The days of October raced onward, driven by gales of blustering wind and torrents of icy rain. The ceiling of the Great Hall took on a permanently grey cast, with silent storm clouds twisting and twining through the wooden beams that arched high overhead.
In accordance with the weather, the temperature in the corridors also dropped drastically. Worst of all were the dungeons, which were little better than being outside due to constant draughts. Hermione had taken to wrapping herself in a thermal charm each morning, but for some inexplicable reason, the charm only lasted for a few short hours and recasting was significantly less effective if sufficient time hadn't passed. Now, she saved them for when she needed it the most.
Unfortunately, Double Potions on Friday afternoon was not one of those times. Teeth chattering, Hermione huddled over her cauldron, allowing her thick curls to become unruly in exchange for some semblance of warmth. She shared a look of commiseration with Lavender, who was doing the very same.
Professor Snape prowled by, looking utterly put-upon at having to oversee their work. He peered down into Harry's cauldron first and clicked his tongue.
"No less than I would expect from you, Potter," he said with a sneer. "Did you even bother to read the sixteenth line of instruction? It was evident from the first day you stepped foot into my class that you were not extraordinary in the least, but I do expect the bare minimum amount of effort. It appears you won't be receiving any marks again today."
Snape pointed his wand into Harry's cauldron and wordlessly vanished the contents.
Fuming, Harry said nothing. Snape moved to Ron's cauldron next, his lip curling as he studied the inside.
"Must you do everything the same as Potter, Weasley? This is abysmal, even by your standards."
Ron half-moved his hands forward, as if to cover his cauldron with them.
His attempt did not escape the notice of Snape, who smiled thinly.
"I shall let yours remain, only because my expectations of you cannot possibly sink any lower."
The tips of Ron's ears turned red as he glowered at the worktop.
Snape merely glanced in Hermione's direction without bothering to look into her cauldron before gliding off to the next table. She breathed a private sigh of relief, while Harry and Ron exchanged dark looks.
"That was entirely unfair," Hermione whispered when he'd gone, looking over at Harry. "Your potion could have easily been rectified. Is it me, or does Snape seem to have it out for you more than usual?"
Harry shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "Dunno."
Hermione frowned, but was quickly distracted by the need to tip a vial of powdered ginger root into her cauldron. She stepped back hurriedly so as not to inhale the pungent fumes now spiralling from the potion's surface, begrudging the loss of warmth. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she caught Goyle watching her before he, too, added a vial of powder into his cauldron.
At the end of class, Ron hung back.
"You two go on," he said to Hermione and Harry under his breath, "I want to try something."
Hermione watched as Ron strode confidently up to Pansy, where she had just packed away the last of her materials. He slipped the strap of her bag over his shoulder, and her eyes widened in shock.
"Allow me," he said smoothly, the corners of his mouth turned up in a very convincing smile.
Harry snorted quietly, gently turning Hermione by her upper arm towards the exit. Hermione shook her head in resignation and allowed Harry to lead her away.
It seemed Harry and Hermione weren't the only ones that noticed Ron's odd behaviour.
"The feck is going on, Weasley?" Seamus asked him at dinner, staring incredulously at Pansy's retreating back. "Why're you suddenly up Parkinson's arse?"
"I'm going to beat her at her own game," Ron responded smugly, heaping mashed potatoes onto his plate with abandon. "She's trying to break me by making me do all this stuff, but I'm going to be one step ahead of her. Eventually she'll be so tired of me that she'll give it up."
Hermione shook her head, thinking that Ron didn't know what he was getting himself into, but kept her mouth shut. It was as good a plan as any.
In the days that followed, Ron maintained his new tactic for dealing with Pansy in small ways. He would occasionally carry her belongings without prompting, or offer to escort her to class. Once, he even draped his red and gold scarf over her shoulders when he noticed her shivering during Care of Magical Creatures. She had promptly ripped it off with a look of disgust and shoved it into her pocket.
Knowing what Ron was about, the rest of the Gryffindor fifth-years hardly took notice anymore. What did it mean, then, that the other Slytherin fifth-years took the same approach?
When Hermione brought it up to Malfoy during their next Arithmancy class, he shrugged.
"No idea," he said, twirling a quill between nimble fingers. "Pansy told us all to mind our own business."
Then he'd tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and Hermione had forgotten whatever it was she'd intended to ask next.
Ron's increased proximity to Pansy came with one surprising benefit: he no longer had to endure nearly as many insults or attempts at intimidation from the Inquisitorial Squad as everyone else. And with the first Quidditch match of the season looming closer, tensions between the Gryffindors and Slytherins as the first contenders were at an all-time high. The fact that the Quidditch Cup hadn't been held in almost two years due to the Triwizard Tournament only fueled the growing excitement.
Both Houses had considerable interest in seeing their teams take the Cup this year, and were not above sending off the occasional minor hex towards a player on the opposing team. Many had caught on to the fact that Umbridge was becoming overwhelmed with her self-imposed responsibilities on top of the usual administrative burden of Headmistress, and therefore less likely to notice small amounts of misbehaviour. Even with the help of Filch, Mrs. Norris, and the Inquisitorial Squad, it simply wasn't possible to catch everything.
Harry could hardly walk down a corridor without receiving threats and insults from passerby Slytherins. He took it in stride, used to the negative attention by now.
Those who threatened Fred and George often came down with mysterious illnesses that required Madam Pomfrey's assistance to resolve. Miles Bletchley, Slytherin's keeper, was the most persistent - apparently George had once knocked him off of his broom with a well-aimed bludger. After Bletchley's fourth such incident of uncontrollable vomiting, he and the other Slytherins gave Fred and George a wide berth, certain of (but unable to prove) their involvement.
Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were kept out of the worst of it by a group of dedicated sixth and seventh year Gryffindors that surrounded them whenever they left the common room. It didn't stop Alicia from unwittingly taking hold of a biting doorknob that had been planted for her on the way to the loo one morning.
The Gryffindors gave as good as they got, although they had to be more discreet about it. They didn't have the Inquisitorial Squad pointedly ignoring their misdeeds like the Slytherins, but it helped that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were generally content to look the other way whenever Quidditch rivalry sprung up in the corridors. They saw Gryffindor's and Slytherin's constant antagonism as a benefit for their own team's future matches.
Once, after being dismissed from Charms later than usual, things came to a head in the worst possible way.
Ron had already left the classroom, talking Pansy's ear off about the last-minute trade of the Chudley Cannons' new Chaser as he shouldered her bag and led the way to the Great Hall. Pansy went along readily, her smile frozen in place.
At Professor Flitwick's request, Hermione and Harry stayed back a few extra minutes to help round up a handful of bullfrog escapees. They took turns summoning the silenced frogs back into their enclosure, where Flitwick performed the countercharm to restore the frogs' croaky lamentations at being recaptured. He bustled off to his office shortly after, leaving Hermione and Harry free to head downstairs for dinner.
They walked out of the classroom directly into a sea of black and green. It seemed that the entirety of the Slytherin Quidditch team was having an impromptu assembly in the Charms corridor, including several of their most ardent supporters.
Graham Montague, this year's Team Captain, spotted them first.
"Well, if it isn't Potter and his mudblood," he said, sneering as he looked Hermione up and down.
Malfoy, who had been facing away to talk to Warrington, looked around slowly at the mention of Harry and Hermione. He wore an unreadable expression.
Harry stiffened, glancing around once as if to see if there was anyone else nearby - perhaps a teacher, or another Gryffindor, or even a friendly ghost.
There wasn't.
Hermione rolled her eyes, pulling at Harry's sleeve. "Let's go. I'd like a spot of dinner before my patrol this evening."
But Cassius Warrington moved around Malfoy and planted himself in front of them, smiling nastily. "We'd like a word with you and your girlfriend, Potter."
Harry snorted. "Yeah? And what might that be? Unless it's about your concession of the first match, can't say I'm interested."
Behind Warrington, Bletchley laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Potter? Then you can write home and tell mummy you actually won fair and square for once - oh wait, I forgot…"
The group of Slytherins around Bletchley howled with laughter. Hermione caught Malfoy's eye briefly before he, too, plastered a small smirk on his face.
Harry's face contorted in anger. "At least I won't have to write home about pissing myself in the hospital wing for being too stupid to stop eating the same contaminated sweets four days in a row."
It had only been a rumour, but Bletchley's blotchy face confirmed it. He snarled, drawing his wand from his robes and levelling it at Harry. Several of the other Slytherins quickly followed his example, so that there were at least ten wands now pointing between Harry and Hermione.
Harry, who had drawn his wand as soon as Bletchley did, used his other hand to grab Hermione's wrist, pulling her gently behind him in some misguided attempt at chivalry. Gaze caught on Harry's fingers where they held her, Malfoy's eyes narrowed.
Hermione made no move to draw her own wand, instead keeping her free hand wrapped firmly around the handle in her pocket. Outnumbered as they were, she wasn't eager to start a fight she couldn't win.
"When we're through with you, Gryffindor will be in need of a new Seeker," Bletchley jeered.
"And you'll be in need of a new girlfriend," Montague added, coming to stand menacingly beside Warrington. "Lucky for you, there are plenty of other filthy Muggle slags out there to choose from."
Most of the group laughed again, Crabbe guffawing especially loudly near the back, while Malfoy's attention snapped back up to Montague. His jaw ticked and his fingers twitched towards his pocket.
Ignoring her own rising fury, Hermione tugged Harry's hand urgently. "Harry, please, let's go."
Harry didn't budge. "Watch yourself, Montague," he growled. "Hermione's got nothing to do with this - one more word about her and I'll hex you back to first year, you pathetic wanker."
Montague bared his teeth and took a step forward. Hermione let out a squeak as a Stinging Jinx burst from the tip of his wand straight towards them.
Harry reacted lightning fast, blocking it expertly with a Shield Charm. Hermione quickly fumbled her own wand out of her pocket and stepped up beside Harry.
Before Montague could fire off another, Malfoy appeared at his shoulder.
"Let me deal with Potter, yeah?" he said to Montague and Warrington, sparing a sneer for Harry. "I'm the team's Seeker, after all. Potter's been a stain on this school since the first day he arrived - strutting around like he's better than everyone else - and I've been meaning to set him straight. What do you say, Potter? Think you can manage a proper duel without help from that fop Lockhart this time? That is, if you even show up in the first place. Remember first year?"
"Funny, I recall it being you who never showed, Malfoy," Harry retorted, tone dripping with acid.
Malfoy's answering smile was ominous. "Midnight it is, then," he said.
Bletchley broke in. "He's all yours, Draco, but do it now. We've got him here without his little horde of Gryffindors for protection. Why wait?"
Warrington nodded vigorously in agreement.
Malfoy gave a long-suffering sigh. "Bletchley, I've already had to bail you out with the Headmistress once, and seeing as this corridor's right on the way to dinner for every professor above the second floor, we're about to be overrun. Besides," Malfoy added, smirking unpleasantly, "when Potter goes missing, I want to make sure he isn't so easily found."
Montague's thick brows drew together as he considered. "Good thinking, Draco. I'll be your second, and the mudblood will be Potter's. That way it's a twofer." He turned to Harry. "Trophy room tonight, Potter. It's always unlocked. And if you don't show, we'll make sure you and the mudblood spend every evening until the end of the year in detention. Same goes if you tell anyone else."
"Fine," Harry agreed. "But if I win, you leave me, Hermione, and everyone else on the Gryffindor team alone."
Montague scoffed. "Fat chance. You'll be lucky if we don't stick you in detention anyway. This is just a lesson that was a long time in coming."
Warrington and the others chuckled, many stowing their wands back into their robes. Soon, only Harry and Hermione had their wands still drawn.
Eyes flitting one last time to Hermione's face, Malfoy turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder at Harry.
"Make your goodbyes now, Potter. And don't be late."
"I say, what is going on here?" came the voice of Sir Nicholas. At the other end of the corridor, his translucent figure was now floating towards the group of retreating students.
Malfoy barely paused, laughing and continuing on his way to the Great Hall. The rest of the Slytherins followed him, most looking mildly disappointed at missing the opportunity to watch a duel.
Hermione finally lowered her wand and pocketed it. Harry did the same.
"Hey Nick," Harry said tiredly. "It's nothing - just a misunderstanding."
Nick's pearly sheen rippled as he cocked his head. "You're quite sure? I may not be of much use nowadays, but I am still the Gryffindor House ghost, if there is anything I can assist with…?"
"We're sure," Hermione answered firmly, then at his dejected look, smiled and added, "But thank you, Sir Nicholas. We'll be certain to seek you out should anything change."
Hermione fretted all through dinner, trying to surreptitiously catch Malfoy's eye from her place at the Gryffindor table. It was an impossible task; after what had just happened, the Slytherins that had been in the corridor kept looking over their shoulders at her and Harry with a mixture of eagerness and malevolence. Malfoy kept up a steady stream of conversation with his teammates, and his eyes never wandered from the Slytherin table. He didn't really expect her to fight, did he? Although with Montague present, it seemed they'd have no choice. She also wasn't entirely sure that some of the things Malfoy had said to Harry had been for show. Perhaps he really did mean to duel Harry to prove a point. Suddenly nursing a sour stomach, Hermione excused herself from dinner early for a quick lie down before her patrol.
Long after the common room had emptied that night, Hermione crept back downstairs from her dormitory to find Harry already waiting.
"You aren't seriously going, are you?" she asked, eyeing his attire. He hadn't changed out of his school robes.
He eyed her pyjamas in turn. "What else am I supposed to do, Hermione? If I don't, things will just keep getting worse. What's Malfoy playing at, anyway?"
She sighed. "I don't know. I suppose it's better than trying to defend ourselves against the entire Slytherin Quidditch team."
Resigned to support Harry, Hermione summoned her bathrobe and wrapped it firmly over her nightdress.
"I cannot believe we're doing this again," she said irritably. "I'm still a prefect, even if it hardly means anything now." She shook her riotous curls out from beneath the plush fabric a touch more harshly than necessary. "We're already risking expulsion with the P.A., and now this. It's just completely unnecessary. What's the point of even having school rules anymore?"
Harry grinned at her. "You've already broken just about every school rule there is over the past five years, is now really the time to start worrying about it?"
She glared at him. "Most of that was helping you, as I recall."
Harry shrugged, tapping his wand absently against his leg as he studied the Marauder's Map.
"Did you tell Ron what happened?" Hermione asked.
Harry looked up at that, mouth twitching irritably. "No. He went to the library with Pansy after dinner, can you believe that? If she hasn't given in after that, I'm starting to think she never will."
It was Hermione's turn to shrug. "I suppose if he's actually getting homework done, it can't be all bad."
Harry snorted, resuming his perusal of the Map.
"Look," he said after a moment, motioning her over, "Malfoy and Montague are leaving their common room. Doesn't look like anyone else is following, but let's use the Cloak until we're sure Malfoy isn't tricking us again." He patted his pocket.
They crept through the corridors slowly, keeping their wands drawn and an eye on the Map. Montague's low whisper greeted them as they entered the trophy room on the third floor.
"-once he's out, and then we'll stuff him into that vanishing cabinet on the first floor-"
Hermione felt a thrill of anticipation shoot through her. She grabbed at Harry's arm, pulling him up short.
"Vanishing cabinet?" she mouthed at him excitedly.
Malfoy echoed her only a second later. "Vanishing cabinet?"
"Yeah," Montague replied, "I overheard those Weasley twins talking about it. They were threatening to stuff Bletchley in if he tried to curse them one more time… course that was after his fourth trip to the hospital wing… but they said it'd send him somewhere else. Somewhere it could take weeks to get back."
"Huh," was all Malfoy said in response. Hermione nibbled her lip, waiting to see if Montague would elaborate further, but he never did.
Harry waited for Hermione's nod of approval before carefully extracting them from the Cloak and returning it to his pocket. They stepped around the row of display cases to reveal themselves.
"Looks like you might've been right about Potter, I don't think he's…" Montague began, then trailed off as he spotted Harry and Hermione. A vicious grin spread over his face.
Malfoy turned, a smirk already on his lips. He was also in his nightwear, black jumper and trousers, and his blonde hair was in slight disarray. Hermione had the strangest urge to run her fingers through it.
"Finally," Montague said, spinning his wand lazily at his side. "Let's crack on. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
Malfoy nodded, his gaze fastened on Hermione's as he answered Montague. "Right." He raised his wand to point at Harry.
Harry had just begun to lift his own wand when Malfoy suddenly pivoted, his wand now aimed at Montague's chest.
Montague's eyes widened in shock. "Draco, what the fu-"
"Stupefy!"
Montague crumpled, landing in an unconscious heap on the floor.
Malfoy jostled Montague roughly with his foot, murmuring something about 'deserved it', then pocketed his wand with a satisfied nod.
Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it?"
Malfoy threw her a smirk. "It was the only thing I could think of on such short notice. You really do attract trouble, don't you?"
She shrugged, glancing over at Harry. He appeared frozen, mouth hanging agape and his wand still trained on Malfoy.
"Point that thing somewhere else, Potter, before I change my mind about jinxing you within an inch of your life," Malfoy said.
Harry glowered at him, but stowed his wand away anyway.
"What the hell, Malfoy?" he spat. "Why did you insist on a duel if you didn't mean to follow through? Montague's not just going to forget that you stunned him."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and scoffed. "First of all, Potter, sod off. I was saving your sorry arse, and the least you could do is thank me for it. They would have torn you to pieces this afternoon - not that I give a shit. Secondly, he is going to forget it." Malfoy said the last bit with a significant look towards Hermione, who immediately grasped his intent.
"Malfoy…" she began hesitantly, "I'm not sure I should mess with his memory. What if it goes wrong? Can't you think of some other explanation?"
Malfoy had already begun shaking his head before she'd finished. "No. It's the only thing to do now, and it has to be you. You've already pulled it off once, and this will be loads easier, yeah? We just need to decide on the story."
"Malfoy knows about your parents?" Harry burst in, brows raised in disbelief.
"What about it?" Malfoy shot back.
Folding his arms across his chest, Harry pretended to think. "Oh, I dunno, maybe the fact that you're one bad decision away from joining up as a Death Eater? For all I know, Voldemort's probably bunking in your room, eating meals at your ancestral table, murdering innocents in your basement-"
Malfoy, who had flinched violently at Voldemort's name, cut him off.
"You don't know anything, Potter," he hissed, hands balling into fists at his sides.
Hermione's eyes darted anxiously between Malfoy and Harry as she tried to invent a way to diffuse the situation.
"I know enough," Harry retorted angrily. "Your father was in that graveyard only months ago, trying his best to help Voldemort kill me. You can pretend to be different all you want around Hermione - helping her break curses, teaching her Occlumency - but you and I both know you're still a selfish prick with your own agenda."
Instead of responding to Harry, Malfoy looked to Hermione, a look of betrayal flashing across his features. "Potter knows about the Occlumency?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, finding it difficult to meet his eyes. "Yes, he… well, he saw me going into the Room of Requirement. On the Map, that is."
Malfoy's mouth tightened, but he let the subject drop, instead withdrawing his wand again as he took a menacing step towards Harry.
"You know what, Potter? I've changed my mind. I think we ought to settle this after all."
Harry snorted derisively, drawing his own wand and moving forward until he was nearly chest to chest with Malfoy.
"Fine by me, Malfoy. I only thought you were still too much of a wimp to actually do it."
Hermione darted forward, squeezing herself between them just as Malfoy snarled and raised his wand. She placed a palm on each of their chests, trying to force them apart. Neither budged so much as an inch.
"Stop it, both of you," she pleaded. "There's no need to fight - we can work this out. I'll do the memory charm. Stop acting completely mental."
She pushed again, hard, until Malfoy finally tore his gaze away from Harry's to look down at her. His normally well-controlled features were etched with anger, and his eyes filled with an unrestrained fury. He blinked once, as if suddenly realising she was practically flush against him, before his eyes travelled down to the hand she held to his chest.
She felt his chest rise with a deep inhale. When he looked back up, Malfoy's eyes were curiously blank, as if he were Occluding at that very moment, and strongly at that.
Harry, on the other hand, was still visibly enraged.
"Please, Harry," she tried again, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want you to fight."
Harry, who was still looking at Malfoy, lowered his wand slowly to his side. His expression morphed unexpectedly, brows knitting together and head tilting fractionally to the side. Hermione raised an inquisitive brow, but he never interrupted his study of Malfoy to look at her. When Hermione looked back at Malfoy, he wasn't watching Harry at all, but her.
At least he didn't appear to be Occluding anymore.
Her cheeks began to burn under his attention, no doubt due to their unusual proximity. Dropping her hands, Hermione swallowed heavily and stepped back to a respectable distance.
"Well." She paused, clearing her throat. "Now that you two have decided to be reasonable, let's decide on what Montague's going to remember."
"How about that I tore apart both him and Malfoy," Harry suggested helpfully.
Malfoy made a face of disgust. "As if."
"It's got to be believable, Harry," she reminded him. Harry shot her an affronted look.
"How about that I roughed Potter up a bit before Filch showed up and nearly caught us," Malfoy offered.
It wasn't lost on Hermione that Malfoy and Harry were both speaking directly to her instead of to each other, but at least they weren't duelling.
"No way," Harry replied. "I'm not having it around that I lost to you-"
"Actually, Harry," she broke in, "I think Malfoy's right. If the other Slytherins think you won outright, they'll be out for blood. But, if they think you got hurt, even a little bit, they'll most likely back off."
Malfoy smirked while Harry shot her another look, wounded this time.
"Hermione, I'll never be able to live it down," he moaned. "Not to mention how bloody unlikely it is in the first place."
Hermione's mouth twisted in sympathy. "It's not ideal, but you've lived with far worse rumours while at Hogwarts."
"If Potter's having trouble envisioning it, I could send a few curses his way. You know, for the sake of believability," Malfoy drawled, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm at the idea.
Hermione levelled him with a flat stare, not that it made a lick of difference to the gleeful expression on his face.
Begrudgingly, Harry finally agreed to the plan.
"I'm still uncertain as to how this will go with an inherently magical subject…" Hermione began, tapping her foot nervously, "my parents are Muggles and I imagine it is significantly more complex dealing with a magical essence, possibly even detectable in large quantities or with the right skillset-"
Malfoy broke in, his timbre low but firm. "Granger. You can do it."
She took a deep breath and nodded, crouching down next to Montague's unconscious form. Placing her wand at his temple, she concentrated on the memories she needed to alter.
One whispered spell later, Harry was helping Malfoy lift Montague upright so that Malfoy could sling the unconscious man's arm around his shoulder. Malfoy planned to drag him partway down the corridor before reviving him, and later explain away his disorientation by saying he fell in the scuffle to get away from Filch.
Before they parted ways, Harry checked the Map.
"It's clear," he said, "But Snape's still moving about in his quarters, so be careful."
"Why, Potter," Malfoy said, attempting to laugh but it came out as more of a grunt under Montague's weight, "didn't know how much you cared."
Hermione and Harry left next, narrowly avoiding a prowling Mrs. Norris, whose lamplike eyes followed their progress suspiciously despite them wearing the invisibility cloak.
"That went better than expected," she whispered on the way to Gryffindor Tower.
Harry just sighed, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'still a prat.'
The next day, Harry was still getting attention from the Slytherins, especially those on the Quidditch team, but as Hermione had predicted, it was all harmless sniggering.
"Hermione," Harry said tightly at breakfast, scowling over at the Slytherin table, "why do they keep asking me if I'll be able to sit on my broom next week?"
She flushed. "Um… it really was very last-minute, you see, and I had to think of something to give them. The first thing that came to mind was… well, a Stinging Jinx."
"To the arse?" he asked in a heated whisper.
She bit her lip apologetically. Harry dropped his head into his hands.
When Ron finally showed up, he asked Harry the very same question about Slytherin's taunts.
"Don't worry about it," Harry grumbled, glaring over at a far-too-smug-looking Malfoy.
Fortunately, Harry's predicament was soon forgotten when the mail delivery appeared. As owls flooded into the Great Hall, an oddity among them caught everyone's attention. Six large screech owls carried a long, thin parcel that dropped to the table directly in front of Ron.
While people around the room began standing up to better see the Gryffindor table, Ron remained frozen, as if he was afraid the package in front of him might disappear. He finally poked the brown paper with a hesitant finger.
"Go on, then," George said, smiling slyly while Fred nodded vigorously behind him.
In a sudden frenzy, Ron ripped off the paper to reveal a shiny new broomstick. He moaned longingly, running his hands over the polished handle.
"A Cleansweep Eleven!" he said excitedly. "That's the newest model! Who? How?"
For answer, Errol suddenly dropped from overhead, landing on a platter and spraying the table with bits of egg. After Ron untied the letter, Ginny scooped Errol into her lap, where he drooped with exhaustion.
Fred, George, and Harry traded conspiratorial looks.
"Wow," Ron mouthed, his eyes scanning the page. Then he looked up at Fred and George and spoke aloud. "For me? I can't believe you and mum and dad did this."
"Eh, it's for our own interests, really," Fred said, waving a hand dismissively. "You're on the team now, and you'll need a good broom if we're to trample Slytherin next week and eventually take the Cup. Call it an investment." Fred winked at him.
After thanking Fred and George profusely, Ron excitedly drew Harry and anyone else who would listen into a discussion of all the ways in which they would test his new broom during Quidditch practice that evening. Hermione smiled, pleased at the turn of events for Ron. He'd worked hard for this - he deserved it.
Malfoy, unfortunately, was in a bit of a tetchy mood the next time she spoke with him.
"I'm sure even a new broom won't improve Weasley's pathetic keeping abilities," he said, seemingly more to himself than to Hermione.
"Have you actually seen him play?" she asked, nodding in thanks as Malfoy held open the door to the prefect's lounge for her exit.
He paused, shutting the door behind him.
"I don't need… no," he admitted with a scowl.
"Everyone who has seems to think he's the next Oliver Wood."
Malfoy ran a hand roughly through his hair, appearing to restrain himself from saying anything else with great difficulty. He stopped in the middle of the corridor then, motioning for her to go ahead. If they arrived in the Great Hall too closely together, it would look suspicious.
Conduct and Decorum lessons were still nothing short of disastrous. Before they'd even begun this morning's lesson, Lavender had stalked over and demanded that Ron partner with her instead. With an apologetic look for Hermione, Ron allowed Lavender to lead him away. Neville, Lavender's previous partner, found Hermione soon after.
Unexpectedly, Hermione enjoyed being partnered with Neville more than she had with Ron - perhaps she and Ron simply weren't all that compatible. Neville didn't jostle her around so much, and there was only one toe-stepping incident to speak of. Their respective skill levels still made for a clumsy finished product, but at least they could laugh about it.
Lavender and Ron also seemed to be having an easier time of it. Frau Tanzen even praised the noticeable improvement to their footwork, and Lavender had looked up at Ron afterwards with an uncharacteristically saccharine smile. Across the room, Pansy frowned.
After their third P.A. meeting that night, Hermione caught up to Fred and George in the common room with the intent of asking them more about the vanishing cabinet. She dithered around their table until after Lee excused himself for bed, trying to decide how to approach the subject.
"Alright there, Hermione?" Fred asked without looking up from a sheet of parchment he was currently studying. It was filled with miniscule writing, almost like a ledger.
She gave a start and stopped pacing to place a hand on the back of Lee's empty chair. "Um yes… could I have a quick word?"
"Sounds like you just did," George said with a wink.
Perhaps straightforward was best. Making a face at George, Hermione launched into an explanation of what she'd overheard Montague saying, although she left out in what context.
"How did you know what it was?" she asked after she'd finished.
"Dad told us about them years ago," Fred replied, setting down his quill. "Apparently they got very popular to have around when You-Know-Who was at-large last time. Supposed to send you somewhere random, I think, which made for a quick, easy place to hide."
"Dad said they're difficult to upkeep, though," George added, "and that they didn't always work properly."
"Right," Fred agreed. "And after people started getting rid of them, a few ended up in Muggle homes. Dad got called in on a couple of cases - said one bloke got sent off somewhere in the middle of Switzerland and kept rambling on about how he'd found some magical place called Ninnia, or maybe it was Nairna… Anyway, we recognised the one downstairs after hiding a couple of dungbombs inside when Filch was after us. He almost caught us, made us open the cabinet to show him, but they had disappeared. Lucky thing, that."
George raised a brow. "Want to tell us why you're interested?"
Hermione smiled slyly. "Not really."
They laughed. "Fair enough," George said.
She thanked them and went to find Harry and Ron, practically buzzing with the excitement of her discovery. She finally had another piece of the puzzle that was her vision on the Astronomy Tower. She wondered if Malfoy had learnt of its purpose yet.
First thing in the morning, she and the boys set off for the first floor, following Fred and George's instructions to a corridor adjacent to their History of Magic classroom. Harry noticed it immediately.
"That's it," he said confidently, pointing to a great black and gold cabinet tucked away in the corner.
Hermione approached it hesitantly, nervous about the implications of this object's confirmed existence. She reached out with cautious fingers, trailing along the gold inlaid scrollwork covering the sides. It didn't feel any different than a regular storage cabinet.
Harry stayed one step behind her, brows furrowed as he looked it over.
He spoke slowly, half-reaching out a hand. "This looks… familiar."
"You did say you'd seen it before?" Hermione questioned.
"Yeah, but it was just a pile of rubbish then…" Harry said, giving the cabinet another once over. Eventually he stepped back, shaking his head.
"Should we test it?" Ron asked, jiggling the handle.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Hermione cautioned. "What if it sends us somewhere we can't get back? Or worse, what if it isn't working properly after being smashed?"
"Doesn't matter anyway," Ron said, throwing his weight down onto the handle. "It won't budge."
He took out his wand to mutter the Unlocking Charm with no result. Hermione tried it, too, just in case. The cabinet remained firmly shut.
After trying every tool at their disposal to pry open the cabinet, she had to admit it was an exercise in futility. With a sigh of resignation, Hermione made a mental note to add researching magical fasteners to her ever-increasing to-do list.