay couldn't possibly have slipped past her.

It was indeed Millie who spoke, a few steps later.

"You know, my da says that some folk are either going to be at your feet or at your throat," she said, before nodding with satisfaction. "I'm glad you got that lot sorted out."

Hermione almost stumbled in surprise. Out of all of the scenarios she had run through in her head of how a situation like this might play out, calm acceptance had not been something she had ever considered. She turned to look at Millie and confirmed that as far as she could tell Millie was being perfectly sincere. On the one hand this made her life much simpler in the short term. On the other hand, Hermione was a little worried about what it said about her that Millie apparently expected something like this to happen.

It really said something about her day that discovering that Hogwarts' carriages were pulled by some kind of demon-horse things-that were only visible to her because she killed Gilderoy Lockhart-hardly perturbed her at all.

The next morning found Hermione standing in front of a gaggle of bright-eyed first year Slytherin students, including a surprisingly determined-looking Dennis Creevy. Glenys Dibble, the fifth year prefect, stood at her side. It was the older girl who addressed the crowd first.

"All right, you lot, Granger'll get you sorted out. Don't do anything to make me or Ben pay attention to you and you'll be alright. Granger, they're all yours."

With that, Glenys turned and marched back into her dorm. Judging from her appearance, she was planning to go right back to sleep. Benedict Sneddon was the boy's fifth year prefect; somehow Glenys was the more personable of the two of them, although Hermione wasn't sure how that was possible. She suppressed a sigh as she watched the older girl walk off, and did her best to plaster a smile on her face before she turned back to face the first years.

"Well then. Take a look around you. You'll be seeing the same faces for the next seven years, so I suggest you find a way to get along with each other," Hermione said. "Slytherin will be your family for your time here. You don't get to choose who is in your family, you don't even have to like them, but you have to at least be able to tolerate them when company's over."

Hermione had been working on this speech off and on since Snape's visit. She remembered when she started at Hogwarts she had been completely new to magic, and even then the idea of living in close quarters with a bunch of strangers had been almost as alien as the idea of living in a magical castle.

"I know you're still trying to figure out what it means to be in Slytherin. Living in the dungeons, all the snake decorations, Professor Snape... it's a lot to take in," Hermione continued. "But in the end it's simple: the standard is excellence, and I expect you to live up to it."

Hermione had mixed feelings about her house. It was an unfortunate fact that Slytherin had a high concentration of blood purists. And there were plenty of students who might not have been openly cheering the Heir of Slytherin, but who were perfectly willing to stand by and listen to somebody else cheer him on. On the other hand, there were plenty of jerks to go around in all of the houses of Hogwarts, and Hermione had close friends in Slytherin. She also strongly believed in the Slytherin ideal of striving to be the best you could be; she hoped that she could guide the younger students to focus on achieving their dreams and lead them away from their parents' outdated beliefs.

"People say a lot of things about Slytherin. Much of it is unflattering," Hermione said. "But when you get right down to it it always seems to boil down to what the Sorting Hat said: cunning and ambition. Frankly, I don't recommend you even try to do anything cunning for the next year or two. Most firsties aren't as clever as they think."

She accompanied that with a bit of a glare, sweeping her gaze over the younger students. They looked appropriately chastened, at least for now. Hermione wasn't sure what she would do if the class turned out to have any real troublemakers. Professor Snape had been frustratingly vague about whether she had any actual authority to go with her responsibility.

"That leaves ambition. You're attending the best school in Britain, and you've been sorted into the best house. That's a lot to live up to," Hermione continued. "You wouldn't have been sorted here if you didn't have it in you to be great. If you're having trouble reaching your potential, well, that's what I'm here for."

She smiled at that. Some of the firsties still looked nervous, which Hermione put down to first day jitters.

"For now, I'll be pleasantly surprised if you manage to bring in more points than you lose. Now, follow me and we'll start exploring the castle."

ooOoo

Hermione had already learned most of the magic that would be covered in the third year course of study. She also couldn't progress much further with fourth-year level materials unless she managed to procure some kind of additional instruction. Charms grew considerably more complex in upper years, and advanced transfiguration wasn't something to mess about with using nothing more than written directions. In time, she was sure she would find this situation frustrating, but at the start of term it left her with the free time she needed to shepherd around the first year students while also preparing a course of study for the petrified muggleborns.

Her first week of duties as a prefect's assistant had been blessedly drama-free. She had taken to habitually doing her reading in the common room where she could keep an eye on the firsties, but the only active drain on her time had been the need to show them all how to get around the castle and fielding the occasional question about homework. Once her most common answers became well known-yes, they should start on their homework as soon as it was assigned and no, she wouldn't feed them the answers-that particular distraction mostly went away.

As a result, Hermione felt well-prepared as she approached the abandoned classroom that would be the site of their first study group meeting on Wednesday evening. She had felt a little guilty at Neville's kicked-puppy expression when she had explained that she wouldn't be studying with him this year. Honestly, though, by now Neville hardly needed her to hold his hand in order to do well at school. She also knew that he got along well with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and Harry at least was competent enough to help Neville out if he did have trouble.

As she expected, Colin Creevy and Justin Finch-Fletchley were both waiting for her when she entered the room. Securing Justin's participation had required listening to a lot of tosh from Susan Bones about how Hufflepuff would be happy to help Justin catch up and from Justin about how he didn't want to be a burden on his housemates. Hermione managed to quiet Susan down by inquiring as to whether there was any truth to the rumor that Hufflepuff's study group was a year behind the rest of the school, although she had made a note to watch her back around Ms. Bones for the next little while.

"Glad you could join us," Justin said, "I was starting to worry that Sue had challenged you to a duel and hexed you into next week."

Hermione laughed at the obvious joke, then quieted down and cocked her head to study the other two when they didn't join in.

"Right," she said, "I forgot you were petrified for the tournament. You can ask your friends how that duel would go."

Hermione was, she thought rightfully, a little concerned at the prospect of an ambush from anybody with a wand. But in a straight fight no amount of righteous anger would level the playing field between her and Susan Bones. Really, anger was only helpful for a very limited subset of spells, none of which would be taught in their defense class any time soon. She shook her head and focused on unpacking her satchel.

"I'm going to assume that you've both been diligent about catching up on your written work, so we can safely focus on the practicals," Hermione said, picking up a quill and setting it on the table in front of Colin. "So let's begin at the beginning. Levitate the feather, Colin, if you will."

Colin brought his wand around in a sweeping arc, finishing the motion with a jab directed at the feather. His incantation wasn't completely wrong, although it did make Hermione wonder just how her classmates came up with so many divergent pronunciations of "wingardium leviosa." The quill levitated off the table in fits and starts and had started to noticeably singe around the edges by the time it was six inches above the table. Hermione made a cutting motion with her hand and Colin let the spell go, freeing the feather to float back down to rest.

"Colin, you did read the directions in the book before you tried casting the spell, yes?"

"Of course I did," Colin said, nodding enthusiastically. "Then I asked Ron to show me how it worked so I could make sure to get it right."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and counted silently to three before speaking to make sure she didn't say anything rash. Then she paused to reflect and went ahead and counted all the way to ten.

Casting spells was a tempermental process. In addition to the wand motion and incantation, the spell could be influenced significantly by the wizard's mental state. A wizard who was confident in his actions and familiar with the feel of a spell could achieve surprisingly effect results with sloppy wandwork and mispronunciation. Of course, that wizard would be horribly suited to teach anybody who was starting from scratch.

"First of all, Colin, you are not to accept any further instruction from Ronald Weasley," Hermione said, reaching down to pull her wand from her pocket. "And second..."

She muttered the incantation for Tom's fire-writing spell, then focused on taking her wand precisely through the swish-and-flish motion required for the levitation charm. After looking over the resulting trail of sparks in the air, she nodded in satisfaction and tapped it with her wand. The whole thing spun around in mid-air, then floated over to hover before Colin Creevy.

"Practice without casting anything until you can produce a proper swish and flick," Hermione continued. "I'll be working with Justin."

Hermione led Justin over to another table in order to give Colin space to work. She dropped a quill on the table and looked over at Justin expectantly.

"Seriously?" Justin asked.

"Humor me," Hermione replied. She met his offended gaze without flinching, and Justin soon backed down.

He was grumbling as he drew his wand, but his wand motion was serviceable and his pronunciation relatively inoffensive. The feather lifted smoothly off the table and hovered a foot up, bobbing gently like a boat in calm seas.

Hermione examined the feather for a moment before favoring Justin with a carefully calculated derisive sniff.

"What?" Justin asked, slightly defensive. "It's levitated, isn't it?"

Rather than respond directly, Hermione reached into her pocket and withdrew the fruit of the efforts of several evenings of careful transfiguration. She laid the small wooden block flat on the table and canceled the shrinking charm that had been placed on it. As it expanded it became clear that within the wooden frame was a maze, not unlike the diversions often printed alongside the comics in the Sunday paper. When it finished expanding the long side of the wooden frame stretched across the width of the work table, while the short side was a little less than the length of her arm.

Hermione tilted the frame up to stand on its shorter edge. She could see Justin through the open spaces of the maze as he studied her creation. She saw his eyes tracking from the open slot on the top, around through the gradually narrowing walls of the labyrinth to the small metal ball fixed in the center. Making sure she had Justin's attention, Hermione picked the quill up off the table. She touched it to the frame of the maze and cast a spell, then touched it to the metal ball and cast the same spell.

With the charm in place, she touched the quill to the walls of the maze once more, making sure Justin saw how the whole apparatus glowed red. She withdrew the quill, shutting off the red light, then touched it to the metal ball, which shone with a brilliant green light. She then dropped the quill on the table once more.

Bringing her wand to bear, Hermione cast the levitation charm with a level of precision and accuracy that was the result of several nights of painstaking effort. The feather rose steadily into the air and remained rock solid as she dropped it through the slot and guided it through the maze. She may as well have been holding it in her hand as she worked it briskly down narrowing hallways and through smaller and smaller openings until she allowed it to rest against the metal ball in the middle. She met Justin's eyes over the green glow.

"I didn't want to see if you could cast the levitation charm. I wanted to see if you had mastered it."

She held his gaze while she guided the feather back down to the table. When she cut off her spell she saw a determined glint enter Justin's eyes as he brought his wand to bear and prepared to try his luck at the maze. Smiling, Hermione left him to it and walked back to check on Colin's progress.

With his improved control over his wand movements Colin was no longer threatening to set the feather on fire. Unfortunately he still couldn't manage to keep it under control. The feather tended to sway drunkenly when he attempted to move it even in simple patterns. Hermione kept a leash on her impatience and walked him through the incantation a few more times.

"I don't get it," Colin finally admitted. "What you're saying and what I'm saying sound exactly the same. Why isn't it working?"

Hermione sat back for a moment to think, ignoring the periodic flashes of red that appeared in her peripheral vision.

"It's not just a matter of saying the words right, though that is important," she said. "Everything else matters, too. The emphasis, the rhythm, the speed, matching it all up to your wand motion... you'll have to practice until you're consistent, then try different things to figure out what you're doing wrong. You have to put in the time if you want to master the spell."

There was another flash of red from Justin's table, and then Hermione heard the distinctive thump-screech of a heavy table being shoved in frustration. A moment later Justin stomped over to stand beside Colin and fixed Hermione with an accusatory glare.

"This is pointless! I thought you were going to help us with our school work," Justin said. "I've already passed Flitwick's exam on levitation. Casting the spell over and over again is a waste of time."

"You've passed. Is that what you'd be aiming for at Eton? Just good enough to pass?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow. Justin had certainly made no secret of his family's social standing. If it weren't for Hogwarts Hermione was quite sure that she never would have studied in the same school as Justin, unless she were admitted on some sort of academic scholarship. Even then he no doubt would have regarded her as some kind of jumped up riff-raff. She wasn't entirely sure that Justin fully realized that a sizable portion of the magical world looked at him in exactly that way.

"If you aren't casting the spell right then you're casting it wrong," Hermione continued, tucking her wand away before she pointed at Justin for emphasis. "Look, are you some muggle with a stick who's just happy to see any kind of magic happen? Or are you a wizard who has some pride about what he does?"

She held Justin's gaze until the boy looked down and mumbled something about how he would keep trying.

"Good," Hermione said, smiling. "I promised I would get you both up to snuff with your practical work, and I will. But it's going to take time, and it's going to take hard work from all three of us."

They kept practicing for a while after that, but things soon wound down as it was getting rather close to curfew. Hermione showed Justin how to shrink and unshrink the maze-the lighting spells would last for a week or two-and let him take it with him so he could practice on his own. Colin she left with a stern admonishment not to accept any advice from Ron Weasley.

The three of them parted ways to head to their respective common rooms, and Hermione found herself walking with an extra spring in her step. By the end of the year she intended to show everybody just what muggleborns were capable of.

ooOoo

Hermione didn't have any particular fear of the Hogwarts dungeons. After all, she lived in them. On the other hand, the entrance to the Slytherin common room was seldom far from the stairway leading up to the more populated areas of the castle. The potions classroom was tucked away deep in the maze of twisted passageways in an area that Hermione usually visited only in the company of her classmates.

Picking her way through the buried corridors by herself at night was an altogether more eerie experience, not something she would ordinarily have volunteered to do on a Friday evening. Her footsteps echoed strangely off the moss covered walls, mingling with the sound of water dripping from the ceiling to produce the impression that she was being followed-an impression that was difficult to dispel even when she craned her neck to look around, as the flickering torchlight sent shadows dancing at the corners of her vision.

When a human silhouette detached itself from the wall in front of her she jumped a little in surprise. When it called out her name and she recognized the form of Harry Potter Hermione was just grateful she had managed to refrain from any verbal expression of alarm.

"Harry," she said, "what are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you, I expect," Harry said, nodding at the closed door opposite the bit of wall he had been leaning against. "Waiting for Snape."

"Waiting for... you're taking Occlumency lessons too?"

There couldn't be any other reason for his presence. Hermione couldn't help but wonder how Harry had managed to talk his way into the class. Professor Snape had never seemed disposed to do the Boy-Who-Lived any favors.

"Yeah," Harry said, "going to see if I can manage to get my memories back."

Hermione fidgeted a bit, then forced her fingers to be still. While she approved of Harry's efforts to retrieve his memories, she was a little nervous about what might happen if he succeeded. She didn't know exactly what Harry had seen and heard down in the Chamber of Secrets, but she suspected it was enough to prompt him to ask her some awkward questions.

She was spared from the need to think of something to say when the door they were facing swung open of its own accord. Hermione stepped inside, then paused just past the threshold.

The classroom was at a lower level of illumination for the evening hour, just as the hallway outside had been. It was noticeably gloomier than it had been for their most recent potions class. Professor Snape was not behind his desk, but instead was seated at one of the potions workstations. A large metal basin sat on the table in front of him. Hermione overcame her momentary attack of nerves and stepped forward to take the seat across from her head of house. Harry sat by her side.

"You are here to learn the art of Occlumency," Professor Snape said by way of preamble. "This will require little by way of wand-waving, but it will entail a significant amount of thinking. Mr. Potter, you would do well to take the exact opposite of your usual approach in my potions class."

Harry bristled at the insult, but didn't say anything. Hermione stayed focused on Professor Snape, not wanting to miss any lesson that he chose to impart.

"You are here because I believe you have the ability to learn this subject; or because I owed the Headmaster a favor," Professor Snape continued, turning his gaze from Hermione to Harry as he spoke. "But I will not hesitate to remove either of you from this class should I find your efforts unsatisfactory. This is a field of study that rewards clear thinking over nimble wandwork. Potter, you will be familiar with 'thinking' as the brief pause before you engage in a disastrous course of action."

Harry's knuckles whitened as he took a firm grip on the desk in lieu of a reply. Hermione knew there was no love lost between the two of them, but she thought Harry hardly had room to complain. He apparently hadn't had to do anything to get into the class but ask Dumbledore for a favor. She'd wager he hadn't been asked to take on any extra duties in exchange for that bit of string-pulling.

"In order to progress to true mastery of Occlumency you must begin with an understanding of memory. To that end we will be employing the use of this pensieve," Snape said, gesturing at the basin occupying the table before him. "It is a device that allows for the interactive review of memories, and by learning and understanding its foibles and limitations you may begin to come to some understanding of the human mind."

Hermione took another look at the pensieve. On closer examination it did look more overtly magical than she had initially realized. The inside was covered with a network of runes that was punctuated with inset gems.

While she was focused on the pensieve, Professor Snape brought his wand up to his temple. When he pulled it free a wisp of vapor seemed to draw itself out of his temple and twirl aimlessly in the air behind his wand tip. When he brought his wand down into the heart of the pensieve the vapor seemed to be drawn in, expanding as it descended until the basin seemed to be entirely filled with a swirling mist.

"Once the pensieve is prepared, using it is as simple as inserting your head," Professor Snape said, before making an inviting gesture with his free arm. "Miss Granger, if you would. Do take note of Mr. Malfoy's desk while you're in there."

Hermione looked doubtfully down at the pensieve, then back up at Professor Snape's impassive expression. It seemed odd, although on the spectrum of things she'd experienced at Hogwarts it wasn't particularly unusual. Besides, if Snape just wanted to make her look silly his position as her head of house provided him with ample opportunity to do so in front of a more hostile audience than Harry Potter represented.

Mind made up, Hermione lowered her head into the basin. As soon as her head touched the mists contained in the pensieve she was caught in an oddly familiar falling sensation that ended with a rather abrupt landing in the classroom she had just left.

Though the location was the same, everything else was different. The torches lining the walls were burning at full strength, lighting up the classroom as brightly as they ever did. The students' desks were all occupied and Professor Snape was not calmly seated but rather was pacing the front of the room as he spoke.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death..."

Hermione stopped paying close attention to his speech when her mind finally caught up with her situation. She was standing in front of a busy potions class and had elicited not a peep in reaction because she was standing in a memory. She had done so before-she looked quickly around the room at the thought, but saw no sign of Tom Riddle-but this was the first time she had the chance to see a memory she had taken a part in generating.

For Hermione recognized the students hanging on Professor Snape's every word. They looked a little different from the classmates she saw every day-Harry, in particular, was shrinking under Snape's questioning in a way that he had quickly grown out of-but there was no mistaking that this was her first potions lesson.

Her eyes lingered for a moment where her younger self sat with her hand eagerly raised in a futile effort to impress Professor Snape. She was a little surprised at how distant she felt from the person she had been just two years ago, and also a little shocked at the state of her hair. She had long ago given up any effort to truly control her hair, contenting herself with keeping it clean and out of her eyes, but it was a little shocking to take the full effect in from a third person perspective.

She shook off her contemplative mood and made sure to take note of Draco's work station. He had it set up as usual for potions class, kettle out and clean and cutting instruments neatly lined up to the side. She thought about stepping closer to get a better look but before she could do anything the memory ended with one last comment from Professor Snape and she was subjected to the unsettling feeling of falling upwards.

She landed back in her chair where she had begun, slamming against the backrest in a continuation of the phantom motion imparted by the pensieve.

Harry looked like he wanted to say something but before he could speak Professor Snape indicated that it was his turn to view the memory. He stuck his head in the pensieve with some trepidation and it was Hermione's turn to be surprised as he vanished into the device, leaving her alone with Professor Snape.

He seemed to be looking at her expectantly. Hermione took a moment to put her thoughts in order before voicing the suspicion that had begun to grow as soon as she had seen Harry Potter in the hallway.

"The Headmaster asked you to teach Harry before you came to my house this summer, didn't he?"

Professor Snape nodded. Not a trace of repentance showed on his features. If anything, he looked amused.

Hermione felt a rush of irritation, but bit back her instinctive response. She was upset at the deception involved in Snape's play-acting at the imposition on his time involved in teaching her what she wanted to know, but there was little she could do about it. He was her head of house. He could allow her into his class or not more or less at his whim. For now, all that she could do was deny him the opportunity to deploy the rejoinder that he no doubt had had in mind since the moment he knew this confrontation was inevitable.

Hermione simply nodded, sitting back in her seat and making sure her quill was ready for any further note taking that might be required. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at her action, but didn't say anything.

A moment later Harry Potter flashed back into existence. Once he gathered his bearings he fixed Professor Snape with an accusatory look.

"Is that some kind of trick question? Malfoy didn't have anything on his desk."

"That can't be right," Hermione jumped in without thinking, "he had his potions kit all set up."

Harry turned to reply, but held his tongue as Professor Snape cleared his throat.

"The contradiction you have experienced goes to the heart of the nature of memory. The mind is not simply a tape recorder, storing every momentary impression in literal form," Professor Snape said. "Instead, each memory consists of a skeleton of essential details clothed in the flesh of speculation. Every act of recall is an act of reconstruction."

"Hang on, there," Harry said, "something either happened or it didn't."

Professor Snape sighed, then turned to look at Hermione expectantly. She chewed her lip as she turned the idea over in her head.

"In the pensieve, your memory was the skeleton," she said, slowly, "so we both saw essentially the same thing. But then we provided our own speculation about the fiddly little details, so those could be different."

"Exactly," Snape said, nodding with satisfaction, though he made no move to award her any points. "In fact you each described a desk set up according to your own typical practice in my classroom."

Hermione could tell from Harry's puzzled frown that he was having trouble following the lecture. She ignored his confusion as she turned the idea over in her head. It was true that she couldn't simply play back any particular day of her life as if it were a video recording, so it made sense that there was something complicated going on in there. But she had a hard time accepting the idea that memories were simply fabricated to order. When she read a book, she remembered what was in it. Those memories certainly didn't change over time.

"You will each be given another opportunity to review the memory," Snape said, drawing her out of her thoughts. "Your homework assignment for next week will be to write an essay explaining which portions of the scene you believe to have been supplied by your own mind, and why."

"Wait, wait," Harry said, holding up a hand. "You haven't even told us who was right, before."

Professor Snape sighed, setting down his wand and bringing his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose.

"If you progress further in your study of Occlumency than I suspect is possible, Mr. Potter, you may one day realize what a foolish thing you just said."

ooOoo

Hermione was not particularly surprised when Harry fell into step next to her as they exited the classroom. The path to the nearest staircase was the same as the path to the Slytherin dorms, at least for the next little while. She was surprised when they came to an intersection to find Ronald Weasley pacing impatiently.

"Harry! There you are. Did you ask her yet?"

"Ask me what?" Hermione asked, looking over at Harry. He didn't reply, occupied as he was with glaring at his friend. Ron was undeterred by Harry's apparent irritation, turning to Hermione with an earnest expression on his face.

"Draco's going to kill Buckbeak!"

"What?" Hermione asked, puzzled. Even at his most angry, she had never seen Draco do more than attempt to humiliate. "I don't think Draco has it in him to kill somebody."

"Not himself," Ron said, holding out his hands as he shrugged. "Have killed, I guess."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Hermione asked, looking between Ron and Harry as she sought an explanation.

Harry told the story from the beginning. Their Care of Magical Creatures class had recently had a practical lesson on hippogriffs. Hermione was surprised to hear that they had already started tackling such formidable creatures, but didn't interrupt the story. She was impressed that Harry had managed to convince Buckbeak, one of the hippogriffs, to allow him to go for a ride in the very first class session. It sounded both exciting and like something that she would never ever want to do. Apparently Draco had disagreed with her assessment, and had approached Buckbeak on his own. Harry claimed that he had failed to heed their instructor's directions and as a result had been attacked by the hippogriff.

Now Draco was in the hospital wing, and rumor had it that he would insist that the creature that had attacked him be put to death. Hermione asked what she thought was the obvious question.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment while they engaged in silent communication.

"We thought you could, you know, stop him," Harry said. He looked down at his shoes, slightly embarassed.

"We saw how you set him straight on the platform!" Ron added.

That was unfortunate. Hermione hadn't given much thought to the ramifications of her actions before she reined Draco in. If Lucius Malfoy somehow heard that she was openly pushing his son around, she imagined the consequences could be severe. She knew Draco was his primary source of such information, but if it became common knowledge around Hogwarts... that could be troublesome.

"You think I can just order Draco around?" Hermione asked, waving her hands in a vague gesture of denial.

"You did before," Harry said, steadily holding her gaze.

Hermione shifted gears.

"And you think I'll tell him to leave off this Buckbeak creature... why, exactly?"

"He's going to be killed!" Ron insisted.

"It's a dangerous creature and it attacked a student," Hermione said, shaking her head, "animals like that get put down all the time."

That was obviously not what they were expecting to hear.

"I can't believe you're taking Malfoy's side," Ron said, his face turning red, "I thought you were one of the good Slytherins."

Hermione felt her eyes narrow almost involuntarily as she lost her hold on her temper. For the two boys to corner her in the hallway and try to badger her into doing them a favor was bad enough. Acting as though she were the rude one for failing to jump at their command was even worse. But to work the same raw nerve the wizarding world in general had exposed; to suggest that there was something inherently wrong with her that she had to redeem by proving to be the exception... it was too much.

She took a step forward, and Ron took a step back.

"I'm sorry, Ronald. I guess I wasn't thinking straight. Harry Potter wants Buckbeak saved. And if Harry Potter wants something, all the right-thinking people at Hogwarts bend over backwards to make sure he gets it, don't they?" Hermione asked. Her voice had dropped in volume, but she had made no effort to keep the rage out of her tone. The blood had drained from Ron's face as his expression shifted from anger to fear, and he took another step backwards before her advance. "Harry wanted to be on the Quidditch team as a first year. It was against the rules for him to even have his own broom, but the rules don't apply to Harry Potter, do they? Harry wants to win the House Cup, and he somehow gets showered with hundreds of points at the end of every term. Harry wants to learn occlumency, and here he is. Anybody who doesn't drop everything to make sure Harry gets what he wants must be evil. I forgot."

By the time she finished speaking Ron was backed up against the wall of the corridor, his hands up in a warding gesture. Hermione felt her right hand drifting towards her wand.

"Hermione, I don't think he meant it like that," Harry said.

"I'd like to hear Ronald himself explain exactly what he meant, if you don't mind," Hermione replied, not bothering to look over at Harry.

"I'm sorry," Ron mumbled, "I just didn't think you would stick with Malfoy."

She looked over at Harry more in disbelief than in anger.

"Ron's an idiot," Harry said. "But we don't think about you like that, Hermione. You're our friend."

Ron nodded vigorously in agreement, which Hermione ignored. Keeping her focus on Harry, she didn't see any sign of deception. Now that she had taken a minute to think about it, it didn't seem particularly likely that Ron would pick out her psychological weakness and deliberately taunt her with it. He was just thick as a board and prone to lashing out when he didn't get what he wanted.

Hermione sighed, feeling the angry tension drain out of her body. She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest.

"All right, then."

Nobody said anything for a moment.

"We really do want to save Buckbeak," Harry said, breaking the silence. "He's totally innocent. Malfoy provoked him into attacking and now he's going to get him killed."

"And Draco would say he did no such thing, I'm sure," Hermione replied. "Let's be honest. You didn't ask me to try to figure out the right thing to do. You just want me to twist his arm so that you win and he loses."

"I guess so, yeah," Harry admitted.

Hermione was torn. It seemed like if she kept pushing Draco around he might eventually lash out at her, or at the very least his father would find out. On the other hand, Harry and Ron were more likely to keep things quiet if they thought they owed her, and it was possible that letting Draco have his way would itself lead to some kind of rebellion. In the end she fell back on her first lesson from Professor Snape.

"Well, how badly do you want that to happen?" Hermione asked.

"What?"

Both of the boys were now staring at her as though she'd grown a second head.

"Any influence that I have over Draco was not easy or free to come by," Hermione explained. "You're asking me for a valuable favor. What are you offering in exchange? Do you want to just owe me a favor in turn?"

"Well-" Harry began, before Ron walked over and cut him off by throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"No need for that," Ron said "Meet with us on Sunday and we'll show you a Hogwarts secret that you'd have a bloody hard time finding for yourself."

"All right," Hermione said, curious despite herself. "Impress me, and I'll save your hippogriff."

ooOoo

AN2: Attentive readers who have a bookmark to the HP Lexicon calendar will note that I'm fudging the dates a little bit. In particular, the hippogriff class and boggart class have been moved back a week or so. In a slightly bigger move young master Creevy is between a month and a year older than he was in canon. In general I try not to tweak the A-plots if Hermione didn't do anything to change them (the stone retrieval, the diary, Sirius, the tournament, etc) but I do feel free to tweak ancillary stuff if I think it makes a better story (Lockhart's personality, various timing niggles, etc).