The Ides of March arrived without much fanfare save a light drizzle outside. Hermione got dressed and gathered her books as she always did. Breakfast was fine, morning Transfiguration went well, but at lunch there was the distinct buzz of gossip around the tables, and Hermione felt a foreboding feeling in the air.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked, settling down into her seat.
"Someone said they saw Hagrid at his hut," Tracey said, taking a sandwich. "It got reported, and word is that the Ministry is coming. They think Dumbledore might be hiding him, and they want to search the entire castle."
"And this is verified?" Hermione said, her eyes wide.
"Not just yet, but it's likely," Blaise confirmed. "I bet they cancel afternoon classes. Can't teach with the Ministry and the Aurors stomping about, can you?"
Hermione's eyes went to the head table. Dumbledore and McGonagall were noticeably absent.
"Well," she said, helping herself to a sandwich, "I suppose we'll see."
Later during the meal, Professor McGonagall came striding in looking stressed. Several wisps of hair had escaped her tight bun and were floating around her, making her look frazzled.
"Afternoon classes have been cancelled," Professor McGonagall announced to the crowd. "Please use this time to study for your upcoming exams and complete any outstanding assignments. You are permitted full range of the school, but you must go in groups of at least two at all times. Thank you."
The hall broke out into excited babble at this announcement, but Hermione was still watching McGonagall as she lowered her voice and turned to the head table. Hermione couldn't make out what she was saying, but the expressions on Flitwick's and Snape's faces had her wondering what exactly was going on.
She found out soon after lunch, when there was a cluster in the Entrance Hall.
"The Ministry didn't find anything in Hagrid's hut," Blaise told her. "Rumor is they want to search the common rooms."
Hermione's heart stopped.
"They want to search the common rooms?" she repeated. "Search through everyone's things, or just search through the common rooms?"
"Just the common rooms," Blaise assured her. "They're looking for Hagrid hiding and searching every room of the school. But still…"
He trailed off grimly, and Hermione gasped.
"The location of the Slytherin dungeons have been a secret for years," she said. "This is… this really is not okay, is it?"
The dismayed look Blaise gave her was as clear an answer as any words.
The rest of the afternoon clear, students wandered the castle, allegedly studying, but many of them were watching the Aurors and Ministry storm around the castle, looking for Hagrid. There were swarms of them going in and out of Hagrid's hut, as if looking for evidence, while others crawled the castle. Done watching out a third-floor window herself, Hermione was heading down to the common room when she heard an argument.
"You can't! You simply can't!"
"My dear girl, I'm afraid not is not an option."
Hermione hurried down to the Entrance Hall, where a crowd of Slytherins had gathered. They were packed in tightly, blocking the Minister and his entourage from going down the stairs to the dungeons.
"We refuse," Jade said, glaring at Minister Fudge. "The Slytherin common room is for Slytherins only."
"My dear girl, desperate times call for desperate measures!" Minister Fudge looked hassled and stressed. "Every part of the castle is being searched. The Slytherin Common room is no exception."
"Want to bet?" Jade sneered.
Fudge stumbled half a step back instinctively, flinching in the face of Jade's aggression.
"Why is this happening now, anyway?" another Slytherin demanded, a boy. "There hasn't been an attack in ages. Nothing has changed."
"Hagrid was seen," the Minister said uncomfortably. "And the Travers family has been very adamant that something must be done to catch the culprit behind their daughter's attack."
The boy scoffed. "So we have to suffer so the Ministry looks competent to the press?"
"My dear boy—!"
Hermione glanced over the crowd as more Slytherins began to yell at the Minister, waiting. Snape was bound to show up soon, drawn to the group of rebelling snakes like a magnet.
Most of the Slytherins were older ones, with bigger bodies to physically block the Ministry workers from advancing. The fury of the Slytherins was fierce and palpable in the air, so intense was their hatred and desperation to prevent the Ministry from invading their sanctuary. Hermione wondered if any of the other houses had objected to Ministry inspectors even nearly as much.
Hermione winced when she recognized some of the Slytherins closest to the Minister, the most adamant in their refusal. If Alexia Rosier was upset about something, the whole common room was sure to hear about it later; the girl could whinge for the Olympics and undoubtedly win the gold.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Snape descended upon them from behind, and Hermione turned to see as the crowd fell into a hush. A tall, dark Auror stood behind him, wearing an unusual set of purple robes that looked to have Middle Eastern sort of flair.
Jade quickly explained the dilemma.
"The solution here, clearly, is to not let anyone into the Slytherin dungeons who has not been there before," Snape said curtly. He looked to the Minister. "So long as some of your Aurors search, you will be content, Minister?"
Fudge drew himself up.
"Someone in the Ministry must search the Slytherin common room!" he blustered. "You, least of all, get an exception! What with the Heir of Slytherin causing all this mess…"
"Minister, I was sorted into Slytherin." The big man behind Snape stepped forward, his voice accented, though Hermione didn't know where from. "I already know the location of the Slytherin dungeons. Allow me to search for you, and this issue will be resolved."
Fudge paused, thrown off-guard.
"Shacklebolt? You were a Slytherin?" He looked surprised.
The Auror in question inclined his head. "I am."
Hermione found it interesting how the Auror answered in the present tense. Not I was a Slytherin; I am.
"Oh. Well, then…" Fudge adjusted his robes around him. "That will be fine. Snape, show Shacklebolt to the Slytherin commons, and he will search for the Ministry."
"Indeed, sir." Snape's eyes glittered with unsaid malice as he swept the Minister a curt bow, before stalking off toward the dungeons, the Auror in tow.
With that issue resolved, Fudge and his entourage went back outside to oversee the ransacking of Hagrid's hut, and the crowd began to break up. Hermione lingered in the Entrance Hall, wondering if she'd rather go up to the library and get some work done or if she'd get nothing done and should just give in to watching the unfolding spectacle, when an angry voice called out to her.
"Granger!"
Hermione turned to see a group of three older students advancing on her, their Slytherin ties and robes clear.
They were people she recognized.
She knew their faces very well.
Hermione's blood ran cold, and she looked around frantically for help. But Blaise and Tracey had disappeared, ostensibly to go see the raiding of the common room, and the only other people around were Slytherins from the older years.
Hermione withdrew her wand.
"This is your fault, Granger," the tallest girl hissed, advancing on her. "Your fault. If you hadn't made that stupid bet with Lilian, none of this would have happened."
Hermione held her chin up, glaring.
"Lilian made her own bed to lie in," she said, defiant. "Not my fault, Rookwood. Blame it on her."
"But you were the one to spread nasty rumors around to make the Heir of Slytherin doubt her heritage," an oily boy said from next to her.
"Those rumors popped up after she was petrified," Hermione scoffed. "I've heard ones about Peter and Alexia now, too, what with them cowering in terror all the time now."
"She has a point, Snyde," Peter said from behind him. "I've gotten people asking me about my family too, now. Alexia's the same."
"But it's your fault this happened," the tall girl snapped. "You're the one who made the stupid bet. And now your stupid bet has outsiders invading our common room – a place you never belonged in in the first place!"
"If anything, my bet with Lilian proves I belong—"
"Your bet proves nothing!"
There was a jet of red that Hermione only narrowly dodged, and a slicing hex split her bag open, books and ink bottles crashing to the floor. Hermione saw red in anger, remembering those slicing hexes being cast at her once before.
"You don't belong here! I'll spill your dirty blood all over the floor, you stupid little—"
"Not this time!"
With a yell, Hermione barreled into Rookwood, tackling her to the ground in the Entrance Hall in a prison yard rush. Rookwood yelled, and the crowd that had gathered stumbled backwards in shock as both girls landed heavily on the stone, Hermione screaming in her enemy's face.
Hermione had considered what she would do in a situation like this again many, many times. She knew she wasn't strong enough to face several older students magically – not yet, at least. The only advantage she held was she'd been bullied before, by muggles, and muggle combat was something she had an edge in over prissy purebloods who'd only learned to fight with a wand.
She was also determined to scream as loud as she could the entire time to attract the attention of a teacher as soon as possible. This time, she wanted witnesses to her attack.
"Get off me! Get off me!"
Hermione yanked at Rookwood's hair viciously, kneeing her kidneys and scrabbling to grab her wand. Rookwood clawed at Hermione's hands and fought back, kicking, landing a solid punch in Hermione's eye that sent her reeling. The other students were shouting and cheering around them, the noise like a haze in Hermione's ears.
"What is the meaning of all this?!"
Snape's voice boomed across the hallway, and Hermione and Rookwood both froze.
Hermione had never seen Snape's eyes look so deadly. Flinching, Hermione realized that they were violating the first rule of Slytherin – in public, Slytherins always stick together.
And publicly brawling in the entranceway pretty much blew that to shreds.
Snape dragged Hermione off of Rookwood before yanking the other girl to her feet. He shoved them both toward a stone wall, fury in his eyes.
"Explain," he hissed.
"…Professor?"
Snape whirled around on the foolish student who dared interrupt him, and Hermione was surprised to see Ginny, clutching her bag to her anxiously.
"What, Miss Weasley?" he breathed.
Ginny swallowed hard.
"I saw what happened. Rhamnaceae started yelling at Hermione, blaming her for getting Lilian petrified and getting the Slytherin common room searched," Ginny said, her voice wavering. "She shot a severing charm at Hermione – it broke her book bag – and Hermione ran at her to try and get her wand off of her." Ginny met Hermione's eyes, almost pleading. "I'm sure Hermione just did what she thought was best – to get her weapon off of her."
Snape's eyes narrowed on Hermione.
"Is this true, Miss Granger?" he said.
"It is," Hermione said quietly. "I didn't think I could best Rhamnaceae in a duel, especially not with her having backup along with her. I thought physically taking her wand would be the best way to make sure I wouldn't get hurt."
Snape regarded her hard for a long, tense moment, his eyes flicking to the still-lurking Snyde and Winikus, before turning to the older girl.
"And is this true, Miss Rookwood?" he breathed.
Rookwood's face contorted, and Hermione realized the pureblood's dilemma. She had been caught this time, unable to manufacture an alibi, and if it had been just her word against Hermione's, she might have prevailed. But Ginny Weasley had stepped up first. Blood traitors or not, the Weasleys were one of the Sacred 28, and contesting her word publicly would hold significant ramifications.
"I'm not wrong," Rookwood finally said. "It is Granger's fault Lilian got petrified."
"It is no one's fault but Miss Travers' and the Heir's fault she was petrified." Snape's voice was quiet and vicious. "If Miss Travers had waited until morning to satisfy her sweet tooth, she would be here and fine today." He paused a moment, eyes still fixed on her. "Miss Rookwood, come with me. Miss Granger, pick up your things."
"Thank you, sir."
Hermione darted away from Snape and over to the mess on the floor from her broken bag, kneeling. The crowd was dispersing with whispers, and she saw out of the corner of her eye Snape's billowing robes stalk down the stairs toward his office, Rookwood following behind him, subdued.
"Hermione…"
Hermione looked up to see Blaise and Tracey next to her, both kneeling on the floor. Tracey's eyes shone with concern, Blaise's with worry.
"We came as soon as we heard the shouting," Tracey said. "It echoed down the hallways…"
"What happened?" Blaise asked. He took Hermione's hand in his own and turned it over. Hermione's knuckles were scraped and bleeding, and she still had Rookwood's dark hair tangled in her fingers.
The blood on her knuckles was bright red. So, so red, like the red had been against the stone.
"Rookwood decided she wanted another go," Hermione said quietly. "There were only three of them together this time, not seven. When she cast at me, I ran and tackled her. I didn't think I could win in a duel with those odds."
"Oh, Hermione…"
Blaise's voice was anguished, and Hermione looked up at him.
"Hey, it's okay," she said. "I'm not really hurt—"
"One of your eyes is starting to swell shut, Hermione," Tracey cut in.
"—okay, I'm not severely hurt, and I didn't get punished." She bit her lip. "Surely that's worth something, right? I didn't even come close to dying this time."
"The fact that nearly dying is your reference point—! Hermione…"
Blaise gathered her into his arms and held her tightly, hugging her as if he was afraid to let her go. Startled and embarrassed, Hermione tentatively wrapped her arms back around him, offering comfort. Embracing people in public was usually reserved for couples and had certain connotations, especially amongst Slytherins.
Though, given the situation, she suspected any witnesses would make an exception.
"It's okay, Blaise," Hermione said quietly. "It's okay. I don't expect you to always be there for me. It's not like you can be around me 24/7, and it'd be impossible for you to just know when I'm in trouble."
"For now." Blaise's voice was low. "The coven rings will help with that, though."
He finally pulled back, looking at her intently.
"We'll get her," he told her vehemently. "We'll get them all for you. Whatever you want for your revenge, Hermione, anything. I will help you. Just give the word."
His wrath on her behalf warmed her heart, and Hermione gave him a small smile.
"We will," she said. "Don't worry – I'm not the 'forgive and forget' type."
Blaise snorted and smirked at that, and Hermione grinned.
"Fair enough," he said. "Just tell me when you're ready, and we'll get her."
Hermione smiled back and turned to Tracey, who had been gathering and cleaning up her things.
"Your ink bottle smashed all over everything, but I've managed to jinx most of it clean again," she said. "This pile's the ones I've cleaned already, but there's still a few to go." She huffed. "Clearly you shouldn't be carrying so many books, Hermione. Look at what happens when you do."
Hermione laughed and settled in next to Tracey, jinxing ink off her quills and parchment and textbooks. As the pile began to dwindle, Hermione felt a flicker of concern, and soon she began to methodically search through all her things with growing intensity, a nagging fear creeping in to consume her.
"What's up?" Tracey asked. "Is something missing?"
"I just thought…" Hermione said, going through her things frantically. "I thought I had another book in my bag…"
"This is all I found," Tracey said simply, and Hermione fixed her gaze on all of her things laid out before her, her eyes rapidly searching and scanning for something the cold creeping through her veins already told her she knew wouldn't find.
Tom Riddle's diary was gone.