HERMIONE

"Oy, Hermione!" A voice from behind her interrupted her thoughts.

"Keep your voice down, Harry, honestly," she hissed, but her face broke into a wide grin upon seeing Harry, Ron, and Percy making their way towards her. They all sat at the table, taking things out of their bags. They were evidently planning on studying with her. "How was detention?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is a jerk."

"Snape was being a git as usual," Harry said, "but we only had to write lines."

"It was torture," groaned Percy dramatically. "Medieval torture, I tell you."

Ron leaned over to try and read one of her book titles upside-down. "What're you doing, Hermione? Ominous Omens? Thought you said Divination was rubbish?"

"That's what I thought, but —" Hermione lowered her voice — "I ran into Trelawney in the hall and she gave what I believe is a real prophecy."

Percy frowned. "She gave you a prophecy? How do you know?"

Instead of answering him, Hermione turned to Harry. "Harry — what was it like when she gave you your prophecy in our third year?"

"Well —" Harry hesitated, obviously trying to remember the details. "Her gaze was sort of unfocussed —"

Hermione nodded. "Right."

"Er, her voice was sort of loud and harsh —"

"It was a little strange." Hermione nodded. So far everything matched.

"And she slumped forward a little after she was done, and didn't remember anything afterward."

"Yes." She waited for him to go on, but he only shrugged.

"That was about it. Why, were you waiting for something else?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "You're sure? There wasn't any — I don't know — green smoke, or —"

Percy blanched. "Green smoke?"

The three of them looked at him curiously, and he seemed to backpedal. "Um — what I meant was, that's weird, green smoke?" He laughed nervously but stopped abruptly when he saw them still staring at him sceptically. "Yeah, I have to go now —" He made to leave, but Ron grabbed his wrist.

"Hold up, Percy," he said, "D'you know something important about prophecies?"

"Nope," said Percy, a little too quickly. "Why would I know anything about prophecies?"

Hermione scrutinised him. He was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg; she had noticed he was prone to fidgeting, but now he seemed more anxious than usual. It was the second time he was trying to hide something that was seemingly trivial. "Have you received a prophecy before?"

Percy swallowed and didn't say anything.

He obviously had. Eagerly, Hermione leafed through her parchments until she found the one she had been looking for. She slid it over to him, and he sat down again, looking resigned. "What's this?"

"The prophecy," said Hermione enthusiastically. "Go on, read it. You might be able to help me."

Sighing, Percy picked up the paper and read the prophecy. Hermione watched him closely; as he read, his face paled considerably, and she was sure that he knew what at least some of it meant.

Harry looked over Percy's shoulder and read it aloud. "Thought once gone and back once more; the sorceress sister opens the door; she shall seek and strive to avenge her past; but fail, and fall to the looking-glass. A half-blood of the raging sea; to find allies in students three; but should he die then all shall fail; and people see beyond the veil." He blinked. "That's definitely different from the one Trelawney gave in third year. What do you think, Ron?"

Ron shrugged, eyes wide. "Dunno, it seems awfully ominous to me. Should he die then all shall fail? That's Department of Mysteries level work, mate."

"Yeah," agreed Harry, studying the prophecy. "Have you found anything in your research so far, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. "A bit. Here, look —" she turned the open Determining Divination towards the boys and pointed at a passage with her quill. "'The structure of wizarding prophecies is relatively consistent; it often subtly — or clearly — highlights a main event while suggesting things that may point to or surround this event… There have been instances of rhyme in past prophecies, but it is rather uncommon; prophecies more often follow a free-verse structure,'" Hermione read. She continued in a brisk tone, tapping the parchment with Trelawney's prophecy. "As you can see, this prophecy doesn't really follow that. It hasn't got a 'main event,' first off, and it's posed in perfectly rhyming couplets."

Harry frowned. "You're right. What d'you make of it?"

"Well…" Hermione sighed. "I haven't got a clear idea, just yet. Percy, what have you got? It seemed as if you knew something."

Percy had been silent, and she narrowed her eyes at him slightly.

"Um…" he squirmed. "I don't know who the sorceress's sister is, or what door she opens…"

"But you know something else," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

He avoided their gazes. "Hades, I'm bad at this," he muttered under his breath, then said, "I might. I'm not sure, though, so don't take me seriously —"

"Just say what you're thinking," Ron told him.

Percy shoved his hands inside his robes pockets. "Well, the fifth line —"

"You know who it is?" asked Hermione eagerly.

Percy hesitated further, until she felt the strong urge to shake him, a feeling normally reserved for Harry when he tried to convince them of his Malfoy-Is-A-Death-Eater theory for the hundredth time. "No," he said after a very long time. "Did I say the fifth line? I meant the, um," he checked the parchment with the prophecy, "last line, yeah. The veil — that's whatever separates the magical world from the — uh, muggles."

Hermione perked up. "Actually, that makes sense! If the veil falls — figuratively, that is — the wizarding world would fall apart." She made a note on her parchment. "How did you figure that out?"

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Wait a moment," Ron interjected. "So if this 'half-blood of the raging sea' bloke dies, you're saying that muggles will find out about the wizarding world?"

"It does seem drastic," agreed Harry doubtfully. "Hasn't the wizarding world been kept a secret for centuries?"

Hermione nodded. "Since the invention of the Memory Charm, created by Sir Obbus Oberon the Oblivious."

"I told you I wasn't sure about anything and not to trust me," commented Percy.

"No, I think you're right," Hermione said, and he groaned. "It makes a lot more sense than the things I had thought up. Unless you boys have got something else?"

Harry and Ron both shook their heads. "Still, are we planning on just going by what Percy tells us?" Harry said sceptically.

Hermione hesitated. She had no way to explain it to Harry, but she had the strangest feeling that Percy knew exactly what the prophecy meant. She furrowed her brow; she really hadn't the slightest clue as to why she felt that way, except that her mind felt the slightest bit foggy.

—l—

Harry left for his first lesson with Dumbledore in the evening; Hermione jumped up as he stood and made his way across the common room. "Ooh, good luck — tell us how it goes."

"G'luck," repeated Ron, who was scowling at his Transfiguration homework hostiley by the fireplace.

"Tell us what you do there," added Percy. "It seems mysterious."

"Yeah," Harry replied, and climbed out the portrait-hole.

There was a minute or two of peaceful silence, Hermione revising her own Transfiguration essay placidly, when suddenly she shrieked. In response, Ron let out a yell. When he recovered, he glared at her incredulously.

"Bloody hell — are you off your rocker, woman? What'd you do, get a ninety-nine on your Arithmancy homework?"

Hermione was staring at Percy, who looked back at her through wide eyes. "Um… why are you…"

She had completely forgotten about Percy's conversation with the winged horse in the owlery, and had not thought to ask him about it all day. "Percy, where were you in the period before Potions yesterday?"

He blanched. "Sorry, what?"

"Don't lie. I saw you in the owlery, talking to a winged horse!" Hermione stood.

"He did what?" Asked Ron, all irritation forgotten. "A winged horse? Brilliant, you can talk to animals, Percy?"

Percy shifted uncomfortably.

Hermione frowned. "How did you do it? I couldn't think of any way you could have possibly communicated with a winged horse, and there was no one in recorded wizarding history with that ability. Snakes, yes, and a few other animals such as phoenixes as they have an unusually strong connection to the human mind and heart, but I've never heard of someone talking to a winged horse. How did you do it?"

"A pegasus." Percy said. "I mean — he's a pegasus, which is technically a winged horse, I guess, but still."

"A pegasus?" Hermione repeated. "Interesting, I've never heard of that breed before — there's abraxan, aethonan, granian, and thestral, but pegasus…" she began to pace, trying to recall if she had heard the term used in the wizarding world before. The term was terribly familiar, but she was sure it wasn't from any of the Care of Magical Creatures lessons with Hagrid… Hermione snapped her fingers. "From Greek mythology. A pegasus was a winged horse. But I've never heard it used in wizarding context."

Percy shrugged. "That's what we call them in America, I guess."

"Hm." Hermione sat back down, observing him.

"But you can talk to them?" Ron repeated, wide-eyed. "You can talk to… pegasuses?"

"I —"

Hermione shot up again. "Wait." She tilted her head. "I remember —" Something was off, something wasn't right, but she couldn't quite remember; there was, once again, that strange vague feeling as if she were trying to hold clouds; they simply slipped through her grasp every time her fingers closed around them.

"You remember?" Percy prompted, looking nervous.

"I remember — I remember…" Hermione wanted to growl in frustration. "I don't remember. But what's strange is this: I knew it was a pegasus, when I saw you talking. I called it one in my head. But… how did I…?"

Percy looked pale. "You probably filled it in unconsciously when I told you he's a pegasus. The human brain tends to do that, you know."

"No. That wasn't it." Hermione began pacing again. She simply didn't know, and that irked her to no end.

"Maybe you're imagining things," Ron suggested.

"No, I'm not!" She stared into the fireplace, which snapped and popped merrily in warm firework colours. The embers glowed ruby against the black-charred wood, eternally burning, always blazing, enchanted to never go out…

That which is held sacred in the memory of nature is scribed in starlight.

As soon as the idea formed in her mind it dissipated into white fog, slipping once again from Hermione's consciousness.

"I don't know," she said, throwing up her arms suddenly. "I don't know. Ron, give me your essay."

He gladly handed it over, and Hermione began correcting the countless grammar errors and spelling mistakes as a distraction.

Percy yawned. "I'm actually kind of tired, I'll head up to bed now. Hope you figure it out, Hermione."

He made his way up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, which promptly turned into a slide and spat him back onto the floor.

"Ow," Percy complained, getting up and rubbing his backside. "What the — seriously? Why are the stairs completely identical?"

Hermione watched as he turned to go up the correct staircase with the sneaking suspicion that he was leaving to avoid further interrogation. But soon the long day caught up to her and she stifled a yawn, gazing down at Ron's catastrophe of an essay through a sleepy haze; a part of her wondered if it might be more efficient to simply rewrite the essay for him and be done with it.

At last Harry clambered through the portrait-hole, and he joined Hermione and Ron at the fireplace.

Hermione looked up. "Oh, Harry! How was it?"

"Strange," he replied, sitting down in an overstuffed armchair. "It wasn't what I expected."

"He didn't teach you advanced hexes and jinxes or defensive spells?" Ron asked, disappointed. "And here I was, hoping you'd get us a head start on Defence like last year."

"What did he teach you, then?" Hermione asked him curiously.

Harry blinked at the fire. "He showed me his Pensieve. We saw a memory of a Ministry official, Bob Ogden —"

"His Pensieve?" repeated Hermione incredulously and with no small amount of amazement. "You got to use a Pensieve?"

"What's a Pensieve?" Ron said, looking back and forth between them for an answer.

"It's a device used for organising, storing, and reflecting on thoughts and memories," Hermione told him enthusiastically. "It's very rare, and difficult to come into possession of." Turning to Harry, she asked, "What was it like?"

"Well — it was strange. The Pensieve was a shallow stone basin, and when Dumbledore poured in a memory, silver mist sort of shimmered inside it. We entered it and saw a Ministry official, Bob Ogden, heading to a small village, except he passed it and went to this odd, reclusive little house. A horrible man named Morfin holding a wand in one hand and a bloody knife in the other came out and told him to go away in Parseltongue.

"He attacked Ogden when he didn't understand what he was saying, and I think he might have killed him — but his father, Gaunt, stopped him. He told Ogden that he wasn't welcome, but Ogden insisted, and he was led inside. We saw a filthy-looking girl inside, then, Gaunt's daughter, Merope. Gaunt treated her cruelly because she was a Squib, treated her like a servant —"

Hermione shook her head. "That's horrid," she said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it was pretty bad. But then Ogden said that Morfin had broken Wizarding Law and had to come to the Ministry for a hearing, and Gaunt didn't react well. Spouted some declarations that he was Salazar Slytherin's last living descendant, and a lot of other rubbish condemning muggles. Then a muggle and his fiance, I think, came riding by and Morfin began taunting his sister that 'he wouldn't have had you anyway'; Gaunt caught on that Merope was in love with a muggle and was ready to kill her. Ogden defended her and then fled; that's where we stopped."

Hermione and Ron stared at him. "Blimey," whispered Ron, "What a story."

"But get this —" here Harry leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Merope was Voldemort's mother."

"What?"

Happy Saturday!

Just as a quick side note: so I know a lot of fanfictions with this trope make it so that Harry, Hermione, and Ron are pretty much suspicious of Percy/whatever demigod as soon as he enters their line of vision... but honestly, I just don't think it's realistic. I mean, sure, they were pretty suspicious of both Snape and Malfoy in the first and second books without much solid evidence to back them up. But if you think about it, they're kids. They let their bias and resentment against Malfoy influence their willingness to accept him as an enemy. He's a bully, so he must be working for Voldemort, right? Slytherins are almost inherently evil; there are no shades of grey, right?

Percy, on the other hand, has pretty much an awesome personality. He's funny, chill, overall very likeable. That self-sacrificing, overpowering loyalty towards his loved ones? That easygoing nature? The fact that even before he was a hero, he befriended the awkward, bullied kid at school? Percy's pretty much the opposite of what Harry, Hermione, and Ron hate about Malfoy.

Because of all of this, the three probably unconsciously accept Percy as a clear-cut "good guy;" the fact that he's a Gryffindor only earns him about 1,000 bonus points.

Sorry, did I say that would be a quick side note? Oops.

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unfinished . nocturne