CHAPTER 26: How To Get Away With Murder (Part 2)

Slytherin Common Room

3:35 a.m.

"You son of a bitch!" Blaise stepped right into his face. "We're in this shit because of you, and now what - you're getting shy about doing what's necessary to make sure we don't go down for this!"

"I'm not casting an unforgivable curse, Zabini! Even if I could, I WON'T."

"What in God's name did you dunderheads do?" A cold, silky voice called out from the other end of the room. Harry immediately froze, and he wasn't the only one who recognised it as the five of them turned towards the entrance of the common room where Severus Snape was standing, dressed in his signature black robes with Pansy Parkinson standing behind him, not looking the slightest bit ashamed about bringing a professor to their murder scene without consulting it with anyone.

There was a gut-wrenching silence as the five Slytherins stared at their Head of House. Harry suddenly became very aware of everything. He could feel Montague's body right behind him, the M he had carved on his face almost burning at him with guilt. The surrounding chaos, a display of the large battle that had taken place.

It was all there, all for Snape to easily view. But he wasn't. His focus was not on Montague or on the tarnished common room they were standing in. He wasn't even looking at any of the other Slytherins, instead, his cold black eyes were boring at his own. In all his years at Hogwarts, Harry had never seen Snape looking at someone, even at him, with as much hatred as he was right now. His chest tightened, as did his grip on his wand.

Not for the first time, he wondered how good a duellist Snape was, how much power he had. Harry knew he was powerful, extremely so, he had proven it against Montague when he had obliterated his shield earlier that evening. But Snape… there had always been an aura to him that concerned him, one that, at the moment, made him unsure on what to do. Would he be able to take the Potions Master by surprise? Or if he couldn't, could his spell overpower his shield like it had with Montague.

Hundreds of scenarios about how a duel between him and Snape would go down immediately flew into his mind. Would the others help him? Would they attempt to stop him? Would all of them be enough to beat him? Pansy. Would she help him or help Snape? She had proven herself to be pretty good, at least compared to most of the idiots at the DA, would she be enough to put a challenge to the others? Why had she brought him there?

A fire ignited in his chest as her betrayal became clearer. Was she trying to sell them out? Did she finally figure out that she couldn't help him? That he was too much hassle than was worth to her? Had he finally crossed the line? They were in too much trouble, too hard to fully clean up without ending up in Azkaban. Would it even matter if he attacked a professor anymore?

Harry blinked, it felt like it had been a millennium since Snape had spoken, but he wasn't sure. And then, the common room exploded.

"You brought Snape here!?"

"Are you mental!?"

"Pansy! What did you do!?"

"Silence!" Snape hissed, waving his hand and silencing Blaise, Draco, and Theo. Only Harry and Daphne, who had been too stunned to speak, were spared from their fate.

Snape continued to bear his rage down upon Harry until his eyes shifted towards Montague's limp body beside him, still set up against the wall. The professor sauntered towards him, the way his black cloak was billowing behind him, it looked more like he was gliding than walking.

"Professor, I've already-" Pansy tried, but stopped when Snape had ignored her.

Harry's head snapped towards Pansy, making her recoil slightly. There was still no shame in her, only a tiny glint of fear in her eyes. But Harry didn't care. The monster inside his chest, the one that had taken over during the duel, the one that had been in control when he had carved Montague's face and smiled. He had managed to take control a few moments after he had taken his retribution against Montague, and he could still remember the slight apprehension as he felt as everyone eyed him as if he was about to snap and shoot Unforgivables at everyone.

But as Harry marched towards Pansy, not a drop of misgiving.

"You brought Snape here!?" He snarled at her. "Are you trying to get me arrested!? What the fuck is your problem, Parkinson!?"

"My problem!? You arse, I'm trying to help you!"

"By ratting on me to Snape!? Snape, of all people!"

"He can help-"

"It's Snape!" Harry cut her off. "He HATES me! He'll probably ask for a first row seat and jumbo popcorn to see the dementors suck my soul by the end of this!"

A loud snort from behind him cause Harry to turn to see Snape glowering at him. "As usual, Potter, your arrogance makes you overestimate your worth to someone like me. I wouldn't waste my time watching you breathe a second longer than I'm obligated to, so keep quiet while I fix your mess, as usual."

Harry growled at that, any restraint he may have applied in any other situation ignored by the adrenaline in his system. Snape sneered and leaned in before whispering into his ear.

"I'd advise you let loose that grip on your wand and say 'Yes, Sir,' to anything I ask of you from now on unless you want to make a fool of yourself in front of all your… peers."

Harry clenched his jaw, forcing himself to not say anything, but refused to lower the force which with he was holding his wand. Thankfully, Snape didn't give him a chance to respond as he made his way to check on Madeleine Davis.

"I can't believe-"

"Shut it," Pansy snapped, seemingly grasping onto all her courage. "We're in this fuckery because you didn't trust Theo and me. And now, even after we proved our loyalty by saving your idiotic arse, risking our own skins to do it, you still don't trust me when I tell you Snape is going to help us!"

"How do you know?"

"I just do, okay?" Pansy said, grabbing his arm. "Are you gonna trust me? Or should I send Snape away and go right back to bed?"

What the fuck was she expecting him to answer? Yes, I'll trust you with my life, my soul, everything I still have left! It wasn't just that if anyone found out, he'd most likely spend the rest of his days in Azkaban! No, she brought Snape. Severus fucking Snape. If there was anyone who hated him more than Montague, it was bloody Snape. And now he knew. Would he even try to help him? Would he somehow use this to blackmail him? Somehow both!?

Pansy must've known. There was no one in the whole castle who wasn't aware of how much Snape hated Harry, the infamous Slytherin that Snape - Snape! - didn't treat with any favouritism. If there was a group of people Snape hated more than Gryffindors, Harry would still be hated more than them! And yet, she brought him here, and she's asking him to trust him!? Blindly! No explanations, no nothing!

Pansy gripped his arm tighter, and he finally looked at her eyes. There was a pleading edge behind the hardness they held. Maybe it was because she was just as involved in this shit with Montague and needed to make sure no one could trace it back to her. Perhaps she had just grown tired of his antics and was giving him a final chance before finally giving up on whatever they had. Whatever the case, he felt that the next words out of his mouth would define the rest of his life forever.

There would be no turning back, no second chances, no do-overs. Harry knew what the answer should be. He knew what would happen if he answered positively, and he knew what would happen if he answered negatively. His chest was clenching tightly, and he felt the need to grip something - anything - as tightly as possible.

Just because he knew what the correct answer was didn't mean it was anything other than unbearable.

"Yes," he struggled out, feeling as though he was tearing a dagger out of his heart. "I trust you."

The Entrance Hall

9:00 a.m.

The towering, wooden doors of the Entrance Hall creaked open on its own as Rufus Scrimgeour strode, flanked by almost a dozen Aurors. The sound echoed across the vacant courtyard as every adult felt the chilly November wind pass by intrusively. Three figures were waiting for them inside the castle's walls, standing primly with weary faces. Albus Dumbledore stood in the centre, wearing flashy yellow robes and standing taller than either woman on his side. Minerva McGonagall was to Dumbledore's right, wearing the lime green robes she favoured even forty years ago when she began teaching during his sixth year, distress emanating clearly from her. On the other side stood Dolores Umbridge, her bright pink robes contrasted by the grave look on her face.

In those few seconds, he would have before being forced to greet the three of them, Rufus quickly analysed them. McGonagall was the first out of his suspect list. It was her character, she was strict, just, naive - she would never aid in covering up a crime of the magnitude Madam Bones had described when she flooed his office, much less do the crime. Even in the middle of the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, McGonagall was a prime target for Death Eaters for many years, to the point where her large involvement in plenty of conflicts was slightly suspicious. And yet, not even in the most dire situations did she use any hex or curse that would cause permanent damage. She was a proper Gryffindor, one that would never do something a single person would consider morally wrong. "An admirable quality," many people echoed throughout the years. He wasn't one of them.

And then there were her fingertips, a slight coating of blood in them. No guilty person would forget to wash the incriminating stains before meeting with the Aurors. She was most likely the one that found the bodies, or perhaps she helped Madam Pomfrey. Then again, she was a Gryffindor. Only a Gryffindor would think that trying to trick the Aurors by incriminating themselves in such a way would be a cunning idea. Nevertheless, McGonagall wasn't that foolish.

His eyes turned towards Dolores Umbridge. He hadn't had the… pleasure of spending a substantial amount of time with her. He knew of her, of course. The Minister's right hand woman, one who held conservative views, just skirting outside the Death Eater agenda they had faced in the seventies. Though he certainly agreed with her in various issues - mainly her werewolf legislations, as well as her views on giants, centaurs, and merpeople which the progressive faction was too lenient on - she was too traditionalist for liking. Her view on Muggle-borns, specially her idea on a Muggle-born registration act, as well as the near tyrannical ideals she had for the Ministry and its power that would essentially make the Wizengamot obsolete.

Umbridge wasn't particularly liked by any faction. The progressives viewed her as a near Death Eater, while the conservative side was exceedingly against her agenda towards the Wizengamot. Nonetheless, she had somehow managed to continue climbing through the ranks, reaching the Minister's right hand by being one of the most dangerously informed individuals in Britain. She knew how polarizing a figure she was, and yet didn't seem to care. Quite the opposite, actually, she seemed to bask in managing to gain power while still being the most hated individual inside the Ministry.

And in just two months, she had garnered the same reputation inside the hallowed halls of Hogwarts from the reaction the Pure-bloods and Muggle-borns alike had. Her conservatism showed, not just in her classes and how she treated the children of the school, but also in her punishment during her detentions. There had been plenty of letters from parents, some even from students themselves, accusing the High Inquisitor of torturing them, demanding they react accordingly. Unfortunately, he'd been the one forced to remind the parents, plenty of whom sat at the Wizengamot, that Black Quills were perfectly legal given how corporal punishment, while looked down upon and not practised as vehemently as it used to be prior to the Grindelwald wars, was an option that professors from Hogwarts and any other Ministry school had at their disposal when it came to discipline their students.

Umbridge's body language, the victims being primarily Slytherin Pure-bloods, her request for Auror presence a few weeks ago, as well as the very brutal and obtrusive way the attacks were conducted removed her from Scrimgeour's suspect list.

Finally, he turned towards Dumbledore, someone who had been a thorn in his side for the past four years. For the past four years, Hogwarts had become increasingly unsafe. The scandal between Neville Longbottom and Quirinus Quirrell over Flamel's Philosopher's Stone had only been the beginning. The opening of the Chamber of Secrets only a year later, as well as Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban the following year and the subsequent Triwizard Tournament that had resulted in much danger for two of the students, culminating in Cedric Diggory's death. During all of this, it had been Dumbledore limiting the Ministry's interference inside the castle that had upset him.

It took four major incidents, as well as the tragedy that took place during the Third Task, that finally made the Ministry and Wizengamot remove some independence the school had and allowed for the instalment of the High Inquisitor as well as the new Educational Decrees. While he could see right through the Daily Prophet's campaign against Dumbledore and Longbottom, he had never been particularly in favour of the amount of power Albus held in the Wizarding World. But now with his titles as Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock removed, and his absolute control of Hogwarts gone, Scrimgeour couldn't help but think the darkest days had passed.

After this one, of course.

His eyes roamed the older man. Albus was a master of the mind arts, and a master at reading people and acting upon his analyses of them. He was smart, talented, and cunning - and someone Scrimgeour would never be able to fully trust. But even then, he knew Albus had nothing to do with this attack. He couldn't imagine any possible motive for why he'd attack a group of students, much less string them up in the Great Hall like they had been. Albus was a fierce warrior, and one that wasn't afraid of using his power in a duel - even if he had refused to cross the line and use dark magic or even kill someone through means that weren't considered dark. But he'd never done anything similar to this, it wasn't his style. It was more the likes of the Death Eaters and Voldemort rather than Dumbledore.

But still… there was something about the Headmaster who kept him in a state of unease.

"Albus," Rufus greeted gruffly, shaking his hand. "You should've let us come the previous week. We could've avoided this unpleasantness."

Albus sighed, holding his head down. It seemed genuine. "Believe me, Rufus, I wish it hadn't come to this."

"What do we know?" He asked, walking right past them after nodding to both McGonagall and Umbridge.

"Earlier this morning, at around seven thirty, Minerva entered the Great Hall and found the eight injured students hanging from the ceiling in different manners." Albus said as everyone followed him towards the Great Hall. "All of them injured, the extent varied from student to student. Most of them had mostly inconsequential injuries, unfortunately Mister Montague and Miss Davis weren't so lucky, they are still fighting for their lives."

"Are any of the students awake?"

"Yes, I believe some are-"

"Dawlish! Robards! Williamson! Tonks! Interview the injured students, see what you can find out."

"Yes, sir." The three men replied, and after a second of hesitancy, Tonks nodded as well before joining the four Aurors that had begun heading towards the infirmary.

Rufus filed Tonk's indecision for later. "Who are your main suspects?"

"Suspects?" Dumbledore repeated.

"You're a smart man," Scrimgeour almost snarled. "You must have so theories as to who did this."

"I am as in the dark as you are," Albus shrugged dejectedly. "My attention has been held elsewhere for the moment."

Umbridge made a sound of annoyance but didn't comment on anything.

Rufus stopped, whipping his head to face the Headmaster. "Well then, I figure it's in your best interest to start paying attention to your school, Albus. Savage! Proudfoot! Scamander! Runcorn! Get as much information as you can. Interview the portraits, the ghosts, the house-elves, the statues if you must! I want to know everything that happened in every second of the night in every corner of the castle."

The Aurors quickly scattered off right as Rufus and his companions were entering the Great Hall. He scoured the place, but nothing seemed amiss. It looked pristine, though that wasn't unexpected. If any spells were exchanged, it wasn't in this room. Which means that the bodies being here was either as a way to make a statement, or as a way to put it as far away from the assailant as possible. He examined the ropes that were still hanging from the roof at the other end of the hall.

He touched them, feeling their texture, it was a competent work of charms - as perfect as could be. Rufus recognised the ropes immediately, they were the result of a basic charm, one usually learnt by first years before Christmas break. The quality of them immediately removed any first or second years from his suspect list, though that would've been the case either way, given the number of students that were harmed as well as the extent of the injuries.

But using a first-year spell… any Gryffindor was out. It was a deliberate move to use a first-year spell, and Gryffindors were too brash to consider that right after an attack of this magnitude. Slytherins were cunning enough and Ravenclaws were smart enough, Hufflepuffs, being extremely detailed oriented, would also keep it in mind.

He couldn't waste any time, he had to keep everyone on their toes and catch them before they had time to calm down. "Wilkins! Shacklebolt! McLaggen! Do forensics on the scene, I want to know exactly what magic was used and where, and do it quickly. Albus, where are the students?"

"Confined to their common rooms, it was my intention to gather them here as soon as you were done with the investigation."

"Call them now," he said curtly. "And the staff as well. No one will be allowed to leave the Great Hall until I say so."

Slytherin Common Room

3:45 a.m.

"Explain," Snape intoned dangerously. He had just finished checking up on the older Davis, seemingly pleased with Pansy's efforts to keep everyone in the land of the living - even if just barely. Harry looked around the group, ignoring the blatant glares everyone was giving him. Just because he had stopped freaking out about Snape's involvement didn't mean he was going to say a word, after all. "Now!"

"It was Potter, Sir!" Draco spilled out.

"What!? No, it wasn't!" Theo defended him.

"You were the one that kidnapped me!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well, you were the psycho that carved Montague's face up!"

"Draco, shut up!" Pansy glared at him.

"You shut up! If it hadn't been for the four of you, none of this would've happened!"

"The four!?" Blaise snapped, getting involved in the conversation. "Don't get me involved in this shit!"

"You gave him your wand!" Draco retorted.

"My wand not the knife!"

"If anything it's Montague's fault, what did he expect bringing the knife?" Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Blame the near corpse, why don't you?" Draco sneered.

"Are you seriously defending Montague right now!?" Theo snarled. "Did you not see Harry's back!"

"That doesn't change the fact that Potter would've murdered him in cold blood! Hell, if we weren't here, he might have laughed while he did it!"

"Enemies of the Heir, beware, you'll be next, Mudbloods." Harry said coolly. "Don't fucking patronise me, Malfoy."

"Patronise!? I didn't grab a knife and mutilate every Mudblood in the castle!"

"You sure would've if you had thought you could get away with it."

"And you did it not caring you were gonna fuck us all over!"

"SILENCE!" Snape barked at them as he finally stopped trying to make sense of the chaos he had witnessed. "All of you are a disappointment to Slytherin house. You should be collected, thinking rather than running your mouths like some idiotic Gryffindors! Where's your cunning? Your versatility? Your sense of decorum?"

"Sense of decorum?" Blaise asked in disbelief. "The common room is littered with bodies of students - two of them almost dead - and you're chastising us about our sense of decorum!? Fuck that! We're all going to fucking Azkaban, what the fuck were you expecting!?"

"Hold your tongue, Zabini," Snape said coldly. "I am a teacher, your Head of House, and your only hope at not wasting the rest of your lives in the company of dementors. The next time anyone has any… discourteous comments anywhere in those miserable minds of yours, it's in your best interest from refraining on vocalizing them." He turned towards Harry.

Once everyone was silent for an extended period of time, the professor exhaled loudly. He rubbed his eyes with his hands as he evened out his breathing. Harry had never seen Snape lose his composure before. Oh, he'd seen him scream his lungs out, he'd seen him have no disregard any sense of decorum, much more than he'd seen him actually be polite. But it always felt controlled, every snide remark, every twitch of his lips, every glare always felt deliberate and intended. Until now.

"Miss Parkinson," he resumed shortly. "You are clearly the most sensible one of the lot, care to explain what's happening here."

"Professor, it's a long story, and we really don't-" She stopped when she saw the glowering Snape was giving her. She huffed, and Harry could tell she really wanted to roll her eyes, before she described everything that had happened over the past hour. She explained Harry's capture and the subsequent threats and torture he endured (at least the ones she knew of), Theo and Blaise's aid and the massive duel that took place, before describing in vivid detail Harry's assault on Montague and the ensuing mayhem between the six of them.

"Naturally," Snape sneered, finally sounding like himself again. "Potter's psychopathic tendencies - much like his father's before him - as well as his shortage of any common sense or self-preservation instincts turned what could've easily been explained as self-defence has now made this an attempted murder situation at best."

"My father was not a psychopath," Harry said irately. "And neither am I."

"A wonderful argument the Aurors will take into consideration as they row you to Azkaban, I assure you."

Harry opened his mouth, a barrage of insults at the tip of his tongue, before Pansy spoke up.

"Sir, we don't have much time. There has to be something we can do."

"Of course there is," Snape rolled his eyes. "There are plenty of solutions that could aid us in trying to make sure Potter doesn't end up a deadbeat criminal like his Godfather."

"Don't you dare compare me to him!" Harry snarled, the only thing stopping him from reaching his wand being Pansy hold of his arm.

"Harry, shut up." She said firmly.

"If we can fix this, then what are we waiting for!?" Blaise snapped, causing Draco to nod discretely.

"As I'm sure you know, this is a complex situation." Snape drawled. "There are too many variables and too little resources for us to use - specially given how in just over three hours the school will be up and about. And with the fearsome reputation Scrimgeour's Auror Department has garnered ever since he became the Head Auror… I am considering our options."

"Well then… can't you just- I don't know- consider faster!" Draco exclaimed with a crazed look in his eyes.

"Do you know memory charms?" Blaise asked as desperately as Draco. "A powerful confundus maybe? Or- or force them to make an Unbreakable Vow that prohibits them from saying shit."

"And the knife!" Theo added quickly. "It has Harry's signature, we have to do something to remove it!"

Snape quieted everyone with a glare. "I can't hear myself think with you dunderheads yelling in my ear." The professor sighed, and everyone was quiet for a moment, not daring to disturb him. None of them moved for over two minutes before Snape finally broke the silence. "That knife is gonna be… problematic."

"Sir?" Pansy asked.

"Nott, Zabini, Malfoy, you are to stay here and clean up the common room. I want it spotless, not even a grain of dust in sight."

"Clean?" Malfoy repeated. "That's servants work! Doesn't Hogwarts have like a thousand of them."

"And, pray tell, Mister Malfoy, what will you do once the Aurors ask the House-Elves if they saw anything suspicious."

"I- Well- We- They-" Draco shut his mouth once he realised there was no good answer.

"Potter, Greengrass, you two will go to Greenhouses Three, Five, Six, and Seven and retrieve certain crucial components. I trust you will manage a simple task such as that one?"

"Of course," Harry gritted his teeth when Pansy squeeze his arm painfully.

Daphne only nodded.

"I will give you a list." He turned towards Pansy. "Miss Parkinson, you'll be coming with me. I require your assistance personally."

"Yes, Sir."

"Professor, what's the plan?" Blaise asked, and Harry could tell he was forcing himself to be respectful.

"Spotless, Zabini," Snape answered before conjuring a piece of parchment, quill, and ink. He went to the nearest desk and began writing something.

"Can we even trust Snape?" Draco asked urgently. "He won't even tell us the plan!"

"I'm sure he'll tell us the moment he comes up with one." Theo sighed, the words turning the rest pale.

The Great Hall

10:15 a.m.

The cacophony surrounding them was almost unbearable. The Great Hall was much louder than usual, and that was a feat in it of itself. The long house table had been removed, exchanged for smaller tables that fit around eight people if they crammed into each other. Couches and armchairs from the rec room had been brought there, filling the vacant spots in between the group tables. Some seventh-year Muggle-born students from the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff houses had also taken upon themselves to transfigure some chairs into puffs for students to lay down in a more comfortable manner.

There were two lines that ran perpendicular across the centre of the hall, dividing it into four corners, were the students of each house were secluded to. All the teachers were also there, pacing around the edge of the room while keeping an eye on the students - breaking up fights and generally maintaining order. The area near the Head Table had been overtaken by the Aurors, who had congregated around it as they attentively gazed towards everyone in the hall.

It was disquieting whenever one of the Aurors gazed directly into you, it never failed to put Hermione on edge. She knew, logically, that she hadn't done anything illegal. Images of Rita Skeeter held captive in a transparent jar, the DA in the middle of a session, and Professor Snape accusing them of stealing from his private storeroom flashed in her mind, causing her to blush. Well, she hadn't done anything related to the Auror's investigation at the moment.

Rumours of what had happened travelled through Hogwarts faster than the Aurors arrival. Even though there hadn't been any contact between students of other houses and the teachers ignored their questions, somehow the entire student body had learnt of what the Gryffindors had encountered earlier this morning.

Any concerns for the midterms, the Quidditch matches that would start next week, and Umbridge in general had been thrown out the window as every conversation centred around the latest attack by what had been callously names The Ruthless Rogue - The Rogue for short. No one knew who started the name, but it had gotten around the student body before anyone bothered pointing out how inappropriate it was to give someone as dangerous as that a cute nickname (probably some Ravenclaw that wants to follow Skeeter's footsteps).

Because that was what he was. Dangerous. Unhinged. A criminal as bad as any other Death Eater. The rumours about the victim's injuries were gruesome. Some said that one of the boys was carved on the face. Others that some had lost arms and legs and would never be able to regrow them. If you were to ask some extremely pessimistic people, they would tell you half of the victims were already dead and the Aurors were hiding that fact. Hermione Granger was usually not one for rumours, but she had been there. Even though she was at the opposite side of the hall, she had seen enough to know what the school was saying wasn't that far off.

There were puddles of blood underneath where some victims had been hung, and Hermione did, in fact, see a bit of a cut in one of Slytherin's face. That and the obvious fact one of them had been missing a leg. Thinking about it made her brain hurt. For whatever reason, there was something nagging at her, something she was missing. But the more she thought about it, the more she was sure it was just her brain playing tricks.

But as much as she would want to figure that puzzle, mainly for her curiosity, that wasn't her priority at the moment. Her main concern was the actual identity of The Rogue. She was even referring to him like that now! Hermione shook her head, the thoughts inside her clouding whatever conversation Ron and Neville were having as the three of them were sitting in one of the tables.

She needed to figure out who it was, needed to stop them, rat them out to the Aurors if she must. Was this person a Death Eater? If so, why did they attack Slytherins? Not only Slytherins, but children of suspected Death Eaters! Were they trying to force their families to join You-Know-Who? Were they punishing them for some other reason? Would they attack Neville? Or try to find out information on him or the Order of the Phoenix as a whole?

The knowledge of the Order itself, which held a large amount of the secrets pertaining to Neville, was under a Fidelius Charm. But that didn't mean they couldn't find other vital information. Was this person a Slytherin? Or someone from another house? Were they friends or foes? Were they inside the DA? Did she see them whenever she walked down the halls? Would they attack her?

The questions attacked her mind faster than she could process them, which is why she was so on edge. She didn't think she could concentrate on helping Neville, much less any of her exams, until she was sure that they were safe. That this person wouldn't attack them. That they were in the deepest pits Azkaban had to offer. She knew that Neville could protect himself, that she and Ron could protect him. They trained for it heavily during the past year in hopes of getting Neville out of the tournament alive. They had become a well-oiled machine. Sirius himself had said that they were a ferocious team when they worked together.

But this person, whoever it was, was able to defeat almost ten students, all of them older than any of the three of them. Would they be able to beat someone like that? She wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure if they were able to beat someone like Harry.

Hermione kept constantly looking around her, trying to find out anything she could. Maybe she'd catch someone unaware if they thought no one was looking. The Gryffindors were rowdy but mostly harmless, though a part of her couldn't help but think that some should be in her suspects list, she didn't think anyone she's been living with could've done what had happened the previous night. Not even the likes of McLaggen. Whatever house rivalry, there was between Gryffindors and Slytherins, none would take it this far.

The Ravenclaws were subsided, most of them either reading books while wearing nervous expressions, or talking in whispers. She didn't think any of the Ravenclaws were the culprits either. They would go for a more subtle approach, potentially? And with how closely she'd been teaching them, she knew that most of them were extremely substandard when it came to the practical applications of DADA with aspects such as duels. It could've been an older student or one she didn't know, but she didn't think so.

The Hufflepuffs were the ones Hermione was conflicted with the most. They all had terrified or anxious expressions, but she couldn't quite figure out what they meant. Hufflepuffs were loyal to a fault, she didn't think they'd report a fellow Hufflepuff to the Aurors if they considered their house-mate a friend. Not only that, but Cedric's passing wasn't that long ago, perhaps they were seeking revenge from some outspoken students with Death Eater sympathies. But could they do something as vile and brutal as what had happened? Maybe. After all, even though there were plenty of Death Eaters from all houses, Death Eaters from Hufflepuff were the second most common, behind Death Eaters from Slytherin.

There was also the series of grave looks she'd seen Susan Bones give her over the past forty minutes. Was she trying to tell her something? Or was she worried she'd figure something out?

Then… there were the Slytherins. It was eerie how calm they were acting. Only the younger students seemed frightened by everything going on. Everyone else was either wearing a mask of indifference, or was looking thoughtful. She had attempted to catch Harry's eye various times, wishing for him to tell her what was going inside Slytherin house with the news, but she hadn't managed to. The paranoid part of her was beginning to think he was avoiding them.

He was also sitting alone, going over an unmarked tome without a care in the world. That certainly seemed strange to her, she constantly saw him with Parkinson and Nott by his side. And there had been times in September when he had hung out with Zabini, Malfoy, and Greengrass. But now, he was alone. They all were, as a matter of fact.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, causing her to quickly turn away from Harry and look at her two boys. They were staring at her with odd expressions. "What are you doing?"

She was blushing, she hated when she blushed. Had they startled her that much? "Looking for something," she replied primly.

"Looking for something?" Neville repeated.

Hermione sighed. "Yes. Something. Anything that might give us a clue as to who might have been behind the attack."

"Have you found anything?" Neville asked, sounding more like himself than in the previous two months.

"Not really," she said, forcing herself not to lose her temper. Neville was finally acting like Neville, she feared the slightest hint of annoyance from her might break him from whatever trance he was on.

"It was definitely a snake," Ron muttered darkly. "There's no way it was someone from another house."

"We don't know that, Ronald." Hermione snapped.

"You were staring at them just now, weren't you?"

"I… yes, but that doesn't mean anything! I've looked at every other house just as much."

"Looked for what?" A voice spoke from behind her, causing her to turn.

"Nothing," she replied to the Weasley twins, who had taken two of the empty chairs in their table.

"She's trying to figure out who was behind the attack," Neville answered, earning a glare from her.

"It was definitely a snake," George (or was it Fred?) echoed the words of his younger brother.

"Must all Weasleys hate Slytherins?"

"Yes!" The three of them answered.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Besides, we're not just saying that because we hate the gits," Fred (or is it actually George?" said. "It makes the most sense."

"And why is that?" She asked, despite actually agreeing with their statement.

"Besides the fact that the first rule of solving a murder is looking at the family and close friends first?" George asked pointedly. "Well, we were all at our respective common rooms when the attack happened. Unless a massive group of people broke curfew and a massive fight ended up happening here, it makes the most sense that it was a Slytherin."

"Besides," the other twin added. "Only a Slytherin could be so cruel. Did you hear? Montague was found with a massive gash on his face. Some even think it was from a cursed knife!"

"Those are just ru…" Hermione stopped. "What did you just say?"

Fred blinked. "That people think it was from a cursed knife?"

"Not that!" Hermione snapped, she could feel her brain working a mile a minute, her heart speeding up to match it.

"Where is he!?"

"What?"

"MONTAGUE! Where is he!?"

"G-Gone, he said something about meeting with Umbridge. Harry, we need to get you to the infirmary, you could be having a heart attack."

"It's not a heart attack… it's a panic attack."

Memories assaulted her mind. All the times she'd seen Harry glare at Montague from across the Great Hall. How Montague kept targeting him with the Bludger in the Quidditch try-outs. His presentation to the DA when he took out all the dummies in their first meeting. Her last conversation with Harry last night.

She snapped her head towards him, she could hear someone calling out her name, but it barely registered in her mind. Her full focus was on the Slytherin boy on the opposite side of the room, engrossed by his tome as he sat alone on one of the large tables.

No. She was jumping to conclusions. It couldn't be possible. Sure, Harry and Montague had a bit of a rivalry, but that didn't make him a killer. Besides, it was just rumours, she didn't even know if Montague was one of the victims… and she didn't dare to look. He was her… ally? Friend? Classmate? Acquaintance? She didn't really know, but she knew it couldn't have been him.

"You can bend over backwards trying to change him, save him, but he's a snake. He'll always be a snake. And if you three don't watch your backs, he won't hesitate to attack."

And then… he looked up at her. He'd been avoiding her, trying as hard as he could to not look at her, and now that he was, she could see why. She knew. She knew.

Oh, Harry. Her lip quivered involuntarily. "What have you done?"

Happy birthday to me! My gift to myself is finishing up this chapter, so I don't have any of the writing responsibilities on my shoulders for a few days!

I hope you liked the chapter! The intrigue continues now that Hermione figured it out! Next chapter the Aurors will begin their thorough investigation in present day as Harry, Daphne, Theo, Blaise, and Draco do what they're told in the flashbacks!

As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)

I've decided to open my own discord server! Please, feel free to join using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT