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As they headed down to the Quidditch pitch for trials, Hermione could sense Ron's anxiety, and, by the parlor of Ron's skin and the rigidity of his lanky frame, she was quite certain any regular passerby certainly would too.
"You're going to do fine, Ron," she said encouragingly as they passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. She was unsurprised to see that the two best friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What surprised her even less was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked around and gave Ron a wide smile.
Hermione had heard them whispering about Ron on more than one occasion, when they thought she couldn't hear… but she had heard.
Apparently, Lavender had a bit of a thing for Ron.
Hermione grimaced at the thought. She would've been happy for Ron if she actually liked Lavender, but her roommate of six years had made her life rather unpleasant on more than a few occasions.
She greatly preferred Ginny and Luna's company over Lavender's and Parvati's; there was no comparison, really. But Hermione admitted that perhaps the attention would bolster Ron's confidence for tryouts.
Ron blinked at Lavender for a moment, then, perhaps realizing he quite liked the attention, he returned the smile uncertainly and his walk instantly became something more like a strut. Harry nudged Hermione's ribs gently, and she could see he too was resisting the temptation to laugh.
"I think Lavender likes you, Ron," she said encouragingly, forcing herself not to mock Ron's sudden change in stride as they made their way toward the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle.
"Really?" Ron asked uncertainly, although his posture remained proud.
"Mhmm," Hermione smiled mischievously, and she spied Harry's amused grin.
"What d'you reckon I should do, Hermione?" Ron's eyes grew wide.
"I reckon you should give it your best out there, er— you know… show her how good of a Keeper you are."
"Right," Ron nodded, suddenly looking altogether determined. He strode off toward the pitch.
"Hermione, that was brilliant," Harry grinned broadly and hugged her.
She laughed into his chest, "We'll see— more importantly, good luck today, Harry."
They parted, and she noted Harry's expression was laced with uncertainty. She knew he still doubted his ability to lead, even now, even after the DA. It was something she knew she would probably always need to remind him.
Otherwise, what kind of friend would I be?
She smiled encouragingly, "I don't know much about Quidditch, but I know you, and Captain suits you, I think. Now come on, you're going to be late."
Hermione found a place in the stands, and saw that half of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating. The latter included a large, wiry-haired boy named Cormac McLaggen, who Hermione remembered Harry had mentioned had been invited to Slughorn's compartment on the train.
Apparently, he was also trying out for Keeper. She watched him approach Harry as if they were old friends, but they exchanged only a few words before Harry directed him to the edge of the pitch to wait. To her dismay, he seemed to rather purposely find a spot very near her proximity.
"Don't worry, Hermione— just giving Harry a bit of advice for his first day as Captain. Did you know my father was captain of the Gryffindor team for four years when he was at school?"
"Oh, really?" Hermione replied disinterestedly, avoiding eye contact.
"Beater, he was— but how could he not be— built like me—" McLaggen gestured emphatically to his chest and Hermione felt as though she might vomit. "But so are all the McLaggen men— he holds the record for the most knock-outs… nearly took out half the Hufflepuff team during one match…"
To Hermione's rapidly growing displeasure, McLaggen continued in this way for two whole hours, during which time there were many complaints and several tantrums— one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth— as Harry found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial; Demelza Robins, who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers; and Ginny, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot. Hermione had done her best between McLaggen's unyielding boasts to cheer her on from the stands. Two younger students, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote, were chosen as Beaters.
Hermione could not enjoy her pride in Harry's leadership, nor Ginny's Chaser skills, however, as McLaggen's snide remarks about the students trying out continued unabated. To make matters worse, he'd made no effort to hide that he was directing his comments her way, as if trying to impress her.
"Your boyfriend's got it all wrong," said McLaggen, referring to Harry's choices.
"Harry's my friend," Hermione mumbled.
Just your friend? An unwanted question whispered inside her head.
To her dismay, McLaggen's eyebrow arched in interest, and when he spoke again, his voice had somehow deepened. "Well that's certainly good news. If I'd made it to tryouts last year, I would've been made captain this year for sure," he continued, with something of a swagger. "But I was in the hospital wing… ate a pound of Doxy eggs for a bet."
It took every ounce of her patience not to hex him with a non-verbal spell; it was clear to her that McLaggen was a special breed of arsehole.
I won't ruin Harry's first day as captain, I won't ruin Harry's first day as captain, Hermione said to herself again and again, her fist clenched around her wand.
She was beyond thankful when the time for the Keeper tryouts had come, and McLaggen at last left her side, winking at her before strutting off toward the pitch.
I'd take Malfoy over McLaggen any day, she thought grimly.
She knew Harry had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, including Luna, who was proudly sporting her enormous lion hat and a 'Weasley is Our King' pin on her oversized orange jacket. Hermione smiled and waved in her direction, a gesture which Luna merrily returned.
To her irritation, Hermione also spotted Nott, his face half-hidden behind his Runes textbook.
Theo too had endured about half an hour of McLaggen's dribble, and he'd watched with growing amusement as Granger fought to hide her annoyance. He could practically feel the waves of irritation emanating from her.
Wish she'd trap him in a jar and drop it somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, Theo thought, recalling how obnoxious the Gryffindor had been during Slughorn's little meeting on the train. Pompous git.
Hermione directed her attention to the pitch. As each Keeper flew up to the goal hoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. Hermione glanced worriedly over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves.
She hoped that the news about Lavender might have boosted his confidence a bit, but apparently not: Ron was a delicate shade of green.
"Is Weasley going to make it?" Nott ask Hermione as he took a seat in the row behind her. "Or should I run and tell Pomfrey to get a bed ready for him?"
Hermione rolled her eyes; it seemed she could not catch a break today. "No, but if you bother me you better hope she's got a bed made up for you, Nott."
"McLaggen's got you all worked up, I see. When's the wedding?"
"It takes more than his particular kind of idiot to get me worked up… and I'd rather eat a pound of Doxy eggs," the words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.
Maybe I am worked up, she admitted with irritation.
Theo actually laughed out loud, her comment reminding him of something Draco might say.
"Funny— my dear friend Draco seems to have no problem getting under your skin."
If only you knew, Hermione thought of her scar and fought the urge to bring her hand to the platinum necklace.
"Speaking of Malfoy— did he send you to scope tryouts for him? Afraid of the competition this year?"
"First of all, Draco doesn't send me anywhere— I know you might think that, with Potter always getting you to do his bidding for him," Theo said, and Hermione could tell she had struck a nerve despite his cool comeback. "Secondly— well, never you mind your little Gryffindor head about that."
In truth, Theo had no idea exactly where Draco had gotten off to today; despite his best efforts, and his interrogation of Goyle, he hadn't been able to find his friend. Theo was frustrated by this hidden knowledge, and had nearly just blurted to Hermione that Draco in fact had very little interest in Quidditch this year, too consumed by his task— whatever it happened to be— so much so that he planned to abdicate his Seeker position.
Hermione and Theo turned their attention back to tryouts.
None of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. To Hermione's great disappointment, McLaggen saved four penalties out of five.
No, she thought, her mind racing frantically in desperation. She knew Harry would choose the Keeper who blocked the most goals. That absolute troll can't win. Plus, he'll drive Harry crazy… and poor Ron.
She reached again for her wand.
The last penalty soared toward McLaggen, and seeing he was positioned to block it perfectly, she focused all her efforts on the non-verbal spell.
Confundus! Her mind roared.
The action, although silent, did not go unnoticed by Theo, and he looked up just in time to see McLaggen's last penalty shoot off in completely the wrong direction.
The crowd laughed and booed and McLaggen returned to the ground in clear outrage.
Theo thought back to what Slughorn had said the day the plans for Felix had been initiated; '"Miss Granger, you are full of surprises,"' and "'there's some Slytherin in you."'
Maybe the oaf was right, Theo considered, glancing at Hermione appraisingly.
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Nice Confundus."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said evenly, without turning around.
Theo smirked, impressed.
He certainly didn't condone cheating, but he couldn't deny something had to be done about McLaggen… Theo thought it was the least the prat deserved after the hours of his slimy commentary. Theo also reasoned it'd be absolutely psychotic to let him anywhere near a Quidditch pitch… only a madman would eat a pound for Doxy eggs, they were well-known to be poisonous. In that moment, he could not deny a tentative sort of respect for Granger began to blossom.
Clearly, there was a lot more to her than he and Draco had ever suspected. In fact, Theo couldn't help but again notice how Draco would've probably done the same thing to McLaggen, if given the chance.
"Good luck, Ron!" Cried Lavender, a few rows over from Hermione as Ron mounted his broom for his trial.
Luna's hat gave a loud roar.
"Wonder if Brown's got any non-verbal spells up her sleeve?" Nott muttered sarcastically and Hermione smirked reluctantly.
But no more interference was needed as Ron preceded to save one, two, three, four, and five penalties in a row.
Hermione cheered along with the crowd, and when Ron's trial was over, she watched uneasily as McLaggen, red in the face, rapidly approached Harry.
"Maybe we should get Pomfrey to get a bed ready for Potter," Nott whispered to her as he rose to leave. "Don't forget it's your turn to check on Felix tonight."
Hermione waved him away, rising from her seat, seeing McLaggen's offensive stance. She gripped her wand tightly, just in case.
"His sister didn't really try!" she heard McLaggen shout menacingly. "She gave him an easy save."
"Rubbish," said Harry coldly. "That was the one he nearly missed."
McLaggen took a step nearer Harry, who stood his ground. Hermione smiled in satisfaction; McLaggen was no match for Harry, not where dueling was concerned.
A physical fight, however… Hermione considered worriedly, her smile disappearing.
"Give me another go," McLaggen insisted.
"No," said Harry. "You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper, he won it fair and square. Get out of my way."
Hermione thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch Harry, but he contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling what sounded like threats to thin air. Harry turned to congratulate his team.
Hermione ran toward them from the stands, grinning broadly.
"Well done, captain," she nudged Harry playfully in the side, and she saw his annoyance from McLaggen disappear as his green eyes brightened.
"Thanks, Hermione."
"You did it, Ron!"
After a quick celebration and fixing the time of their first full practice for the following Thursday, she headed off toward Hagrid's with Harry and Ron. A watery sun was trying to break through the clouds now.
"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron said happily. "Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of spin on it—"
"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," said Hermione dismissively.
"I was better than McLaggen anyway," said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded..."
Hermione blushed deeply, her guilt settling in. She hoped Harry didn't notice, but highly doubted it. It gave her a small comfort to know Ron would likely notice nothing; he was too busy describing each of his penalties in loving detail, and wondering aloud what Lavender and Luna thought.
McLaggen deserved it though, she argued with herself. He was a complete git. Ron's a better fit for the team anyway… plus, he saved all five goals without anyone's help.
As they approached Hagrid's she saw Buckbeak right away, tethered in front of the cabin. He clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned his huge head toward them. Her heart ached at the sight of the great creature, struck by the sadness of Sirius' loss; she remembered when she and Harry had ridden the hippogriff together.
She and Harry took turns bowing to Buckbeak without breaking eye contact. Each time, the regal hippogriff reciprocated the bow.
"How are you?" Hermione heard Harry ask him in a low voice, moving forward to stroke his feathery head.
"Missing him I'm sure," she answered quietly, "But you're okay here with Hagrid, aren't you?" Buckbeak nuzzled his head into her hand, nearly knocking her backward, clearly enjoying the attention. Harry put his arm out to brace her, and she smiled, unaware of the deeply appreciative gaze Harry directed her way.
"Oi!" said a loud voice.
Hagrid came striding around the corner of his cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes, Fang at his heels. The enormous dog gave a booming bark and bounded forward.
"Git away from him! He'll have yer fingers—oh. It's yeh lot."
Fang jumped up at Ron, attempting to lick his ears. Hagrid stood and looked at them all for a split second, then turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.
"Oh no!" said Hermione. It was as she had feared— Hagrid was angry with them.
"Don't worry about it," said Harry grimly. He walked over to the door and knocked loudly.
"Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"
There was no sound from within.
"If you don't open the door, we'll blast it open!" Harry said, pulling out his wand.
"Harry!" she protested. "You can't possibly —"
"Yeah, I can!" said Harry, shooting her a significant look. She understood instantly, and couldn't help but smirk. "Stand back—"
But before he could say anything else, the door flew open again as Harry had obviously known it would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at them all and looking, despite the flowery apron, positively alarming.
"I'm a teacher!" he roared at Harry. "A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!"
"I'm sorry, sir," said Harry, emphasizing the last word as he stowed his wand inside his robes.
Hagrid looked stunned. "Since when have yeh called me 'sir'?"
"Since when have you called me 'Potter'?"
"Oh, very clever," growled Hagrid. "Very amusin'. That's me outsmarted, innit? All righ', come in then, yeh ungrateful little..."
They apologized almost immediately for not taking his class that year, and Hermione made sure to let the half-giant know just how much she'd missed him. Thankfully, it didn't take long for them to break through Hagrid's defenses.
With Hagrid's disposition softened, he told them about Aragog, who, by the sound of it, wasn't long for this world. By the time Hagrid's door closed behind them and they stepped into the cool night air, all was mended, much to Hermione's relief.
"I've got that detention with Snape tonight, so I haven't got much time for dinner," Harry explained despondently as they hurried their way across the deserted grounds.
As they came into the castle, Hermione spotted McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him, but Harry caught her arm and held her back.
He knows.
"Yes, Harry?" she asked sweetly.
"If you ask me," said Harry quietly, "McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was standing by where you were sitting all during tryouts."
Hermione blushed and they stared at one another in knowing silence.
"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about you— and Ron and Ginny too. He's a complete—"
"Arse?" Harry smirked and she nodded.
"Anyway, he's got a nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn't get in— plus he thought he knew everything— you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."
"No," said Harry. "No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?"
"Oh, be quiet," she hit his arm in jest as he smirked.
"What're you two doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.
"Nothing," she and Harry said together, and they hurried after Ron.
They had barely taken three steps toward the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.
"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see! And Miss Granger, too, what a treat! Although you two never seem to stray too far from each other, I've noticed…" He boomed genially, and meaningfully, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly.
"I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper later tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming and the charming Melinda Bobbin— I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries— and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger will favor me by coming too."
Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.
"I can't come, Professor," said Harry at once, "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."
Hermione suddenly felt immeasurably disappointed. Not only would she now have to go to the party without Harry, she'd yet again be forced to endure McLaggen's horrifying presence, and his unwanted attention.
"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was counting on you, Harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!"
He bustled away out of the Hall.
"He's got no chance of persuading Snape," said Harry, the moment Slughorn was out of earshot. "This detention's already been postponed once; Snape did it for Dumbledore, but he won't do it for anyone else."
"Oh, I wish you could come, Harry!"
I don't think I'll be able to hold back a hex on my own this time, she considered, thinking again of McLaggen.
"I doubt you'll be alone, Ginny'll probably be invited," snapped Ron, who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn. Ginny had also been one of the students invited to Slughorn's little gathering on the train.
After dinner, they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. They managed to find a free table and sat down; Ron, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling.
Hermione ignored him and reached out for a copy of the Evening Prophet, which somebody had left abandoned on a chair.
"Anything new?" Harry asked her.
"Not really..." she scanned the inside pages. "Oh, look, your dad's in here, Ron— he's all right!" she added quickly as Ron looked around in alarm.
"It just says he's searched Malfoy Manor again."
What a house to grow up in, Hermione thought, imagining what manner of objects could possibly be housed within. She wondered how a house like that could ever feel like a home.
She read the article aloud, "'This second search of the Death Eater's residence does not seem to have yielded any results. Arthur Weasley of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects said that his team had been acting upon a confidential tip-off…' Well, it sounds like your dad took our concerns to heart."
"So if it's not at their house, Malfoy must have brought whatever it is to Hogwarts with him—" Harry reasoned aloud, his brow furrowed.
"Maybe," Hermione said skeptically.
"But how can he have done?" Asked Ron seriously. "We were all searched when we arrived, weren't we?"
I'm still walking around with this horrid necklace, Hermione thought.
"Were you?" Said Harry, taken aback. He looked to Hermione for affirmation, but she gave him only a look of confusion.
"We weren't," she explained to Ron.
"Course you two weren't, I forgot you were late. Well, Filch ran over all of our things with Secrecy Sensors right when we got off the train, and again when we got into the entrance hall. Any Dark object would have been found— Crabbe had a shrunken head confiscated. So even though Malfoy was with you lot, I don't think he could've brought in anything dangerous… unless it was on him, I s'pose."
Momentarily stymied, Harry and Hermione's gaze met. She saw Harry glance at the necklace resting by her collar.
"Maybe. But Hermione got into school with her necklace, didn't she? Maybe Malfoy did have something on him that night."
Hermione frowned at Harry's phrasing. It's not my necklace…
"We don't really know for sure if the necklace is even technically a dark object though," she rationalized. "Plus, didn't Malfoy have concerns about carrying the object out of Borgin's? He said he would look strange holding it— maybe it's too large to carry."
"Or—" Harry said, "maybe someone's sent it to him by owl. His mother or someone."
"Well… I do know all the owls are being checked," said Hermione.
"Can you think of any other way Malfoy—?"
"Oh, drop it, you two," Ron snapped, and Hermione looked to him in surprise.
"Listen, it's not my fault Slughorn invited Hermione and me to his stupid party, neither of us wanted to go, you know!" said Harry, firing up.
Hermione winced. She hated when they argued.
"Well, as I'm not invited to any parties," said Ron, getting to his feet again, "I think I'll go to bed."
He stomped off toward the door to the boys' dormitories, leaving Harry and Hermione staring after him, shaking their heads.
Hermione figured she should probably head up to her dorm to get ready for Slughorn's supper— she'd have just enough time to check on Felix on her way.
"Harry?" said the new Chaser, Demelza Robins, appearing suddenly at his shoulder. "I've got a message for you."
"From Professor Slughorn?" Hermione asked, tentatively hopeful that perhaps Snape had agreed to reschedule Harry's detention.
He's got a better chance at teaching a Pygmy Puff to waltz, Hermione thought, knowing her hope was naive.
"No... from Professor Snape," said Demelza. "He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your detention —er—no matter how many party invitations you've received. And he wanted you to know you'll be sorting out rotten flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions and—and he says there's no need to bring protective gloves."
"Right," said Harry grimly. "Thanks a lot, Demelza."
"That sounds preferable to this dinner, Harry, honestly. McLaggen? And what if Malfoy and Nott are there too?"
"Wear your protective gloves," Harry replied.
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