Tragedy hits Hogwarts, and Hermione tried desperately to save a fellow student to no avail and the staff at Hogwarts can no longer hide the offensive messages written on the castle walls. Not only that, but both Severus and Minerva have reason to be concerned for the returning Muggle-borns. Who is doing this and why? Severus must stay focused if he's going to suss out the clues to catch the one responsible.
Murder, Magic, Mayhem, and Madness
October
Lucius was in an outrage. What the bloody hell is going on? Why the cover up? Rumor was that the girl was killed and left floating in the pool… He threw the paper across the room and slammed his fists on the table, making his breakfast dishes rattle and his goblet nearly tip. If anything happens to Hermione… but surely Severus is keeping tabs on the girl. He had feelings for her. His house-elf inconspicuously popped in to check that nothing was amiss or that the meal was not unsatisfactory before stealthy popping out again.
Lucius remembered the talks he and Hermione had in the first week of their courtship. The girl had been completely besotted with Severus, and Severus had allowed her intimacies he'd never allowed anyone else to have. They'd even talked about books, theories, hypotheses, dreams, and futures, and even kids. Lucius smiled at the thought that Hermione would be carrying his child and not Severus'. Draco, who'd let Potter best him at Quidditch, Hermione best him academically, and even allowed Severus, Crabbe, and Pucey to best him with the tasks the Dark Lord had given him, would find himself with competition. Between myself and Hermione, I will sire a son, or two, who will be worthy of the Malfoy name. Not some coddled twit who can't even brandish a wand at a poisoned old fool.
He wondered why Hermione hadn't written him and told him about the incidents occurring at Hogwarts, especially the drowning. In her letters, the girl told him everything—everything! I know that the Weasley girl is pinning over Harry Potter. That the Lovegood girl has carried an infatuation for the Longbottom boy ever since her fifth year and that botched incident at the Department of Mysteries, not that I'd wanted to have been reminded of that particular night. I even know that the Thomas boy in her house is currently the liaison for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and is planning on working for the Weasley twins upon graduation. Again, not that he'd cared about the boy, but reliable information was never a loss to a Slytherin, and it did mean that his investment in the wizarding stock for the Weasleys' store was still a good adventure and sure to be profitable. One never turns one's nose up at a good investment simply because of the lower status of the company owners, even if they were blood-traitors. One such as himself simply utilized various pseudonyms and banked the profits, no one else being the wiser. Besides, goblin stockbrokers don't care if I use pseudonyms. I could use a hundred different identities as long as the Galleons are real.
Lucius looked at the article again. He'd been disturbed by the reports of the threats written on the walls in bloody mud. It is a childish prank, in horribly bad taste, and the measures taken by Severus to assure the safety of the students have been admirable—but the culprit should have been caught already.
Although the Daily Prophet simply reported the recent drowning as an accident, in light of the recent vandalism, it was too significant to simply disavow as inconsequential. Lucius knew the girl's drowning could be related, even possibly caused by whoever wrote the offending messages. Hate, especially prejudicial hate, can drive some people to take an active hand. He knew this first hand. Tabitha Wellington was a Muggle-born, and his Hermione had found the girl. Pride swelled up in his chest as he recalled the Prophet's report in regards to Hermione's heroic attempt in trying to save the girls life, trying in vain to force her heart to beat and make the dead girl breath. It surely must have been traumatic for her—so why hasn't she owled me and poured her heart out to me like she did everything else?
He couldn't owl Severus about the events, demanding to know what had happened, because until the invitations went out he didn't want the ol' bat to know anything, yet. It was too soon for Severus to discover about his relationship with Hermione. The twenty-five year age difference was scandal enough. Not that he, Lucius Malfoy, still one of the handsomest and wealthiest wizards in the United Kingdom, couldn't get any young witch he wanted, but he didn't need interference. No, he didn't need problems, and certainly not from Severus Snape, Headmaster and personally assigned guardian of the golden trio, of which his fiancée was one third.
Lucius considered his options. I suppose I will have to send her a letter, reiterate to her how much I care, my devotion to her… and flowers maybe. He'd send sweetheart roses with forget-me-nots and iris for warmth of affection. Should I send a token of my affection? But I don't want to overdo it, not with her. She'll see through it and that—no, just the flowers. Besides, Hermione isn't a material girl like Narcissa. He'd send the letter, scented in his cologne and send her another bottle of his honeyed mead. She's been without it's sweetness for too long. Another won't hurt as a reminder—a reinforcement. That would be good for now.
He will ask if the first Hogsmeade weekend was scheduled yet and gently inquire if she'd like funds to use for shopping… or simply send her a few Galleons. He didn't want her to think he was buying her, though. I'll go to Hogsmeade, book a room in the inn and surprise her. I'll tell her I couldn't wait anymore, that I had to see her. She'll like that. He knew that she'd want to buy a new book or three. Yes, I'll send her some money and tell her it's to purchase a new book and replenish her school supplies. She won't see anything untoward by that gesture, and then I'll surprise her with a visit. And he'll need some way of knowing that she was safe. She needs some means of being able to detect if trouble is near. A Sneakoscope possibly, or a Foe-Glass… He'd go to London and see what was available.
~oo0oo~
Hermione went through the week in a kind of a fog, concentrating on her revisions and essays and trying to ignore all the whispering and mumbling from the students around her. It was hard enough to concentrate on her studies without being subject to the unwanted attention. She knew that many of the students were mourning Tabitha's death, and Hermione felt it keenly as well. The Daily Prophet, The Quibbler, Witch Weekly, and even the The Sorcerers' Star had wanted to interview her, but thankfully Severus had put a stop to that. When Friday had finally rolled around, Hermione was blissfully grateful. She went through her routine and spent nearly every possible moment reading. She'd yet to return Severus' book to him, and really hoped that he didn't mind. Truth was that since the night in the bathroom, she hadn't picked it up again.
Following dinner, she had a prefect meeting. She was dismayed to find that the one topic everyone wanted to talk about was the drowning in the prefect bathroom. "I'm not going in there ever again," preceded, "Can you imagine, swimming in a pool Tabitha died in?" on her left, while, "I hear the Headmaster is going to move the pool," and "There should be a Auror there, or something." Hermione rubbed her temples as the conversation around her dogged on. "It's haunted I tell you," was followed with, "Can you believe she just drowned?" and "I saw a ghost in the water," answered by, "No, that was Myrtle."
Hermione just buried her face in her hands and wanted to cry.
"Hermione?" Justin asked. "You all right?"
Her head snapped up and she simply exploded at him. "No, the pool is not haunted and, if it were, Tabitha's ghost would be like all the others in the castle! The three Aurors can't be everywhere at once, and one has to stay in the Entry Hall for some reason! No, the Headmaster is not moving the pool. Yes, Myrtle visits the prefects' pool. No, I don't know how or why Tabitha drowned, or if she knew how to swim. I don't know why she was in there alone. And no! I didn't see anything!"
Magnophelia Hageneder, one of the Ravenclaw prefects, looked over at her, startled. "But no one has been in the pool since—well since you-know-what! How do you know it's not haunted?"
"It's not haunted, unless you count that Miserable Moaning Myrtle ghost," Devon Turkwell, a sixth-year Slytherin prefect, sneered.
"It isn't, okay!" Hermione snapped. "Can we discuss the rotations now? Tabitha's shifts have to be covered. Look, its fine—the Aurors didn't find anything untoward. The schedule has a few shifts that need coverage, and someone has to pick up the extra nights." Hermione looked around and her gaze fell on the sides of heads, the tops of heads and a few views of the inside of a couple of noses. "Well someone has to do it!"
Finally Payton Damrosche, a fifth-year Gryffindor shook his head, but Amanda raised her hand. "I'll take one next week and the week after."
Hermione wanted to hug her. "Thank you. I need one more to go with Amanda. Headmaster Snape insists on us working in pairs."
Konrad Kushner, a Hufflepuff prefect, held up his hand. "I can take one next week, but I don't really want to do the fifth floor corridor…" Hermione shot him a questioning look. "Since you have to check the prefects' bath—it—I'll do it again."
Amanda looked up when Hermione snapped, "Fine. I'll do it."
"Hermione, you can't," she said timidly. "You've already taken Tabitha's other nights last week and you…"
Hermione looked at her with indignation. "I have no volunteers, do I?"
"I'll do it," Justin Finch-Fletchley stated. "And I'll take her Wednesday for next week. In fact, why don't you just put me down on the same nights you are."
Hermione gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you. So, which of you will pair up with Amanda?"
Hermione trudged up to the Headmaster's office after the meeting, grateful that somehow Justin and Amanda had managed to get Konrad and Devon to accept at least two of Tabitha's nights. She had already worked out with Professor McGonagall a new schedule for the rest of the month and for November and December. If things worked out well, the rest of the year would follow the same schedule as December.
Severus scanned over the schedule with a scowl on his face, looking up at her occasionally, then back at the schedule. With his hair tied back, his sly glances seemed quite direct, and if she'd been a first year, possibly disconcerting. But instead, Hermione found herself held captivate by his dark eyes each time they flicked up to her face. He made a notation on the schedule and scratched a line more than once as he read. She wasn't sure if he was underlining or crossing something out.
She glanced up at Phineas Black's portrait and couldn't help suppress a smile at the sleeping image, remembering all they talks they'd had last year. It was during those talks, and listening to him exalt Headmaster Snape, that Hermione realized how much she'd cared about him. While Harry reveled in the fact that the students were giving Severus a hard time, revolting and causing mayhem, Hermione had worried about what the undue stress was doing to him, if he'd been eating, and whether he'd been sleeping well.
Then seeing him briefly in the corridor the night of the final battle, how thin he'd become, the dark circles under his eyes and the worried and haggard look about him, had nearly broken her heart. She'd even jabbed Ron in the ribs for snickering at him as they'd hid from view in a doorway, watching Severus run by and up the stairs. His first year of Headmaster had really been a difficult one…
Severus cleared his throat, and Hermione realized that he was finally looking up and was leveling a hard glare at her. "Why are you picking up Tabitha's rounds?" he asked softly, the still present scratchiness of his healing vocal cords making his velvety voice sound strained.
"I'm not, sir, I have only three of them!" she replied and he raised an eyebrow, looking at her incredulously. "Well, three more of them… a month, and Justin Finch-Fletchley will be with me. Konrad Kushner and Amanda Featheredge took another two, Devon Turckwell and Payton Damrosche another, and Richard Darthenridge and Rechelle Collins have the other two. I know you didn't want two from the same house, but it couldn't be helped," she tried to explain, and Severus crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "No one wants Tabitha's rounds because they don't want to have the fifth floor corridor, especially now after the drowning. Hopefully by next month I'll have worked it out so that rotation will be rotated evenly and everyone will have to do it, but hopefully by then it won't seem so bad."
Severus continued to stare at her as if regarding her. "How are you holding up? I notice that you've not been eating properly."
She shrugged. This was not what she'd expected him to ask, and she had no idea what to tell him. What? I'm doing fine. I'm doing exactly as everyone seems to be expecting me to be. I still have nightmares of finding my friends floating face down in the prefect pool. Hermione toyed with the sleeve of her robe. "I haven't had much of an appetite at lunch or dinner, but then I get hungry later. I've been taking food to my room to eat while I revise."
Snape sat up and placed his elbows on his desk. "Hermione, you did what you could."
"I know," she replied. "I'm sorry, but was there anything else? I have loads to do on my essays." He shook his head and she rose. "Thank you, sir. For everything."
Severus nodded and watched her go. She wasn't eating properly, even Minerva had commented to the fact. She had circles under her eyes, and she was looking a bit pale when she'd come down to breakfast every morning. He knew she wasn't sleeping well, because her professors commented that she'd yawn in class. It was like it was when she'd sit with him for hours at St. Mungo's. He'd known then that she wasn't sleeping well or eating properly. She told him it was simply due to the stress with everything going on after the war, but a quick look in her mind had revealed the truth. She'd been worried about him. Flashes of dreams of them together, romantically, flickered between images of her researching through books, Muggle therapy books. Leave it to Hermione to resort to Muggle medicine when she'd been dissatisfied with wizard healing practices.
A smile quirked his lips as he recalled her gasp the first time she'd pulled the covers down and lifted his left leg up, bending the appendage nearly to his chest. He'd been aware of what was happening, how his nightshirt had risen and exposed himself. She'd taken something soft and placed it over his right leg and groin, then she'd continued to bend and straighten his left leg in her Therapy session. After a while, she'd carefully rearranged the soft cloth over his left leg and groin, then proceeded to do the same exercises with his right leg. Following her strenuous efforts with his unresponsive legs, she had vigorously and meticulously rubbed some kind of lotion or solution into his skin and massaged his atrophied muscles.
He'd been mortified the first few days, furious that she'd take such brazen liberties with his person. He knew that his body had reacted to her intimate touch even though her fingers never really strayed close enough to touch his member, although his mind had screamed for her to do so, even as he'd mentally berated himself for wanting her to. The confliction of his desire and need had warred with his shame and discomfort. But the dreams. The dreams he'd had of her—her hands. And her mouth—her garrulous, voluble mouth, which had been a bane to him in class from her very first day. Why, for bloody Merlin's sake, did his attention-starved mind associated the imagined image of her mouth on him with her inappropriate behavior still astounded him. But her hands on his calves and thighs had been pure torture, one that he repeated nearly every night in his sleep.
The problem was that he craved the feeling of her hands on his person ever since he'd shouted at her, lambasted her nefariously and literally hexed her from his room last August.
He looked down at the schedule, noting the nights Hermione would be on patrol, marking them down on his own schedule. He summoned a house-elf, charging the creature with taking a plate of food to Miss Granger every night when she was in her room revising and went back to addressing his correspondences, trying to ignore the throbbing in his trousers.
~oo0oo~
Ginny joined Justin and Hermione on their evening patrol rounds. Hermione was certain it was because she knew that they were going to go to the fifth floor corridor and to the Prefects' bath. It was eerie for Hermione walking in, knowing that a student had drowned here. Personally, she was glad that Ginny and Justin were with her. Doing the same rounds with Richard Darthenridge, the seventh year prefect from Slytherin, had been horribly uncomfortable, even though he hadn't taunted her or anything of the sort. The first night, she'd not been able even to go in the room, and on the second night, Richard had let her stand by the door. Still, it was easier to be there with Ginny and Justin, although only slightly so.
The room was spotlessly clean. The tub was empty and so clean it had a shine. The towels were stacked perfectly on the bench just like they should have been. Justin walked into the room and faced the tub. The silence was marred only by a drip from one of the taps. He walked over to them and tightened it, making the silence complete. "Well, no ghosts," he said, breaking the tension.
Hermione sat down on the bench and idly picked up a towel, smoothing it on her lap. "Can I tell you something?" she asked. Both Ginny and Justin walked over to her, Ginny sitting on the bench beside her. "I don't think it was a simple drowning."
Justin's brow furrowed. "But the papers said it was."
"Her eyes were open," Hermione stated, and Ginny nodded, looking at her sympathetically. "Like Colin's were that night. And Betty Naylor's… and Rachel Trobins'…. and Tonks…" A tear ran down Hermione's cheek. Justin inhaled sharply. "I know I shouldn't speculate or anything, but when someone drowns, there is water in their lungs and their eyes aren't open as if they were surprised. But I'm speculating."
"Is that what's been bothering you?" Ginny asked. "That her eyes were open?" Hermione nodded and Ginny pulled her into an embrace. "Geeze, no wonder you've been dreaming about Betty and Colin! You think that Tabitha was killed with the Avada Kedavra? Hermione, no! It was a drowning. The Headmaster said so, and the papers. If it was the Avada Kedavra someone would have said so!"
Hermione looked up at Ginny. "You'd think after seeing a room of kids—people I knew—lying dead in the Great Hall after the war… that I'd take this better? But seeing Tabitha's face just drudged it all back up for me, all the faces, lying there with their eyes open. Sev-Snape in the Shack, staring at the ceiling." Ginny hugged her tightly as she fought back her tears. "I couldn't… I just couldn't…"
Justin looked at the door and back at the girls. "I think what you did, trying to save her like that was admirable." Hermione pulled away from Ginny and wiped her cheeks as she looked up at him, watching him smile at her with deep respect. "You really are the best Head Girl. I'm really proud to be serving with you."
"Thank you, Justin, that means a lot," she said, wiping her eyes on the towel. He stood there a moment watching her, shifting uncomfortably, and she realized they'd been in the room long enough. As they left, she knocked a few towels off the bench, and she saw a slip of parchment stuck between the towels and withdrew it. Reading it quickly, she suddenly felt a sense of dread. Justin looked at her curiously as Hermione sank back on the bench. Ginny took the parchment and began softly reading it aloud.
There was a good and beloved young son of Glyndon Vale Broad. While out playing one day saw a niffler pair in the garden. He gave chase, and not looking where he was going, fell into a well under a huge fruit tree and was drowned. The body was not discovered, however, and no one could tell what had become of him. The king of Glyndon Vale Broad consulted his Seers, and they gave him this answer: "There is in your herds a hippogriff that changes its color three times a day, from white to red to black. Find the one who can interpret this sign, and you will discover your son."Diligent search was made throughout the kingdom, and at last, a girl was found who could give the answer. "The hippogriff," she said, "represents the Everbright tree, the fruit of which is first white, then red when ripe, then when it falls off, it's black and dies."
The son was found, but he was dead.
"Valley Broad is where Helga Hufflepuff was from, and there is a huge picture of the Everbright tree—it's how we get into our common room," Justin said, his voice choked and strained. "You don't think this refers to… Tabitha?"
"It's odd, but I don't know." Ginny stared at the parchment in disbelief. "We have to show this to Professor Snape!" She turned to go, but Hermione was staring transfixed at the nonexistent soapy water in the pool. "C'mon, Hermione, did you hear me?"
"She was murdered," Hermione said, her voice echoing off the walls, taunting her.
"This note is about a boy, not a girl," Ginny stated.
"I'll take this to the Headmaster. I know the password," Justin said softly to Ginny, but his voice bounced on the walls. "You take her to your common room. I'm sure it's just a bit of a story someone was writing or something, and they simply dropped it. It was probably just left here by whoever used the pool last."
"Sure," Ginny nodded.
"No one has been using the pool since Tabitha was killed," Hermione stated, her voice sounding dead flat in the acoustics of the bathroom.
"That's not true. The Slytherins were in here," Justin said, gently encouraging Hermione to stand with a gentle but firm grip on her arm. "They asked me for the new password."
Hermione looked at him, not believing what he'd said.
"Yeah, it's been safe too for a while now. I am—we were going to reset the password, remember?"
Hermione nodded, her mind whirling on what he'd revealed. Slytherins were in here since—and used the pool? "Let's change it then. How about…"
"Ghost free," Ginny said, and Justin repeated it at the door. "Hermione, c'mon. I'm sure Professor Snape will agree that you've covered your rounds." As Hermione followed Ginny out the door, Ginny turned back to Justin. "Thank you."
"No, problem," he said before running off to the Headmaster's office.
~oo0oo~
Hermione entered the Great Hall the next morning feeling a bit better. If the self-preserving Slytherins were using the prefect pool, then there was nothing to be worried about. Kids drowned in pools all the time. Hermione filled her plate and toyed with her food as she ate. She felt a tingle in the hairs on the back of her neck and knew that Severus was watching her. She turned and nodded at him, lifting her fork to take a bite of her eggs. He took a drink from his goblet as he watched her, and then turned to scan the rest of the room when he set it down. Even as his gaze traveled away from her, the feeling of being watched didn't go away. It was as if he was still keeping her in his range of sight all the while trying to appear as if he wasn't.
She sighed. Sly, ever the spy. Fully aware, always in control, but unwilling to show any emotion or his true feelings. Oh, Severus, don't live the rest of your life like that. Live. She turned her attention back to her plate and took a bite of sausage. The soft tingle of being observed changed to the odd eerie chill of being glared at maliciously. Hermione looked up and turned around. Unable to determine the source of her discomfort, she resumed eating, but the feeling didn't go away. She looked at the Slytherin table, but didn't see anyone looking at her particularly, nor was anyone at the Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff tables. She did notice that Luna hadn't made it to breakfast yet, but it was still early.
"Hermione, you okay?" Margery Woozencraft asked, reaching for the pitcher.
"I just feel like someone is glaring at me," Hermione admitted. "Probably just nerves."
"Oh, okay. I, er, may I ask you something?" Margery asked, leaning closer to her. Hermione's brow creased as she looked at her friend. Her mouth was full of eggs so all she could do was nod. "I need help with my class assignment. Do you have—do you mind?"
Hermione shook her head as she swallowed. "No, sure. I'd be happy to. Which class?"
"Ancient Runes," Margery replied. "I'm having trouble with a few translations."
"No problem. I promised Amanda that I'd help her with the new Transfiguration spell after breakfast in our room. Grab your plate. I'll make one for Amanda, and we'll go up now," she suggested, pilling a heap of sausages, two apples, and two croissants on a second plate.
Margery Transfigured three napkins into plate covers, handing two to Hermione, and giggling at her look of surprise. "My parents have a bed and breakfast. We went to the States once and stayed in this house in Carmel that was turned into an inn, called a bed and breakfast. Mum loved the idea, so we have one. The family home in Devon is set up… Anyway, when I graduate, Courtney and I are going to have a bed and breakfast on the coast, for wizards. Dad is buying the house and renovating it. It'll be really great!"
Margery told Hermione all about her and her sister's plans for the bed and breakfast, even making Hermione promise to come stay with them as they walked from the Hall to their room.
Ginny was sitting on her trunk in her Quidditch robes, making it easier for Amanda to braid her hair when they arrived. Demelza was still in bed but sat up when Hermione and Margery entered. "Oh, you brought me breakfast in bed?"
Hermione laughed and offered her a croissant and sausage, and turned her head at the sound of a beak tapping on her window. "Oh, wonder who that is from!" Amanda said, beaming.
"Her fiancé, who else," Ginny said, smirking.
Hermione stuck out her tongue, put her plates on her bed and handed first Amanda, then Ginny, a vase of flowers, the last two arrangements from Lucius, so she could open the window. The owl wasn't from Lucius; it was Harry's. She turned to get a piece of sausage for Edwige and barreled into a huge bouquet of sweetheart roses with forget-me-nots and iris. "Oh!" she gasped, taken aback.
The house-elf started to whimper. "Pookie is sorry, miss! Pookie did not mean to scare miss. Pookie just told to bring these to you, and Pookie did as she was told!"
"No, no, it's all right, I didn't hear you pop in that's all. Do not punish yourself!" Hermione looked at the flowers, which sat on her bedside table and the ones that her friends were holding so she'd been able to open the window. "Amanda, why don't you just set the ones you're holding on the other windowsill," she said, pointing to the other side of her bed.
Amanda squealed in delight, carried the bouquet of roses, Gerbera daisies, lilies, lisianthus, daisy poms, and waxflowers and placed them on the windowsill between her bed and Hermione's, beaming with joy.
Ginny laughed, barely visible behind the large bouquet of stargazer lilies, carnations, and stock. "You are running out of surfaces to put these."
Hermione grimaced as she gave Edwige a piece of sausage for delivering Harry's letter and watched her fly away. The elf stood patiently as Hermione closed the window.
"So, if you get another one, do they go on the windowsill by me?" Margery asked, hugging her pillow, looking at Hermione from across the room. Hermione smiled and shook her head as she placed the new flowers on her windowsill.
Demelza laughed and flopped over on her bed, facing Hermione's. "Me, too! I have a windowsill!"
Hermione laughed as Ginny got up from her trunk and whirled around to face the other girls. "At this rate, you'll both have flowers by your bed." She handed Hermione the vase and sat back down so Amanda could finish her hair.
Hermione set the flowers down, sat on her bed and pulled her essay from her bag. "At this rate, we'll run out of space on the all the windowsills and bedside tables, and you'll be begging me to get rid of them," she replied jovially.
"Nah," and "Uh, uh," were uttered from across the room as Amada squealed, "Not bloody likely!"
Hermione laughed as she pulled out two of her Ancient Runes books, then looked up at Margery and patted the bed for her to sit with her. "Show me what you've got so far."
Margery flounced over and handed Hermione her parchment. Hermione picked up one of her books and opened it, surprised when something fell out from under the cover. It was a photograph of a Gryffindor Quidditch player falling off his broom. Hermione thought it looked an awful lot like Harry but the skin of the player, or what could be seen of it, was dark as if the boy were black. Hermione stared at the image and waited for it to repeat. Even when the picture began repeating the scene of the frightening accident again, the part when the player actually fell off the broom was so quick she couldn't tell where the broom went. But the fall was horribly familiar, similar to when Harry had fallen their third year.
Ginny leaned over her shoulder. "What are you looking at so intent-ly…" Her eyes went huge as she noticed the image on the picture. "Is that Harry…?" She gasped and yanked the picture out of Hermione's hand. "It's Dean! But did he… He never did… When was this taken? I don't remember him falling off his broom like this—ever!"
"I don't know," Hermione answered, the memory of Harry's fall now replaying vividly in her mind. "The only person I remember falling like that was Harry… and Oliver once! I think Katie had been knocked off her broom… but her fall wasn't like this one."
"But where did you get it?" Ginny asked, letting Amanda look at the picture.
"It does look like the time Harry fell! I remember that day! Look how the arms and legs are flailing," Amanda said, turning the picture. "It shows him falling of the broom, but you don't know why or what caused him to falter." She handed the picture to Ginny. "It also doesn't show him hitting the ground. But the background is the Slytherin stands."
"It was in Hermione's book," Margery stated.
Hermione sat down on her bed. "I know, but I have no idea how it got there."
"It could've happened anytime," Amanda said, holding onto the bedpost of Ginny's bed. "You leave your books and bag on the table in the library all the time. Usually, at least one or two of us are with you, but there are loads of times when you have a table to yourself."
"No one is in the library more than you," Demelza added. "It wouldn't be all that hard to slip a photo in your book."
"Should I show this to Professor Snape?" Hermione asked.
Ginny scrunched her face as she considered. "We don't know if it means anything. I know that Colin used to do photo stuff with Professor McClaggin, but if this is a photo of Harry's fall altered to look like Dean, which is what it looks like, Professor McClaggin might know who did this. There's no rain and it's definitely Dean in the picture. I can't really tell because of the angle and the broom shoots off the frame so quickly, but it looks like Harry's Nimbus." She examined the picture again and shook her head. "It's definitely of Dean falling off his broom." She tapped the picture on her lip as she considered. "Let me show this to Professor McClaggin. Maybe he can tell me more."
October continues ~
~~oooo0oooo~~
Author's Notes:
I have indicated that the prefects are doing their rounds in pairs, so that means two to three pairs are on duty each night in different sections of the castle. Mathematically (if my math is close to correct) each prefect would do at least 6 to 7 shifts a month, a total of 18 to 21 on Hermione's schedule if it went through to the end of December.
My boyfriend sent me the riddle about the boy that fell in the well. The original was taken from part of the riddle of 'A Myth of Minoan, Crete.' I made a few modifications to it to make it fit to my story.
Many thanks to my betas, Pookah, CourtneyRochelle, and MadBrilliant for helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know. I'd be ashamed to show my story to anyone without your invaluable help. And to era1960 for being there when I needed to bounce ideas and have a second opinion, thank you for being a friend.
