.

So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Neville, Luna, and the Weasleys while young and, though Voldemort died early, she launched the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption. Now starting at Hogwarts, she formed CREST from the most trusted members of the old D.A. Meanwhile, a ruthless half-hag has been assigned to bodyguard Harry in his first year, and Neville has finally made best friends – with a girl in a painting. Now read on...

.

Chapter 38

A Trying Time


.

A Sneaky Plan

Crest meetings were now occurring about once a week, and after any announcements and organised discussions were over with, the rest of the hour or so was more informal. Students exchanged simple spells they'd learned and helped each other with problems they'd struggled with in class. The atmosphere was more of an inter-house, first-years' friendship society and not so much like the old Dumbledore's Army that Hermione remembered.

Only two proper defence training sessions in the Room of Requirement had been organised so far, with Hermione, Ron, and Neville guiding the others on the basics and essential magic such as shield and disarming charms, but Harry was already frustrated at not being able to attend because of keeping the secret from Steff Daggard.

"It's like I'm in prison," he groaned at breakfast on the morning of the next meeting.

"Can't you sneak out this once?" said Ron. With a spoon, he scooped out a trench through his thick porridge and watched as it slowly filled in again.

"She's got my cloak, Ron!" hissed Harry,

"What!" Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione for confirmation. They'd all paused in their eating now except for Neville who was only half-listening as he enjoyed taking the hat off a softly-boiled egg.

Hermione nodded. "Daggard stole it from his trunk. I can get it back but then she'll only think Harry took it and she'll be suspicious of how he could."

Neville dipped a bread soldier into his egg and gave it a stir before lifting out the yellow goo. "Not if you put it back after." He stuffed the end of the stick of bread into his mouth and looked innocently over it at the others' responses.

Abruptly his eyes widened and the rest of his bread soldier drooped and dripped as he stared over their shoulders. Just as suddenly, disappointment clouded his expression. "Who's that talking to Parvati?"

Hermione glanced round and laughed. "She's normally mousy-brown curls...? Oh, come on Neville...?"

"Oh, right – Fay's friend. I didn't recognise her without her glasses and her hair changed. She looks like Goldilocks. Sally something?"

"Sally-Anne. She only wears glasses for reading and writing. Bit shy really."

"Is that why she doesn't talk much?"

Hermione nodded guiltily. I really must make the effort to get to know her this time round.

Harry was shaking his head mournfully but Ron whispered, "Where's Daggard put your cloak anyway? Where's her room?" He tried hard not to glance back over his shoulder at the wall where he knew the half-hag was stood watching for sudden, possibly hostile movements.

"She's not got her own room. She just stuffs things down her front on her..." began Harry.

"Cleavage?" said Hermione.

"Eww..." Ron wrinkled up his nose and stared morosely at his thickening, lumpy oats. "I thought that was just the other side of her hump."

"And I don't think she sleeps," whispered Harry, aware of Daggard's continuing scrutiny of them at that very moment. Could she hear what they were saying?

"Ever?" said Neville, reaching eagerly for another soldier.

"Hags don't," said Hermione. "I'm not sure about half-hags, but normal hags often have familiars who catnap for them."

"She doesn't even wash or change her clothes," said Harry. "Just uses a cleaning spell about once in a blue moon. I think that's why she smokes a pipe – to cover up the pong."

Ron pushed his dish away.

"There might be a way..." mused Hermione. "Today's the last Thursday of October."

"So?" said Ron.

"There's usually a staff meeting in the Headmaster's office on the last Thursday of each month. Suppose Harry got a fake message calling him to McGonagall's office? Daggard would have to wait outside for as long as we like. From there, I could get Harry to the meeting and back unseen. While Daggard believes she's protecting Harry she's fulfilling her obligation. It's a case of what she doesn't know can't hurt her."

Harry squirmed a little and gnawed the back of a knuckle, but Ron said, "That's not a bad idea, actually. Come on, Harry, it's only this once and we need you. Crest needs you."

"What if Daggard finds out?"

"She can't find out, can she?" said Hermione. "Even she daren't burst into McGonagall's private office to see what's taking all that while – well, so long as she didn't hear screams or anything; she'd come in all guns blazing then sure enough."

"What's up, Harry?" said Ron. "It's not like you to be scared of a little risk. Don't you want to come to the meeting?"

"Of course I do!" snapped Harry. "And I'm not scared!"

"Well then?"

Harry seemed to be struggling with himself for a while. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other and frowned.

"Just for a short meeting then," said Harry at last. "And ask Aculus to watch her. Watch Daggard."

.

The Helpful Prefect

There was no dreamy smile on Neville's face as he entered the common room after dinner that evening. He called out quite loudly, "Ron, seen Harry anywhere?"

"Over there in the corner, moping as usual."

Neville swerved to the new direction. Harry, head down, seemed to be toying with his homework. Daggard was watching him but the hag straightened up and one squinty eye had swerved in Neville's direction the moment he'd called out and turned their way.

"McGonagall wants you, Harry!" called Neville as he approached.

"Me? What for?"

"Dunno. Think some of the teachers have complained you're not paying enough attention in class. Your marks are slipping. What's up with you, Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I'm fine!" Harry grumpily stuffed his homework back in his bag and stood up.

Neville said, "She looked a bit severe. You'd better prepare yourself for a stiff talking-to. Maybe detention."

"Who cares!" Harry trudged off towards the portrait hole with Daggard following.

As soon as the portrait closed behind them, Neville grinned at Ron. "How'd I do?"

"Good one, Nev," said Ron. "You should be an actor on the stage. Come on, let's get to the meeting. Did I tell you about the time me and Harry sneaked away from the hag one night?"

"Only about a million times..."

Harry maintained his slouch all the way to the Deputy Headmistress's office where he knocked sullenly on the door. It opened and a faint "Enter" came from within. The moment he stepped inside, the door closed, shutting Daggard out. She growled to herself then leaned against the doorframe, preparing herself for a long wait.

Harry gazed around inside McGonagall's office. "Hermione?" he whispered to the empty space before him.

"Over here." She quickly became visible over near a filing cabinet. "I didn't want to risk Daggard glimpsing me through the door. Hermione gave Harry a swift once-over to judge his expression. "Ready?"

He nodded. "And Aculus is outside? I didn't see him."

"And neither will Daggard." She gripped Harry's arm securely then they floated away up through the ceiling.

Classroom 4J was completely empty but Hermione looked around carefully to make sure before rendering them visible again. She checked the door too: locked and charm protected. Satisfied, she led Harry over to the alcove where she walked back and forth three times while Harry watched. A rather dull, uninteresting door appeared; it could have been taken as nothing more than a cupboard.

"The other entrance works on the seventh floor works as well," she said. "Come on..."

As they entered the Room of Requirement there was a stir of interest from the core Crest members within. Ron and Neville clapped and a few others joined in. "You made it then?" said Ron. "How's it feel to be free for a while?"

Harry smiled wryly. "Good. It feels good." He looked around at the vast chamber; there were targets and training dummies and other equipment, as well as huge cushions to fall onto.

"We were just practising the shield charm, Harry," said Neville. "Unless you've prepared something else?"

"No, that's fine. Are you in groups?"

"Yeah, Malcolm's the best at it but Susan lacks focus and Padma, Terry, and Dean need more help so..."

"Right then."

Harry soon got into the swing of things and began to relax into routines he'd practised for years. Time passed swiftly. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he felt physically and emotionally uplifted.

"Not bad, Terry, but face more to the front. ... Padma, remember to turn the wand like so! ... Dean, you're getting it now."

Susan, however, was not yet able to grasp what was needed. Close to, Harry thought she looked rather under the weather with dark shadows under her eyes. "You've just been overdoing things, Susan," he said kindly. "You're magic is exhausting itself. You'll get there in the end, don't worry."

She nodded, but seemed lost in her own disappointment. He remembered Ron's theory that she'd got a moody crush on Neville and turned to look for him. "Padma! That's perfect now!" Harry cried jubilantly. "Stick with that feel you've got for it and you won't go wrong."

Looking on was Hermione, glad to see Harry enjoying himself for once. There'd be more good times ahead, she told herself. No way was Harry going to endure the misery he'd suffered in their previous life. But as the hour of curfew approached and the group returned to Room 4J, a faint voice whispered in Hermione's ear.

"I tried, Mistress, I really tried, but I couldn't get into your secret room to warn you!"

"What is it, Aculus? What's happened?"

"A prefect saw the hag-witch waiting outside the Deputy Headmistress's office – The big Weasley."

"Percy?"

"He told her to come back later because Professor McGonagall was at a meeting in the Headmaster's office."

"Oh, no! How long ago?" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back into the alcove out of the line of sight of the departing Crestors.

"Ten minutes ago," said Aculus. "She cursed the Weasley and he became confused. She's been trying in vain to break down McGonagall's door. I think she's on her way up here now!"

Aculus had not finished speaking when Daggard's voice could be heard outside through the throng of chattering children.

"Outa my feggin' way yer slow-witted whelps! Where's Black?"

"If you mean Harry then he couldn't come. He had to see McGonagall." Ron's voice.

But Hermione and Harry were gone before Daggard pushed inside, squealing with pain and rage and with large puffs of smoke clouding around her, partly obscuring the blood that was seeping from her eyes and nose; the half-hag was dying from the pressure of her oath and desperately needed to find her ward before she collapsed.

.

McGonagall's Stand

"What can we do, Hermione?" cried Harry, the moment they were back in McGonagall's office.

"I've always got potions in my bag, Harry. Look for a hairbrush in the bathroom or bedroom would you?" Hermione began scrutinising the leather armchair behind the desk.

"What! I can't go in McGonagall's private–!"

"HARRY! Seconds count!"

Harry leapt for the door which he hoped led to the bedroom – it was. Frantically he searched the pillow on the bed, on the dressing table, and even scrabbled around on the bedside rug. "She's spick-and-span, Hermione! Not one hair!"

Hermione was too busy checking amongst the paperwork and pigeonholes for addressed envelopes that McGonagall might have licked to seal – even a tiny bit of spit would let her transform into the deputy headmistress for a few minutes. Daggard would be back here any moment she knew and there'd barely be time for the Polyjuice to take effect. Harry dashed across her eyeline, startling her as he found the door to the bathroom. "Quick, Harry!"

Several things happened at once. Harry cried, "YES!" and brandished a small silver comb he'd found just as Hermione had caught sight of a folder tucked away beside McGonagall's office chair. It was marked: MOST URGENT and had the name Steffilde Lusk Daggard along the back edge. Hermione snatched at it. As she did so, there was a rush of noise and the office door burst open – but it was not Daggard who was framed there.

"Potter? What in Merlin's name were you doing in my bathroom?"

"Tol' yer din' I!" gasped Daggard who was right behind McGonagall, squinting over her shoulder, and looking mottled and bruised about the face.

"Professor I..." For one fleeting moment Harry glimpsed Hermione's wild-eyed fear where she was crouched behind the desk – then she vanished.

"Uuh... P-Professor, I'm s-sorry but..."

"Well, Potter?" demanded McGonagall. "Explain yourself!"

"Erm... sorry, Professor, when you told me I'd have to wait... well, I just had to... you know... go... Please?" He stared unflinchingly at McGonagall, praying she might read his thoughts. "Please?"

Seconds passed.

"I see..." said McGonagall, though her puzzled expression made it obvious she didn't see at all.

But if she didn't, Daggard certainly did. The hag, choking and stumbling, pushed past McGonagall and drew out her pipe menacingly. "D'yer fink I'm dumb do yer? Yer tryin' ter kill ME, eh, Black? Well I'll teach yer a lesson yer won't fergit in a hurry! I warned yer, din' I! I told yer what'd happen'! Come wiv me right now!" She seized Harry by the arm.

"No, noooo... not that! Please – I won't do it again!" wailed Harry.

Confused or not, McGonagall was not one to stand by and watch an attack on one of her students. "MISS DAGGARD! Don't you dare threaten this boy!"

"Shut yer yap, yer foozlin' ol' tart!" snarled Daggard. "I'll deal with this skelp good n' proper!"

"You will do no such thing!" Her wand was instantly raised. "Unhand that boy at once."

"Oh, yeah? And what's an ol' fustylugs like yersel' gonna do about it then? Gonna murder me are yer? 'Cos tha's warra'll 'appen wunnit?"

McGonagall drew herself upright, and the tip of her wand was close to Daggard's throat. She was a formidable witch when roused and right now she was furious. "Miss Daggard, DO NOT TRY ME! While our Headmaster may be reluctant to take a life, when it comes to protecting one of my own, I am not at all concerned about risking yours – just as I am not concerned for my own. Now either you leave my office this instant or I shall unleash such a curse upon you that you're unlikely to recover for a week – and you know what that will mean."

Daggard sneered at McGonagall for a few moments, assessing the risk of a counterstrike, then, deciding she herself would be half a second too late with her own curse, she flounced out through the open doorway. "We ain' finished yet, Black! You an' me!"

McGonagall closed the door on the hag. "Potter, take a seat." She gestured at the chair in front of her desk, but Harry did not move. He was gawping at the Head of Gryffindor House with a new appreciation, and much admiration.

"Potter?"

Perhaps the chair was overlarge because he sank down onto it feeling rather small and still staring at the teacher. McGonagall herself went round the other side and pulled out her own chair. "Now, what is this all ab–?" She stared down at the empty space behind her desk.

"It's all my fault, Professor. I pretended I had an appointment with you so I could... go to our students meeting..." He hesitated. "You know about our...?"

"Mmm...? Yes, yes, Miss Granger mentioned it. Potter have you...? Did you remove anything from my office?"

Sheepishly, Harry held up the comb. "I only borrowed it to look at because it's so... uuh, nice. It's real uumm... silver, isn't it?"

McGonagall dismissed it with an absent-minded wave of her hand. "So you didn't touch a folder? Anything like that?"

Harry shook his head.

"Accio Daggard file," said McGonagall.

She looked around and Harry did likewise, trying to remember what that spell might cause to happen. Hadn't Hermione used that same incantation to make things come to her?

McGonagall shook her head worriedly. "You're certain, Mr Potter? It's most important."

"Yes, I didn't touch anything else."

"So... you used my office to..." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair then looked down as something brushed against her ankle. "Ah! It's here all along. I could have sworn it wasn't there a moment ago. It must have fallen down." She picked up the folder and placed it on the desk in front of her.

"Mr Potter, I want you to understand that we are aware of your predicament and are working hard to... that is, we are doing all that we can to resolve the issue, however..." She smoothed her hand over the file. "It might not be possible to help you much in the short term. I just wanted you to know that you're not forgotten. My advice to you is not to antagonise Miss Daggard for in my opinion she is quite, quite... unstable."

As Harry went out, he couldn't help feeling that Professor McGonagall had chosen her words very cautiously.

He did not have much time to dwell on the matter however because the moment he turned the first corner of the passageway he was seized by the ear. "Warned yer, din' I?" A silencing spell hit Harry and he was dragged around several twists and turns until arriving in a short passageway so dark that Harry could hardly see at all.

Here he was thrust against a wall, pressed there by Daggard's heavier mass. Her smell, body heat, and the gloom were oppressive and distracting, but for a moment, Harry imagined someone else was there in the corridor with them. He squirmed sideways and received a knee in the groin for his trouble. As he doubled up in pain, he saw a bundle on the ground next to them: a small, curled-up figure, probably bound, thick dark hair upon school robes. Hermione? HERMIONE! But though his lips moved, no sound came out.

The ugly hag crouched down, pushing her leering face so close to his that he coughed from the smoke fumes. "Now yer can watch an' listen, an' nuffin' yer can do while I finish 'er off fer good..."

She took out the short blade she used for tamping her pipe and brought it down hard as Harry silently screamed, No, not her! Please not–! There was an excruciating screech of metal scraping metal accompanied by a long, girlish squeal of suffering, then Harry almost passed out. The walls seemed to tilt away and, in a daze, he felt the cold stone floor pressing against his face...

.

Distancing

Less than a minute could have passed, for though Daggard's uncomfortable stench was gone, a strong whiff of pipe smoke remained. Someone was standing over him, calling his name.

"Harry! Are you hurt?"

A few seconds were all that was needed for him to remember events: the knife, the body on the floor, and the end of... "NOOOOOO!"

He struggled to his feet, one hand against the wall of the passage, staring at the dark figure outlined against the faint light from the next hallway. It was Hermione.

"Keep away from now on!" he shouted. "This was all your fault! You said she couldn't find out! Just keep away from me! I have to stay with HER now! Go away! Tell EVERYONE to stay away!"

He rushed past her and she watched him go, too astonished to follow. She lit her wand and cast about. Traces of dark magic hung in the air and there were cords fading away on the ground – clear remnants of the binding curse, but otherwise nothing to indicate what had occurred. It wasn't difficult though to put two and two together. Harry must have been bound, threatened, and made badly scared – but not for himself. She recalled the hag's words on the Hogwarts Express: Your weakness is yer friends and family, and don'choo forgit it!

Nothing much had changed except Harry was clearly more distressed. Hermione would have to give him some space until she could remove the hag once and for all.

She made one last sweep with her light, and glimpsed a flicker of glistening movement along the stone slabs at her feet: fragments of glass or metal she could not tell. Had Daggard smashed Harry's two-way mirror?

"Sirius? Is that you?"

But if Sirius had just been trying to reach Harry, he had given up, and there were no fragments large enough for even a powerful witch like Hermione to repair. Grimly, she turned away, more determined than ever to put paid to the half-hag, and she had no intentions of doing it nicely.

.

The Leak

Yet still there was no immediate way for Hermione to remove Daggard without murdering her. She had some hold over Harry but there was no direct threat to his safety – those around him were the ones at risk. Reluctantly, Hermione had to concede that perhaps it was just as well if Harry wished to avoid his friends for the time being.

"It was horrible," said Ron, as he and Neville rejoined Hermione in the Gryffindor reading room. "You didn't see Daggard after you left 4J but she was swelling up like she was going to burst apart when she couldn't get into the Room of Requirement. It's like the oath is tied to her trying to protect Harry. I mean, so long as she keeps trying then she doesn't drop dead but if she thought it was hopeless she'd–"

"What did you say?" cried Hermione

"She'd explode I reckon."

"No, about the Room of Requirement? How could she try to get in? How could she even know about it?"

Ron hesitated. "Well... she was stomping back and forth in front of the door..."

Hermione groaned. "Then either she's been watching from under Harry's cloak or we've a spy in Crest. She can't actually get in because I told the Room I required a place where only Crest members could enter."

"She wouldn't leave Harry," said Neville. "And it seems unlikely he'd be there with her under the cloak – unless he was Stupefied or something."

Hermione winced. "I wouldn't put it past that hag-bitch. I told you how she bound Harry and threatened him. I hope she didn't... if I thought she tortured him I'd..."

"Hermione, you don't think... don't take this the wrong way, but..." Ron clearly hated saying something. "You reckon Harry could have told her? Or she, you know, got it from him somehow?"

"I don't know, Ron, I just don't know. All we do know is... one of us is a traitor."

.

Hermione's Appello

"Good afternoon, Lady Isabelle!"

"Good afternoon, Neville. Looking forward to the weekend?"

"Yes, thanks. Just double Potions to do then we're free!"

Ron and Neville had reached the top of the Great Staircase and paused for Hermione to catch them up. Ron said, "'Just double Potions', Nev? Do you have to make lighthearted chat with every bloomin' portrait we pass?" He looked back along the corridor. "Come on, Hermione. Don't want to be late for just double Snape."

He knew why she was dragging her feet of course: Harry and Daggard were ahead of them down the stairs and she wanted to give her best friend a cooling-off period before finding a way to speak to him without Daggard noticing. Ron sighed and trotted downstairs to Neville who was now midway, chatting with a Victorian gentleman in one of the pictures.

Hermione watched them go, pacing herself with a slow walk, but as she glanced down to check her watch, someone crashed against her as he ran past and down the stairs. She stumbled and several books fell from her open bag.

"Just watch your back, Granger!"

It was Blaise Zabini, and there'd been an odd menacing note in his voice. Had that been a threat? A warning?

"Oy!" cried Ron as Zabini sprinted by him. Ron walked back up a couple of steps. "You alright, Hermione?"

"Yes. No problem. He's just a..." She tailed off. What exactly was Zabini? In her former life, he'd distanced himself. She knew he regarded Muggles and Muggle-borns as vastly inferior to Pure-bloods but she'd never known him to show violence against them and he'd never been a Death Eater. He'd never sought to be abusive and confrontational like Malfoy had, but he'd not held back hateful insults when the situation arose. Perhaps the collision had just been an accident after all, bringing out the bigot's natural spite.

When she caught up with Ron and Neville they were joining the queue outside the Potions classroom. Harry was a couple of places ahead and Zabini must have pushed in near the start of the lineup because he was talking to Tracey Davis within the main knot of Slytherins. Daggard, of course, was lounging against the opposite wall lighting a fresh pipe and eyeing them all carefully for signs of trouble.

Snape opened the classroom door and watched sullenly as the students filed in. One of the Potions workbenches was cracked on one side so usually everyone avoided using it. Harry made straight for it and took the good side – the only one with a chair. The message was clear; he wanted to be left alone, so Hermione sat close to Fay and Sally-Anne at the bench behind Ron and Neville where she could also keep an eye on Harry off at the side of them.

"Those of you who were less than happy trying your pathetic attempts at the nerve tonic you produced recently will be pleased to hear that you can choose either one of two potions to brew today. The Draught of Dizziness and its panacea: the Balm of Balminess," began Snape. "The two are closely related but have opposite effects so you will take great care with your preparations. And when I say 'will' I mean WILL, because anything else is unacceptable. Is that clear?"

He let the mumbled, grumbled replies die away, then continued, "Now pay attention! You MUST take care when removing the tongue of your adder's head because the fangs are still quite poisonous. A fine silver scalpel should be used to slice the tongue almost into two separate strands lengthwise – beginning at the fork – remember I said, almost because the tissue must remain connected. The other ingredients listed on the blackboard are standard preparations so no excuse for failure will be tolerated. It is the addition and stir times that are particularly difficult so first adjust your hourglasses to the most delicate level – no more than one grain of sand per second."

As Snape continued to lecture, Hermione felt a pair of eyes upon her. Her quill slowed to a halt and she slightly turned her head to focus on the Slytherins. It was Zabini again. He matched her stare for several seconds then looked away. Had he been trying to tell her something or just trying to look threatening? He resumed taking notes – as all the other students were doing – except Zabini was using the curious notebook she'd thought was a mobile phone on the day they first arrived at Hogwarts. He had no quill and only occasionally tapped the little book with a finger. He was certainly efficient. It was either a magical note-taker or–

"Granger! Why aren't you writing this down! Do you expect to memorise all of my words?" fumed Snape.

"Thsorry, Professthor."

"One point from Gryffindor for... every one of the items you've missed so far – which must be at least two while you've been admiring your betters. Show me."

"Thsir?"

"Your notes, Granger. Bring them to me."

"But–"

"Now!"

Fay gave her a sympathetic shrug as Hermione scrabbled up her parchment and walked forward to Snape's desk where she handed it over.

He frowned. then appeared to read the list again to make sure. "Miss Granger, can you explain how it is that you not only have the information about every relevant item so far, but also the next one about the cooling stage which I have not yet even uttered?"

"Oh, have I? Uumm... I resthearched it in the library yesterday, thsir. My mind musth have gotten ahead of itsthelf, Professthor."

"I see. But why do I not believe you?"

"I don't know thsir."

"Back to your seat, Granger. In future you will note down exactly what I say, not what you expect me to say."

"Yesth, thsir. Thank you, thsir."

"What are you sniggering at, Weasley!"

Ron was smothering a grin. "Nothing sir, only..."

"Spit it out!"

"Well, I thought that since you were deducting points for missing items then Gryffindor ought to get an extra point added for the–"

"Silence! FIVE points from Gryffindor for your impertinence."

Snape gathered himself together and resumed – looking rather pointedly at Hermione, "Cooling of the potion must be carried out in stages..."

Ron grinned at Neville and continued pretending to write in his Tutomee. There was no need, for the book was writing the notes itself.

Finally, they were all ready to begin. "Very well, decide quickly which of the two potions you wish to prepare then collect your ingredients from the shelves. Adders can be decapitated and separated on the left but tip the guts into the common bowl on the right ready for storage. No, Miss Patil, the snakes are not still alive, that squirming is magically induced to keep them fresh." Snape groaned inwardly and left them to it while he sat down to check through yesterday's sixth-year homework.

"Which you going to make, Dean?" said Ron, as students jostled for position among the racks.

"The Balm of course. Everybody is. You'd have to be a nutter to make the giddy wotsitsname."

"Draught of Dizziness."

"Yeah, that."

And so the students began work on the potion itself. Ron checked his Tutomee at every point while he and Neville measured out and mixed according to the recipe.

"Plus ten percent," cautioned Ron, one finger on the last line in his book.

Neville nodded and sprinkled another quarter teaspoon of ground bat bristles into the cauldron. "And what colour should it be?"

"Uumm..." They watched the words write themselves in the book: Rich peach with white flecks.

"Flecks? Is that the same as orange with specks of froth?"

No, the book wrote quickly. You need a pinch more grated rat sphincter.

Ron grinned, and almost giggled to himself as he looked up at the blackboard to check. Of course we need a bit more rat sphincter! And Snape will never know we got it wrong first off! And if he asks us? Well, now we know our sphincters to the nearest pinch! Cheating is so easy it's–! The book suddenly scribbled a big warning in red ink: Snape coming! then rewrote itself as notes in Ron's handwriting, though perhaps more legibly.

Snape smirked at the simmering mix but went on his way without comment.

"Nasty git must have known what was wrong with it but kept his mouth shut," grouched Ron. "Right, we'll show him. Add the ground sphincters, Nev."

Grated, not ground, whispered an illustration of an old wizard that was redrawing itself.

"Right, make that grated sphincters, Nev. Use the little grater."

"Got it."

Snape called out "Class, you have ten minutes to finish the brewing then the mix must stand for five more before we test your concoctions."

"Test?" whispered Fay to Hermione. "How can we test the cure unless someone is giddy first?"

Hermione shook her head. "I dread to think." The lesson had proceeded differently from how she remembered in her previous life where only a colour and viscosity check had been made. Had her different behaviour triggered the change? Or Harry's?

Once the potions had finished settling, Snape said, "Very well, volunteers will receive a bonus of ten house points if their brew earns an Exceeds Expectations." He paused for only the briefest of moments. "Let's see now, Goyle and... Potter, bring your vials to the front of the class."

"But..." began Harry, as he watched Goyle stumble to his feet looking as bewildered as he felt.

"What is it, Potter?"

Goyle hesitated.

Harry said, "Erm... I didn't raise my hand, sir."

"So? You didn't volunteer and you won't receive any bonus points will you? You had your chance, now get up here."

Harry resisted his natural impulse to look to Hermione for guidance. He picked up his potion vial and trudged forward with it.

Daggard straightened herself up against the wall, frowning. When she spoke, her voice was cold. "If 'e comes to any 'arm, Snape, yer'll answer ter me."

It was if a static charge had crackled through all the students. There was a collective, synchronised intake of breath and they became motionless, watching what Snape would do. Nobody challenged Snape on his home turf.

The Potion Master's answer was even more icy than the hag's. "Do not dare to interfere with my class, Daggard. This is none of your business."

"Tha's where yer wrong," glared Daggard, her squinty eye watering slightly in a haze of tobacco fumes. She tapped out her pipe against the wall behind her then stepped forward from the cloud of dying smoke, braced for action. "It's life an' death, is worrit is..."

"Let me do it, sir. I volunteer."

Everyone looked round. It was Draco Malfoy who had spoken.

"After all," the Slytherin continued, "We wouldn't want... an incident, would we, sir?" He stood up, his own vial in hand, and waited.

"Oh, very well," said Snape, gesturing him forward. "We mustn't upset the baby's nanny. Sit down, Goyle."

Malfoy strode purposefully forward. Hermione could see that the fluid in the small bottle he held was a pale, washed-out blue. She recognised it instantly.

"Wha's goin' on, Snape?" growled Daggard. She took several steps forward.

In an effort to defuse the situation, Hermione stood up and said, "Exthcusthe me, thsir, but aren't we to testh our potionsth for colour?"

Snape did not take his eyes off Daggard for one single moment. "How would that prove anything, Granger? You can only truly test a cure on a sickness."

Dean gasped. "You mean some have made the Draught of Dizziness?"

Snape's smirk changed to a scowl when he saw Draco's potion close up. "Malfoy, have you...?"

"Sorry, sir. I think I must have added too much water." He held it out to Harry and gave a slight nod as he eyed him meaningfully.

Harry took the draught in his free hand, hesitated for only a moment, then drank it swiftly. He swayed against Snape's desk – Daggard strode to his side, her pipe raised, but Harry managed to quickly drink some of his own potion. He steadied himself. Daggard's shoulders relaxed. The drama was over.

Snape was livid. "Weasley! Get up here! Bulstrode – have you diluted your potion since I last saw it?"

"No, sir," Bulstrode grinned evilly. "In fact it's a bit thicker."

"Then bring it here. Let's see how potent the draught can be."

Daggard, after watching Harry walk normally back to his bench, had lost all further interest, and resumed her place at the wall where she relit her pipe.

Ron cupped his hand tightly around the potion that he and Neville had made, hiding its colour from Snape. He'd watched Harry and knew what to do.

But when he saw Bulstrode's blend he gulped anxiously; it was almost grey, and as he tried to drink it, the sensation was akin to sucking scummy sludge. Yet almost before he'd removed the vial from his lips, he knocked back his own balm. Even so, Ron staggered and collapsed onto his knees. The room appeared to be whirlpooling around him and he felt as if his stomach was trying to struggle up out of his mouth to get some fresh air. Only his own perfect potion saved him from regurgitating lunch. He winced. His eyes watered, then he rose to his feet completely refreshed.

Snape seized his vial and stared at the residue of balm still remaining; it was a rich peach colour with white flecks. "Whose potion is this, Weasley!" He stormed off towards Neville with Ron trotting anxiously after him. "Longbottom, explain yourself!"

"Sir?"

Snape's eyes swept over the equipment on the bench and saw the grater had been used. "Can't you read my instructions! Why have you not ground your sphincters!"

He continued to scan the bench then seized the Tutomee from Ron who had been trying to furtively nudge it behind the cauldron. "What is this?"

"Notebook, sir."

Snape angrily flipped pages. "Since when did you write in this neat fashion, Weasley? Have you–?" Suspicion showed on his face and he took out his wand. "Reveal your secret!" he said, touching the wand to the book. Nothing happened.

"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the open page of the Tutomee with his wand. Words began to form below Ron's notes:

Tidywrite! The only charm guaranteed to neaten even the worst of scrawls into legible writing. Available from all good magical stationery shops. Tidywrite!

"A likely tale!" snarled Snape. "Clearly it's dark magic. I'm confiscating this and that will be twenty points from Gryffindor for cheating." He slammed shut the book and swept off with it towards the front of the class. Ron's face was scarlet with rage as he gasped breathlessly, "You can't... that's my..."

Unsure of himself, he turned to Hermione, mouthing, "Can he tell we were cheating?" but she appeared to be trying to control her own anger.

Finally, she stood up and, sounding as nervously as she could, squeaked, "Pleasth, thsir – Appello."

Snape, who'd reached his own desk and had already stuffed the Tutomee into his bag, looked up. "What was that? Who said that?"

"Pleasth, th-thsir – Appello," repeated Hermione.

"Sit down, you silly, silly girl," Snape said dismissively. He raised his voice to address the rest of the class. "Homework for this weekend will be thirty inches on closely related potions where–"

"Appello," Hermione said more firmly.

Snape glared at her. "Have you completely taken leave of your senses, Granger? Or have you absorbed some of the fumes from Bulstrode's giddy concoction? Either way, I am deducting ten points from Gryffindor."

"Appello."

Snape seemed to swell up as if for an eruption but then he managed to bring himself under control. "Detention, Granger. This weekend. And if you don't sit down and shut up this instant you'll be explaining yourself to the Headmaster."

"Appello. I'm appealing against your confisthcation of private property under Article 40 of the Founders' Regulations which sthtatesth that Hogwarts may only investigate thsusthpect property and only impound that property on proof of wrongdoing."

"Granger, you are clearly way over your head. Do you suppose that browsing a leaflet makes you some kind of authority? Do you dare to teach me my job based on your childish notions?"

"I'll file the appeal with the Board of Governors."

"Who will promptly throw it back and demand your expulsion! Are you so determined to leave Hogwarts that–?"

"–The Board of Governors are bound by magical law and will have no option but to deal with a legitimate Appello."

Snape paused, frowning, but not for long. A sinister smile touched his lips. "Very well. Since you are so determined and we have wasted enough time already. I am not confiscating Weasley's book; I am investigating it."

"For how long, thsir?"

"For as long as it takes," smirked Snape. He knew he'd won by the disappointed look on Hermione's face. As he packed his notes back into his bag, he dismissed his class with a parting, "Label your potions and leave them on my desk for evaluation. Homework is THIRTY inches remember. Nothing less. No excuses. And no... cheating." He glared a warning at Ron on his way out.

Hermione had sank back onto her seat, biting her lip and staring at the top of her bench.

Ron said, "What do we do? What can we do?"

She was only half-hearing what was being said around her. Someone murmured they'd always wondered how she ever got into Gryffindor, and another replied "Well, now you know."

"It was about time someone stood up to that pompous berk," said Dean, patting Hermione on the back on his way past her. There were murmurs of agreement from others. She looked up. Admiring though sympathetic faces were glancing her way as they filed off towards the door. Perhaps she had won a small victory after all.

.

—oOo—

.


Author's Notes

Q & A: Cheryl asked in her review of the last chapter if we'll get to see more of Ginny and Luna who are in France at Beauxbatons. Not for a while, but they are both very important to the story so eventually we will.

TheHonourableSkye11 pointed out that I had the day of the Potions test arriving twice in Chapter 36! Thanks for that, and now fixed.

oXCrystalAngelXo wondered if we might pair up Harry with another girl such as Hannah. Sorry, much as I love Hannah, this whole story pivots on Harry and Hermione's love for each other. Also, you might have noticed that because Justin and Hannah met on the train to the Longbottom Manor, they are seen more together in this lifetime. A growing friendship? Just something to think about. ;)

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

.