Five minutes after her conversation with the triplets, Hermione's focus was discourteously hindered by utter pandemonium that could be heard from the common room. The gentle sloshing of water unable to keep Hermione's mind placid, she resolved it best to conclude her studying in the library after all. She wasn't surprised to see that the Slytherin Quidditch team were the source of the fracas – Terence, the Weasley twins, and Marcus included.

They were all stamping their feet and assaulting the air with their fists while they bellowed out a fight song.

"Slytherins sleek the Quidditch grass with venom

Snitch in hand and the will to win within 'em

Disorient the ravens, and outfly the badgers

Turn the pride of lions to quaking cadavers

Lo and behold our every win

Your chance is over once the game begins

A warning to rivals far and near

Our blinding flight is something to fear –"

Silently wishing the buffoons would keep this raucous vigor exclusive to the Quidditch pitch, Hermione walked past the scene with a finger plugged in her ear. But it would be impossible for the noise to not eventually be noticed by one of the prefects, if not Professor Snape. Hopefully the noise would be neutralized by the time she returned from the library.

Of course, if she wanted to enjoy the natural peace and quiet that a library provided, she would take care not to irritate Madame Pince, the school's short-tempered librarian. Hermione could admire her dedication and protective nature she held towards books. One would've even thought she considered each book upon the shelves to be her children to an extent.

The Slytherin girl was the portrait of humble silence as she passed by the checkout counter at which the irascible librarian was stationed. Hermione supposed she had her dedication to her pursuit of advantageous knowledge to thank for Madam Pince not peering suspiciously at her over her book as she entered; Hermione had always returned every book she checked out without a folded page or a drop of ink damage.

Seeking out a secluded area to study led her to the murmurs of none other than Malfoy and presumably some other Slytherins. A bookcase was separating the two parties from the others' sight, thus she was unable to know for sure who was with him.

But Malfoy's was a voice so vile that she could recognize it at its lowest volume.

"First the Mudblood pollutes our House and gets me a month of detention, then she and those Blood Traitor twins put Pansy in the hospital wing! Something has to be done about Granger – about every filthy Blood Traitor allowed into Slytherin these days!"

"We know, Draco," was the hushed reply of Crabbe, "but right now we gotta get the Mudblood ghost's assignment done. What's this haiku bunk even got to do with magic? When will we ever need this rubbish?"

Hermione scowled at the spines of the several books on the shelf before her. Professor Poe was a teacher Hermione admired for more than just his literary fame. He was passionate towards his subject and patient when it came to the progress of his students. Narrow-minded Slytherins like Malfoy's crowd were blind to how proficiency in the study of words could be put to good use; those fools probably wouldn't even be able to read or pronounce the advanced spells they sought if not for him!

She would've walked away shaking her head if not for the next words she heard cementing her to where she stood.

"Just think of the trouble Potter and Weasley will get in when they get caught in the trophy room!" Goyle giggled.

What?!

"They actually think we'll show up!" Malfoy replied with a more elated tone. "Gryffindors – they're all just too boneheaded for their own good!"

Her nails dug and tore into the roll of parchment in her hand. Her wand was so easily accessible in her sleeve, and it was begging its owner to storm around the bookcase and call upon any spell that would harm Malfoy – along with anyone who would try to stop her.

But she knew the repercussions that decision would come with...

Her will to study now dormant, Hermione wheeled around and hastened out of the library.

What could she do? Who could she tell?

No one.

She could inform no prefect or teacher without getting Harry and Ron in trouble. And showing up to Gryffindor Tower not knowing the password was a risky game of chance, waiting and hoping the next Gryffindor to enter or exit be Harry or Ron.

She couldn't believe that she was about to risk expulsion once more, but her only option was to wait until around midnight to sneak out and stop them.

When the soft sloshing of water and the gentle snoring of the triplets were the only sounds filling the dorm, Hermione snaked out of bed to quietly change out of her sleepwear. It was twenty minutes before midnight, and she hoped she'd be able to get around the castle unseen before Ron and Harry left. One with the shadows, she made light-footed leaps down the stairs to the common room – empty of any visible presence – and dashed to the entrance. She stood before the stone entrance and prepared to spit out the password–

"Going somewhere, Granger?"

Along with her limbs, Hermione's resolve stiffened at the sound of Marcus's smooth voice. Slowly, her head turned to see him standing from a carved chair. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that he had been concealed in a corner the low lighting of the lanterns couldn't reach during the night.

She wasn't able to read his grin as eerily pleasant or fiendish as he came towards her, but she was caught regardless.

"I-I...Marcus, I was just..."

He had clearly seen her running to the entrance, her violating the rules exhibiting itself in Slytherin's darkness. An alibi that could deceive his enlightened eyes did not exist.

"Could your being out of bed have something to do with the little duel Malfoy challenged your Gryffindors to?"

Hermione found her voice. "He told you about it?"

"He's been gloating about it to a bunch of other Slytherins," he replied matter-of-factly. "Myself included. So I'm also aware that he doesn't plan on even showing up. So I'm guessing you're intentions are to warn them both?"

"Marcus, please," she begged. "If Harry gets caught –"

"Filch and his cat will be on the prowl," Marcus said. "So be sure to keep your attention ahead and towards the floor. Mrs. Norris is a second pair of eyes and heightened sense of smell to that old Squib. Oh, and be cautious of Peeves. He may or may not give you away – depends on what mood of mischief he's in. Good luck."

Marcus walked off to the boys' dormitories, leaving Hermione stunned before the entrance.