Author's Note: There's some edits that happened in Chapter 4. If you feel confused about the timeline, that's probably why.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Why would I even want to? He'd be like the most high-maintenance pet ever.

Harry is a She!

Chapter 5

Exercising Exasperation

Day twelve, evening.

He could really do with some painkillers right about now. Seriously, what was so bad about meds? They made him feel less, and the less he felt the less miserable he was. That's good, right?

He'd spent most of the day rolling around in his bed. It got warm and sticky and he would've gladly switched to another bed but he was too sober to do that. Believe me, he tried. The knowledge that a girl was sleeping there every night, compounded with the fear of getting caught, stopped him alright. He didn't want to come off as a perv, after all (even though he was one).

Eventually, a time has come when he couldn't take it anymore and had to go take a bath. Anything to distract himself from all the ways he felt wrong.

He took off for the Prefect's (or maybe just his) bathroom under the Invisibility Cloak.

Limping into the bathroom, he let the bubbly water flow and threw off his clothes. After a quick toilet trip, he let himself slowly slide into the bath. The warmth filled him immediately, alleviating some of the pain.

Oh, sweet Merlin. It was almost as good as ibuprofen. Almost.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to relax and drift in the water. Strange thing, drifting. He used to always fall like a stone. He must be finally gaining some fat. Was it the female thing or just that he hasn't really done any Quidditch this last month at Hogwarts and ate like... Well, like at Hogwarts.

(He could've said like Ron but no, he didn't reach that level of mastery).

He realised his mind was running wild again. Any minute it would pop up an image of Hermione in a dress again. Huh. Did remembering the last image count or should he disregard that? No idea. At least he wasn't seeing her naked or anything... Agh! No, that was not an image he needed. He was also pretty sure it didn't count since it was basically Hermione's face planted on one of the magazine ladies. Oh no, he was thinking about it again!

One does not simply not think about green elephants. Yes, that's an idea! Just think about green elephants. Green elephants eating blue apples. Flying in the clouds. With rocket booster eagle-pigs.

He opened his eyes to try and find something distracting and saw a pair of grey see-through eyes staring at him.

"Gah!" he jumped out of the bath and wrapped himself in the Invisibility Cloak. "Myrtle!"

He palmed around for his wand before remembering he didn't have it. Not that he actually knew a spell to exorcise Myrtle but it would be nice to have something between her and himself. Anything.

"Hi, Harri." she wiggled her fingers at him.

"Do not call me that!" he snapped. "That's not my name and you know it! And stop peeping on me!"

"Oh, but I get so lonely... And that's what the other girl called you." Myrtle pouted. "I didn't hear you shouting at her."

Yeah, why hadn't he? Never mind, it was off-topic.

"Leave the other girls out of it." he seethed. "You can't just float in wherever you like and stare at people like that." he stopped himself, realising what she'd just said. "And what do you mean 'called me'? Have you been stalking me in my dorm?"

Myrtle covered her mouth in mock outrage.

"Errr, noooo."

"Are you fucking with me right now?!"

"No, but I wish I was." she giggled.

"Okay, that's it!" he turned away and pulled the hood over his head, making himself disappear completely. "I've had enough of you!" he grabbed his clothes and went for the door. "Next time you do something like that, I'm seriously going to exorcise you!"

With these words, he slammed the door in her stupid face.

Stupid Myrtle and her stupid perverted peeping. Stupid Lavender with her stupid sexual comments that stupid ghosts can overhear and repeat! Stupid Hermione taking his stupid wand.

He turned a stupid corner and dove into a stupid empty classroom, hoping no stupid one would see him change into his stupid clothes. He cringed as he pulled the robes over his head.

They stank.

Still, better stupid stinky robes than stupid nothing. As stupidly fun as it might be to walk around naked under the Invisibility Cloak, the mere thought gave him a vision of it falling off in the worst moment possible, like in front of Dumbledore. No, Dumbledore would just laugh it off. McGonagall would be worse. Or, God forbid, Snape. He shuddered.

(As I said before, he was too sober to fool around like that. Or maybe too hungover? Who knows? Not me!)

Never mind, the Cloak was too wet anyway, he would just get himself sick again. He wondered what his dad would say to using his Invisibility Cloak as a towel. From what he heard, the man would probably joke about it until it got painfully old. Would've started calling it the Invisibility Towel, for sure.

But what would he think of Harry becoming a girl?

It had been a hard day for Hermione too, what with running to Madame Pomphrey for medicine before the sun even rose, bringing Harry breakfast and trying to talk sense into him, constantly having to make excuses for why he's in Hospital again and why exactly isn't he in Hospital (she couldn't very well admit to him stealing drugs and Pomphrey being sick of him, could she now?), taking double notes so he'd have material to catch up from, still keeping all the teachers in awe of her genius, Snape eyeing her suspiciously all day and last, but not least, having to endure Ron's table manners without Harry there to distract her. It was exhausting.

So imagine her shock when she came back to the dorm and discovered Harry wasn't even there. I meant, what are the odds?

Where was he anyway?

At first guess, she would've said: "Hospital Wing." so she went there before Pomphrey could rip his head off and caused yet another school-wide scandal. He's got enough bad rep as it is.

Surprisingly, he wasn't there. Where else could he be?

Bathroom, but that was the lamest excuse ever. On the other hand, there was only one bath he used in the entire castle. She could check it in no time at all.

He could also be in the kitchens, avoiding people while simultaneously following his stomach. That was more of a Ron thing, Harry would just not eat at all, but worth checking anyway and the bathroom was on the way. Well, with all the crazy lately, she couldn't discount him doing anything really.

'No.' she shook her head. She shouldn't doubt him. He was still Harry. He was just going through a difficult time. As always.

Eventually, Hermione came upon some first-years talking about how Snape lost his mind in the Library again, muttering under his nose and throwing out anyone who just breathed wrong. Recognising the signs by now, she decided that's where Harry went.

She left the firsties to their own devices. She didn't have the heart to tell them the most terrifying person in the castle right now was not Snape but the Boy-Who-Lived. Let them keep their childhood just a little while longer.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

"It's the Library, what do you think?" he snapped, not looking up from his book.

"You're supposed to be resting in your bed." she reminded, sitting opposite him.

"I've been resting the entire day." he eyed her tiredly. "I'm sick of resting. Especially since I can't rest without my painkillers!"

"I thought we already talked about that..."

"I thought so too! Didn't we already establish that my current physiology is the problem and not the drugs?"

She crossed her arms.

"No, we haven't. And I don't understand what did I do to deserve this treatment."

"You took my wand, that's what." he mumbled into his book. "And because of that, I had to suffer sexual harassment in the bathroom!"

Blood drained from her face.

"What... Who..."

"Moaning Myrtle, that's who!" he dropped the book to the table with a thud. "She was peeping at me again! And making lame innuendo, just like Lavender! Did you know she's spying on us in our dorm?"

Ironically, all it caused Hermione was relief.

"So, what did you need your wand for?" she asked politely.

"To exorcise her, of course!"

Hermione gaped at him.

"Do you know how...?"

"Nah, that's why I'm here. But at least I could've threatened her with it." he turned to his book again.

"You do realise it would be like murder, yes?"

He glanced at her unsurely.

"I thought it would send her to the afterlife or something."

"Then it wouldn't be much of a threat, would it?" she pointed out. "No, magical exorcism destroy a ghost, because wizards used to see them as abominations."

He closed the book and pushed it away. "That explains why I found it in the Restricted Section."

"You took it from the Restricted Section?" she gaped at him.

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"How... Why..." she pressed fingers into her temples. "Nevermind. Just tell me you're not going to use it."

"Of course not." he scoffed. "I'm offended you even have to ask that. Although it would be good to ward our dorm and bathrooms in some way..."

"Agreed. I know there's a way to banish ghosts from the castle, it was mentioned in 'Hogwarts, a History'..."

Somehow, he managed to distract Hermione enough to get her off his back about the painkillers, though she still was yet to give him his wand back. But hey, little progress was better than no progress, right? He really needed some progress after the last few days. Like, twelve days. Was twelve days a few days? It's almost two weeks, after all.

Wait, but the whole cycle was supposed to be four weeks, which meant he would soon be going through it all over again, even though it's not finished yet. He shuddered at the thought.

Day thirteen.

The bleeding stopped.

So it wasn't day thirteen. Not really.

"I love magic." he muttered while checking his not-bloody-but-still-disgustingly-dirty underwear. He threw it into his trunk like he always did.

"I see you're up early." Hermione commented, coming out of the bathroom (fully clothed, as any sane person should). "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, I feel great!"

"Then I guess you won't need any more potions." she smirked victoriously.

"Well, no, I still need my painkillers!" he protested. "My head is hurting, my heart is racing, I think I'm getting the chills..."

"That's still just the side-effects of overdose." Assuming, of course, that he wasn't making it up, which, to be fair, he was. He really just felt mild discomfort from feeling more than he'd like to.

He decided to drop it since she was clearly the unreasonable one here and he would be better off getting the meds himself.

"Are you going to give me my wand back?" he asked innocently.

"It depends, are you going to turn me into a cat or something?"

"No, Crookshanks would get jealous over your glorious fur." he deadpanned.

She smiled and fondled her curls.

"You really think it's glorious?"

"Of course." he said immediately. Only because he wanted his wand back already, okay? Honestly, what other reasons could he have?

"I know you're just saying that but thanks." she shoved him playfully. "Seriously though, show me you can handle your magic and not make anything blow up."

She passed him the wand which he tried not to grab too greedily (and failed).

"Don't worry, I'm the magic virtuoso." he flicked at his dirty underwear but realised he didn't know any laundry charms. "Uh, help me out a bit?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Try Scourgify. You'll want to take them out of your trunk, though, or you'll drown everything you have inside."

Following her instructions, he soon obtained some much-needed clean clothes.

"See? I can handle it."

"Okay, Merlin, let's get you to class then."

"Class? Oh, God, how can I ever survive it?"

Remember that thing about staring? Yeah, it was happening again.

"He lived! Again!" the Twins hailed his entrance to the Great Hall. "What torturous death did you defy this time, oh mighty Savoir?"

He tried to ignore them, although they were the more bearable ones. Their stupid jokes actually made him smile sometimes. Others were not as kind. Those he really tried to ignore.

"How are you feeling, mate?" Ron greeted him over a plateful of cupcakes.

"It's alright. I just had a cold, that's it."

Hermione elbowed him.

"Wizards don't get colds." she whispered in-between fake coughs.

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"You've had five years of education to notice how people just take a Pepper-up and are fine."

"And you nag me about potion abuse." he shook his head in disbelief.

"Must've been one hell of a cold." Ron said, completely oblivious to their interaction (or just choosing to ignore it so as not to be awkward). "So, how do you feel about a little game of chess later?"

"Totally, man, I'm gonna kick your ass." Harry promised.

"You're on."

Feeling relieved that his friend stopped being weird around him, Harry stole one of the cupcakes from his plate (like he used to before because Ron had a habit of taking every cupcake available).

That's when he got the letter.

"Dear Harry,

I guess that's a no about the samples. I'm saddened that you disapprove of available options but I can't say I'm surprised. Removing your internal organs just to avoid periodic suffering is not a good perspective.

As your Healer, I recommend the other option. I know you're concerned about your image but that's what illusions are for. I honestly believe this would be the healthiest way for you physically.

I understand your concerns but I know you're not happy with the current situation either so any choice you take I'd consider improvement.

Your Healer,

Katherine Johnson"

There goes his good day. Didn't she get it? He wanted the real thing, not an illusion.

Hermione glanced curiously at the letter in his hands but he crunched it up and stuffed in his pocket.

"It's nothing." he muttered angrily, completely failing to convince her of the statement. She didn't pry, though.

Saying he had no side effects from the lack of painkillers would be too generous. It wasn't like he curled up out of pain (not anymore) but there was a distinct discomfort between his legs, one he would eagerly drown in a vial of pain-relieving potion. It was all very distracting, the dull pain in his lap, the burning still lingering from whatever Hermione fed him, the way he felt his skin unstick from itself every time he shifted.

It was a miracle he didn't actually change Hermione into a cat in Transfiguration (caused by his growing anxiety every time McGonagall looked critically at his wand movements, which in turn stopped him from trying to cast ninety per cent of the time. Yes, McGonagall was a miracle). He knew he should just try to forget it but one does not simply not think of something, do they?

Thus, after the first period, when Hermione left him and Ron for Arithmancy, Harry slipped away from Ron with some lame excuse and went hunting.

Hunting, as in, trying to steal painkillers while Madame Pomphrey did her best to stop him.

One does not simply stop Harry Potter, though! Not when he's armed with an Invisibility Cloak and hidden under his wand. I mean... Yeah. Something to that end.

He slipped through the double doors to the Hospital Wing and sneaked past the beds. Luck had it that Madame Pomphrey was busy tending to Neville, who got hurt again thanks to his legendary luck, so Harry could get into her office and rummage through the cabinets undisturbed.

But there were some many damn potions. Most of the vials didn't even have labels on them and just stood in neat colour-coded rows. If only he knew the difference between lilac and mauve.

He tried to just Summon what he needed but the vials didn't budge. Eventually, he just used the Point-Me spell and took a few vials from the back of that row. Just in time because Pomphrey just entered the room.

She stared at (not so) empty space in front of her open cabinet. She approached with a frown and he ducked under her arm as she waved her wand to close it.

As I said, one does not simply stop Harry Potter. Not when he really wants something.

As any remotely sane person trying to hide their unsavoury deeds, Harry needed an excuse to tell his friends if they asked where he'd been, so he went to the owlery. It was due time he visited Hedwig anyway.

Having climbed the tower, he made sure no one was there with him and took out one of the vials.

"Don't judge me." he glared at the tawny owl staring at him from the nearest perch. "I'm in pain."

It tilted its head, still staring at him. He turned his back to the owl and downed the potion.

It gave near-instant relief. Now he could focus on the task on hand. Where was Hedwig?

He looked around but couldn't find her. Maybe she was on one of the higher perches? It would be uncharacteristic of her - she used to always sense him coming and wait to jump him the moment he entered. Was she feeling sick?

"Hedwig!" he called, stretching out one arm. She ought to hear him, fly down and land on the offered limb. She didn't.

He frowned.

"Have you seen Hedwig?" he asked the nearest owl. It stared back at him mutely and got to cleaning its feathers with its beak. "Yeah, I thought so."

What was he thinking, talking to another owl? Only Hedwig could really understand him. Their bond was special.

What happened to her? Was she still out hunting? Or was she mad that he neglected her lately? Well, he'd been bleeding for the past two weeks, so she can be mad all she wants.

He still needed answers though, so he lay his wand flat on his upturned palm and muttered: "Point Me, Hedwig."

It spun around in place and finally pointed out of the northern window. He sighed.

She was hunting. Wasn't that a relief? He didn't know what he'd do if she came to resent him.

She landed on the mountaintop, thoroughly exhausted. It didn't make any sense.

She was north. The was no more northern north than this. Snowy owls lived in snowy areas. Snowy areas were north. So where were the owls?

She had been flying around the area for what felt like an eternity. There was no one. Just some squirrels, a lone wildcat and the stupid seabirds.

She had hoped to find some of her kind but now she was alone. Stupid mail-magic. She could pinpoint the exact location of every wizard in the world but couldn't even find a single owl? What use was it? It's like those stupid wizards thought they were more important than them, can you imagine?

Anyway, she couldn't stay here. Not unless she wanted to lose her damn mind. The problem was, the only way she could think of now was to ask those seabirds, those uncultured swine, for directions. She must be losing it already.

Well, better not to lose anything else.

"So, Harry, ready to go to the Library?" Hermione asked when they finished dinner.

"Oh, yeah, just let me put my stuff away in the dorm and..."

"Wait a hot second, Harry promised to play chess with me!" Ron protested, indicating his already-set-up chessboard.

"He's right, I did promise him. See you in twenty minutes?"

"He'll beat you in five."

"Then we'll play four times!" Ron grinned.

"Alright, see you there." Hermione swatted his arm and left the Great Hall.

The game was on.

Ron took two pawns and mixed them behind his back, then offered in his fists closed.

Harry took the right one. He got whites.

"Okay, sooo... Pawn to e4."

The pawn hopped obediently, rapping against the board as it went.

"Pawn to e5." Ron responded. "So, uh, the weather is nice today."

"Pawn to d4. Uh, I guess? It was pretty warm in the owlery."

Why were they talking about the weather?

"Yeah, uh, how is Hedwig doing? Haven't seen her lately. Pawn to f6."

"She's fine. Hunting a lot. Uh, bishop to c4."

Seriously, what was wrong with this conversation?

"Errr, yeah, that's good, good... Knight to h6."

"Damn it, I hoped you wouldn't see that one."

"I see everything, mate." Ron smiled crookedly.

"Ugh, bishop to h6."

"Pawn to h6."

The pieces were having a bloody massacre on h6 while Ron asked:

"So, what it's like?"

Harry was still looking at the board deep in thought.

"Queen to h5. What's what like?"

"Oh, you know. Being a girl."

Harry looked up and gaped at his best male friend.

To be fair to Ron, he did his best to avoid the topic but the curiosity was simply eating him up inside (and never having been a particularly curious guy, he had no built-up resistance towards it). It was the longest conversation he held with his friend since before the Third Task and he just couldn't find it in himself to talk Quidditch and girls like usual, especially since his friend was a girl now. Hence the question.

Not that Harry considered any of that.

"What?" he asked eloquently.

Ron glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"You know." he whispered conspiratorially. "You're the only one to be both ways. If I asked Hermione, she'd shoot me down with 'I don't know, what's it like to be a guy?' So, like, what's the difference?"

Harry gaped at his friend. Seriously, what was wrong with that conversation? Couldn't they just enjoy a simple game of chess, which Harry was sure to lose, while talking Quidditch or laughing at Divination?

"It sucks." he finally said, focusing back on the game.

"Sucks?" Ron looked at him quizzically. "That's it?"

"Yes, that's it." Harry said. "It's your move."

"Er, knight to c6. Aren't you going to give me any details?"

"What details do you want, huh?" he snapped, pressing fingers into his temples.

"I don't know, you're the only one who..."

"You already said that!" he cut him off.

"I'm just curious." Ron raised his hands defensively. "I've never..."

"Really, what do you want me to say?!" Harry shrieked, drawing the attention of all the other stragglers scattered around the Hall. "You want me to talk about my bits? They're killing me every month! You want me to talk about my tits? Guess what, they're not as interesting as you might think, those damn things just hang awkwardly! You think my brain works differently? Surprise, motherfucker, it's exactly the same as yours, except mine is not in a gutter!"

Hannah Abbott began clapping but Harry shot her down with a glare. She froze mid-clap.

Harry looked at the chessboard as though it had personally slighted him and spat:

"Queen to f7." the white piece moved two fields across, ripped the sword out of the black king's hands and stabbed him with it. "Honestly, Ron, fuck you."

With that, Harry stood and strode out of the Great Hall.

"Oh, I want him to scold me like that too." moaned Myrtle, drifting up through the table and startling Ron, whose entire thought process could be summed up with:

"I said something wrong?"

"What did you find?"

First she heard the question, then the bag dropped on the table violently.

"It's been twenty minutes, Harry." she rolled her eyes. "It would be surprising if I found anything."

"Okay." Harry sat heavily next to her and took a book from her stack. The correct one, she noted with satisfaction.

"How was your game?" she asked conversationally.

"It was okay." he muttered.

"How many times did Ron beat you?" she teased.

"Zero." he said, not looking up from the book.

It did cause her to look up, though.

"You've won?"

"The disbelief in your voice wounds me." he joked surly. "Yes, I won. I'm capable of such feats."

Then, she caught him muttering to himself something that sounded a bit like:

"...wasn't that hard, he was so focused on his dick he forgot to think with his brain..."

Hermione wisely decided not to ask.

Admittedly, Harry had long known Ron to be kind of an idiot but this time the man had outdone himself. Harry found a new level of respect for Hermione's level of self-control. It had to be god-like for her not to hex the ginger into oblivion on a regular basis.

Hell-bent on not thinking about the idiot, Harry tried to focus on the reading, hoping to find anything remotely useful on the subject of genes but found it impossible. Not just because the wizards thought a gene was a wish-granting lamp-ghost, but because he couldn't take his mind off all the problems Ron reminded him of.

Stealing glances at Hermione, he wondered if she would be down to help him. He still remembered her explicitly telling him not to come crying when it hurts but on the other hand, didn't she already help him when he got sick? And wasn't she helping him now?

"I've been wondering..."

"Hmm?" she glanced up from her book.

"What did happen to me anyway? I mean, with the sickness and all that? I didn't really catch what you were saying."

"No surprise there, what with you being high all that time." he heard her mutter under her nose.

He waited until she stopped cursing him silently (not that she was doing that, but he would in her place).

"Well, it was a bladder infection." she eventually said.

"A bladder infection..." he frowned. "How did I get a bladder infection?"

And more importantly, what to do to avoid catching it again? He really didn't want to spend half his life bleeding from his crotch.

"I'm not sure actually." she admitted. "There's a couple of risk factors but you don't have any of them. So, bad luck?" she shrugged.

"You're telling me that I can get it through sheer bad luck?" he asked, terrified.

"I mean, what else's left?" she sighed. "Risk factors are simply about opportunities for the bacteria to get there or weakened immunity system. It's really down to bad luck, there's only so much we can do to avoid it."

"For example?"

"Well, the most basic thing is to drink a lot and pee often to flush out any possible bacteria from the urethra."

Harry blinked. He wasn't doing that. No matter what an ur-something was. He only used the bathroom twice a day. He was too embarrassed for anything more.

"People also say that it's better to shower than to bathe, especially if you bathe in bubbles."

Harry did bathe. A lot. With bubbles.

"And there's also the common advice not to use tampons because they can push the bacteria further in."

'Tampons. Huh.' Harry thought eloquently. His doubt must've shown on his face because Hermione asked:

"You're not using tampons, right?"

"Errr..." suddenly he did not have any issues focusing on the book. None at all.

"Harry?" she pressed uncertainly.

"Hermione?" he asked politely.

"Are you using tampons?"

"What are tampons?"

Hermione blinked at him. Several times. Very slowly.

"You don't know what tampons are."

"Yes, thank you for summing it up so accurately." he said irritably.

"Do you know what pads are?"

"Of course, it's the soft part of the chair." What was her point?

She pinched her nose and took a deep breath.

"You're not using anything to catch the discharge, are you?"

"What discharge?" he raised a brow.

"You know, the fluid that comes out of your bits."

"You mean the blood?"

"Yes, the blood!" she snapped. "I mean, it's not really blood, that is, not just blood, there's a lot of uterine lining in it, that's why it happens at all and are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I'm listening" which didn't mean he understood.

"Are you? Because it seems that last time I tried to explain this, you didn't hear anything at all."

He shrugged. "I wasn't trying then. Now I'm listening."

"Then what did I say?"

"There's something else in the blood."

"Uterine lining."

"Yeah, that." he nodded. "What's that?"

She shook her head in exasperation.

"Nevermind. What do you do about the fluid?"

"I wash it off?" he was growing more and more confused.

"But what if it drips out of your underwear?"

He shrugged again.

"There's not that much, you know."

She frowned a little.

"Okay, that makes sense. For your information, pads are flat pieces of absorbent material that you put in your underwear. Tampons are cylindrical and you put them inside your bits so that the fluid can't even flow out."

He shuddered.

"No, thanks. I'm not comfortable putting anything inside anything else." he didn't even want to think about it. And what if he needed to pee? Wasn't that the basic rule of hygiene Hermione mentioned?

"Many people aren't." Hermione nodded. "I use pads because I don't want my underwear to soak." she gave him a dubious look as if wondering what kind of person would allow it to happen to themselves.

He tried filing away all the information she threw at him as she rummaged in her bag.

"Here." she gave him a flat, soft packet, kind of like a package of tissues but wider. He took in gingerly.

"But Hermione, my bleeding stopped." he reminded her.

"And didn't you notice the fluids any other time of the month?"

Honestly, the whole area where his bits used to be was so alien and embarrassing to him, he didn't even think about it. It just generally felt icky and uncomfortable.

Thus, he shrugged again.

"Just wear them inside your underwear. If you don't know how, I can show you." she offered. "Believe me, this will help."

"Aren't you going to need them?" he asked, inspecting the drawn instructions on the strange package.

"I'll just have my parents send me more. It's not like I can take a whole year's supply on the Hogwarts Express." she rolled her eyes.

"Okay." he pocketed the packet, deciding to deal with it later. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

She looked thoughtfully into space.

"I think that's it... Because you remember to wipe front to back, right?"

"To do what?" he gaped.

Hermione shook her head with a sad smile.

"Honestly, I'm not even surprised."