Chapter originally posted on AO3, 16th August 2018
Ron Weasley's birthday party on the first of March was a success, as expected. The guests dined on treats till they were fit to burst, and Ron bested everyone at Wizard's Chess, until Hermione invited a special guest to play against him: Headmaster Dumbledore himself sat across the chess board and figuratively wiped the floor with Ronald Weasley, much to everyone's amusement. Ron himself was deeply impressed and delighted, and the Headmaster gracefully promised they would play another game later: good opponents at chess were a rare commodity, after all.
Fred and George Weasley were especially delighted with the introduction of the Muggle board game 'Twister': they immediately begged for another game night for their own birthday from Hermione, with some special starring guests: and so, on April the first the Room of Requirement, now decorated with bright balloons that occasionally exploded only to shower people underneath them with confetti, filled up with not only students but various members of the staff for a birthday party that would become the stuff of Hogwarts legends, when the esteemed Headmaster Professor Dumbledore, Seamus Finnigan, Fred and George Weasley and Professor Vector battled in a game of twister until Professor Dumbledore tripped on his gaudy canary-yellow robes and fell on top of his co-players, forming an undignified and laughing heap, until Professor Vector, who had had unfortunately ended up at the bottom of it all, yelled, "Albus, get your arse out of my face!", completely ignoring the fact that the room was filled with young students. Headmaster Dumbledore ignored the language and extracted himself from the flailing limbs of Fred Weasley, who was only brought down again by his brother.
Still laughing, Hermione entered her dorm room and to her great surprise found Ginny Weasley inside. The first-year was blushing with embarrassment.
"Ginny, hi! Did you need something? I thought you were still at the party?"
"Oh... nothing, I just... I thought I'd return you your handkerchief, the one you borrowed me ages ago," Ginny muttered and offered the handkerchief to her. It'd been cleaned and pressed, and Hermione took it back to her trunk. Ginny was looking very uncertain, twisting her hands and blushing.
Somewhere deep inside Hermione Potter Granger was screaming, trying to pound the immaterial confines of her prison with non-existent fists, but to no avail. She was relieved when she saw the book was still in her trunk, but she knew Ginny had seen it and was after it: oh yes, she'd known it since Ginny had borrowed the handkerchief. Hermione Potter just wasn't listening, and Granger was beyond frustrated: in some ways Hermione Potter seemed to be about as frustratingly pigheaded as Harry Potter had been, and about as thick. The book was safe for now, but Ginny, oh, poor Ginny...
When Severus found out about the game of Twister, he'd first thought it was a bad April Fool's joke. Then he requested to see the memory in Albus' Pensieve. When he'd emerged from the memory provided by Albus, he collapsed against the nearest wall, doubling over in laughter.
April 9th, 1993
Hermione Potter wandered around the library, browsing the shelves absent-mindedly. She sometimes did that, but right now something was niggling at the back of her mind. Some realisation, some recollection, some connection she could barely form.
Images flashed before her eyes: seeing the group of spiders exiting the window, Harry telling her that two of Hagrid's roosters were killed. People being petrified. The puddle on the floor. Nearly Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley? Colin Creevey with his camera?
Her thoughts were interrupted when Draco and Neville entered the library. They were talking about something until Madam Pince shushed them: Draco glared at the librarian petulantly but obeyed and walked to Hermione: Neville looked sheepish and more than a little bit scared of the irate librarian.
"Hey Hermione," Neville greeted quietly. "Anything new?"
"I'm not sure. Something's bothering me, but I can't quite get a grasp on it..."
"I got an owl from my mother," Draco said. "Can we sit down?"
"Sure, there's a free table near the back. Madam Pince won't hear us from back there, I think," she said, leading the two boys to the table. "Where are Harry and Ron?"
"Flying," Draco said. "I borrowed Weasley my broom. Anyway, my father... he wants Dumbledore out."
"What? Why? And that's Headmaster Dumbledore, Draco."
"He doesn't like him, and you know Father is on the board of governors," Draco said, dismissing Hermione's correction in his usual manner. "He detests Dumbledore. Anyway, mother wrote that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened once before, and that they believe that Hagrid did that."
"He never would!" Hermione shrieked, and Neville shushed her, looking around him with a frightened expression: Madam Pince did not react well to shouting in the library.
"He'd never," Hermione repeated quietly.
"Mother just wrote it happened when Hagrid was a student, years ago, but that Dumbledore vouched for him so he got off, scot free."
"Headmaster Dumbledore. Or Professor Dumbledore, Draco" Hermione sighed.
"Anyway," Draco continued, "one girl died back then, in the girl's lavatory. She wrote that father has suggested collecting signatures to an Order of Suspension for Dumbledore, as well as removing Hagrid, perhaps sending him to Azkaban."
"That's preposterous," Hermione hissed.
"That's what my father would do," Draco said seriously. "I've learned to know Hagrid. Granger and Weasley like him and we visit there all the time. The rock cakes are truly horrid but he's harmless, really. I don't know what my father has against him."
"Perhaps we should warn Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, frowning.
"I think so too," Neville chimed in.
"I'm off flying," Draco said. "I just thought you should know. Coming, Neville?"
"You go right ahead," Neville said. "I think I'll stay for a while. Flying really isn't my thing."
"We'll teach you two," Draco promised with a grin that lit up his face.
"Perhaps later, Dray," Hermione replied with a wan smile — she really hated flying. "I should try to look for something. I can't quite figure it out..."
Draco shrugged and waved as he left, leaving Neville and Hermione behind. Deep in thought, Hermione got up again and began browsing the shelves.
"Looking for something special?" Neville asked, looking at the section on Herbology.
"I'm not sure," Hermione said quietly. Thoughts flew through her head: the terrible voice she'd heard. The spiders. The roosters. Colin and his camera...
Hermione stared at a book her hand was touching: she didn't even remember lifting her hand, but there it was: she'd read this one once, last year, researching some magical and mythical creatures and beasts like unicorns. A fascinating book, really, but something twinged at her memory.
She took the book down, her hands shaking. Neville had wandered towards the Herbology section: Hermione didn't bother sitting down as she opened the book and browsed the index.
Basilisk.
"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more..." she read quickly.
"King of serpents... snake... murderous stare... spiders flee before... crowing of the rooster... fatal..."
A basilisk. A basilisk in the pipes.
Mrs Norris was looking at the water, Colin through his camera, Justin through Sir Nicholas... the ghost was already dead, so...
"Neville!" Hermione hissed. "Neville, come here!"
"What?" Neville asked, trudging to her, looking around, clearly afraid that Madam Pince would jump out from behind a shelf and glare at them.
"The monster is a Basilisk, Neville. A giant snake. That's why I can hear it: I'm a Parselmouth. Look over here. The spiders, the spiders were leaving the castle, and Neville, someone killed Hagrid's roosters to keep them from crowing and Neville, there's a Basilik around and none of the victims looked straight at it, they looked through things, like the camera and the water on the floor and..."
"Calm down, Hermione," Neville said, though he looked nearly as frightened as she was. "You're going into panic again."
"We need to take this page to Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione hissed. "Hold the book, I'll rip the page..."
"Are you insane?!" Neville squealed. "Madam Pince will kill us!"
"Oh... blasted! You're right..."
"We could check out the book," he suggested.
"No time!" Hermione squealed. "Perhaps he'll believe us without it. We need a mirror."
"A mirror? Why?" Neville asked, blinking in confusion.
"Because anyone who looks a Basilisk in the eyes dies! There hasn't been an attack in months but Neville, we can't..."
"We're not Muggle-born, Hermione," Neville said hopefully. "You're half-blood, I'm pure-blood. It goes only after Muggle-borns."
"We can't be sure. I'm quite certain it can kill anyone," Hermione growled. "I'll... oh blast, I don't have a mirror. Do you?"
"No," Neville replied.
"We'll need to be very careful. I'll just have to listen very carefully. Walk behind me, Neville. I heard it before, so perhaps I can hear it if it approaches us. We need to get to Professor Dumbledore!"
Debating against herself, she placed the book back on the shelf and walked to the exit as fast as she could, avoiding running, Neville trailing behind her.