The next morning was far from peaceful. I was doing everything in my power—including proof-reading my Potions homework for the fifth time—to forget what had occurred the previous night, but it was admittedly difficult seeing as Harry and Ron were continually whispering about what they thought the three-headed dog could be guarding. They seemed insistent that Hermione had been onto something, and that the thing the Gringotts bank robber had been after was down that trap door.

After about fifteen minutes of distracted studying, I plopped my scroll down upon the table and shot Harry and Ron a glare. They blinked at my aggressive expression and stared at me as I hissed, "Don't you think it's high time we dropped this topic of conversation? Whatever it is, it's well above our station!"

"But Belle, if it's something dangerous, don't you think we have a right to know what—"

Harry was interrupted by the mail arriving. I hardly looked up as Hedwig plopped a thin parcel in front of him; the size and shape of that package was obvious.

It was a broomstick.

Ron's eyes were practically bugging out of his head, and it was with a huge grin that he said, "Come on, let's open it!"

And so we did. I couldn't help but wonder which model Harry might be gifted; perhaps it would be a Cleansweap 8 like mine. But when the broomstick was revealed, my mouth dropped open. "It can't be…"

"It is," answered Ron, a humongous grin plastered across his face. Harry seemed speechless as well, his green eyes wide with disbelief. Ron tapped a finger against his chin as he mused, "But who sent it?"

As if to answer his question, Hedwig squawked and flew toward the High Table, where Professor McGonagall was waiting with an owl treat. She noticed our gazes and smiled thinly before bidding the bird to return to the Owlery.

"Incredible," I murmured. The closest I'd been to a Nimbus 2000 had been during my time in Diagon Alley, when I was shopping for my school supplies with Robbie. I'd never thought I'd be able to see one sitting in front of me before… much less know someone who owned one.

Even though I was beyond impressed, there was no disguising the swirling in my lower belly as anything except for jealousy. Harry had grown up as a Muggle and ridden a broomstick all of two times, while I had been learning the past two years, and had been born into one of the greatest Quidditch families in the world…

Harry immediately declared that he wanted to go lock the broomstick in the dormitory so it would be safe and sound for practices and games. Ron and I decided this was a fair idea, and since there was still forty minutes before Potions, we chose to accompany him.

The moment we left the Great Hall, however, we ran into Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. I sighed somewhat upon seeing the unwelcoming sneer on Malfoy's face—considering how his attempts to get Harry into trouble had backfired so spectacularly lately, I'd been hoping that his meddling would lessen.

Alas, no such luck. Malfoy seized the package from Harry's hands and weighed it, as if trying to find out what it was. Only when shoving it back at him did he grumble, "That's a broomstick. You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron seemed unable to restrain himself from a gleeful retort. "It's not just any old broomstick, it's a Nimbus 2000! What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet 260?" Noting Harry's look of mild confusion, he added, "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle. I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig," said Malfoy.

I scoffed and opened my mouth to defend Ron, but just then, Professor Flitwick appeared, saying in a squeaky voice, "Not arguing, are we, boys? And Miss Skylar?"

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Malfoy said quickly.

If he was hoping that Flitwick would distribute punishment for this, he was sorely disappointed. The Charms Professor clapped his hands together and cried, "Yes, yes, that's right. Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. What model is it?"

"A Nimbus 2000, sir," Harry replied, not even bothering to hold back his grin. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it."

And with that, Harry and Ron marched forward, roaring with laughter.

I shook my head and made to follow them, but Draco's expression stopped me. He looked almost confused—and this was explained when he asked me, a fair bit of resentment in his voice, "What did he mean by that?"

"The Remembrall," I said, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. "When Harry caught it, Professor McGonagall found it… appropriate… to assign him to the Gryffindor Quidditch team as the Seeker. It would seem, Malfoy, that your plan to expel him has backfired. Again."

I began issuing a sickly-sweet finger wave and made to move after my friends, but as I turned, Malfoy called after me, "Doesn't it bother you?"

It would've been wiser to follow after Harry and Ron, but… something made me stop and face him again. "What are you on about?"

"Potter, being lauded for everything he does. Because it bothers me," said Draco. For once, his voice didn't have such a smarmy edge to it—he was being… honest. Or at least, as honest as Draco Malfoy knew how to be. "It's like he can do no wrong in this bloody school. You must see it, you're with him and Weasel-bee all the time. Why didn't you get praised for your flying yesterday? Why only him?"

"I…" A lump appeared in my throat; he had actually asked a fairly good question. "I don't know. Maybe because he made that daring dive and I didn't."

Draco seemed to catch the bitterness lacing the edge of my tone. He raised his hands and replied, "That's crap, and we both know it. Your form was better than his, but you're left in the dust because he's Harry Potter," before turning on his heels and stalking away.

The next day was Halloween—or, according to Harry, it was the first day after he began his Quidditch training, which he could not stop talking about. While normally I would've loved to spend hours on end talking about the wizarding sport, the conversation I'd had with Malfoy the previous day kept ringing through my ears. Half of me knew that I should just shove it all aside and be a supportive friend, but… the other half of me couldn't just let it go.

And so, as Harry was saying, "And the Bludgers are a lot faster than I'd anticipated, one of them almost knocked me clean off my broom—" I slammed my hands down onto the table and interrupted him.

"Harry! Levitating Spells! We need to know them!"

If my tone came off as too aggressive, Harry either missed it or ignored it. Grinning sheepishly, he said, "Oh, right." He cleared his throat, waved his arm in the specific flicking gesture that Professor Flitwick had taught us, and recited, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather we were supposed to be levitating moved only slightly, but Harry didn't seem dispirited. He jovially waved me onward.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" My feather hovered a meter off the desk before plopping back down, apparently unwilling to fly any further.

A round of applause erupted from Professor Flitwick's desk; he was standing on tip-toe atop his pile of books, clapping enthusiastically. "Well done! You've almost got it, Miss Skylar, just a little more wrist now!"

To my right side, Ron shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" But he seemed rather frustrated, for two good reasons. One, he was unable to cast the spell. Two, Hermione was his Charms partner.

Ron practically threw his wand down upon the feather; of course, it didn't budge. Hermione seized his arm and commanded, "Stop it, stop it, you're going to take someone's eye out!"

His frustration only growing with this comment, Ron exclaimed, "All right, go on then. You do it if you're so clever."

Hermione sniffed at him and raised her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

At once, her feather hopped in the air, rising one meter… then two… it ascended higher and higher over all of our heads, eventually being stopped by the ceiling. Everyone stopped what they were doing to see who had managed to make their feather fly so far.

While Professor Flitwick had been excited by my progress, he was ecstatic at Hermione's success. I pursed my lips a little… this seemed to be a recurring pattern, where I was always just one step behind.

Nonetheless, over the course of the rest of the class, both Harry and I managed success, which was satisfying enough for me.

Once class was over, everyone returned their feathers—except for Seamus Finnegan, who had accidentally blown his up—and began to leave the room. Ron caught up to Harry and I, and we silently proceeded to make our way back to the Gryffindor common room.

As we were walking, I could feel Ron's anger rolling off of him in waves. Deciding it would be better to talk through it sooner rather than risk him blowing up later, I asked, "What's going on, Ron? Something the matter?"

"It's Levi-OH-sa, not Levio-SAH," Ron squealed, in his best mimic of Hermione's voice. His face turned beet red as he spat, now back to his usual tone, "She's a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn't got any friends."

While I commiserated with Ron's frustrations—Hermione could be a bit uppity even at the best of times—his maliciousness was just a bit uncalled for.

"I don't think that's—" I started to say, but before I could get any further, someone budged in between the two of us.

Nobody could ever mistake the bushy mane of mouse-brown hair. Hermione sniffled once and proceeded to walk forward without not looking back.

"I think she heard you," Harry mumbled.

"So?" Ron retorted, but he was looking rather uncomfortable.

The rest of the day, no one could find a sign of Hermione. I went out of my way before the end of lessons to try and locate her; my first stop was the dormitory, which had no luck. The common room was also empty. I even went to all the classrooms in which I knew she liked to study.

Still missing.

It was only during our trek towards the Halloween Feast that we received any word of Hermione's whereabouts—Parvati approached me, a concerned look on her face. "Belle, do you know what's gotten into Hermione? She's been in the girl's bathroom, crying all afternoon!"

"So that's where she's been?"

Parvati nodded and shot me a knowing look before rejoining Lavender at the opposite end of the hallway. Once she was gone, I turned towards Ron and raised an eyebrow… he just turned red and said nothing.

By this time, we had reached the Great Hall, where we caught our first glimpse at its transformation. Dozens of bats hung from the ceiling—they were alive, as proven when a few of them suddenly flew off the rafters to give their wings a stretch. Pumpkins were placed along all four house tables, some of them carved so candles could be placed inside. As I glanced to one of the jack-o'-lanterns, its face changed shape. On the golden platters was the Halloween feast… and even though everything was appropriately spooky and exciting, I couldn't get Hermione out of my head.

The entire day had been a right mess. Between my jealousy for Harry's placement on the team, and my lack of action when Ron lashed out, even unknowingly, at Hermione… the last thing on my mind was candy.

But maybe there was something I could do to still turn the day around and make it a good one. As Harry and Ron moved forward, I grabbed onto the sleeves of their robes and said, "Hold on, save two seats. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to go get Hermione."

Without waiting for their responses, I retraced my steps away from the Great Hall. Just around the corridor, I ran into Professor Quirrell; I waved and said, "Happy Halloween, Professor," but he didn't even stop to reciprocate the greeting.

I shrugged to myself and continued on. Perhaps somebody had played a spooky prank on him. He did seem to be a pretty good candidate for a joke like that, considering his nervous nature. It was likely the Weasley twins.

It took a few minutes, but at last I reached the girl's bathroom. I pushed open the door; stifled sobs echoed off of the porcelain walls. They seemed to be coming from behind one of the stalls. After locating the appropriate door, I knocked on it three times.

The crying stopped. A heavy voice asked, "Who is it and what do you want?"

"It's Belle. I want you to come to the Halloween feast."

"Why should I?" retorted Hermione, sounding rather miserable. "I don't have anyone to sit with or talk to. Ronald Weasley made it quite clear that I'm unwelcome even in your little group. He's right in saying I don't have any friends."

Even though I knew she couldn't see the gesture, I found myself shaking my head. "That's not true. You and I are Herbology partners. We spend the evening hours before Astronomy working on homework and essays together. I have had fun with you in the past, Hermione."

There was silence—and then, the stall door opened just a crack. One of Hermione's tear-filled brown eyes peeked out, gazing at me skeptically before asking, "You really mean that?"

"Yeah," I said, allowing a small smile. "I do."

She sniffed once. "Would you sit with me if I go, then?"

"Of course."

Now she smiled too, and exited the bathroom stall. I offered her a hand, which she took, and we turned to exit the bathroom—

Only to come face-to-face with the largest and most disgusting creature I had ever seen in my life. Its skin was a lumpy grey, its body much too huge for its tiny head, and its ears too big for its squashed face.

I'd read about these with Robbie, when I was little. They were in all of Beedle's tales.

Without a doubt, this was a troll… here, in Hogwarts.