"I'm telling you what I saw!" Hermoine insisted indignity to Ron at the Gryffindor table the next morning. She was, to say the least, even more bad tempered after the lack of sleep she had gotten the night before.
Ron rolled his eyes toward the enchanted ceiling which this morning, was a gloomy, overcast gray.
"Hermoine, it was late, you were half asleep, you'd just eaten-"
Her eyes flared at this.
"Ron! I was not imagining things and I sure was not dreaming! Professor McGonagall could back me up on that...she caught me in the common room!"
"Oooh..." Ron said sarcastically, "Hermoine got in trouble..." he shook his head, chuckling and continued, "The fact that she caught you means nothing...you probably were just tired." with this, he dug back into the mound of scrambled eggs that pat in front of him.
She sighed and slumped down into her chair, staring despairingly at the huge plate that sat in front of her, laden with food. She pushed it away slowly. Her appetite was gone. Almost as though sensing this, her breakfast disappeared and left the dish sparkling golden clean.
She gazed at her reflection in the dish and made a face. Her hair was a mess and her eyes had dark circles under them, reminding her of their previous were-wolf teacher, Professor Lupin. She wished she'd have enough time to fix herself before the school day started, but her first lesson was Defense Against The Dark Arts and she knew that Snape did not hold for tardiness, especially for something as trivial as her appearance.
When she looked up again, Ron was hurriedly wolfing down his breakfast before classes, but Harry was just sitting there, stirring his spoon around his full oatmeal bowl. She paused, feeling sorry that she had brought up the subject of his mother so brashly. Her mouth opened as though she were about to apologize, but Harry spoke first.
"Wha-Did she say anything to you?" his voice was hesitant, but he leaned forward in an almost hungry way.
Hermoine was surprised, he didn't sound hurt...still, she figured she ought to be gentle about the topic. But what surprised her even more was that he seemed to believe her, despite the loud doubts Ron was expressing.
"Well..." she paused, considering, "She didn't say anything...really, she didn't even open her mouth," Hermoine reflected with a start, realizing it for the first time herself, "But...I got the feeling she was-"
Suddenly, tiny Professor Flitwick stood and informed them it was time for classes and good luck. There was a flurry of chairs scraping marble floor and a fumble for assorted books and wands as well as a few anxious squeaks coming from first years.
Hermoine was separated from Harry in the huge wave of people, but she could see him raising himself to his whole meager height, trying to catch her words. She sighed in frustration and called as loud as possible,
"I'll tell you in Defense Against the Dark Arts!"
Hopefully, she thought, if Snape even lets us talk
***
As soon a Hermoine entered the Defense Against The Dark Arts room, she knew they were in for a less than good year.
Snape had rearranged the room and set up a seating chart. Hermoine sank reluctantly into her seat next to stuck up, pug-nosed Pansy Parkinson and another Slytherin, a boy she didn't know with dark, greasy hair that mirrored Snape's and a prissy little mouth.
She craned her neck over the sea of Griffidor and Slytherin heads, looking for Harry. She finally spotted his across the room, evidently looking for her as he was pretending to listen intently to Neville Longbottom who was undoubtedly worrying over something while craning his neck over the sea of heads.
She was about to call out, but decided against it as Snape took center stage at the front of the room, holding his wand in an almost threatening position. The rest of the class, too had also turned their attention toward him. His black, seemingly endless eyes scanned the room with a mixture of hate and grim, but proud satisfaction.
"I see that half the room is going to do very well this year, however it seemed the other half....well..." his voice trailed off and he fixed his glare on Neville who gave a little sound like "eep" and shrank down in his desk.
"Now." Snape said, banging his wand firmly on the demonstration table, making the majority of the room, including Hermoine jump, "This year, we will be picking off where your er...former, rather inadequate Professor left off..." he said.
"However, we will be moving rather quickly..." here he began pacing about the desks, lunging forward at Neville who gave another squeak, "After all, I would've expected you cover things in depth such as Hags and Banshees last year."
His long, white fingers paused, drumming his table as he drew up front once more, his black robes swished behind him with finality.
Hermoine quickly raised her hand. Actually, they had studied Hags and touched a bit on Banshees the former year...if only Snape would call on her!
Come on, you greasy, greasy man! Call on me!!! she thought to herself in utter frustration, waving her arm about in the air so hard that she nearly struck her Slytherin desk neighbor which he returned with a cold, hard glare.
Snape, too fixed her with a trademark Slytherin stare but then suddenly turned to Harry.
"Potter!" he barked, "What are the three major traits of a Banshee cry?"
Harry gave a weary inner sigh but drew himself up proudly. Hermoine's arm flew like a crazy bird set free in the room.
"Uh, sir, we didn't cover Banshees last year..." he paused, licking his lips, "You said it yourself." he added earnestly. Snape rewarded him with a look of loathing and frustration. There was a gentle ripple of agreement throughout the room, coming solely from Gryffidors.
"Yet, Potter...and the information lies in your new textbooks...but you wouldn't want to open that now, would you?...1 point off of Griffidor for your attitude." he snapped. The Slytherins passed each other smirks while Hermoine and the other Gryffidors sizzled in their seats.
No, it certainly would not be a good year in this class, Hermoine thought with a sigh as Snape hollered at them to open their books and then hollered some more at Ron for making a face. Not a good year at all.
***
Hermoine darted quickly to Care of Magical Creatures, wanting as much time to talk with Harry as possible. She scurried past Professor McGonagall's room, saw her grading papers, past the Ancient Magical History dungeon which was empty, past Filch's room, she saw him pacing about in front of a chair that was occupied by Harry...
Harry?
She quickly backed up, peering slowly around the doorway. Yes, it was definitely Harry. She stood still and silent, wanting to catch every word that Filch said.
"...he, you kids think you can get away wit everything' now doncha? Think that ol' Filch won't see your lil' tricks? But I do! And I caught ya this time. Detention for you, boy!" he lectured, barely able to keep the glee out of his hoarse voice as his jowls shook.
Looking past him wearily, Harry saw Hermoine. He flashed her a desperate "help me" sort of look. Hermoine wrung her hands wistfully.
On one hand, she could have the sheer mischievous joy of doing something perfectly awful to Filch, getting Harry out of trouble and getting to Care for Magical Creatures...but on the contrary, she could sit, do nothing and not face possible expulsion from school. She'd be a tad late for Magical Creatures, but what would Hagrid care?
Meanwhile, however, as she was weighing the possibilities, Filch was writing up a detention slip which he handed to Harry, unable to keep a mirthful smirk off his wrinkled face, as he walked out the door.
Harry gave a despairing moan, reading the slip.
"A weeks worth of cleaning the trophy room after lessons?" he turned to Hermoine, "Why didn't you do anything?"
I was going to but I-" she began, but he cut her off.
"Wait, what were saying about my mum during breakfast?"
Hermoine stopped short and turned to him eagerly, quickly explaining her restlessness, the pacing, the mirror and finally about the shadowy ghost like figure.
"...and then, I know this sounds nuts, but I swore, it looked like she was warning me of something." she said, her voice lowered down to a whisper for no reason.
Harry was looking at her, eyes wide, mouth half open. Hermoine stared at him anxiously.
"I hope I didn't bring it on too fast or anything..." he voice trailed off, uncertain. Suddenly, he began to speak.
"Hermoine...I-I had a dream last night..." his voice was soft and slow, "My mum was...was in it. She was trying to hold onto me, but something kept pulling me away, she kept saying "beware, beware" and then the something swept me away and I saw her face freeze...and she, she was looking at me, a look on her face...like she was scared and she was..."
"Warning you." Hermoine finished. Their eyes met, both scared.
Suddenly, interrupting the moment, a meow pierced the silence.
They both jumped, then looked down. There was Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris.
"We'd better get outta here. Filch'll come soon." Harry said hurriedly, taking Hermoine's arm and the two rushed down the hall, around the corner and right into-
"Professor Snape!" Hermoine squeaked. The two quickly stepped back, gulping.
"Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger...How very...charming." his piercing eyes fell on Harry's hand which was still gripping Hermoine's wrist. Harry followed his gaze, then suddenly dropped Hermoine's arm, embarrassed.
"It's not what it looked like! I...er, we er...uh, were late going to Care of Magical Creatures because I was written up by Mr. Filch..." Harry stuttered. Snape had a way of making you feel as though you always owed him an explanation.
"Both of you?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows that reminded Hermoine of two tiny, oily black snakes.
"Well, er no, just Harry." Hermoine ventured.
"Well both you of you have it now." Snape snapped, drawing two detention forms from thin air with his wand and handing them to both of the disheartened Gryffidors.
"I will see you two at the end of the day in my office I trust-" he began, but was cut off as Professor McGonagall hurried up, her gaunt face greatly unsettled.
"Potter, Granger, I need to see you immediately." she said, briskly stepping in front of Snape, much the way a mouse would step between a striking snake and it's prey.
"Excuse me, Professor, but I was punishing these two for skipping class." Snape grated angrily.
Professor McGonagall turned on him and spoke in a low, even voice.
"Severus, I assure you that even you will find that I have a greater need for them. I believe you should come along as well."
He frowned but finally nodded.
"Well then, come." she turned heel and the three followed her. Hermoine noted that Snape didn't release his glare from them until they reached the library.
A collective gasp rose from the students and Snape.
It appeared as though a hurricane had ripped through the usually neat room. Ripped books, dismembered book covers and pages lay strewn across the room, the shelves nearly empty all over...all the books were completely gone from the restricted section, they noted. The desks and chairs were tore and shredded, toppled over, some even across the room from where they had been.
The rest of the teachers were milling about, faces somber as they bent over, half heatedly picking up the remains of books. Professor Lambert hurried over as they entered and enveloped Harry in a gentle hug for some reason, tears dripping down her face. Then she released him and turned away to wipe the tears.
The librarian was blubbering in the corner, covered by a blanket and babbling how she hear a strange voice calling her and how she foolishly left the library and how the door slammed behind her, locking and how she could hear thuds as books slammed against the door and a voice...a high voice laughing louder and louder as she pounded on the door...
Hermoine and Harry looked up at Professor McGonagall.
"You will be able to put this right, won't you?" Hermoine asked, nearly on the verge of tears herself at the sight of all those damaged books.
"Yes. Of course, it will take much work, after all with those old books we had..." she sighed, "But yes, we will."
"You-You don't think we did this, do you Professor?" Harry ventured. She turned to him quickly.
"Heavens no child! We just thought that..." she took a deep breath and turned to Dumbledore who had come up behind them, silent and Solomon, "Shall we show them?
He nodded, still not speaking.
Professor McGonagall and Flitwick moved to the back of the library, toward part of the wall that was covered up by a velvet cloth which they had failed to notice upon entering and pulled it down. Harry and Hermoine both barely managed to keep from crying out. On the wall, in what seemed like transparent silver blood, someone had drawn the perfect outline of a ghost and not just any ghost, but Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Gryffidor spirit. It was so precise, it seemed almost as though he had been frozen there.
In the center in bold letters was written a message:
Lily...bEwaRe...Meddle mOre anD
yOu, not exclusiVely your son, aRe nexT!
***
"They said that Nearly Headless Nick's spirit was stolen, like an alive person being possessed...but his soul is still alive, still out there...and it can, possess a mortal." whispered Hermoine to Ron later that day. The students had all been herded into their common rooms as soon as possible without much of an explanation and the professors had whipped out the purple sleeping bags Hermoine remembered from her second year and had instructed them all to lay down and be good for the perfects and Head Boy and Girl.
"Wow..." whispered Ron, his eyes shining like the stars than shone their bright light through the common room windows, "And you guys think it was...well, you-know-who?" he added.
Hermoine started to roll her eyes in a know-it-all way, but stopped herself, "Well of course!" she couldn't keep the condescending tone out of her voice, "Who else would it be than Voldermort himself?!"
Ron stared at her, alarmed, his ears red.
"Don't say that!" he hissed, "Just call him You-Know-Who!"
"Oh shut up." she said, "Harry's right, the man...if you can call him that has a name, use it!"
Harry meanwhile, who had remained very quiet during this whole argument spoke,
"Hermoine? What'd she look like? My mum, I mean?" he croaked, as though his voice were out of practice.
"Well, she was like your pictures, pretty, kind of small...shortish hair..." Hermoine stopped, "Why?"
"I just wanted to know." he paused, "You know, I've never seen her out of pictures or anything...well, except for that mirror but..." he sighed, "I just wonder why she didn't show herself to..." he seemed at a lose of words, or sorry he'd spoken.
"To you?" Hermoine asked gently. He nodded and there was an uncomfortable silence.
"Well, uh, I'd had better, uh check on Ginny. You know uh, how she gets..." Ron stood little too quickly and headed toward Ginny who was talking with her fellow third years excitedly.
The other two stared at each other for a moment, then looked away, uncertain as to what to say.
Late that night, after the lights had gone out and all around her were dreaming Gryffidors which included Ron, Hermoine had still not fallen asleep and as she guess from his irregular breathing and constant heavy sighs, neither had Harry.
"Harry?" Hermoine ventured, "Are you all right? You're not scared or anything, are you?" she added anxiously.
Harry turned to her, smiling a little sadly, "No, it's not that....it's just, why hasn't my mum shown herself before? Does she not care?"
"Don't tell yourself that, Harry! Never! You must've cared a whole damn lot about you to give up her life and to warn you now! She cares!" Hermoine reprimanded him so sharply and so sternly that she rather resembled Professor McGonagall, making him smile.
"Thanks. I-I guess I needed that." he barely whispered.
"Hey..." she said, her voice softened and mouth turned up with barest trace of smile, "What're friends for?"
He smiled at her and suddenly they were leaning closer, their faces and lips only inches apart and their eyes closed and then-
"HARRY! HERMOINE! Do you have any idea what this looks like?!" suddenly out of the blue (actually since it was quite dark, the black), loomed Percy Weasley, lantern in hand, shining brilliant yellow light over his freckled pale face, accented with horn rimmed glasses.
"Uh...er...we...no, it's not like that at all, Perce..." Harry stuttered, as the two did a hasty retreat away from on another, "We were just uh...talking...you know?" he added meekly.
Percy gave a great huff, swelling up much like his mother, "Regardless of what you were doing, it's quite late and what you should be doing is sleeping!"
"You're quite right, Percy." Hermoine agreed readily, wanting to get out of the uncomfortable situation as quick as possible.
"Good! Then I hope you understand why I want you to move across the room, Ms. Granger."
She sighed, picked up the sleeping bag and carted it over next to...(yippee) a snoring Lavender Brown, plunked it down and curled up into it.
Harry got back into his own bag under Percy's watchful eye and smirked as her stalked pompously away, rather like Mrs. Norris.
He was just settling down and was beginning to get used to Ron rattled on and on about mutant eggs in his sleep when a shadow was cast over him. He jumped up, ready to battle but instead Hermoine leaned down, gave him a quick peck on the lips-which he readily returned after recovering from his surprise- and scampered silently back across the room and into her sleeping bag.
He lay back down into the bag, feeling as though it were a down cloud. And though the day's events had been quite exciting and rather frightening, try as he might, he couldn't seem wipe off a goofy grin that kept spreading across his face.