Hello! Well, we're in a new year and I have all my fingers crossed it will be a good one for everyone. Good grief, the last one was a dumpster fire to the highest degree for many of us. Anyway, here is another chapter and, again, my apologies for any typos. Thank you for reading and I hope everyone is having a wonderful day :)

It was still dark out when Hermione woke up. She was too excited to sleep any longer. The Great Hall wouldn't be open for another hour so she took her time getting ready then made her way down to the common room to write to her parents the first of many letters. When she finished, she slipped the letter into her robes, then rearranged her things in her bag for optimal efficiency and set off for the owlery.

The air was cold and crisp—her breath steaming in front of her as she huffed up the drafty stairs to the owlery. She could hear the soft chattering of the owls before she could see the entrance.

And the smell...

Just as she reached the entrance, a tall figure rounded the entranceway and almost bowled her over. She squeezed her eyes as she lost her footing. Luckily, the wall caught her before she could tumble down the stairs.

Her heart hammered in her chest.

"Well, excuse me!" she snapped. She turned to find Malfoy a few steps below her, staring up at her. Anger surged through her. "What the hell, Malfoy?"

His mouth tightened.

She shook out her robes, waiting for his retaliation. He was perfectly still, but his eyes were hard. They stood there and glared at each other, then the scar on her forearm prickled, like tiny pops of heat skittering across her skin. Her heart skipped. Slowly, she raised her arm and stared down at it through her sleeve. She looked back at Malfoy. His eyes widened and he turned abruptly, hurrying away.

She stood there for a moment, breathing hard. She pulled up her sleeve with a shaky hand. There it was—the scar—looking like it normally did, a bit faded but still legible. The skin was raised on the scar itself and slightly darker around the letters. She swallowed hard, trying to calm her breathing. She squeezed her hand into a tight fist.

It's early. I'm tired. It's nothing...

But Malfoy's reaction wasn't nothing. No insults or taunts. Just silence.

And something else.

Hermione was still shaken when she entered Professor Flitwick's classroom. She forced the anxiety down. There was a possibility she imagined the prickling feeling. Maybe her mind associated Malfoy with that horrible day. She could still see Bellatrix's face hovering above her, feel the knife slicing...

Stop.

Thinking about it wouldn't help. She needed to do what she did best, which was to cram as much information into her brain as she possibly could and forget her worries—at least temporarily.

Her day went smoothly after that. Until it was lunchtime and she saw Malfoy in the Great Hall. She avoided him again but she couldn't ignore the feeling.

She knew her scar wasn't a normal one. Every healing potion she had ever used seemed to aggravate it and it was impervious to any spells. One thing she was sure of was, she absolutely hated it.

She had researched it on her own but she didn't have much to work with. Now, she had access to Hogwarts' library and it was time for her to use it. Although, if she were being honest with herself, she suspected any answer would probably be buried in the restricted section.

It didn't matter. She would start her research tonight.

Without thinking, she glanced over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was chatting with a few of his classmates. He face looked relaxed, friendly. He appeared healthier too—the strong angles of his face softer, his skin brighter, extra weight on his lean frame.

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat and hoped her worries were nothing.

She was full from supper when she entered the library. The massive, wooden bookshelves looked unscathed and there were only a few bare spots where rows of books should be. Some of the paintings were missing along with most of the ornate rugs. All in all though, the library looked like it should.

She took a turn to the back of the library, hoping her favorite spot was still there. She smiled when she saw the familiar cluster of bookshelves. At the center of the cluster was her table—her own private little room made of books.

She sat down and breathed deeply. It even smelled the same—old parchment and dusty books. She sighed and began her homework, although she didn't have much considering it was the first day of class.

A half hour later, she rolled up the last of her assignments and got up to search the shelves in the medical section, selecting an enormous tome to take back to her table.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there reading, but her neck was sore and her eyes wouldn't focus on the pages anymore. She stood up and stretched, her back cracking loudly. Then, she closed the enormous tome and returned it to the shelf.

It wasn't surprising she didn't find any answers tonight, it always took time. She knew this but she couldn't help feeling disappointed as she gathered her things and left the comfort of the library.

It was close to curfew and the corridors were empty. She took in her surroundings, remembering this particular part of the castle sustaining incredible damage during the battle. Now it looked normal, untouched. She smiled to herself—magic really was wonderful.

Then she heard a noise. She stopped. There it was again—loud, angry voices. She cut across the a narrow hallway to investigate. When she turned the corner she found two young Gryffindor boys pointing their wands at a smaller, terrified Slytherin boy. They were...laughing. Mocking. One of the boys flung a stinging hex. It missed the young Slytherin's head by a hair.

She brandished her wand and raced toward them. "What in Merlin's name is going on here!"

All of them jumped to attention, their eyes wide.

"Well?" she growled.

Still silence.

She nodded once."Okay, no one wants to tell me? I'll have to come up with my own theories then." They all watched her warily.

"It looks to me here, that you two..." She pointed her wand at the Gryffindor boys. "Were bullying this young gentleman. Am I right?"

The boys cast their eyes to the ground. She turned to the young Slytherin. "Is that what happened?" she asked gently.

He swallowed and peered up at her, tears filling his eyes. Her heart clenched.

"It's okay to be scared," she said softly.

"Yes." His voice was barely a whisper. He cleared his throat. "Yes, that's what happened," he said louder.

Her jaw clenched. "Right." She pointed at the Gryffindor boys again. "What are your names?"

One boy tripped over his tongue to answer. "M-Melvin Happersnick, M-Ms. Granger."

"Sherman Maxwell," the other whispered.

She tapped her wand against her leg. "Okay, this is what's going to happen. I'm going to give your names to the Headmistress and there will be consequences. And, trust me, she will be merciless."

They both nodded quickly, backing away in an effort to escape.

"I'm not done yet!" she snapped.

They stopped, fidgeting on the spot.

"Now, listen carefully because I want to be crystal clear here." She took a step forward. "If I find you two ever harassing anyone again," she said, her voice soft and menacing. "I will make you regret it. Do I make myself clear?"

They both nodded like their lives depended on it and they looked so scared she almost felt sorry for them. Then, she turned to the Slytherin boy, who was so small and fearful it made her heart hurt. She ground her teeth.

"Now, you'll apologize to this young man," she said. "Then both of you will get out hell out of here."

They fell over each other apologizing to the young boy then fled down the dark corridors.

She slid her wand back into her robes and assessed the boy. He stared at her, his large, brown eyes so wide they looked like perfect circles.

She held out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."

He shook her hand then let go of it quickly.

"I know..." he said.

She smiled softly. "And your name is..."

"Oh," he said, surprised. "I-I'm Philip Barnacle."

"Nice to meet you." She stepped closer to him. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm not hurt, just..." His voice cracked and he looked away.

"They'll never bother you again," she said, hoping she sounded reassuring. "I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. But..." He shifted his feet uncertainly. "But it's not just me who is being targeted..."

"What?"

Philip blinked back tears. "Our house...the entire school seems to be coming after us."

It felt like a ball of ice had dropped in her belly. She had half a mind to chase after those boys and threaten them again. And not just them. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face.

"Well, Philip, it stops today," she said firmly. "And if you experience anymore harassment, tell the head of your house immediately. And come find me too." She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I will help you."

He smiled at her, small and tentative. "Thank you."

"Are you headed back to your common room?"

"Yes," he said, looking worried at the prospect.

"Would you like some company?"

At this he smiled fully. "Yes!"

They chatted as they made their way down to the dungeons. She learned that during the war, Philip's father was snatcher and was caught and convicted several weeks after the war. He was currently serving his life sentence in Azkaban. Philip and his his little sister had escaped to Germany with their mother—only now with their father incarcerated, did they feel safe enough to come out of hiding.

He was a sweet kid, especially one who had such a difficult upbringing. He was thrilled being in Slytherin, although he would've been happy—until today—if he were sorted into Gryffindor. She smiled at him as he peppered her with questions, his curiosity and enthusiasm infectious.

The smell of cold, damp stone greeted them as they descended down into the dungeons. She was in the middle of asking about his classes when she saw Malfoy marching toward them. He stopped several feet away and eyed her suspiciously.

"Philip," he said, keeping his tone light. "You okay, mate?"

"Yes!" Philip said excitedly.

Malfoy nodded once. "Good. Why don't you come over here."

Philip walked over to Malfoy's side then Malfoy moved in front of him...like he was protecting him.

From her?

Hermione gaped at him.

"What took you so long?" Malfoy asked, his eyes shifting from Philip to Hermione.

Breathlessly, Philip recounted the incident with the two Gryffindor boys. As Malfoy listened, Hermione could see the growing dismay on his face. When Philip was done, Malfoy glared at her accusingly.

"Gryffindors! Always classy," he spat out.

She almost choked at his gall.

How dare he!

"Gryffindors?" she snapped, glaring back at him.

Draco's wand hand twitched. Instinctively, Hermione shifted her stance, her hand inching toward her own wand. If he wanted a duel, she was more than bloody well ready! Then she glanced down at Philip who stared at them worriedly. She swallowed her anger.

"I handled it, Malfoy," she said as calmly as she could.

His eyebrows shot up. "Handled it? How?"

She took a deep breath and hoped her patience held. "I threatened them. A tactic I'm sure you can appreciate." Her tone was light but she couldn't keep the edge out of her voice. "Also, I'm reporting them to the headmistress and they will be disciplined."

"Really?" he scoffed. " What about the other Slytherins? We're already being singled out. Especially by your house!"

"It will be taken care of," she said, the feeling of punching him at an all time high. "I promise you."

"I'm holding you to your word, Granger," he said icily.

"You don't ever have to worry about my word, Malfoy. Trust me on that," she shot back.

He glared at her then placed a hand on Philip's shoulder. "Come on, mate," he said smiling stiffly. "We were getting worried about you."

Philip peered up at her. "Good night, Hermione. And thank you."

She smiled at him. "You're welcome, Philip. It was nice to meet you."

She watched them walk away, fuming over Malfoy's behavior—like she should even be surprised he was still a raging git.

She had a half a mind to follow him and tell him off when, suddenly, her arm began to tingle. Her heart stopped. She pulled up her sleeve. It looked okay.

Then, it started to burn.

She stumbled back into a wall and cried out. It felt like white-hot electricity was shooting up her arm. Her skin was on fire. Hot tears sprang up in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks.

Then, slowly, the burning subsided, leaving only the slightest heat underneath her sleeve. Her heart was racing—her body shaking. She stared down at her arm.

The scar was bright red. It looked...fresh.

Her stomach turned. She glanced down the corridor. Malfoy and Philip were out of sight. She struggled to calm her breathing while she cradled her arm to her chest. Her tears were cold on her cheeks.

It was Malfoy. He did that!

Her mind was spinning. What was he playing at? Retribution? For her being a Muggleborn?

Suddenly, her brain snapped into focus. A cold rage swelled in her chest—an old bitterness that started from years of taunts and peaked with his aunt's torture.

He did that to her. She would find out how. And when she did, she would force him to tell her why.

And then she would make him pay. That was a promise she intended to keep.

Hermione burst through the Gryffindor common room, her heart hammering in her chest. She stormed over to Neville who was studying by himself at a small table.

"Where's Ginny?" she demanded.

Neville almost jumped out of his chair in surprise. "Bloody hell, Hermione, you scared me half to—" His voice died when he looked at her. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking like he may spring into action.

"What? Yes, of course," she said, trying to sound calm.

Neville eyed her worriedly.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Neville," she said as reassuringly as she could. "I just forgot to tell Ginny something, is all."

He glanced around. "Well, she was here, but that was awhile ago." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I can help you look for her if you like."

"Oh, that's okay. She'll turn up."

She gave him an awkward wave and walked to the girls dormitory staircase as casually as she could. As soon as she was out of sight, she sprinted up the stairs and raced to her trunk. She flipped the lid, rifling through her things and found the Marauders Map. Her eyes scanned the map and until she finally found Ginny. She was still in Gryffindor tower, tucked away in quiet corridor next to the common room.

Hermione made her way down there, walking through a narrow hallway then down a flight of short, curved stairs.

There was Ginny, sitting at the bottom of the last step.

"Ginny?" Hermione called out.

Ginny's back stiffened. She sniffled and wiped her face with her hands.

Hermione froze. Her heart fell. She took a deep breath and climbed down the stairs and sat next to Ginny.

Ginny's hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, her face red and tear-stained. Hermione's chest hurt. She almost asked Ginny if she was okay but realized how stupid that sounded. Of course she wasn't okay. Instead, she pulled her knees up and sat quietly.

"It's...it's Fred," Ginny finally said. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

Hermione pulled out her wand and flicked it upward. The air above them shimmered, then a delicate, white handkerchief materialized and floated down into Ginny's hand.

Ginny smiled gratefully and wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath, like she was steeling herself.

"All summer long I had to be strong for my parents, for my brothers," Ginny said. "They were the one's falling apart. Ron helped, of course, but there were moments he couldn't. It was too hard. And my mum and dad...their hearts..." She looked at Hermione helplessly. "I don't know what I would have done without you and Harry."

Hermione remembered those days. When it seemed the only thing everyone could manage was to grieve. There were times Ron couldn't speak. He would just sit there, numb.

"How do we do this?" Ginny pleaded. "I dream about Fred almost every night. And it's always about mundane things—eating breakfast together, playing quidditch in the backyard. Moments I took for granted. And then I..." She let a shaky breath and looked at Hermione. "I wake up and remember he's gone all over again and..."

Hermione's eyes burned, tears threatening to overflow.

"Great. Now I'm making you cry too," Ginny said, her voice breaking.

"It's okay, Ginny," Hermione said with a small smile.

Ginny tried to smile too but her face seemed physically unable to.

"I thought coming here to Hogwarts, was going to make things easier. To focus on something—take my mind off of...but everyone's asking how I'm doing and telling me how sorry they are." She glanced down at her hands fiddling with the handkerchief. "It just brings everything up again and I can't get away from it. And to top it off, I miss Harry so much..."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered.

She scooted closer to Ginny and put an arm around her. Ginny's expression crumpled and she leaned into Hermione, burying her face in her shoulder. She body shook as she cried softly. Hermione hugged her tight, remembering Ron's grief and how none of Hermione's words had helped in those moments. Instead, she held Ginny and, after awhile, Ginny's tears subsided.

Ginny took a deep breath and straightened up. Then she blew her nose. Finally, she looked at Hermione, her eyes red and puffy.

"I know I look terrible," Ginny said.

Hermione smiled. "That is not possible."

Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled back. "I feel better. Thank you."

"Of course. Anytime you need to talk, come find me." She peered up into Ginny's face. "Okay?"

Ginny pulled away and nodded, sniffling loudly.

Hermione smiled at her but the memory of what happened with Malfoy dropped like a weight in her belly.

It must have shown on Hermione's face because Ginny looked at her closely. "What's going on?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head. "It's...nothing. I'll tell you later—when it's a better time."

"No, Hermione," Ginny said firmly. "I can tell something is bothering you. What happened?"

Hermione glanced at Ginny who had that determined look on her face, specifically the scary one she had inherited from her mother. She hesitated for a moment, her heart skipping, remembering how badly her scar had burned. And the panic.

Hermione spilled everything—from the moment after the train, to the encounter outside of the owlery and finally, the confrontation with him in the dungeons.

Ginny's face was deadly serious. "And you think he's responsible?"

"How can he not be?" Hermione said, her voice rising. "But..." She paused.

"You're not totally sure, are you?" Ginny said gently. She sighed. "I don't blame you. Magical scars can be tricky, especially ones created by dark magic. Look at Harry's." She glanced at Hermione. "I'm assuming you've researched it already?"

Hermione gave her a look. "Have you met me?"

Ginny laughed—the first real laugh Hermione had heard from her in awhile. "Yes, a very dumb question on my part. Well, two pairs of eyes are better than one."

"Two pairs?"

"Yes, Hermione, that's my way of saying that I'm helping you."

"Ginny, with Quidditch and your prefect duties—"

"Hermione, I swear on Merlin's wand, if you even try to tell me not to help, I will lose it!"

Hermione snapped her mouth shut.

"Are you planning on telling Harry and Ron what's going on?" Ginny asked.

"Not yet." She gave Ginny a look.

Ginny snorted. "Yeah, they would probably storm the castle and hex Malfoy into oblivion if you did."

Hermione glanced down at her hands, her stomach twisting. "I thought I was over that night—over Bellatrix. Then...when I felt my scar burn, I was right back on that floor. Scared and helpless." She squeezed her hands into fists. "And angry—so angry."

"Of course, you were," Ginny said. "We'll figure it out." She watched Hermione carefully. "We will. And, if he's at fault, we'll report him to McGonagall." A small smile appeared on her face. "Or, we'll hex his bollocks off. Whichever we feel like doing at the time."

A surprised laugh burst from Hermione. She shook her head and grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

Hermione stared at the squat gargoyle guarding the entranceway to the headmistress's office. She was lucky to catch McGonagall after breakfast to request a meeting.

Breakfast...

Hermione's stomach growled at the thought. She hoped there would be enough time for her to grab lunch. Gazing into the fierce eyes of the gargoyle, she murmured, "Buttercup."

The ground rumbled as the gargoyle retreated backward, revealing the familiar curved staircase. She climbed the stairs and pushed through the thick wooden door.

The office was how she remembered—the bones of the room were the same, all curves and beautiful moldings and windows. The same portraits of former headmasters hung on the wall, but the whirling, little trinkets Dumbledore was so fond of were gone. Instead, seemingly random objects were perched on pedestals protected by thick glass, like a museum: a lady's shoe from the 18th century, a series of gleaming African masks and a dozen other items, but what captured Hermione's attention was a massive glass terrarium in the center of the room.

It was set on a roughly cut stone table, its six sides forming a hexagon. The flat top of the terrarium reached Hermione's chest and it was as wide as Hagrid's shoulders. It glowed warmly, as if it had its own inner radiance—its own atmosphere—and incased inside it was a intricate, miniature landscape.

Hermione approached it, mesmerized by its beautiful details. A deep, blue lake sparkled in the middle of it, its shores lapping against a rocky beach. Surrounding the lake were golden, rolling hills and beyond that, thick clumps of evergreen woods.

A movement caught her eye. She gasped.

A tiny deer!

It walked carefully out from the woods and approached the shores of the lake.

"Incredible, isn't it, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione jumped and turned. The headmistress stood behind her, smiling.

"Yes, very," Hermione said, returning her smile.

"Here," McGonagall said, moving closer to the terrarium.

She held a large magnifying glass, framed by two brass handles. It was as big as Hermione's head, with four little, rubber feet. McGonagall gently set it down on top of the terrarium. Hermione shifted closer and peered down into the magnifying glass. The deer was enlarged in exquisite detail. Its fur shivered as it glanced around. Then, it looked directly up at Hermione, blinked once and dashed back into the trees.

Hermione let out a breath. "Brilliant."

"A gift. From my mother," McGonagall said simply. "She made it for me, many, many years ago."

"It's..." Hermione paused, "...perfect." She glanced around the room at all the various, seemingly odd items, knowing that each one has some kind of important, historical significance.

"What can I help you with, Ms. Granger?" McGonagall asked, her usual brusqueness returning.

Hermione tore her eyes away from a sinister looking axe.

Carefully, She recounted the bullying incident between the two Gryffindors and the younger Slytherin. She gave them their names and what she said to them. She even told McGonagall her exchange with Malfoy, careful to leave out the details of her scar.

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. "You were right to report this to me. We need to stop any conflicts before they escalate and cannot be contained."

She tapped a finger on her chin, her brow furrowed. "I will talk to these boys, of course, but I will also discuss this with Professor Slughorn. I may bring Malfoy into the discussions as well. It seems he has stepped into the role of a protector?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "He did seem protective of Philip and the other Slytherins," she managed to say without growling. "I've also discussed this issue with Neville and a few of my housemates. We'll have a common room meeting tonight and, I can assure you, this will not happen again."

"I don't doubt it, Mr. Granger," McGonagall said, smiling. "Oh, before I forget, I wanted to ask you something. In a few weeks time, I will need assistance organizing my old lessons. With the castle renovating itself and the move into a new office, I'm afraid things are a bit of a mess. Is that something that would interest you?"

"Interest me—yes, of course, Professor!" Hermione said, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

"Good." The headmistress straightened out her robes. "Now if that is all, Ms. Granger, there are other matters I must attend to."

Hermione nodded and said goodbye. Darting down the stairs, she hoped she had enough time for lunch. Just as she entered the corridor, she saw Malfoy's white-blond hair round the corner and head toward her direction. She scrambled behind a nook, catching a glimpse of his profile as he passed her. Her heart was pounding and she had the overwhelming urge to snatch up her wand and corner him.

Make him talk.

She ignored the urge. Confronting him would do no good. He was much too slippery. She needed to research and prepare.

Then, she would make him talk.