Are y'all ready for some rising action? Brace yourself because the chapter after next is going to be a doozy. I couldn't find a better way to separate them.
Being a cat was the worst. If Hermione had heightened senses before, then these increased tenfold. She could hear everything, and she could smell even more, she couldn't taste sweet things, so when Rikki brought her tea all she could taste was the bitter. And the worse part was her desire to groom herself.
She coughed up hair balls three times a day.
The day that everyone returned back from break, Hermione got another visitor. Neville came running in and threw his arms around her in a hug that almost caused her to hack up yet another hairball.
"Whyyyy," she yowled.
Neville let go of her turning pink in the ears, he opened his mouth as if to mention why she was a cat lady but shook his head and moved on to the real reason he came to visit.
"I just want to thank you," he said. "I visited my parents and my Mum recognized me! Neither of them can speak yet, but she made these grunting sounds and actually looked me in the eye and touched my face! My dad is also improving. He can sit up and chew on his own now."
"That's great, Neville!" said Hermione.
"It's all thanks to you," he said.
"I merely suggested it," she replied dismissively. "The doctors are doing all the work."
"Still, thank you." He stepped back and really looked at her form. "Can I—?"
"Potion mishap. Don't ask."
"Er… right." He shuffled his feet. "Erm… If I visit, will you help me with my homework?"
"Sure."
"Thanks! You're the best." He gave her another hug and left to go unpack.
The next few weeks sucked. Harry, Ron, and Neville visited with her homework assignments and their compilations of notes. Cedric stopped by once a day with another stupid cat joke that managed to make her laugh. He was never going to let it go, but he knew when to let it be. The worst day, though, was when Lockhart came in with a glittery Get Well Soon card.
"You know," he said in that pompous manner. "If you were making such an advanced potion it really is best to have an experienced instructor nearby. I would have been happy to offer my assistance. You should also read the whole recipe thoroughly before you start."
He mansplained for about twenty minutes, before Hermione forced herself to cough up a hairball just to get him to leave. Once he was gone, she burned the card and dumped the ashes in her empty water goblet. Could he not get the hint that she found him a repulsive phony?
Some people tried to come by and get a look at Hermione the Wonder Cat, so Madam Pomfrey hung up high curtains to shield her from view. Why she didn't do that in the first place, Hermione didn't know and she didn't care enough to ask.
Soon enough, the hair started to shed, her eyes turned from yellow back to brown, and she didn't feel like hunting for mice anymore. Harry and Ron thought she was crazy for not trying to get out of homework and while the thought crossed her mind, her work ethic kicked her in the rear.
One day, she was visited by Luna and they were working out one of the puzzles from the Quibbler when Harry and Ron showed up.
"Hang on," said Hermione. "I'm trying to figure this out."
Ron leaned over to see them cutting out the runes and trying to piece them in the box. If they were matched up correctly, then it would reveal a spell to temporarily turn a person's hair into feathers.
"Is it these?" he asked, switching them up. The way they were arranged created a continuous line running through the runes. They flashed once, grew into a solid piece and fell away from the magazine. On the back was the incantation and wand movement of the spell.
"Wow… good job, Ron!" said Hermione.
He turned a little red. "I was just connecting the lines."
"You should take Ancient Runes next year," said Luna. "I think you would be quite good at it."
"Er… no. I don't think so," he said.
"Why not?" Hermione asked.
"Er… well— I—" he sighed through his nose. "I'll think about it."
"I hope you will," said Hermione. "It'd be nice for us to be able to bond over something besides chess."
Finally, finally, finally, Hermione got the all clear to be released from the hospital. Harry and Ron walked with her to their Common Room. On the way, they explained that Moaning Myrtle had flooded the girl's lavatory due to someone throwing a book at her. Harry removed it from his pocket and showed her. Hermione took it and immediately recoiled, her hair fluffing up even more. A small reminder of the potion.
"Get rid of it!" she hissed, flinging it away from her.
"Are you mad?" said Ron. "It's just a diary."
"You seriously can't feel that?" Hermione squawked. It was not a pleasant feeling radiating from the diary. It felt like anger if anger had a frequency.
"You must still be off from being a cat," said Ron dismissively.
Despite her protests, Harry picked up the book and pocketed it. Fine. Let him do whatever he wants, but she wasn't touching that thing with a twelve foot pole.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," she murmured and remembered where she read his name. "He won an award of service to the school. I wonder what it might have been… Harry, do you know how old that is?"
"About Fifty-years-old," he said, checking the inside.
"And Riddle won that award fifty years ago… Perhaps he caught the Heir!"
"One problem," said Ron. "The diary is blank."
"Unless it has invisible ink or…" Hermione furrowed her brow. But the diary has dark magic on it. Something just didn't add up. Just who was Tom Marvolo Riddle? "Never mind. I don't care."
"Yes, you do," said Ron.
"I don't want to care," she clarified.
Life went on and it seemed things were quieting down. People were still afraid of Harry, but a lot of Hufflepuffs calmed down when they saw Cedric talking to Harry with no issues. The first and second years were still wary, but popular boys had a lot of influence on peoples' attitudes and opinions.
Valentine's Day came and Hermione had bounced around the idea of giving out friendship Valentines but decided against it. Probably a good thing too, because that Sunday when she entered the Great Hall she was assaulted with pink. Now, Hermione liked pink, but more of a subtle, pastel pink or rose pink. This was just… garish. Not only were all the hangings pink, red, and white, but lurid pink flowers were hanging everywhere and little red confetti drifted from the ceiling. Worst of all, little gnomes dressed as cupids were walking around with Valentine-grams.
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered beside her.
She nodded in agreement. The trio sat down at the Gryffindor table and tried to swallow some breakfast down before this display made them sick.
Lockhart jumped to his feet showing off his Starburst pink robes.
"Happy Valentine's Day," he said. "Of course, I'd like to thank the seventy-four valentine's I received from my fans."
"You didn't send him one did you?" Ron asked, jokingly referring to her slight crush at the beginning of the year.
"As if," she snorted and opened up the package from her parents. "Want some chocolate?"
His eyes brightened as he plucked out one of the coconut truffles. Lockhart went on about love potions and charms and the like, but seriously they were all kids here. They shouldn't be messing around with love potions.
"Happy Valentines Day," a gnome grumbled to Angelina Johnson, who was sitting by Hermione. He pulled out a handful of rose petals and threw them in the air before delving into a love poem from a secret admirer.
"Oh, no!" Hermione tried to wave away the petals, but it was too late. She sneezed loudly into her sleeve.
"Bless you," said Ron.
She sneezed again.
"Bless you," said Harry.
"Achoo! Choo! Choo! Ch-choo!" Her chest began to hurt from the sheer force of her sneezes.
"Bless you!" The table chorused.
"Valentine for Mr. Harry Potter," said a gnome.
"I don't want one!" he protested.
Uh oh.
Funny thing about magic. Even when a person is older and able to control their magic better, under times of high stress accidental magic can occur. This included allergy attacks and Hermione felt the magic tingle in her chest. While people were focused on Harry trying to run from his embarrassing poem, Hermione was trying not to—
"Get down! I'm going to— ah… Ah… ACHOO!" Everything around her blew about three feet away. The flowers went even farther, whizzing over Lockhart's head. The blast pushed a bowl of punch onto Harry, knocking him into the gnome he was trying to get away from.
Fred and George started laughing; Fred wrote something down on his arm.
"Sorry, Harry," said Hermione, kneeling down to pick up his things; she held the diary between her thumb and forefinger and cringed as the gnome sang Harry a poem that was written by Ginny.
The young girl paled and ran out of the Hall.
"I don't think he liked your song!" The gnome shouted after her.
Hermione frowned and went after her, abandoning Harry's punch soaked things. The poor girl seemed to be having a rather rough time this year and Fred and George weren't helping any with their pranks. They thought they were cheering her up but evidently it wasn't working. What was it with boys and their desire to repeat things after being told to stop?
It took her a few minutes, but she found the smallest Weasley in the passage that surrounded the Great Hall.
"Ginny, what's wrong?" she asked, voice thick around her stuffy nose.
"Erm… nothing…"
"Listen," said Hermione, leaning against a ladder. "You just need to relax around Harry. I know it can be intimidating, especially since last year it was like he came straight out of your story books. Honestly, he just wants to be Harry. I promise you he'd be more than happy to be your friend—"
"Hermione your face is becoming puffy."
"Crikey O'Reilly!" Hermione ran out of the passage and shoved through the crowds to get to the Hospital Wing on the first floor.
"Now what— OH, DEAR LORD!"
It must've been worse than she thought, because Madam Pomfrey brought out a container of Benadryl and a straw. She didn't even know there was muggle medicine in the school.
After several long sips, Hermione felt the swelling go down in her face and hands. Allergy attacks were no laughing matter and she passed out for the next couple hours.
—
The next day, Harry approached Hermione and Ron excitedly.
"I figured out how the diary works," he said. "You have to write to it."
"That doesn't sound very safe—"
"Oh, come off it!" said Ron. "What did Riddle say?"
"Well… the monster was something that Hagrid owned," said Harry softly. "I don't think he intended for it to hurt anyone. You know how he can be."
"What was the creature?" Ron asked.
"A giant spider."
Um…?
"Spiders don't petrify people," said Hermione. "At least, not in the way everyone else was petrified and they would have shown bite marks if it were venom, right? Besides, Hagrid's not a pureblood. I'm also not so sure about this Riddle character. Urgh! None of this connects!"
"Who cares?" said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Whatever is running about could still be Hagrid's anyway. Remember Fluffy?"
They were never going to agree on this. But still… who exactly was Tom Marvolo Riddle?
For the next few weeks, the question was pushed from Hermione's mind as she became immersed in studies once more. Final exams would be here before she knew it and she had so many notes to prepare and study guides to make. People began to relax around Harry again, as it looked like there were going to be no more attacks.
Lockhart seemed to think he stopped them with his mere presence.
This just made Hermione feel not so at ease. The feeling worsened when Harry's dorm was ransacked and Riddle's diary was gone. After class, she approached Draco Malfoy. He jumped to his feet and she held up her hands.
"Relax, I come in peace," she said.
"What do you want, Granger?"
"Are there any books on the history of bloodlines?" she asked.
"Why do you want to know?" he sneered. "Having a magical great-great-great grandfather won't make you anymore of a—"
"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I thought that you knew everything about blood purity. My mistake." She turned around and walked away.
Three… two… one…
"Hold up!"
Hermione spun around on her heel and raised an eyebrow. Malfoy stretched his neck so he was looking down at her haughtily.
"Historica Magia," he said. "It has everything you need to know."
"Thanks."
The book was as big as the one Cedric got on Ancient Runes. She cradled it in her arms and got some looks from Madam Pince as she checked it out. By the time she made it to the Great Hall, her arms were tired and shaking. When she set it down the whole section rattled and some empty goblets fell over.
She spent all day in the Great Hall, reading through the blood lines and learning so much unnecessary information. First, she looked for Riddle, but then she found a name that stood out.
Marvolo
Okay. Marvolo Gaunt had a daughter… Merope.
It didn't show that she had a child or even married, but if this seriously inbred line meant anything it was probably because she rebelled and married someone not a pure-blood and definitely not her brother. It took a lot of flipping back and forth, but finally… she found it.
Salazar Slytherin
So… snakes… spiders… petrification. A voice that only Harry could hear just before the attacks…
"AHA!" she exclaimed, slamming the book shut with a sound thud. Several people looked over at her curiously.
Jumping to her feet, she took off out of the Great Hall to make sure that her theory was correct before she caused a panic. After all, a Basilisk was no lighthearted matter. Filch tried to chase her down for running in the halls, but she was too fast for him.
"Wattlebird!" she shouted from down the hall. The Fat Lady swung open and Hermione dove through the portrait hole.
The book on Magizoology was on her nightstand, she flipped to the index and looked under 'B'. Page 23. On the page was a creature of a fearsome snake that had feathers like a rooster around its throat and a gaping maw that was scarier than a goose's mouth.
"Gotcha," she breathed, ripping out the page and finding a pen in her hair. It must've been getting around through the pipes and… of course! Myrtle's bathroom. Myrtle must have been the one who died and— Oh gosh —Tom Riddle must've been the one to kill her! He was the real heir and got Hagrid blamed for it. She scribbled down three words: Pipes. Myrtle. Riddle.
Oh, right!
Hagrid innocent.
The heir would be onto her, so she had to be careful. She snatched up the mirror on Parvati's side table and ran down the many flights of stairs, being careful not to trip. On the fourth floor she nearly slammed into a younger girl.
"Hello, Hermione," said Astoria Greengrass pleasantly. "Everything okay?"
"Yes, what are you doing up here?" Hermione panted. "I thought you'd be at dinner."
"I had to return a book to the library, it was nearly overdue," said the brunette Slytherin. "I didn't want to forget."
"Okay, well, walk with me." With a Slytherin pureblood with her, she'd be safe.
"Alright."
Hermione crumpled up the paper in her hand and walked shoulder to shoulder with Astoria.
Now, Hermione was the kind of person to believe that she would be prepared to face any scenario she thought of. Nothing could have prepared her for this. As soon as they reached the second floor, she heard a loud hissing and the rumbling of pipes. If she ran, the Basilisk would probably try to eat her, but petrified? Maybe she'd be okay. Astoria wouldn't be intentionally harmed, but Hermione still had the urge to protect her, just in case. She was a really sweet girl overall.
"Hermione, what's happening?" Astoria asked, the blood draining from her face.
"Don't turn around!" Hermione ordered dropping the mirror. She covered Astoria's eyes with her hand and turned the corner to see two ginormous, yellow eyes staring right back in the clear reflection of a glass window. She was vaguely aware of Astoria screaming when darkness slammed across her vision.