Hermione woke on Saturday feeling cheerful. Rowle was still in the Hospital Wing, under observation for the ribs he'd had to regrow, and Pansy was treating Hermione with a cool deference, if not a reluctant respect. She was still feeling pleased with herself as she buttered her toast until a prefect approached her – one she didn't recognize, from Ravenclaw.

"Dumbledore?" Hermione repeated. "Dumbledore wants to see me?"

The prefect nodded. "Immediately after breakfast. I'm to take you up to his office."

Hermione bit her lip.

"I'm not done eating," she objected.

"I'll come get you at quarter till, then," the prefect said amicably. "Eat quickly."

The prefect walked off, and Hermione turned back to the Slytherin table, her stomach suddenly churning.

"The Headmaster," Blaise commented. "That's new. I've never heard of him summoning anyone to his office directly."

"At least not a student," Tracey added. "Mostly he just leaves us alone."

Hermione tossed her head back, defiant.

"I've done nothing wrong," she said. "I'm sure it's some mundane matter. Perhaps my parents' owl got lost en route to the school."

Her friends hid their polite incredulousness and avoided the topic the rest of breakfast, though it was obvious a dark mood was growing over Hermione. Draco kept glancing her way, and Tracey kept giving her worried looks.

The Ravenclaw prefect soon returned.

"Ready?"

"I suppose so," Hermione said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

The trip to Dumbledore's office was up several sets of stairs, and Hermione's bag began to make her shoulder ache. She grit her teeth and resisted the urge to hit it with a Levitation Charm or two – the last thing she needed now was a prefect to see her confidence with air charms.

At last, they reached a large statue of a phoenix.

"Chocolate Frog."

The statue began to rotate, a spiral staircase emerging from the ground. Hermione looked to the prefect, who gestured, and Hermione stepped onto the staircase as it twisted her upwards. The stairs made a low rumbling sound, stone groaning against itself, and Hermione quietly tried to steel herself for this.

Deep breaths, she told herself. Calm your mind.

Dumbledore could read minds, but she wasn't about to let him read hers. If she managed to avoid eye contact, and since there was no proof of anything…

The staircase stopped in front of a large door, and Hermione knocked.

"Enter."

Hermione obediently opened the door.

The Headmaster's office was large, open, and cluttered. Odd gadgets of all sorts littered the shelves, with larger relics and artifacts along the edges of the space. Hermione's eyes were drawn to one that looked like a large fountain, but she resisted the urge to go look. Instead, she approached the Headmaster.

Dumbledore could be an imposing man when he wanted to be. Despite his age, he was quite tall, and his sharp blue eyes and long beard held an intimidation factor all their own. He was wearing deep purple robes trimmed in lavender, and he stood next to his chair, watching her approach.

Hermione was careful to keep her eyes from meeting his.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Hermione's voice was polite, inquisitive, and slightly confused. A good tone for a good student who was puzzled as to why they had been summoned, Hermione thought.

"Hello, Miss Granger." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I did indeed. Please, take a seat."

Hermione sank into the chair in front of his desk, and Dumbledore settled into his much fancier chair across the desk. He looked at her, his blue eyes examining her, and Hermione kept her eyes pleasantly just below his own, preventing direct eye contact.

"It has come to my attention, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, "that you have misbehaved."

Immediately, Hermione felt her hackles rise. Taking a deep breath, she pushed back her instinctive defensive anger.

"Sir?" she questioned. "I'm not sure what you're speaking about."

He had nothing, she reminded herself. Nothing. There was no way he could prove that Rowle's accident had been her, and if she just denied everything-

"I have spoken with Harry Potter recently-" Dumbledore began.

No! Hermione thought, desperation tinging her thoughts. Never. Harry wouldn't betray me! But- if Dumbledore looked into his mind-

"-and he informed me you were responsible for his 'rescue' from his family's house," the Headmaster finished.

Hermione's thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"Wait, what?"

"You took it upon yourself to 'liberate' Mr. Potter from his relatives' home," Dumbledore said. He gave her a frown, the twinkle in his eyes gone. "Even though it was not your place to do so."

Her mind did an abrupt 180, and Hermione's temper flared. She'd been prepared to defend herself from accusations of endangering a classmate; she'd never imagined she'd be called to defend herself for doing the right thing.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said, incredulous. "Harry was being locked up. They were starving him. They put bars on the windows!"

"While that is unfortunate, Harry should have stayed with his family over the summer," Dumbledore told her. "It was not your place to rescue him."

"It was," Hermione said vehemently. "Harry is my friend. If there was something I could do to help him, I was morally obligated to do it."

"Miss Granger." Dumbledore's voice turned cold. "There are adults watching out for the well-being of Mr. Potter. You should have turned to them with your concerns."

"I was told that adults couldn't help!" Hermione objected. "I went to go and get Mr. Weasley, but then Fred and George told me about all the bureaucracy that would get involved, and-"

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley were involved in this?" Dumbledore frowned.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Fred, George, Ron, and I all went in the stupid flying car to rescue Harry that night. I wasn't about to attempt it on my own. Fred drove the car, we pulled the bars from Harry's window, and we took him back to The Burrow, where he would be safe for the rest of the summer."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And Mr. Potter stayed at The Burrow for the rest of the summer?"

His tone had changed somewhat, the cold condemnation gone from his voice.

"Yes. I just said that," Hermione said. "I sent his family a letter, saying he was somewhere safe, and Harry assured me that they barely cared about him anyway-"

Abruptly, realization struck Hermione. A cold, icy anger gripped her throat, and she fell silent.

Dumbledore wasn't mad that Harry had been rescued.

He was mad that she had been the one to rescue him.

Something must have changed in her stance or her eyes, because Dumbledore straightened, looking over the tops of his half-moon glasses down the length of his nose at her.

"Miss Granger," he said sternly. "Harry is safest with his relatives. It is not your place to-"

"To help my friend?" Hermione said bitterly.

"It was dangerous to try and 'rescue' him from a Muggle neighborhood-"

"But the Weasleys rescuing him and helping him is fine?" Hermione interrupted. "It's just the issue that I shouldn't have done it? Because I'm-"

"Miss Granger."

Dumbledore's voice was sharp, and it whipped through the office like a tangible force. Hermione flinched and fell silent. His eyes settled on her once again, and Hermione kept her own eyes firmly on his desk.

"I need to make sure you understand that it is not your place to try and protect Harry Potter," Dumbledore said, "regardless of if he is your friend or not."

Hermione recalled Dumbledore's eyes fixing upon her at the leaving feast, the icy blue seeing her for the first time.

"I understand," Hermione said dully.

"I do not want you in my office again because you have tried to 'rescue' Harry from his Muggle relatives," Dumbledore said sternly, "regardless of what worries you have. There are adults watching after Mr. Potter, and it is their job to make sure he is safe, not yours." His eyes were sharp. "Do I make myself clear?"

Hermione's eyes flashed, but she did her best to rein her anger back.

"Crystal."