Chapter 4

Hermione sat on her bed, leaning back against the pillows, the potions book Professor Snape had given her resting against drawn-up knees.

She had laid down to read, having quickly cleaned up before dinner, and found that she had quite a bit of time before she needed to head up. She had only managed to get through a small portion of the higher level potions book the Professor had given her and she saw that now was a perfect time to peruse the pages some more.

But she had stopped reading about the properties of different ingredients and where they could be found and her attention was completely absorbed by the letter that lay in her hands. The owl had made it down into the dungeons, most likely finding it's way in with a group of students, to deliver a letter from her mother.

She hadn't heard from her parents since she had gotten to school. Of course, she hadn't written to them either and felt guilty that she'd allowed her new life at Hogwarts to cause her to neglect her relationship with them. True to form, they'd had given her time to get in touch first, but after almost two weeks they had finally reached out.

She wasn't quite sure how they'd managed to get a letter to her. They didn't own an owl, and she couldn't imagine them venturing into Diagon Alley alone.

My dearest daughter,

I hope that all is well and that you're getting along at your new school. Your father and I miss you terribly. We were hoping to hear from you before now, but we both understand that things can get busy when you're trying to get situated in a new place.

You are doing well there, aren't you? Have you made any friends? Are you getting along well with your Professors?

Your father says hello. We love you, dear.

Mum

Hermione traced her mother's words, the familiar loops and swirls comforting as she conjured a picture in her mind of her mother sitting at her writing desk, trying to string together the right words.

Her mother's concern was evident to her from the first line. Hermione was usually very good about keeping her parents informed about what was going on with her; two weeks of silence was just unnatural.

But what could she say?

Well, mum, everything's going fairly well. I did get sorted into Slytherin, a house known for being openly prejudiced to muggle-born witches and wizards, and I'm fairly sure all my housemates hate me, but other than that, it's all great.

She sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head back on the headboard. No, of course, she couldn't say any of that. Her parents had been so happy that she was a witch; they had thought of it as the solution to all the problems she faced in school, an explanation for her inability to make friends. It would break their heart to hear that things were possibly even worse here socially than they had ever been before.

"Everything alright, Hermione?"

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, watching Daphne walk out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel, caddy in hand.

She was slow in answering; the girl's question catching her by surprise.

"Yeah, just trying to figure out how to respond to my mum," she said, holding up the letter.

Daphne deposited her toiletries on the bed, turning to look at Hermione. "Is she wondering how everything's going?"

"Yeah."

Daphne pulled the towel off her head, letting her damp golden locks fall down her back. "And you're not sure what to say because things aren't going the way you thought they would?" She used the towel to squeeze the remaining water out of the end of her hair.

Hermione nodded, smiling softly, "Something like that."

After a moment of silence, Hermione said. "Thanks for asking by the way. I didn't think anyone here cared to get to know me."

Daphne studied her. "Well, you haven't exactly tried to get to know any of us, either," she said. But it wasn't in an accusing sort of way, just as a matter of observation.

Hermione was at a loss for words. She hadn't thought about it in that way. But she had an excuse for avoiding her housemates. Most of them had been cold, or at the least aloof. After all, it wasn't a secret that she wasn't welcome in Slytherin. Well, Daphne had reached out, but she was the exception, not the rule.

Hermione began to speak, but Daphne had already left the room, leaving Hermione on the bed with her book, letter, and thoughts.


She walked through the doors of the Great Hall after the dishes on the table had already been filled. She was the last of her year to make it up and she saw that Malfoy, Potter and Weasley were already at it again.

Just as she was passing, Malfoy looked over, catching her eye, and a wicked grin spread across his face.

"Granger. Granger'll be my second," he declared.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, an uneasy feeling coming over her.

Crabbe and Goyle just stared dumbfounded, jaws slack and making some weird grunting noise.

"I'm sorry, what's going on?" she asked, eyes going from Malfoy to Potter and Weasley, who were giving each other puzzled looks.

"My second for the wizarding duel," Malfoy said gleefully, "against these two lumps. Please, tell me you know what that is."

"Of course I do," she said. "A wizarding duel is a duel between two wizards that are agreed to by both parties in order to settle a personal dispute-"

Malfoy held up his hand, "I wasn't asking for a lecture, Granger."

"Midnight, then, tonight," he directed this part to Potter and Weasley. "Trophy room, no one will bother us there. That is," he said as an aside, "if you're not too scared."

Potter clenched his jaw while Weasley puffed his chest out, stepping into Malfoy's space, "Of course we'll be there, Malfoy. Not that you would know, seeing as how you'll chicken out."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Weasley, before turning away, Crabbe and Goyle on his heels.

Hermione threw a confused look at the young Gryffindors before hurrying after Malfoy.

"Malfoy," she hissed as she finally caught up to him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Giving you a chance to put your money where your smart mouth is, Granger. You seem to think you're smarter and better than all of us. Now's your chance to prove it." He slid into his seat at the Slytherin table. "You better be there."

He began talking to Zabini across the table, pretending she wasn't still standing there.

When it was evident that he was intent on ignoring her, she walked further down the table and sat down as well.

She poured some soup into her bowl, grabbing a piece of bread to soak in the juice as her mind tried to work through what had just happened. She wasn't stupid; she knew that Malfoy's decision to choose her as his second for the duel wasn't him showing his sudden confidence in her.

After her snide remarks to him the previous week and the jarring insults she had delivered earlier, she knew he was looking for a way to get back at her.

But she could think of no reasonable excuse to give him that would allow her to back out while not appearing as though she wasn't supporting her House against Gryffindor. If she didn't show, the whole school would be whispering that Malfoy's own House didn't have his back.

She slurped the soup out of her spoon.

No, there was nothing else to it; she'd have to go, breaking school rules in the process.


Hermione had been afraid that she'd fall asleep and miss the rendezvous, but instead, she found that she was too on edge to even close her eyes. Time crept by slowly until, finally, the clock on her bedside table read 11:30. She wanted to give herself plenty of time to get there; taking into account students that may still be up in the Common Room and the teachers she'd have to avoid patrolling the corridors.

She had stayed dressed so as to avoid any unnecessary sounds or movement. She crept out of the room and down the short passage toward the archway leading to the Slytherin's communal space. She stuck her head out, slowly scanning the room for anyone that had hung back.

When she had swept the area twice and didn't spot anyone she slowly began to walk across the room. She was halfway across the open space when she heard a voice. She ducked down behind a sofa, trying to still her heart.

"Why are you sticking your neck out for her, Adrian? You're putting yourself in bad standing with the others. They already opposed you being appointed as Prefect, you're just proving to them that they were right about objecting to it."

She recognized the voice as Delilah's. She stole deeper into the shadows, trying to think of a way to cover the remaining distance without being noticed.

"She's one of us, Lilah. She was sorted into Slytherin the same as the rest of us. We don't have a claim to be here that's any higher than hers," Pucey replied.

"Then her being sorted here was a mistake. Salazar Slytherin himself thought they shouldn't even be allowed inside the castle, let alone into his house. This goes against everything Slytherin stands for."

"Our house values ambition and cunning; achieving our ends by any means necessary. Nowhere does it say that we value people based on their blood purity." His voice was cold and hard.

"It's unspoken, Adrian, but everyone knows it."

"Well, I don't."

"Adrian, I like you, you know I do. But you're making it difficult for us to be together."

"I like you too, and one of the things that drew me to you in the first place was you being willing to stand for what's right. But maybe I was wrong about that."

They were both silent, and then Hermione heard a chair scrape against the floor.

"I do, Adrian, but why are you so convinced that you're in the right?"

Hermione flattened herself against the sofa as Delilah stormed past, headed for the girl's rooms.

A few minutes later she heard Pucey shuffle off to the boy's rooms. She stayed hidden behind the sofa, wary of letting her guard down. She knew she couldn't wait too long, though, so she peeked around the sofa before finally standing up and walking softly to the Common Room entrance.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she finally made it through the secret door and into the cellar room. The torches came to life as they sensed her presence, casting her shadow, dancing, across the walls.

What had she just witnessed? Had Adrian Pucey stuck up for her? She knew that he'd always tried to be nice to her, but she had assumed that had been a part of his responsibility as a Prefect. How had he stuck his neck out for her?

The conversation she'd overheard had given her much to ponder, but now wasn't the time. She had a duel to get to. She snorted at the thought. You didn't hear that every day.

There was no sign of Malfoy. She supposed that he must have left before her. She certainly couldn't wait around to see if he was just running late; she didn't have time.

"So much for Slytherin unity," she said to no one in particular as she began making her way through the passageways of the dungeons and toward the upper floors.

The Trophy Room was on the second floor. Normally it would have taken her just a few minutes to get there, but as she was having to be extra careful, she arrived at the meeting point with only minutes to spare.

She stood in the shadows of the display cases, searching for Malfoy in the moonlit room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Malfoy," she called out in a loud whisper.

"Just us, I'm afraid," she heard someone reply.

Potter and Weasley seemed to appear out of nowhere, wands held in front of them as they approached. Behind them, shuffled Neville.

"Why is Neville here?" she asked.

"He couldn't get back into the Common Room."

Hermione's eyebrows drew together in confusion. Even if Neville had forgotten the password, it would have been easy enough for Potter or Weasley to let him in.

She was about to say so when they all heard noises coming back from the way Hermione had come.

"It's about time," she muttered.

But then she heard a voice that was clearly not Malfoy's.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

She saw the look of horror on all three boy's faces as the sound of Filch's voice reached them. Potter reacted quickly, waving frantically for his friends to follow him.

Hermione was in no way deluded into thinking she was included in that trio, but as the way she had come was blocked, she had no choice but to follow the boys out of the trophy room.

They had barely made it out of the Trophy Room when they heard Filch enter it behind them.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

Potter led them down a passageway lined with suits of armour. Their need to remain quiet allowed Filch to get closer and closer. In front of her, Neville let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run. Not the most agile of people, Neville ended up tripping over himself and falling into Ron ahead of him, who in turn crashed into a suit of armour.

All pretense of stealth gone, Potter yelled, "Run!"

They all broke into a run, Hermione and Neville, the least athletic of the four, desperately tried to keep up. They hurtled along passages and bounded up steps, Hermione completely unaware of where they were.

Finally, Potter led them through a door hidden behind a tapestry and they found themselves by the Charms classroom.

He stopped, gasping for breath.

"I think we lost him," Potter said. He looked at the three of them, surprised when he saw Hermione, not realizing that she had followed them.

"I can't believe Malfoy did that," he said.

"What?" Ron said when he had caught his breath. "Chickened out? I can."

"No, I saw that coming a mile off. I mean, letting his own housemate get caught up in the trap he set. It's one thing to screw over a rival house, but to do it to Granger as well? That's low."

Hermione didn't have a reply to that. "Let's just go," she said.

They had only managed to walk a few feet when a doorknob rattled to their left and Peeves came shooting out of a classroom.

He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves — please — you'll get us thrown out," Potter pleaded.

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly.

"It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Weasley, taking a swipe at Peeves — this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

"Idiot!" Hermione said between gritted teeth as they ducked under Peeves, running for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

"This is it!" Weasley moaned, as Potter and Neville pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward them.

Hermione shoved them aside, "Oh, move over! Alohomora!" She tapped the lock with her wand and it slid back with a click.

She hurriedly opened the door and the boys tumbled in behind her, shutting the door firmly.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right — please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

Hermione turned around, hoping to see another way out. But what she saw made her turn as white as a sheet. Right in front of her was a monstrous dog, it's heads stooped as it was too large to sit upright in the towering corridor.

Its lips were pulled back in a snarl and thick strings of drool dripped down to the floor. Her eyes followed the path of the drool as it puddled at the dog's feet. She took note of something partially covered by its large paws before returning her gaze to its eyes.

She reached behind her, grabbing a hold of one of their robes. "G-guys," she stammered. "I- I think we should get out of here."

"Why?" Potter asked.

A low rumble sounded in the dog's chest, getting louder.

She turned, pushing against the boys, "Get out! Get out!"

Potter opened the door and they all tumbled out, shoving the door closed behind them as the rumbles became a growl.

They were quick to put as much distance between themselves and the cursed door. They ran until Hermione realized that they were headed further away from the dungeons. Potter must have realized that he was taking her too close to the Gryffindor Common Room as well, because he slid to a halt and turned to face her.

"I think we should part ways here," he said between gasps.

"Yeah, I agree," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"Thanks by the way," Potter said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"For what?"

"Yeah, for what?" Weasley asked aghast. "For having a prat for a friend?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, barely managing to not say exactly what she thought of her "friend".

"We would have been caught if it weren't for her," Potter replied. "None of us knew how to open that door."

Weasley nodded, "Yeah, I s'pose. What are they keeping a thing like that locked up for in the school anyway? Someone could get killed."

Potter shrugged, "No idea."

"I bet it has something to do with that trap door," Hermione put in.

"What trap door?" all three boys said in unison.

She crossed her arms eyeing each of their puzzled faces. "Are you blind? It was standing on a trap door, or didn't you notice?"

They all shook their heads.

"Well, I don't have time to stand here and describe it to you, and as much fun as we've all had, I have to get back to my room." She turned without another word and carefully made her way back to the dungeons.

Back in her bed, she lay staring at the ceiling, having trouble falling asleep with all the questions flying around her head. What could have been under that trap door? And why would they need such a hideous and dangerous creature guarding it? What could be that important?

But most importantly, what was she going to do about Malfoy? She hadn't been surprised that he hadn't shown up either, and not only that but also tipped Filch off. She supposed it was his way of getting back at her for her barbed comments. But his act of revenge had far outweighed what was due. She fell asleep dreaming about dunking the blonde boy's head in a cauldron full of a potion brewed by Neville.