The long anticipated (or dreaded, depending on who one asked) Quidditch match finally arrived. Hermione did not allow herself to be dragged out to the audience stands this time, having purposefully avoided Ron after breakfast. However, she did station herself with a pair of binoculars at a window facing the Quidditch field. This was a much better way to watch the game, in her opinion. From up here, she would be protected from the elements. She would not have to strain her neck by looking up for long periods of time. She would not get scolded for multitasking, or lacking enthusiasm. But most importantly, she could point her binoculars wherever she wanted without getting odd looks.
She watched as Snape glide into the center of the field smoothly on his broom, wearing an annoyed but determined expression. The Gryffindor team had been wailing for days over how Snape would be picking through their every move, but they really had nothing to worry about. In fact, since his full attention would be focused on Harry and Quirrell, Hermione doubted he would say much even if the whole Gryffindor team started playing like the Slytherins.
Hermione followed Snape's gaze to the hovering, scarlet-clad figure that was Harry Potter. She still found it amazing that the boy would continue to play Quidditch, even after what happened to his broom during the first match. Certainly, he was alarmed at first, but Ron and the other Quidditch fans assured him that brooms never behaved this way. Of course, there had been speculations on why Harry's broom acted so erratically, but then Professor McGonagall had done some checks to verify that the broom was still functional, so Harry was good to go. He'd also gotten the idea that he simply had to play, since there were no reserve Seekers and the small risk of falling from his broom was outweighed by the prospect of losing the House Cup.
And Hermione felt, not for the first time, that Quidditch really shouldn't count so much toward the House Cup. True, it helped students build up their physical agility, stamina and coordination, and promoted teamwork. Nevertheless, it should not be the primary way of earning points. Even Godric would never award 150 points for a game! If he'd tried to award more than twenty, he would've been outvoted three to one.
In the audience stands, Blaise and Daphne were sitting beside each other, but also with their respective group of friends. Theodore was not with them, however. She wouldn't blame him if he found the whole affair as boring as she did. Ron and Neville were watching the game with fingers crossed. Unfortunately, their peace was about to be disturbed, because Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were moving their way while sniggering among themselves. Hermione sighed as Ron flushed red and punched Malfoy in the nose. Neville had managed to cast a shield charm strong enough to keep both Crabbe and Goyle off them. This was fortunate, because otherwise they would've walked away with far more injuries.
Soft footsteps approached. A little unexpectedly, its owner came to a stop beside her. "Hello, Sal,"
"Oh, hi, Theo," Hermione half-turned, setting down her binoculars to look at the "missing" Slytherin first-year, "Have I occupied your usual spot?"
"I stood two windows down last time," he pointed, "I wasn't expecting to find anyone else here though."
Hermione explained that she didn't care much for Quidditch, but had to at least know what happened lest her fellow Gryffindors try to make her sit out there next time.
"Same here," Theodore nodded, taking out his own binoculars, "Oh look at Longbottom. Isn't that the shield charm?"
"He's gotten pretty good at it too, I think."
Theodore raised an eyebrow incredulously, but knew better than to comment.
Quirrell hadn't moved. Hermione had just shifted her attention back to Snape when Harry suddenly pelted toward the potion master-turned-referee. Her hand immediately closed on her wand, but it turned out that there was no cause for alarm. Harry had caught the snitch.
"What? Already?" Theodore stared in surprise. "The game's barely started!... Not that I'm complaining, of course." Indeed, it took a second for people to wrap their head around the fact that the game was over. After that, the stadium burst into cheers from Gryffindors, and applause from the other three houses, for the monumentally swift victory. Theodore extended his hand to her in good grace. "Well, congratulation, Gryffindor,"
She shook it. "Good game, Slytherin," she laughed, once again noting the irony. "At least your common room will be nice and quiet and usable when you go back. I bet the Weasley twins planned - in other words, stole supplies for - a loud celebration again." She was just about to stow away her binoculars when she caught sight of a small scarlet-clad figure taking off, some distance away from the retreating crowd. What was Harry doing?
It wasn't until she followed his flight path with her binoculars that she saw them: two figures, who she could make out to be Snape and Quirrell, were heading into the forest. Snape was bearing down on Quirrell threateningly, while the poor defense professor made a big show to be flustered and frightened as usual. Of course, in reality, Quirrell had someone much more dangerous to be afraid of.
Hermione tapped her fingers on the windowsill. Making Quirrell chicken out would've been a good strategy, if Quirrell had simply been receiving orders. Snape would've been told of Quirrell's possible connection to Voldemort and warned to watch out for him, if her understanding of Dumbledore's character was correct. However, Snape clearly didn't realize just how close that connection was. Was Dumbledore being secretive, or was he equally oblivious that Voldemort can effectively see through Quirrell's eyes and control his every move? Hermione was inclined toward the latter, and she was glad. Even though she would rather that Dumbledore knew exactly who he was dealing with, her respect for the headmaster's character would've dropped significantly if he'd been deliberately tricking the professors on this.
Snape seemed to be in the process of wrapping up his threats. Quirrell was still shaking. She couldn't hear their actual conversation, but Harry seemed to be listening attentively. She'd most likely receive an account of this the moment she enters the common room.
"Potter's eavesdropping?" Theodore had also noticed this.
He sounded unsurprised, Hermione realized, as if this was only logical. Why?
"Did you tell him, then? That Snape or Quirrell jinxed his broom last time?"
"How did you know I suspected them?" Hermione asked, genuinely surprised. She didn't expect another student to notice Snape and Quirrell, much less notice that she'd noticed them...
But he couldn't suspect she had something to do with the Bludger - she'd been very subtle after all, and her wand had been concealed in the sleeve of her robe. Theodore wouldn't have seen it even if he did search among the audience as she did.
"I thought you'd probably read a thing or two about jinxes. Besides, Potter clearly wasn't in any condition to look down at the time, and I doubted Weasley would've been much help. It would have to be you who noticed them."
That was not actually why Harry was investigating Snape, Hermione thought, but an interesting deduction nonetheless.
"But why would they do it?" Wondered Theodore, confused, "I mean, we all know that Snape hates Potter, but not enough to risk Azkaban to jinx his broom right? And what motives can Quirrell possibly have? It doesn't make sense, unless there's a third person hidden somewhere that both of us missed... But why's Snape mad at Quirrell then?"
"Beats me," Hermione shrugged. "But maybe that's why Dumbledore's at the game today - to figure out who did it."
Theodore nodded in acceptance. She knew he would keep watching, but he wouldn't attempt to involve himself in a situation that was far beyond him, that was already being taken care of by someone more capable, unless his own interest was affected. Thus was basic risk assessment, as well as the Slytherin doctrine.
Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Harry and Ron. Upon returning to the Gryffindor common room, as expected, Harry pulled her and Ron aside and told them how Snape demanded Quirrell to tell him about his "hocus-pocus". This must mean, he'd somehow concluded, that Snape had gotten past all the protections around the Stone except Quirrell's and Fluffy.
Hermione corrected that last piece of logic of course, but this did not reassure the boys completely. They started telling people off for making fun of Quirrell in class and sending him encouraging smiles, and they were more nervous around Snape than ever. To give them credit, they at least remembered her advice and took care to aim their suspicious glances at Snape's back only, rather than glaring at him outright - Not that the seasoned spy was fooled, of course. He simply didn't seem to have the energy to interrogate them.
To keep their minds off things that they'd best not concern themselves with, Hermione began insisting that they start studying for their exams. She knew that most students would've started later, but hard work would pay off sooner or later anyways. More importantly, given the kind of trouble these two seemed to be attracted to, they ought to become better than just passable.
"Aww, Sally!" On the seventh level, Portrait Godric chuckled once Harry and Ron were out of earshot, "Don't be so hard on my lions!"
Hermione shrugged. "I'm already cutting them a lot of slack for the theory, considering that they're Gryffindor, but they should at least reliably perform the practical portion of transfigurations and charms. And the leg-locking jinx and full-body bind are entirely within their skill level. There's no reason why they shouldn't learn those."
"That's true," Godric conceded. "It's a shame they had to cancel the duelling club. I think my students benefited a lot from it. Speaking of which, I've got a duel with Sir Cadogan at eleven o'clock. You know, though I still wish we could find a better portrait of my mentor, he's not half bad."
Hermione snorted. The other three founders could understand that Godric had wanted to honour his old mentor at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, painted by an amateur artist, certain aspects of Cadogan's personality had clearly been greatly exaggerated. This unfortunately resulted in a brash nuisance with very little wit and far too much enthusiasm for picking fights. Salazar had to charm his paintings so that nothing could enter it without permission, in order to keep Cadogan out. This worked for one year, until Cadogan heard rumours from students and became determined to "test the worth of the duellist whose prowess could supposedly parallel his protege's". He then started to scream at him from Godric's, Helga's, or Rowena's portraits in an attempt to bait him out, causing the greatly irritated witches to cast the same charm on their own portraits.
Godric later did the same for his portrait, though he did this mostly in the interest of defending himself from Salazar. (Salazar had a habit of throwing his eagle feather quill like a dart when he became annoyed, in life and much more so in painting. Much of the time, it would soar into the adjacent painting, which happened to be Godric. Though this was not entirely an injustice since, much of the time, the cause of his annoyance also happened to be Godric.)
"Suit yourself, but come and visit me when you finish, would you? There's something I'd like your opinion on."
"As you wish, M'lady," he mumbled.
"Why thank you, Godric. Starshine?"
In the depth of the night, Hogwarts was still and silent. Even the castle itself drops into partial hibernation due to the lack of residual magic to absorb. Occasionally one might hear the footsteps of a professor on patrol, the faint padding of that abomination of a cat called Mrs. Norris, or the gentle whoosh of a gliding ghost. But if one happened to be in the second floor girl's bathroom, for whatever reason, one might get a strange sensation that the floor might be vibrating. Of course, it would be completely silent - because there was a silencing charm at work after all - and very faint. But even then, one could swear that there was some sort of fascinating logic to it, that it was almost rhythmic, before chalking it off to imagination.
But if one spoke Parseltongue and ventured down into the Chamber of Secrets at this moment, one would've been surprised to hear not the sleepy silence of the rest of the school, but music - a bit like a flute, or an organ, or a harp, or a drum. A single beautiful melody, elegant and fluid, sometimes warm and sometimes chilling. And if one saw that the source of the music was the acacia wand in the hand of a little girl, one would be more surprised still.
The final note dissipated into the large, empty anterior chamber. Hermione Granger stowed away her wand, whispered the password and stepped through the narrow stone entrance. "What do you think?" She'd been practicing frequently, but she wanted her friends' judgement for confirmation.
"Your signature Nocturne," Portrait Godric applauded, "I'm glad to finally hear it again."
"That was beautiful," Portrait Helga nodded kindly, "And you didn't make a single mistake, as far as I noticed."
"We struggled with sections of this when we composed it at fourteen," Portrait Salazar noted, "I'd say you're definitely at that level." At the time, it was the most challenging sequence of music Salazar could think of - he'd just finished work on his new wand, and he'd wanted to honour and test its brilliance. At the time, he could hardly play through all of it without stumbling. Just enough to appreciate what it was, and glimpse what it could be.
Hermione nodded. This was expected. Since her magic had already been trained once, it was more responsive and maturing faster than it had done the first time around. Not to mention that her wand had matured as well.
"You were somewhat unsteady on the louder passages," portrait Godric noticed. Hermione knew he often played at loud volumes as a self diagnostic when he was not at his strongest. "Which means you shouldn't try things like fiendfyre yet, as you probably realized."
"And you have little control over the timbre still," Observed portrait Rowena, "Well, perhaps I shouldn't say that. I doubt most people, the three of us included, could've done much better. But you... I remember how you used to make that cadenza sound like shattering glass, or running water, or dancing moonlight, depending on your mood," She smiled, "The brilliance that was your signature, Salazar."
"That's the degree of control I have to gain back. I've still got a very long way to go, then," Hermione sat down in the low walnut armchair near where Esmeralda had coiled herself. "I've been wondering, is Quirrell being physically or magically tapped in some way? And this would be indicative of how much Voldemort's learned of the dark arts, because if he knew how to siphon power from Quirrell to strengthen himself he would surely do it."
The others shrugged, but portrait Salazar's relaxed smile turned into something more serious and contemplative. "You're not just sizing him up now," he realized, "You're preparing to enter the battle early."
"Are you sure, Sal?" Asked Portrait Helga, "I don't want anyone to suffer either, but you're still a child! That sounds like the sort of thing Godric would do, actually. You know, go out and vanquish a Dark Lord at age eleven."
"I am a dark lord," Hermione waved jokingly, "why, so little faith, my friends? And here I was just starting to think I can get away with pretending I'm not some old has-been."
"You're not old. You're eleven."
"Seriously, though. I'd like you to help me judge how much I can afford to enter the battle early. I may be prideful, but I'm not delusional. I know my baby magic is so weak that I'll probably have to work just to take down Quirrell even without Voldemort helping him," Hermione nodded, steepling her fingers again.
This was the dilemma she'd been considering for some time, but more and more often recently. She'd decided to stay out of trouble, but...was that even possible anymore? "But once Voldemort returns to power, a lot of lives would be lost very quickly, not to mention that many Slytherin students and their families would be pressured to join him. Time will be critical. Of course, I still intend to let Dumbledore deal with things as long as he's in a position to do so. But if the situation arises... "
If, for example, Harry Potter does end up foolishly challenging Voldemort for the Philosopher's Stone this year. If Dumbledore had underestimated Quirrell or Voldemort or both. Both conditions were becoming increasingly likely.
She caught Portrait Salazar's eyes. If she fights now, then at best she and Voldemort would be evenly matched. The likelihood of winning and losing would be 50%. The penalty of losing would most likely be death, she realized rather soberingly.
In muggle terms, it was Russian Roulette, effectively. Except played with a coin toss instead of a six-chambered pistol.
But if she does nothing, then Harry and Ron may die. And while she didn't worry as much about Theodore recklessly running toward danger, he was still standing a bit too close to it for comfort. Her hand would be forced really soon with the way things seemed to be heading.
Was there some way out of this that didn't involve risky duels?
...
Perhaps things would be much simpler if, as the popular opinion insisted, Slytherins had no hearts.