.

So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Neville, Luna, and the Weasleys while young and, though Voldemort died early, she formed the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption. Now the youngsters are starting at Hogwarts, she has contacted the most trusted members of the old D.A. to form CREST: a new study/defence group. But a ruthless half-hag bodyguard has been assigned to protect Harry in his first year. Now read on...

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Chapter 35

Settling In


.

First Breakfast

At breakfast the morning after their arrival at Hogwarts, Harry was pleased to discover his schedule was headed with the correct surname. "See?" he grinned at his friends, who were still tweaking and adjusting to their new school clothes and squeaky leather shoes not yet broken in.

"McGonagall must have sorted it out for ordinary documents," said Hermione, eagerly perusing her own timetable and finding it identical to the one in her former life. "It's only the Book of Admittance that uses old magic and has you down as a Black."

"Yes, but I'm still getting some funny looks. It's unfair! Just because some of the Blacks went dark, doesn't mean my family is."

"It's more that you're the Boy-who-lived, Harry. You survived Voldemort, and he was killed – that was–"

"No, I'm used to that. This is different."

She looked around the Great Hall, but the students were busy scoffing hot buttered toast, sausages, crispy bacon sandwiches, cornflakes, and copious amounts of juice and tea, all from medieval-looking plates, dishes and goblets of porcelain, pewter or silver gilt. But not Draco, she noticed. Maybe he was annoyed that the gold service was only brought out for special feasts, because the arrogant boy appeared to have brought his own very smart chalice of silver fused with darkest crystal. He was deep in conversation with Blaise Zabini, but Crabbe and Goyle were not far away. Zabini was shaking his head. For a moment, Hermione thought he was pressing buttons on a mobile phone but for a Muggle-hater like him, that was as likely as Voldemort coming back from hell to beg forgiveness. No, probably Zabini was checking a notebook. A self-reliant loner, she recalled him being as meticulous at organising his day as she was herself. "No, Harry, I can't see anyone looking oddly at you – no more than usual, anyway, girls swooning, that sort of thing."

She giggled, but Harry was pointing upwards. "Owls!"

A very large tawny made a beeline for Hermione, fanning Neville's crispies all over the table with its huge wings. She took the Daily Prophet it had delivered, popped a coin in its pouch, then absently pushed the remnants of her bacon sandwich towards the hopeful bird while letting her eyes skim across the latest headings.

"Anything?" said Harry. "Wait, I know, the famous Harry Black has started at Hogwarts?"

She shook her bushy head and riffled through a few more pages. "Hullo, Bagshot's gone walkabout again."

"Who?"

"Bathilda – oh, Harry, haven't you even looked at the book in the top of your bag? Bathilda Bagshot wrote A History of Magic."

"What about her?"

"She travels a lot – you know, researching for new books. Often disappears for months. Been nearly a year this time though."

Ron forked another sausage into his mouth. "Dey reckob she discubbered Burlin's Obbyx – dab's why she's so goob."

"Merlin's Onyx – yes, I heard that too," said Hermione, well-used to translating Ron's mouthfuls, "though others recite, 'Merlin that and Merlin thith – don't you know it's just a myth?'"

But Harry wasn't really listening. There were exciting lessons to go to and a whole new life to experience...

.

Dusty Binns

For Hermione, the first week at Hogwarts was a mixture of delights and drably wasted time: reliving a part of her life she had mostly enjoyed, but also re-attending lessons on subjects she already knew in great detail – that was less than interesting. None more so than History.

One of the wizard illustrations in her Tutomee book whispered, "I can't believe how monotonous this teacher actually is. I mean, I've got nothing against ghosts but he's putting them to sleep with his lack of method! I doubt they'll remember one tenth of what he's saying come test time."

Hermione nodded. "So you think you and your associates can teach them in half the time?"

"Especially with your help, yes, and they'll remember virtually everything because students will revise as they go along, and I will prompt and coach them and help them instead of mindlessly reciting an avalanche of information and leaving them to teach themselves."

"Right. ... Harry, are you ready to start trialing this? I promised Mrs Lovegood we would."

Harry closed his eyes and let his head droop in feigned sleep. "Mmm... eh, what? Sorry, I must have dozed off. Yes, I'll give it a try. Anything's better than dusty old Binns."

Hermione punched him playfully on the arm. "Good, you can study it during the first half of his classes then relax or do Charms homework or whatever you like the rest of the time."

But as Hermione handed him the Tutomee, Daggard, who had been standing behind them and edging closer, grabbed it and began thumbing through the pages. Only when her wand satisfied the half-hag that there was no dark magic involved, did she permit Harry to take it, and backed off.

Nothing is going to be easy, Hermione sighed to herself.

.

The Night Watch

"Aculus, Aculus? I know you're there..." whispered Hermione. The many birds in the owlery obscured the raven's position but Hermione could sense her familiar's presence.

"I am, Mistress. At the window on your right. Have you a task for me already?"

"I have, but first, anything to report?"

"The shop in Knockturn Alley remains as bland and slow in trade as ever. I have occasionally sensed movement inside as the owners arrive and depart by their own Floo connection."

"I see. Perhaps while you're here at Hogwarts it will be sufficient to check Knockturn only once or twice a month? I have something more important to concern us."

"Which is?"

"No doubt you have perceived Harry's new bodyguard, Steff Daggard?"

"I have, and sense evil."

"Yes, I do not trust her either. At least I'm with Harry most of the day so I can keep my eye on her then. It's at night that I have trouble getting to sleep worrying. She watches him continuously, and I don't know what to think. I know she's capable of terrible acts but I'm unable to determine the real risk to Harry and others. It would put my mind at ease if you kept watch."

"I shall do as you ask, Mistress, but access might be difficult. The nights will be getting cooler soon and I doubt the other boys will appreciate a window being left open."

"You're right. Try the chimney."

"And later in the year? When there's a fire in the hearth?"

"The elves light the dormitory fires early in the evening but allow them to die out after the students retire, only relighting them early in the morning before they arise. If ever you cannot enter, then tap on my window once and I'll bring you in."

"Very well. Let it so be."

"Let it so be," repeated Hermione.

.

Professor Quirrell

Midweek brought the first Defence against the Dark Arts class, and as they gathered outside the classroom, Hermione spoke in a low voice to the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor members of Crest who were sharing the lessons, "Take great care. Remember, I've told you Professor Quirrell was regarded as timid and second-rate but he always had a desire to prove his standing in the world, so he's been away for an entire year gaining experience and learning from... who knows? I mean, he might have been influenced by dark ideas – we can't be sure. I do know he's capable of wickedness if pushed. There's no cause for concern in class, but keep your eyes open and share with us anything you think is suspicious about him."

Terry and Michael exchanged worried frowns. Padma squeezed Parvati's hand to reassure her. Neville simply looked thoughtful but Hannah was anxiously biting her lip. Magic was still new to her, and Hogwarts remained rather daunting.

Hermione realised she'd overstated the danger. They were all still so young. "I promise you there's no need for you to worry. Even if his motives are in doubt, he won't be interested in harming any of us. None of you are in danger, honestly." She tried not to look Harry in the eye as she said that, but anyway, it was doubtful Quirrell could overcome the constantly-vigilant Steff Daggard if he tried to harm the boy.

"Look," she said, deciding to take a stand, "if you trust anything I've ever said, then trust this: Each of you is special. That's why I picked you. Even when you're nervous, not one of you is a coward. Inwardly, I've seen everyone of you reject fear and do the right thing." She did not add, and saw you die doing it.

Slightly relieved by Hermione's words, their shoulders relaxed – then immediately stiffened as Quirrell himself appeared at the classroom door.

"Come in please and take out your first-year textbook."

His speech was without any sign of a stutter and Hermione had to remind herself that in her previous life, Quirrell's impediment had only been a ploy used like her own lisp to allay suspicions and reinforce the belief that he was still nervous. So... is he no longer jumpy? Hermione asked herself.

Daggard took up her usual position against the sidewall nearest to Harry and, as ever, appeared very alert. Hermione wondered when she ever slept.

Quirrell spoke in a neutral but not boring manner. "Your first-year classes and homework will generally be eight-five percent theory and the rest practical," – Hermione groaned inwardly – "but that proportion will gradually reverse through your years at Hogwarts. Please turn to chapter one."

Hermione's expression lifted somewhat. What Quirrell had said did make good sense, at least for normal first-years. She nodded at Harry as they opened their books. She knew the entire text back to front, but that meant she'd have lots of free time to observe.

But there was little to note over the next hour except that Quirrell's lessons promised to be quite reasonable, informative, and a good introduction to the subject. Perhaps he'd gained both confidence and good intentions from his year-long sabbatical. That remains to be seen, thought the mistrustful Miss Granger.

.

Professor Snape

But for Hermione, Professor Snape's attitude was always going to be the one in which she was most concerned. Would he, like Quirrell, behave differently now?

Her hopes were quickly brushed aside. The atmosphere down in the dungeon classroom didn't help one's mood. It was cool despite the final days of summer remaining warm in the rest of the castle, and sharing the lesson with Slytherins didn't help. Hermione noticed that Neville took a seat near the back on the far side of Ron – as distant and as obscured from Daphne Greengrass at front left as was possible without using a bus ticket. It was a pity he didn't know that Daphne's memory of his awful debagging had been erased, and there was no way for Hermione to tell him without embarrassing the poor boy even more.

As Snape strode through the class from the back, his stride paused very briefly as he passed Harry then he diverged towards one of his many ingredient shelves against a sidewall where he lovingly stroked a jar containing a slimy pickled creature.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity."

Ron sniggered loudly causing Dean to giggle too. The laughter from several Slytherins and Crabbe braying obscured the direction so that when Snape whirled around he was unsure of the source.

"Potter! We're not here for your amusement. Five points from Gryffindor!"

"But I didn't–"

"Silence! Did I ask you to speak? Make that TEN points!" Snape began to turn away, but without warning he rounded on the unfortunate boy again. "Tell me, Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Erm... would you get the worms, sir?"

Ron, Dean, and even Neville were now clutching their sides trying to hold in their laughter, but Hermione groaned inwardly. Harry had ignored everything they had prepared about being neutral and non-confrontational – perhaps it was her fault for joking on the train. At least she kept her own hand down.

Snape's demeanour became very dark. "TWENTY POINTS from Gryffindor. Any more of your cheek, Potter, and you'll serve a detention scraping last year's cauldrons."

The sneering, scathing bitterness finally conveyed itself to the boys and they realised the teacher was serious. The unfairness of his attitude provoked their frustration and anger. Harry at last accepted Hermione's cautions and he stifled a scowl with an expression of neutral resignation.

But Snape wasn't the only one there sneering at Harry. When Hermione glanced around she noticed Steff Daggard had enjoyed seeing Harry put in his place by an expert player who held all the trump cards. I wonder what she'd do if Snape tried to curse Harry? Or tamper dangerously with his potion? Hermione thought deeply about that. Would Daggard anticipate Snape and strike him first? She was said to have been a very fine Auror indeed, but anyone seriously harming Harry would cause the hag's death. No, Daggard wouldn't stand by if Snape threatened anything really nasty to Harry. If there could be an immediate response it would be measured but very unpleasant for Snape – otherwise, Hermione suspected the Potion Master might be found one grey morning, 'accidentally' boiled overnight in his largest cauldron. The teacher had no idea of the danger he was in.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the lesson continued. Snape made them work in pairs. Neville was glad now he'd sat far away from Daphne. He and Ron were well matched and had Hermione's preparations to guide them through. It still amazed them how she so often knew what to expect.

Snape had set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticising almost everyone except the Slytherins who, it seemed, could do no wrong.

Fortunately, Harry, Neville and Ron, being already prepared for these first-year potions, there wasn't much to complain about. In particular, Hermione vividly remembered how Neville had seriously bodged his effort in her previous life, finishing up in the hospital wing while Harry had been blamed for not warning Neville to take the cauldron off the fire before adding porcupine quills to the mix.

Hermione studied Neville's face. He was clearly annoyed at Snape's jibes but not nervous – a vast improvement, she considered, but more was needed to apply his natural courage to overcoming a nervousness of certain types of girl. The first weekend began tomorrow; there'd be plenty of free time for Crest to have their initial meeting at school – but first she needed to find a suitable room...

.

Nocturnal Evasion

After buttoning up his pyjama top, Harry scrabbled through his travel chest, then his school bag which lay on his bed, then back to his chest, struggling to see clearly in the candlelight. "Ron, have you borrowed my History Tutomee?"

"No, why should I? I want less History, not more."

"You sounded interested enough when I finished the lesson ten minutes early and read my Quidditch book instead."

"You saying I nicked your book?" Ron's ears were turning pink as he pulled down his coverlet and sat down heavily on his bed.

"Well, what do YOU call it when you take somebody's property without permission!"

"Get Stuffed, Potter! I haven't got your stupid book!" Ron swung up his legs with a "Humph!" and tugged his bed curtains around, shutting out Harry for the night.

"Right, we'll settle this in the morning!" Harry climbed into his own bed, dragged around the red and gold curtains as noisily as he could, then lay back, listening. All he could hear was Steff Daggard chuckling softly to herself. Harry didn't close his eyes but lay there waiting...

Ten minutes... twenty... He could hear Neville snoring softly across the room. Time for action. He sat up, silently drew out his invisibility cloak from under his pillow and pulled it around him. He knew exactly where Daggard would be standing in her corner, so he slipped his legs down past the hangings on the opposite side of his bed. There was barely a flutter as he crawled under his curtains and stood up. Now for Ron!

Harry Potter crept quietly around his bed, peering through the darkness to spot Daggard. There she was! He could just about discern the outline of the ex-Auror, but even though her eyes were probably far sharper than his, she would see nothing of him. Closer and closer he crept to Ron's bed on the side opposite Daggard. In his left hand he clutched something smooth and flat to his chest, in his other hand was his wand.

Yet, as he drew near, a faint sign of movement caught his eye through the near-impenetrable gloom. Ron's leg! He was sitting on the edge of the bed facing Harry's way!

Harry crouched down and grabbed at Ron's ankle. Ron flinched and stifled a gasp which he turned into a half-snore – rather cleverly, Harry grudgingly admitted to himself – then Ron's hand grabbed his arm, pulling himself down.

Nothing was said. Ron eased himself under his curtains on the floor with Harry, who wrapped his cloak around the both of them. Daggard saw and heard nothing as they crept out of the door.

Not until they were out past the Fat Lady portrait and way down at the corner of the corridor did Ron whisper, "We did it!"

"Hermione? You there?" breathed Harry as softly as he could.

"Yes, let me under the cloak," she replied.

He did so, feeling rather puzzled, "But why? You're already invisible."

"Call it... for old time's sake," replied Hermione, snuggling in on Harry's side. "Anyway, it will save me using up my magic."

Harry felt Ron's body snort on his other side. "Yeah, like that's going to run out any time this century."

"So, where to?" said Harry.

"Ron told me about a long-disused classroom on the fourth floor," said Hermione, pulling them in the direction of the stairs.

"I did?"

"Yes, the other Ron, I mean. The one who didn't keep trying to hog all the cloak for himself. Anyway, the room is really hard to find and nobody goes there. You found a strange mirror in there Harry, one night when you were on the run from Filch and Snape."

"I did?"

"Yes." Hermione giggled softly.

"Hermione, you're acting very oddly," said Harry.

She sighed. "Old times, Harry. Old times. This cloak and dagger sneaking takes me back a long way. I've missed Hogwarts, I really have. There were some enjoyable moments amidst all the difficulties. Everyone got their wand? Harry, got the map?"

"Of course." He tapped it audibly with the tip of his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"Who's it showing?" said Ron.

"Mmm... nobody about. Filch is in his bedroom. McGonagall is just adding two spoons of sugar to her cocoa."

"That's amazing!" said Ron. "Let me see. I didn't think it–"

"He's joking, Ron," said Hermione. "You can't see that much detail, just a dot and a name where they are."

Harry said, "Yes but McGonagall's dot is in her kitchen, so what else could she be doing at this time of night but making cocoa? And she looks like a two-sugar person to me."

"Yeah, needs sweetening up a bit," nodded Ron, agreeably.

"The students' names are more squashed together in their dorms. I can make out the names of Neville, Dean, Seamus, and – yes! Steff Daggard still in her corner. We fooled her Ron; we fooled a professional Auror."

"Either that or she's dead," Ron said hopefully. "Yeah, we were good weren't we? I even started to believe you a bit, Harry. You were really convincing. I almost confessed to taking your stupid book!"

"The Slytherins' names are even more crunched up," said Harry. "Probably huddled together plotting something nasty."

"To be honest, I can't imagine those snakes doing much huddling," said Ron. He shuddered and tugged a bit more cloak around his shoulders.

"So the stairs and first floor passageways all clear?" said Hermione, slightly impatient at the distracting banter. She tugged her share of cloak back.

"Yes."

They crept onwards.

.

The Front Room

They passed the library and headed up a flight of rarely-used stairs. The passages that led off the top were not well lit at all and they came to an abrupt halt in front of a tall suit of armour.

"Remember that armour as a guide," said Hermione. "Not far now."

Finally, they arrived at an old wooden door with a faded '4J' nameplate, but found it locked. "Alohomora," she said quietly and the door opened for them.

"Wicked!" murmured Ron. "Promise you'll teach us that spell, next chance you get."

"It's not really a defence spell, Ron. Still, it's got me out of a fix many times so yes, remind me first practice. Be a good one to start with."

The room they entered had certainly not been in use for an extremely long time. Dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls and there was an upturned waste-paper basket made of wicker. Every ledge and sill was thick with dust, and Harry, who had cast a Lumos spell, noticed they'd left footprints all the way from the door. Hermione scanned around quickly with a cleaning charm, half-wondering if the Mirror of Erised might be standing against one of the walls, but in her new life there'd been no reason for Dumbledore to squirrel it away in this forgotten chamber.

She conjured fresh torches for the wall brackets, a fire in the hearth, and soon the room seemed more cheery; it was certainly a good size for their class and study work.

"We'll get all the Crestors in here twice over," said Ron, righting up a few of the chairs and desks with Harry. "And we've space to grow."

"'Crestors'? Yes, I rather like that," said Hermione. "Crestors..."

"But we still need to be careful of being found out," said Harry. "We'd be cornered in here if anyone came down that passage." He eyed the door nervously.

"But, Harry, we'll only use this room for genuine student meetings, extra studies, and so on. I told McGonagall we'd formed a self-help group."

"What about our–?"

"For our secret meetings and serious defence practice, we'll use the Room of Requirement – remember the room we stayed in when we came here to get your dad's map? We'll need more than one access door but the main one will be in this room." She walked around, peering into corners and around pillars. "There in that alcove will be fine. Only trusted... Crestors" – she affirmed Ron's new word as if to authenticate it – "will have access. This classroom we're in will be just a front for a our more... covert operations."

Harry nodded. "And Daggard? How am I supposed to shake her off?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Harry. For now, she can follow you here for open meetings. We'll have to figure out something else for secret meetings. At least it only affects you, not all of us."

"But Harry's our leader," Ron pointed out. "He has to be at the secret meetings."

He was right of course, but Hermione could think of no easy solution.

.

A Portentous Encounter

A few days later, word went out to all Crestors there'd be a meeting in Room 4J at seven. Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Dean left Harry to make his own way by a circuitous route around the northern side of the castle to make him slightly late. That would give Hermione time to warn the other Crestors that Daggard might be coming and they should avoid speaking too openly. There was also a faint hope Harry might have a chance to slip away under his cloak.

Harry and Daggard passed Goyle at the top of the stairs. Harry thought it odd – even in the short time he'd been at Hogwarts, he'd never seen the boy completely separated from Draco before. But when he looked back, Goyle was gone. Harry pressed on, circling the lower corridors once they'd descended to the ground floor. He pretended to be unsure of his route, glancing down side passages and looking behind him as he walked. Once he thought he glimpsed Crabbe at the far end of a corridor. He wasn't certain, but he still felt uneasy; Hermione had warned him repeatedly about the Slytherins.

"What's up wi' yer? Where yer goin' Black?" snarled Daggard in her harsh tone. "Fink I'm stupid or summink?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the ugly half-hag. The Slytherins would never try anything while she was around. He smiled grimly to himself. "Student meeting. I know where it is but I'm not sure of the best way." He started towards the steps which led up the Northern Tower.

Daggard scowled. "Which room?"

"Uuh... don't know the number but I'll know it when I see it."

"Hardly goin' ter be up them stairs, is it! Jest don' try owt, Black. I'm stickin' ter yer like a poxy jinx, an' don' yer– what duh YOU wan' Malfoy!" They both stopped; Draco had just rounded the corner ahead of them and paused in his stride. It was too much of a coincidence, thought Harry.

"Oh, hello, Black. I heard you'd got this... person watching out for you." He gestured disdainfully at Daggard. "Good thinking."

"Malfoy, I'm not a Black, I'm a Potter. The Sorting Ceremony got it wrong."

Draco looked puzzled for only a moment, then his face brightened as if they had some mutual understanding. "Ah... sorry. I understand perfectly. Bloody Book of Admittance is a menace. With your permission, might I call you Harry? Call me Draco."

Harry nodded his acceptance slowly but frowned. "You know about the Book of–?"

But Draco cut him off. "Look, about Professor Snape, he's out of line. Just ignore him."

"Easier said than done."

"I'll speak to my father about him, but I'm not hopeful. Snape's a... well, you know what he's like. Doesn't know his place."

"Sure."

"Well, I have to go. See you around, Harry."

Harry wondered what that was all about as he watched Draco walk away.

"Tell me if 'e giz yer any bovver an' I'll squash 'im," said Daggard as they continued their extended walk to the Crest meeting. "This weren' no accidental meetin'."

"Noticed that, did you?" Harry wondered what Daggard would do to Draco if he actually did become a serious problem.

But Draco soon had other things on his mind. The instant he'd hurried around the corner from Harry, he'd bumped heavily into Professor Trelawney as she came out of the Northern Tower. She gasped and staggered backwards.

Draco growled. "Why don't you look where you're going?" He didn't care who it was; nobody shoves a Malfoy about.

But Trelawney didn't answer him. She scarcely seemed aware that he was there. Her eyes were rolling as though she was about to have a seizure, and when she finally spoke, her voice was rough, monotonous, quite unlike her own:

"Darkness comes. The beast shall be its only sign..."

Draco stared in astonishment as the teacher continued her strange recital, then abruptly she fell silent and her head fell forwards onto her chest. Draco thought he heard her make a grunting sort of noise, and peered at her face very closely, afraid the collision had tipped her mind into shock. Without warning, the eyes opened and her head snapped up again, startling him. He stepped quickly back.

"I'm so sorry, dear boy," she said dreamily. "I wasn't paying attention. Did you say something?"

Thoughtfully, he watched for a few moments as she stumbled away, going over in his head what she had said, trying to remember all the words and wondering what, if anything, they meant. The beast? What beast? And how can something be both equal yet greater? Finally, he changed direction and headed up to the owlery...

.

The First Hogwarts Crest Meeting

"Ah, there you are, Harry," said Hermione, as he entered room 4J. "We were just about to discuss the History Tutomee." She patted her beaded bag to remind him she had a stock there.

"Right, erm... well..." Harry found himself looking for a desk to sit at then realised he had to use the teacher's podium at the front. He turned to face the group. They were still only a dozen but he needed to adjust to the formal teaching environment. "Uuh... thank you for coming and..."

"We've done all that, Harry," grinned Ron from the front row with Hermione and Neville on either side of him.

Daggard sniggered and took up a position leaning against the front wall behind Harry – it didn't help.

"Uumm... right. So, I've only just started testing the er... History Tutomee but it's a lot, lot easier than trying to pay attention to old Binns." He reached into his bag, pulled out his copy, and held it up, open at his latest page. "You can see where I've wrote – can you all see that?" He held it higher. "But the rest is blank for me to continue work." He flipped through a few pages. "It's not like a normal textbook, nor a... well it's kind of a textbook, workbook, notebook, all in one – but it manages itself so you don't have to worry about it being a boring organiser or something," he added hastily.

"What are the pictures for?" called out Michael Corner.

"They're magical illustrations to help teach and answer questions. One of them..." He scrabbled back to the frontispiece. "This young witch is Hazel; she listens to Binns lessons so the book is teaching you the same stuff – no, I mean, it's teaching you it's own stuff but–"

"Synchronising the material," called Hermione.

"Yes, thanks, Hermione. You see, it's the words that write themselves in the book that do the main teaching but they are the same subject that Binns is waffling on about too. They tell you facts, and what to do, and you write your response below. If you get stuck anytime you just ask one of the illustrations. Like learning from a friend."

"Erm... won't Professor Binns put a stop to that?" said Susan.

"Actually, you might have noticed that Binns is not all there, if you know what I mean, and I'm not talking about his flesh and blood. The illustrations whisper to you if you're in class, so Binns won't notice – well unless you actually shout at your book or do something daft like that. The Weasley twins told me they threw an old boot through him once and he never even paused – don't know if it's true or not."

"It's true," said Ron.

"And," continued Harry, "my Tutomee told me that even if Binns did examine any of the books, the pictures will hide and the pages will show only notes about his lessons – and it'll be in your handwriting!"

"So basically, we follow the book in class and forget about what Binns is saying?" said Justin.

"Yeah, unless he asks a question or sets a test. You can practise a bit here now to get the hang of it. Imagine I'm Binns. BLAH... BLAH... BORING... BORING..." Harry stared vacantly over their heads.

Ron laughed. "So, can I throw my boot at you?" His grin disappeared when Daggard took a few menacing steps forward to Harry's side. Ron said, "On second thoughts, perhaps not."

Hermione walked round, giving out the Tutomees by hand. She didn't want to advertise her hovering powers, especially with Daggard standing there.

"That Witch Hazel is prettier than Binns anyway, isn't she?" said Terry, gazing at the first picture. The illustration giggled, startling Terry, for the image of the young witch had remained static until then.

"You perv, " scoffed Padma, giving him a nudge in the side of his stomach that made his eyes water. "She's ink and paper for Merlin's sake!"

The picture said, "Yes, you tell him, dear, or I'll have to deduct points from Ravenclaw for inappropriate remarks."

Terry gasped. "Deduct points? Surely you can't deduct–?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out, isn't it? I can certainly visit Harry's or Hermione's book and report misdemeanours, and they can go to your head of house." But while Terry looked around anxiously, she winked at Padma.

As the class began to accustom themselves with responding to the text that appeared in their books, Harry sat down next to Hermione, and said darkly so that Ron and Neville couldn't hear, "Draco was hanging about in the corridors. I'm sure he had Crabbe and Goyle watching out for me. I think he was waiting for a chance to speak to me when you weren't there."

Hermione grimaced. "Did he do anything? Say anything?"

"Spoke to me. Quite polite actually. He knows about the Book of Admittance."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh well, his father is chairman of the board of governors. Likely he told Draco."

"Another thing, I thought I heard somebody talking to him after he went round the corner, somebody with a weird, scary voice. A grownup, I mean."

Hermione shuddered, remembering Voldemort's thin, high tone. "Who was he? Where did you hear him?"

"No, it was definitely a woman's voice. It was near that tower off the northern corridor, you know..."

"The North Tower? Then it might have been– oh, no!"

"What?"

"Suppose it was Professor Trelawney?"

"So?"

"She was the one who prophesied Pettigrew would escape and help Voldemort return – your previous self told me she spoke in a strange, harsh voice. What if she–"

"Made another prophecy?"

"Yes, but I can't believe she'd give it to a poncy git like Draco. It has to be somebody relevant." She tilted her head slightly to one side, thinking for a few moments, then gasped. "What if she was meant to tell it to you, Harry? And now Draco knows!"

"Me? Well..." Harry recalled that he did nearly walk up the tower but was stopped by Daggard. "I did almost–"

"Harry," said Ron, turning his way, "this book's only teaching the last lesson we already did."

"Of course it is," said Hermione. "It covers the same ground until the next lesson unless it knows you've already learnt it perfectly. Have you, Ron?"

"Well... pretty much."

"It's up to you, Ron, whether you want to learn it well or just... 'pretty much', but if you follow the book you'll find learning History far easier and far less boring – plus time to spare to relax with a clear conscience."

A new ploy occurred to her. "Think of it as cheating. If you get stuck you need only ask the book; none of the illustrations will ever refuse you. Just say, 'I don't know' or 'you tell me'. It'll just be like asking Harry or cribbing off your shirt sleeve. And they'll never get angry with you no matter how often you 'cheat'."

Ron nodded. "Wow! Right. Since you put it like that..." And he began reading his Tutomee again.

Harry leaned away from Ron to whisper, "But, Hermione..."

"Don't tell Ron but the material he doesn't know will keep coming up in the text until he absorbs it more gradually. He won't even notice."

"No, that's not what I was going to say. Didn't you once tell us that History is too specialised and we'll forget most of it when we leave Hogwarts?"

She nodded. "Yes, but don't let Ron hear you say that either! Unfortunately, we need History to get qualifications and we need qualifications to get jobs and we don't yet know what job we'll have. The whole school system is wrong you see. Likely most of History is a waste of time for nearly everyone, but we have to do the best we can with what we've got."

"I'm never going to want History, not even for the greatest job in the world," growled Harry under his breath. "Potions maybe. I wish we had a Tutomee instead of stinking Snape."

"We'd never get away with using the books in his class – he's too sharp. Sooner or later he'd notice them and test for enchantments. Yes, he'd figure out it was some sort of teaching aid, and confiscate the lot. He's totally despicable."

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The Howling Horror

Over the next couple of weeks, Hermione fretted about her non-confrontational advice regarding Snape because, if anything, he was becoming worse. It did seem he was determined to get a rise out of Harry, enough to give him a detention.

"Potter! Stop writing letters to your fans and get on with preparing the ingredients! Five points off Gryffindor."

"They're not–" Harry grimaced and stopped himself before he went any further.

"What did you say?"

"I was writing down how to do the ingredients. It helps me concentrate – so I don't miss–"

"Tell me, Potter, what instructions did I give this class not ten minutes ago?"

Harry mumbled, "Prepare the ingredients as shown on the blackboard ... sir."

"Precisely. But you, not seeing yourself as an ordinary member of this class, supposed you could ignore my directive and do as you please! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Harry's cheeks began to puff up with anger, but Hermione nodded reassuringly at him and he managed not to explode at Snape.

"Granger! Stop encouraging him! Three points from Gryffindor."

Daggard was becoming unbearable too. Even when lessons were over for the day, she was never far away.

"It's like having a leech attached to my neck," moaned Harry in a low voice and trying not to look round the common room. "She's always there and I can't shrug her off."

Ron said, "Yeah, we've not done a single Defence practice session because of her! Hermione, can't you Stupefy her arse or something?" A sudden thought occurred to him, "Hey, Fred! George! Get over here!"

Neville said, "Well, at least we're learning locking and unlocking charms – and a couple of little healing spells."

"But clearing up bruises is not fighting! I thought we were going to have a proper training room."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but still kept her voice low. "We will, Ronald! But I can't set it up while Daggard's around, can I? Apart from secrecy, the moment anyone duelled Harry they'd probably get blasted through the wall!"

"I won't go next time," Harry said quietly.

"What? You have to," said Ron. "You're leader." He gestured again to the twins who were half up out of their chairs but showing reluctance as a matter of principle.

"Yes, so it's my duty to help the group," said Harry. "I'm not saying I'll never go to a meeting again, just that... well, I'll skip a few so you can get started on Defence."

"Oh, Harry..." said Hermione, fearing she had let him down. "I'll really try to think of something to divert Daggard but..."

"But anything you do might kill her," Harry finished in a whisper for her because Fred and George were finally approaching.

"Well, little bro?" said George. "We trust this is an emergency of stupendous importance?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "How do we get rid of that ugly hag?"

"Ron!" Fred threw up his hands in horror. "You mustn't talk about Hermione that way right in front of her! Do what you normally do and criticise her behind her back."

"I do not!"

"So you admit it then? You only criticise her to her face?" said George.

Ron growled, "Shut it you two, this is serious. Listen, how can we get rid of Daggard?"

"You mean legally? Without all the blood?" said Fred, glancing sideways at the half-hag over against the wall. "Needs some thought."

George said, "How about blackmail? Got anything concrete on her?"

"Concrete on her, eh?" said Fred, "now that does have possibilities..."

Harry grinned and shook his head. Hermione smiled too. The twins had not lost their sense of humour but it was not so excessively at Ron's expense.

"Fear then?"

George looked at Fred who nodded maliciously back. "Lure her into the giant squid's embrace, George?"

"I was thinking more of directing her up the Turret of Terror."

"The what?" said Neville.

"Even the Bloody Baron daren't venture up there," said George. "It's the one place we've avoided. "The sound of that beast... the Howling Horror some call it but whatever it is, it's... unworldly."

The lighthearted tone in his voice seemed to evaporate, and his eyes clouded over. Fred, seeing George stumble into silence, continued for him, "They've locked it up now, but it should never have been allowed in a school in the first place in case it bursts out. No lock is strong enough in my opinion."

"But what is it?" said Neville, now sounding slightly nervous.

"Neville, all I can tell you is that it has the ferocity of a wild creature but the cunning of a human hunter. Whatever you do, never speak the Gryffindor password in the passages of Hogwarts or none of us will be able to sleep easy at night."

George still looked pale. When he spoke, his tone was extremely serious. "Ron, we'll give some thought to disposing of Daggard and let you know."

The twins walked back to the table where they had been doing homework, Fred with an arm round George's shoulder. Whether he was trying to comfort him or shake him out of his sombre mood, even Ron could not tell. "They've tricked me a few times..." he began.

"I don't think they were joking this time," said Harry, softly.

Neville said nothing. A chill had crept under his flesh and he shuddered. The castle was ancient. Who knew what was hidden within its walls?

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

I'm still not happy I'm portraying these kids to act and sound like 11-year-olds, but I've re-read some of Philosopher's Stone and it's hard to see much difference in the way they speak – maybe it's more about attitude that I'm missing?) Tied in with that is, did they sound too eager to get into a kind of early D.A. without the situation of the original stories (warnings of Voldemort/Umbridge non-lessons?) I've tried to play up the self-help/study aspect of the group rather than teaching them to fight (apart from the core kids like Harry and Ron etc who know that Hermione lived before, and they take seriously the threat to their own future.) Later in this Book 1, there will be more for everyone at Hogwarts to worry about which hopefully will make it more believable they'd be eager to learn defence. Also keep in mind, the chosen dozen were (in my fanon) the ones most ready. I hope it works reasonably believably anyway.

Thanks, texan-muggle, for pointing out the continuity error in the last chapter. I had the Grangers going onto platform 9 3/4 when in fact, I'd said earlier, she went alone to Kings Cross (now fixed.) But the grammar point that nine and three-quarters should have capital initials is debatable. I thought so myself originally because it's a kind of title so I'd previously checked the books and JKR doesn't capitalise it (except in a chapter heading.) Maybe she's wrong but I'll go with her. She also capitalises things like her new magical creatures yet they are common nouns whereas existing mythical creatures she uses low case (e.g. sphinx but Flobberworm.) I echo her method for consistency, for example with Tutomee. It might be a publishing thing. By capitalising her invented words (as if proper nouns,) perhaps that stops the publisher's editor changing the spelling? I recall Tolkien had a similar problem with elvish v elven? Something like that. Anyway, I do take care with grammar but don't hesitate to point out any errors you see!

Brian1972 raised the important issue of Sirius not setting rules for Daggard as being unbelievable. My fault for not clarifying. Sirius had no say in the matter. More about the runic oath will emerge later in the story, but for now, know that the oath was a standard form and James accepted it. There is nothing negotiable about it. There are no terms that Sirius can change (ie, insist that Daggard be considerate to everyone.) Sirius's only choice is: Daggard guards Harry or she definitely dies. If he'd said to Daggard, look, if you harm Harry or anyone else then the deal's off, then he could only enforce it through Dumbledore who'd have to remove Daggard and Daggard would die. Maybe Sirius DID do that? No doubt Dumbledore WOULD remove Daggard if anyone got hurt (and he heard about it.) So far, Daggard has only been unpleasant. You can't kill someone just for being unpleasant. Well, not legally or nobly anyway!

One final note: I confess my muse has driven me to write another short story. This is a one-chapter one-shot mystery romance of about 10K words with Luna/Neville versus a young Tom Riddle. It's outrageous, funny in parts but definitely not a comedy. Watch out for that and don't miss it! Coming within a few days. And don't worry – I'm still ahead with Hermione's Chance of a Lifetime.

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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