This is me for forever,
One of the lost ones.
The one without a name,
Without an honest heart as compass.
Walk the dark path,
Sleep with angels,
Call the past for help.
Touch me with your love,
And reveal to me my true name.
-Nemo, Nightwish.
Chapter 11: The One Without A Name.
December 1993/January-1994-Home Base, Hook Norton.
"—and then stir three times counter-clockwise." Sirius read, his mouth half-full of sandwich, as he sat part-way down the table from where Hermione was brewing in her potions lab, the book he was reading from propped up in front of his plate. "Now it just needs to sit off the heat for ten minutes, until it turns from cobalt blue to a more swamp water green." With a wave of her wand Hermione had extinguished the flames under the cauldron and began gathering up the ingredients, replacing them on the shelves lining one wall of her lab. "You know, this reminds me of back when we brewed this potion. We took advantage of the time Lily was called down to talk with Slughorn, about joining his private Club, James and I snuck into his store room for ingredients while he was occupied. Lily was furious, when she found out we used her as a distraction. Remus and James ended up doing most of the brewing in the Shrieking Shack, they always had more of a knack for potions out of the four of us."
"Sounds like something Harry, Ron and I did second year," Hermione commented, chuckling as she turned to look over her shoulder at the Dog. "We were brewing the Polyjuice Potion in a haunted girl's toilet, with ingredients stolen from Professor Snape's stores."
"Brewing in a girl's loo and stealing from Snape in second year, oh, James would be proud of that boy," Sirius said with a chuckle, shaking his head. "What were you brewing that for anyway, isn't it a rather advanced potion for second years?"
"We were trying to figure out who had opened the Chamber of Secrets, not sure if you heard but last year there were a lot of attacks around the school. Students, pets, even a ghost were petrified; all done by Slytherin's monster and the Heir. Half the school thought it was Harry when he started hearing things and came out as a Parselmouth. Harry was convinced the Heir was Malfoy, so I came up with a plan to get into the Slytherin's Dormitory and interrogate him. The plan worked without too much of a hitch; Harry and Ron got in, figured out that Malfoy had nothing to do with it and got out without anyone finding out."
"Breaking into other House Dorms, impressive," Sirius said with an appraising whistle before becoming more thoughtful. "I didn't realize Harry was a Parselmouth. How is that even possible, I thought that was strictly a trait from Slytherin's direct descendants and even then it was rare. The Potter's weren't part of that lineage, I'm certain of it."
"Yeah we were confused on that as well at first until Dumbledore filled us in on the fact Harry has a rather direct magical connection to the Heir of Slytherin himself." She said tapping her forehead, where Harry's famous scar normally sat. "Apparently when Voldemort cursed him some of his magic rubbed off, connecting them. It's why his scar bothers him when He's around and why he is fluent in Parselmouth despite not having been born with it."
"I see," Sirius said after some thought, pondering this new information before shaking his head. "Where were you in all of this, breaking into House common rooms. The boys didn't leave you out of it, did they?"
"No, Harry stole the ingredients and I did all the brewing, but things went a bit wrong when it came time to take the potion. We all took it and it worked fine for the boys, but there was a complication with mine. The final ingredient for the Polyjuice Potion is a part of someone that you are turning into; so I got some hairs off the robe of the Slytherin girl I would have been impersonating. The only problem was, the hairs I got were not hers, but cat hair." This caused Sirius to begin laughing heartily.
"You turned yourself into a cat." He wheezed out between bouts of laughter.
"No,"she stated grumpily, crossing her arms over her chest in a pout as Sirius continued to laugh at her expense. "The potion was only meant for human transformation, I turned myself into a human with cat features," she emphasized, "I was stuck in the Hospital Wing for a few days; they managed to change me back easy enough, but I kept coughing up hairballs." Hermione shuddered at the memory. "Be happy that you're a dog, is all I can say on that."
"So, where did you get all of this stuff, some of these ingredients are not something you can buy at your run-of-the-mill potion supply store?" Sirius asked, picking up a bottle of Netch Jelly, swirling the sludgy blue liquid around in the phial, until Hermione took it and put it on the shelf. "Did you raid Snape's supplies while you were in detention? Sneak them out under your robes, maybe?" Sirius goaded good naturedly, as Hermione came to sit across from him at the lab table and grabbed the book he had been reading from.
"Yes and no," she admitted, brushing some lettuce from the pages before closing it. "Some of my supplies are stolen from some of the shops in Diagon Alley, but there wasn't much left after the looters went through. The majority of my supplies came from Professor Snape's potion stores, but they weren't stolen. When we broke into the school to get supplies we split up; he headed down to the dungeons and emptied his stores of anything of use while I went to Dumbledore's office for the Headmaster's books and the memories he had hidden away."
"I still can't get my head around a 'helpful' Snape," Sirius admitted, a little skeptical before shaking his head and pushing his plate to the side.
"I'm sure Harry and Ron would say the same thing about Malfoy." She quipped, running a finger over the embossed lettering on the cover of her book.
"What, you don't think the same of your childhood enemy? From what I've heard of the brat, he's a spoiled little monster, just like his dad."
"No," she admitted, shaking her head, "I mean, Malfoy is the very opposite of everything I am. He's a Slytherin, I am a Gryfindor. He is a pure-blood, I am a Muggle-Born. By rights, I should hate him for all the things he has said and done to me, but I don't. Don't get me wrong, he had me in tears more than once when I was younger with the way he through around that Mudblood slur." Sirius made a sound of protest deep in his throat, very much like a growl at the term but did not interrupt. "But even throwing insults; I can see now he's simply going through the motions, like a knee-jerk reaction when presented with a Muggle-born Gryffindor, there isn't any real intent to hurt me behind it all. He's just a misguided boy who acts exactly like he was always raised to, and yet he is finding small ways all on his own to break away from it. I don't think he even realizes it yet, but he has already taken the first step and I intend to help keep him moving in the right direction. Someday he may even step out of his family's shadow; that is my hope anyway, I owe him that much." Sirius was silent while Hermione spoke, watching her as she put the book aside and moved to collect a cup and ladle.
"I wonder if you suddenly found yourself back in your younger years; what you would see of Professor Snape that you missed as a child. Or what you would see of yourself, for that matter. From my experience, things we are presented with as children are not always what they appeared to be. We are simply too naive at the time to see it for what it is, not just with our enemies but our friends and idols as well."
"He would still be an evil git," Sirius muttered, but not with so much of the venom of his earlier remarks. Filling the cup with the now murky green potion, Hermione held it up for a closer inspection.
"I hope this tastes a lot better than it looks," she observed, before giving the potion an experimental sniff, "or smells."
"I'm afraid not," Sirius said without sympathy. "Best down it in one go."
"You're sure I need this to learn to become an Animagus?" Sirius nodded.
"The first step is to unlock your animal form, that is what the potion is for. It will help bring your animagus to the surface of your consciousness. Then you can begin to learn to bring it fully out and put it on like a new coat."
"Will it tell me what I am?" she asked curiously; impatient to know what her animal was. Maybe an otter like her patronus, or a dog like Sirius; she only hoped it wasn't anything with wings, it would be a shame to turn into a bird that was afraid to fly.
"Not specifically, some part of your consciousness may already know. I've heard, some people had dreams of being in their Animagus forms when they were children and could tell exactly what they were after taking the potion, some people are just more in tune with their subconscious than others."
"Did you know?" She asked, stalling as she swirled the nausea inducing contents around in the cup.
"Not really, I had a vague idea I was some sort of canine, but I didn't find out I was a Grim until I finally changed."
"Well, here goes nothing," she said, raising the glass in a mock toast before bringing it to her lips. And chugging the contents down before her taste buds could register what she was drinking. "Urg, that tastes like the back end of a Hippogriff."
"Much experience with that flavor," Sirius chirped in cheekily. Hermione dropped the glass onto the table with a thud, and made a rather rude hand gesture at the dog, while her other hand was covering her mouth, in an attempt to prevent any of the fowl liquid from making a reappearance.
"Do you feel any different?" Sirius asked, standing and coming around the table, just as Hermione was hit with a wave of dizziness and was forced to hold onto the table top to keep her knees from buckling. Behind her Occlumency shields she could feel something, like another presence. It wasn't something new or foreign, more like a part of herself had broken off and made its presence more prominent. As the dizziness passed, Hermione let go of the table and collected the glass to rinse in the sink before filling it with water and attempting to rinse the taste out of her mouth before speaking.
"Yeah, I can feel it, that other part you were talking about, but I still can't tell what I am." Sirius nodded in understanding, as he wandlessly levitated the cauldron into the sink; he had been struggling to learn how to do more magic without a wand over the past months; while he was nowhere near as adept at it as Hermione, he was beginning to make progress on the simpler spells.
"It will take some time and practice, but you will get it; took us months before we could fully transform. I'm sure you will have it down in no time once you put your mind to it." With a quick spell Hermione set her potions equipment to cleaning itself before replacing it all back in their proper places. "Why don't we head up for some dinner, Mooney will probably be up and about soon, and I'm hungry."
"You just finished eating," Hermione cried, exasperated before heading out of the lab and toward the stairs.
"Yeah, and I'm still hungry, so let's get some dinner." Sirius quipped back to which Hermione could only shake her head.
Walking into the living room with a plate of food, Hermione found Remus where he had been since Sirius had half drug him in the door shortly after sunrise, sprawled out on her couch. Currently he was laying with one arm over his eyes, while the other was draped over a sleeping Crookshanks who had wedged his furry ginger body as best he could between Lupin's side and the back of the couch. The Werewolf was almost too tall to stretch out fully, as one bare foot was propped on the opposite arm rest, while the other had fallen off the side of the couch, along with the blanket she had draped over him earlier in the day.
"Remus," she said softly, setting the plate on the coffee table and gently shaking his shoulder, "dinner is ready if you're up to eating." Remus groaned before sitting up stiffly, taking the offered plate. She returned to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with two cups of tea, Sirius having gone out sometime after dinner. The pair had decided to go a head and eat and let Remus sleep some more before waking him. The Werewolf was picking at his food gingerly, swallowing with some effort before taking the cup Hermione had brought him.
"Thanks," he said a bit hoarsely, taking a welcomed drink of the beverage before continuing to eat his meal. She pulled out an old battered novel from under a cushion and began to read as the pair sat in comfortable silence. Hermione shifted closer, as she made room to tuck her feet up under her and still leave the man some personal space while he ate. Reading contently, with the book on her lap the witch let a hand drift over and begin working at a spot Remus had been periodically stopping to rub at. He let out a pained grunt as she dug her fingers into the knot of abused muscle before giving a sigh of relief as he relaxed into the massage.
"We should probably talk at some point." He finally said some time after he had finished eating and had simply been leaning forward, elbows on knees, letting Hermione work out the pained knots along his back that his transformation had left. Hermione paused, before retracting her hand and looking down at the book on her lap.
"I'm not looking for any commitment or obligation from you. I don't really know how these things go," she admitted, fiddling with the corner of a page. "I've never slept with anyone who I didn't know simply in passing, there was always a mutual understanding that it was a one time thing and we wouldn't likely meet again."
"You've never been in a relationship?"
"When would I have had the time?" She asked a bit exasperated, rather than answering. "I wasn't looking for anything steady then."
"And now?" He asked, locking eyes with her as if looking for a hint of the answer she had yet to voice.
"My life is insane enough right now as it is, I don't think I could handle trying to start dating on top of it all." She said, searching his face for any signs of what he was feeling. She hadn't been thinking at the time, how he might have taken their night together, if he had been expecting them to begin dating. Now having to actually talk about it she dearly hoped she wasn't hurting his feelings by not having been more clear beforehand. Surprisingly he seemed relieved by her answer.
"I see, good." He replied thoughtfully, with a nod.
"You're not upset, honestly? I mean I thought- well it's just I figured you weren't really someone who was okay with one night stands."
"Normally, you would be right." He admitted, "but then again, I didn't think I was someone who would sleep with a student."
"We've already been-" this time he was the one to cut her off with a finger to her lips, silencing her.
"Regardless of the fact that you are of age or whether you can take care of yourself as you say. You are still a student, my student! I can't, in good conscious, even consider anything more than friendship with you while I am still your Professor." He said, reaching out to curl a lock of her hair around his finger, admiring it in the late evening light that was spilling in from the windows. "After that, well, we'll see." He said softly before releasing the lock and picking his tea back up.
"So," Hermione began, setting her book aside and tucking the loose strand of hair back behind her ear. "Harry mentioned that you were going to start teaching him how to cast the Patronus Charm."
"Hm, yes, after the holidays." He began leaning back into his seat more comfortably, "It seemed best since he has such trouble with Dementors." Taking a sip from his tea, he paused seeming to think of something. "You're more than welcome to join us if you want, I know you have issues with them as well."
"No need," she remarked, pulling out her wand and cast the Patronus Charm; a silver mist poured from the tip twisting and turning. It took the form of a glowing and playful otter.
"Marvelous, simply marvelous and corporeal as well!" Remus praised, raising a hand to poke at the corkscrewing and flipping creature as it playfully swam through the air, before it wove its way around their heads and dipped down under the coffee table, vanishing in a trailing mist of silver.
"You know," she started, a small smile pulling at her lips as she put her wand away. "You nearly walked in on me casting this on the train. I almost thought you had but you never said anything. Then I went and blundered a conversation with my friends about running into a Dementor." Remus looked amused, having grown used to the woman admitting things far more world shattering than nearly breaking her cover.
"How'd you cover that up?"
Hermione gave him a sheepish look, "I sort of said you got rid of it for me."
"Oh, the horror making me your patsy hero!" He cried looking hurt.
"You can't play that victim act with me," Hermione said dryly, lightly tapping him on the nose admonishingly; before purring out tugging on the sleeve of his not at all flattering, knitted sweater. "I know exactly what you're capable of, Mooney, under all that fluffy wool." Remus laughed, even as a blush crept across his cheeks as he focused back on his cup. Hermione turned back to her own cup, beginning to twist it in her hands as her thoughts wandered.
"Something on your mind?" Remus asked, his good humor tempered by the frown forming on her face.
"Did Harry tell you what he hears before he faints?" she asked, looking down into her cup.
"Not much," Remus started hesitantly, "but I recall him mentioning he heard someone screaming."
"He told me, he heard muffled talking; two men and a woman, but mostly he just hears the woman screaming." Remus nodded sadly in acknowledgment, looking down at his own cup.
"Yes, I believe it was the last moments of his parents. Lily's scream still haunts him, even if he has no conscious memory of her death." Hermione's only reply to that was a nod, as she took a sip from her cup, seeming lost in her own thoughts before Remus pulled her back with a question. "What is it you hear?"
"I don't, I don't hear anything. It's—" she started before taking a calming breath and setting her cup on the table and clasping her hands. "After Halt was turned, I thought he was dead. I went back to our camp; there wasn't much left, so I took what I could find and just started walking. That first night was the worst; I was fourteen and alone, there was a big storm and I spent the night curled up under the roots of a tree." She wrapped her arms around herself, as if fighting off a chill. "When the Dementors are near, I can feel the rain, the chill seeping into my bones and deeper. The smell of rotting, wet leaves and dirt." She looked over at him, that haunted empty look creeping back into her gaze. "When they are near; I'm fourteen again, alone and back under that tree."
Setting his cup down, Remus pulled her into a hug. "You're not alone anymore, Hermione," he said, tucking her close so that his chin rested on the top of her head. "Harry, Ron, the Weasleys, Sirius — and me. You don't have to feel like that again."
A relieved sigh was hidden in the fabric of Remus's sweater, as Hermione relaxed into the embrace, turning her face into his chest. They sat like that for a long time, Remus's fingers carding soothingly through her curls, before Hermione's soft reply broke the silence. "I know."
The week that followed between Christmas and New Year was spent with Hermione working on her Animagus Transformation, which was slow-going; all she had managed to do was only get an idea of what her form might be. When she tried to get a better sense of the presence that had become more prominent in her mind, she would get a feeling similar to when she had been turned partly into a cat by the Polyjuice Potion. This led her to the conclusion that her form must be some form of feline like McGonagall.
Sirius and Remus made sure she didn't spend all her break inside working on her transformation, the three went out regularly to London. One afternoon found her and Remus exploring Muggle London; Hermione showing him all the little things the Magical Community tended to ignore or not notice and spoke to the man's intellectual side. Another evening found her and Sirius seeing how many bars they could paint red in one night. They stumbled in at three in the morning completely wasted and only managed to make it home by taking the Knight Bus. Remus found them holed up in the bathroom recovering from their collective hangovers and waiting on their stomachs to catch up after the insane Bus ride. Sirius was passed out on the floor hugging the toilet, while Hermione was groaning miserably from her place curled up in the tub while the warm spray soaked her hair and clothes. After that, Hermione vehemently vowed off ever going drinking with the Dog ever again.
New Year's Eve found the three still gathered together in Hermione's house, Lupin having extended his stay to the remainder of the break rather than only a few days as he had originally planned and prepared to welcome the New Year together.
"You know, Hermione, now that you're working on your illegal Animagus form, you're going to need a nickname," Sirius said, pulling a large bowl down from a top shelf and bringing it over to Hermione who was cooking popcorn on the stove top.
"A nickname?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, as she dumped her pan into the bowl.
"Yeah, like I'm Padfoot and Remus is Mooney, you need one," he said, popping some of the popcorn into his mouth while Hermione put the pan in the sink before collecting three bottles of beer from the fridge. "You could be the first female Marauder."
"Oh, no, not happening," she argued, following Sirius out of the kitchen and into the living room. "You can give me a nickname if you must, but I am not joining your little group of overgrown pranksters."
"You hear that, Moons, she's too good for the likes of us," he whined, as he put the popcorn on the coffee table along with the drinks Hermione had brought.
"Of course she is," Remus said, grinning, as he dropped down on the couch. "A fine young lady like her can't be associating with a couple of old hounds like us." Hermione playfully swatted at his leg as she walked by, heading toward the Tv.
Sirius had come home with it a few days ago and had spent most of his free time since tinkering with it until he had let out a whoop of success. Having managed to get the Muggle device functioning without blowing up and somehow able to power itself on the lingering magic in the air, since her home had no electrical outlets. In celebration of his success with the Tv and the VCR they had gotten after the Tv had shown some progress; Hermione had declared New Year's Eve as their first ever movie night.
Sirius had been introduced to daytime tv by her neighbor over the last few months, but movies were a new experience for him. Remus on the other hand had never even seen a working television until Sirius had managed to get their current set working. Sifting through the plastic bag of movies, Hermione contemplated for a bit before holding up two.
"You want a Muggle version of witches and comedy, or classic science-fiction action?" she said, holding up a tape in each hand, 'Hocus Pocus' and 'Aliens'.
"Action," Sirius said after sharing a glance with Remus who just shrugged, action seeming the better option than witnessing whatever the Muggles thought of the Magical World.
"So, what sort of name were you thinking?" she asked, taking the tape out of the case and slipping it in the VCR.
"Something that suits you," Remus said, twisting the cap off his beer before relaxing back onto the couch.
"How about Curly, oh, or Ghost, oh, or Zena." Hermione could only raise a disbelieving eyebrow at the man and he returned it with a wide eyed innocent one of his own. "What?"
"Sirius, you really need to lay off the unsupervised Tv watching," Hermione remarked. Shaking her head as she got up off the floor, stuffing the other movies back in the plastic bag.
"Oh," Sirius exclaimed, eyes lighting with mischief, "what about Karma?"
"Here's some karma for you," she shot back, smacking the back of his head as she passed, taking the empty space on the couch next to Remus. Digging an old notebook out from under the cushion, pulling out the pen stuck in the binding she wrote 'HERMIONE' at the top in large letters. The previews began rolling across the screen as she thought, beginning to jot down a quick list of different words that could be made with the letters, looking for ideas.
'Menhir, Heroine, Homer, Minor, Noir, Mire, N-' She paused, looking at what she had just written.
"What about Nemo?" She asked, writing it at the bottom of her list before tapping it with her pen. "It was the name of a character in a book my father used to read to me, when I was young."
"Nemo," Lupin repeated rubbing at his chin, pondering. "That's Latin for 'Nobody', isn't it?"
"Yeah," Hermione said, nodding as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Seems fitting, I have so many identities and yet none of them are truly me. The Hermione in this time, is a fourteen year old student and Emma is a twenty-two year old French antiques dealer. I'm an eighteen year old witch with no place in this times society, I truly am 'Nobody' here."
"Of course you're somebody here," Sirius said, coming to sit on her opposite side so she was sandwiched between him and Remus before pulling her into a half hug, propping his feet on the coffee table, as he grabbed his drink. "You're our Nemo. You might be Harry and Ron's Hermione and to everyone else you might be Emma, but to us you'll be our Nemo, and you won't have to hide who you are around us; even if you scare the shit out of me on a regular basis. Now, shut up and pass the popcorn."
"Jerk," she said with a smile, shifting, so her back was leaning against Remus's chest and her feet were propped on Sirius's outstretched legs; the bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap in easy reach of everyone. Remus passed her a beer, while Sirius dimmed the lights as the trio settled in for ninety minutes of marines, explosions and alien gore.
Too soon Hermione found herself boarding the train at King's Cross with her cat and trunk in tow. The glamour of her fourteen year old self feeling restricted after being free from it for the last two weeks: even though it did not physically change her, it still seemed stifling, as she had to watch everything she did or said, it could get rather tedious at times.
Walking down the hall she came to an almost empty compartment at the end of the train, since most of the students had gone home this year, most of the cars were rather packed. The compartment contained none other than Draco Malfoy, minus his two goons. Sliding open the door, startling the teen as she entered, who was lounging with his feet stretched out on the seat, seeming to enjoy the space while everyone else was crammed into the other compartments.
"Pleasant holiday, Malfoy?" she asked conversationally, as she set down her cat crate on the opposite seat and hoisted her trunk up into the luggage rack.
"What do you think you are doing, Granger?" Malfoy sneered, brushing a number of sweet wrappers off his lap, as he moved his legs off the seat.
"It's called making small talk," Hermione replied, sitting down in the seat opposite him and letting Crookshanks out of his crate to sprawl on the seat beside her, his tail curled around him, as he eyed the Slytherin through half-closed eyes.
"Get out!" Draco ordered, pointing at the door.
"No," she replied simply, folding her arms over her chest.
"What did you say?" he hissed venomously.
"I said no, or if you prefer: Uh-uh, nope, nay, nah, negative-"
"Shut up," Malfoy snapped in frustration.
"Well, when you asked me, I assumed you hadn't understood what I was saying and merely wished to clarify," she replied with a shrug, pulling a book of crossword puzzles she had picked up on the way to the train station out of her jacket pocket. "Now we can either be civil to one another for one train ride or you can continue being a prat; which would end badly for you. Because I am not moving and am fully capable of kicking you out if you can't play nice for one trip." Pulling a pen out she tossed her jacket on the seat beside her.
Draco sat there, silently glaring at her, before finally giving up and resuming his earlier reclined position. The train pulled away from the station and Draco went back to sampling the box of chocolates his mother had sent with him, while reading a Quidditch magazine.
"So, why are you not sitting with your Slytherin buddies?" Hermione asked finally, breaking the silence between them.
"I could ask the same of you, Granger," he retorted back, not looking up from reading an article about expectations for the upcoming Quidditch Cup.
"Harry and Ron stayed at school, and I don't feel like spending the whole ride surrounded by Weasleys. I'm sure Ginny would be good company, but Fred and George have been trying to get the drop on me all year. They seem rather frustrated that I haven't fallen for any of their pranks, and I would just assume not set myself up for them to try. And Percy —well, is just being Percy, which isn't an improvement." This rambling explanation seemed to put the Pure-blood off.
Ever since the incident in their first Care of Magical Creatures class he had been content to ignore her, and she had let him, even with the fact that they shared a lab table in Potions. He had managed the class without interacting with her more than necessary. There were still times at the beginning of class that he would say something derogatory to her when his friends had yet to leave to their own tables; these instances would usually end, unbeknownst to the blond boy, with him leaving class missing some knickknack from his pockets or bag. Now, here she was, chatting away like she might to one of her friends, it was all rather odd to the Slytherin.
"So, why were you sitting here by yourself?" she asked again, not looking up from her book, as she scribbled down answers.
"I saw enough of Parkinson over the break, so I would rather avoid being stuck in a compartment with her; Crabbe and Goyle went to keep her occupied. They are not much for conversation anyway," Draco said with a shrug, not really sure why he was even telling her all this. Hermione nodded at this information, but did not comment on it. They sat in silence for a time until Hermione looked up, feeling eyes on her, to see Draco staring at her with a perplexed look on his face.
"What?"
"Your shirt — is it common for Muggles to have writing on them like that?"
"Hmm, oh," she glanced down at her shirt, a simple long sleeved black shirt with faded white writing and a downcast looking barn owl. "Yes, if there is a popular quote from a book or movie or even just a common phrase or picture. They print them on shirts, and then people buy them if they like what it says or are a fan of where it came from."
"And yours, does it come from some place or is it just a 'common phrase'?"
"It's from a movie; about a girl who wishes her brother away to the Goblin King and then is forced to run a dangerous Labyrinth to get him back. It's a quote from the Goblin King himself," she explained, pointing at her shirt. 'Everything I've done, I've done for you. I move the stars for no one!' The girl beat him at his own game, rejecting his offer of her dreams and took her brother back home."
"What's a Movie?"
"What's this, a pure-blood curious about Muggle things, what would your father say?" she said in mock horror before laughing.
"Forget it." Malfoy snapped, opening his magazine and holding it up to hide his reddening face.
"Don't worry, I won't tell him if you don't," she said in a mock whisper, dropping the taunting tone to a more civil one. "A movie tells a story like a book that can be either educational or made up for entertainment purposes. Instead of reading it like a book, you watch it like a play, only you watch it in a theater with a large screen or at home on a much smaller screen. The theater or TV screens are a lot like the moving picture frames at Hogwarts. Only you can watch one of these stories play out, instead of some old dead guy someone painted a long time ago, and one screen can show many different stories."
Draco did not come out from behind his magazine, until the snack lady came by; Draco bought a number of treats, some of which he stashed away in his trunk, Hermione didn't buy anything.
"What, your Muggle parents didn't give you any money for snacks?" he asked snidely, as he opened up a Chocolate Frog.
"Okay, one, my parents are tooth healers, so they have a general dislike of sweet foods like that. Since it can literally rot the teeth out of your mouth if you don't take proper care of them." Draco paused with the wiggling frog part way to his mouth at this comment but shook his head and bit into the chocolate with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Two, I don't need anything off the cart, because I have all I need right here," pulling an enormous chocolate bar out of her bag; she had placed a cooling charm on it to keep it from turning into a gooey mess if her bag got too warm. Malfoy's eyes grew envious at the now slightly less than five pound bar, as she had been eating on it throughout winter break.
The rest of the trip was spent with the two talking in intervals, usually with Malfoy making some scathing comment about her or her parents and Hermione not rising to his bait and finding a way to integrate some form of accurate Muggle knowledge to the pure-blood. She had been surprised by his earlier question of her Muggle shirt and on the concept of movies that she figured the train trip would be a good way to introduce the Pure-blood into current Muggle culture, in hopes that she got him to at least contemplate that the way he had been raised to view Muggles was not entirely accurate. Since his pride would not allow him to be driven from the compartment, she had him in quite a situation where he could do nothing but sit and attempt to ignore her talking.
Finally night fell, and the train arrived at the station with both the Slytherin and Gryffindor exiting the train without a second glance at each other, intact and without bloodshed. Surely something for the history books, Hermione thought, as she got into one of the Thestral-drawn carriages.
"Hermione!" came the sound of the two voices of her friends, as she entered the front doors of the castle.
"Harry, Ron, how was your holiday?" she asked, as the two boys ran up to greet her from the direction of the Quidditch field, all bundled up in their winter gear.
"It was bloody brilliant, look what Harry got!" Ron exclaimed, kicking the snow off his boots and slapping Harry on the back. Harry was grinning ear to ear and his cheeks red from the cold; a long object cradled protectively in his arms. "Go on, Harry, show her."
Harry stepped forward, holding the object in his arms out proudly for her to see. It was a magnificently gleaming broomstick, a Firebolt.
"Wow, Harry, where did you get it?" Hermione said, smiling at the boy who was practically bursting with joy at showing off his new broom.
"It was a Christmas gift. I'm not sure from who, there was no note," Harry replied, not too bothered by the fact that he was getting a very expensive broom from someone who didn't even bother taking credit for it. Had she not known about Sirius's true allegiance and that he had sent the broom, she might have found it all rather suspicious.
"The teachers haven't said anything about it, have they?"
"No, why would they?" Harry asked, perplexed by the question.
"Nothing, just that they might think it's odd that whoever sent that didn't send a card. Did you check it to make sure it wasn't cursed or anything?"
"We figured it was from Dumbledore, remember, how he sent Harry the Cloak, or maybe Lupin. McGonagall." Hermione nodded at their theories.
"Maybe, but since it wasn't signed I suggest we keep the fact to ourselves. Just in case the teachers think it was from someone who was trying to hurt Harry."
"Good idea, 'Mione,"Ron said, as the three of them headed up to the common room. "It would stink if McGonagall or one of the other teachers confiscated it."
"Yeah, but I would like to try some spells on it to check for tampering, just in case." Her reply caused Ron to groan.
"What are you going on about? We have been flying on it everyday since Christmas, and it hasn't had any trouble."
"Just as a precaution," Hermione replied, as they climbed into the common room, "for my peace of mind. I promise I won't do anything to mess it up, and we won't have to involve the teachers."
Later that evening, after sending Sirius a letter on Harry's reaction to his new broom, found Hermione slipping through the school, removing the wards she had placed on the hidden passages. Once clear, she placed new wards that would block only fully achieved Animagi, learned from the book Remus had given her over Christmas. They would keep Peter from passing through, and until she completed her first full transformation they would not need to be taken down.
In the days following the start of the new term Hermione had been trying to get a hold of Scabbers, but Ron seemed to have become even more protective of the rodent since her return, now that Crookshanks was back on the prowl. If he was not in his pocket, Ron would stash the rat in his dorm. If it was not too much of a risk of being discovered, she might have enlisted Sirius's help again in snatching the rat out while no one was in.
Their first classes of the new year were refreshing; Care of Magical Creatures was surprisingly comfortable, even though they were outside with ankle-deep snow. Hagrid had them learning about salamanders, so that afternoon found them gathered around a large bonfire where the flame-loving lizards were happily crawling around in the fire, while the students sketched them in between feeding sticks to the flames.
Defence Against the Dark Arts had been awkward, Lupin kept slipping up and calling her Hermione before catching himself midway and correcting the error. The other students didn't seem to notice his slips, too busy learning about the theory of a Blasting hex historically used to blow through the outer walls of castles that were under siege, but was nowadays used by miners. A number of students had asked if they were going to learn to cast the spell; Lupin had said they would eventually get a demonstration, but not inside the school and not till after the weather cleared. They would not be learning how to cast it themselves until a later year, but the theory was taught in third since it was part of learning a much simpler version of the spell.
Hermione had to hide a smile behind her book, as Lupin refused to call on her after his third slip-up, and he sent her a stern glare that was ruined by the slight upturned twitch of his lips. Class ended shortly after that and by their next Defence class things seemed to have settled back into the way they were before, as Hermione and the werewolf settled back into their roles as teacher and student.
Late one snowy evening found Hermione curled up in an overstuffed chair in the corner of the common room, a book propped on her lap, as she looked out the window, watching the snow come down in large flakes. It was late and she was the only one currently occupying the common room, when a shuffling came from the stairs leading to the dorms. Turning her attention away from the falling snow, Hermione caught sight of a familiar head of red hair, standing at the base of the stairs.
"Hey, Gin," she said softly, her voice carrying easily across the empty room, closing her book and tucking it in the side of her chair. Ginny walked over, her slippered feet scuffing against the rugs that covered the stone floor of the common room.
"Hey," the youngest Weasley muttered, as she came to sit on the floor in front of the fire, kept burning brightly by the diligent work of the house-elves. Hermione stood and followed her to sit, leaning against the couch. Ginny shifted, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them. "Have you ever been too scared to close your eyes?"
"Yes," she admitted softly, relaxing back against the couch and staring into the flickering flames, reminiscent of countless campfires that had gifted her with the warm illusion of safety in a past life.
"How did you get over it?" Ginny asked, looking over at Hermione, dark bags under her eyes after weeks of fitful nights.
"Two things," Hermione rolled her head to look over at the red-headed girl, "but I think what helped the most was when I finally told someone about what was bothering me." Ginny glanced over at her before pulling her knees up tighter to her chest and stared back at the crackling fire. Hermione did the same as silence fell between them; it was a partial lie, she had never spoken aloud in any detail the things that haunted her nights. Severus had found them out regardless, as everything she had wanted to bury was more than happy to jump to the front of her mind as her Occlumency lessons progressed. He had seen it all, every dark thing that haunted her dreams and he hadn't pitied her or scorned her for her decisions. He had taken it all without judgment and in doing so had lifted a weight she had never known was dragging her down. It hadn't stopped her dreams, but it had helped her take the first steps into leaving the island behind her just by sharing it with someone else.
"Do you hate me?" Her voice was quiet, but Hermione heard it clear enough and sat up straight to get a better look at the girl.
"Gin, why would you ask that?"
"You should hate me," Ginny sobbed quietly as the damn she had built around her finally broke, "if it hadn't been for me, then you wouldn't have almost died. It's my fault, I wrote all those messages on the wall and killed Hagrid's chickens. I-I set the basilisk loose and sent it to attack-" her voice broke as she buried her face into the flannel fabric of her pajama knees.
"Ginny," Hermione said gently, moving to kneel in front of the girl, "Gin, look at me." Reluctantly the girl raised her head to show the tears spilling her eyes. "I don't blame you for what happened, no one does. The only one to blame here is Riddle. He wrote those messages. He opened the Chamber. He set the Basilisk loose, and He was the one who attacked me and the others."
"But I—" Hermione cut her off and grabbed the girl by the shoulders, shaking her gently.
"You were a victim as much as I was," she said, giving her a gentle squeeze. "And if anyone tells you differently, they have me and Harry and six older brothers that could make their life a living hell." This she said, giving her a small smile. "That is not something I would wish on anyone; considering one of your brothers has easy access to large, fire-breathing, ill-tempered reptiles and another is proficient at removing and placing nasty curses. Two do terrible things to their friends in the name of practical jokes, I would hate to see what they could come up with if someone said something bad about their favorite little sister. That is if they lasted that long after Harry, Ron and I were done with them."
"Thank you, Hermione." Ginny gaveling a broken laugh, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"That's what friends are for," Hermione supplied, chuckling before giving her a sideways hug and settling back against the couch. The two sat there laughing quietly at the idea of what would be the result of Hermione's threat on anyone until their mirth ebbed away into silence.
"Hermione," Ginny started tentatively before continuing, "what was the other thing you said helped?"
"Hmm, ah, I read up on some mind magic, it's called Occlumency. Very similar to the Muggle meditation. It is usually used to shield your mind from Legilimens, but it also is a good way to protect the mind from traumatic memories that might turn up as nightmares, but it doesn't work all the time," she pointed out, making sure the girl understood that it wasn't a simple cure for her nightmares, and she would still have to deal with them in her own way. "It is a good way to defend against intrusions into your mind. Which might help if you're still worried about being possessed. Would it make you feel better to have some way to defend yourself?"
"Could you teach me?" Ginny asked, her eyes filled with a hopeful light, something that hadn't been there in many months.
"Yes, but not tonight; and if you don't mind, could you not tell Harry or Ron about it!? They already think I spend too much time studying things outside the regular class curriculum."
"Ye-ah." Ginny nodded before covering a yawn with her hand. Hermione stood, offering a hand up.
"Come on, it's late. Do you think you can sleep now?" Ginny shrugged before taking the hand and pulling herself up.
"I could try." Walking back over to her chair, Hermione grabbed her book and the blanket she had been wrapped up in earlier.
"Would you like to sleep in my room?" she asked, folding the blanket over her arm.
"Could I?" Ginny asked hopefully.
"Sure," she said, leading the way up the stairs to her room. Entering she whispered, so as not to wake her roommates. "You can have the bed," pointing at the only bed with it's curtains still open.
"But—" Ginny whispered back in protest.
"Trust me, I can sleep anywhere," pulling her wand out of her pocket; conjuring a stack of extra blankets and a pillow.
"If you're sure." Tossing the blankets on the floor beside the bed, Hermione handed the pillow to Ginny before grabbing her own off the bed, discreetly grabbing the knife she kept under it as she did so.
"I like my pillow," she smiled sheepishly in explanation before arranging her blankets into a bed. Ginny settled herself in Hermione's bed and was joined shortly by Crookshanks, who curled himself up next to the girl.
"He is always a good snuggle buddy and doesn't snore," Hermione said, laying down on her pallet, causing Ginny to giggle.
"Good night, Hermione."
"Good night, Ginny."
Sitting down to dinner Thursday evening Hermione found Harry eating quickly with an enthusiasm that she thought only Ron had toward food.
"Slow down, Harry, what's the rush?" she asked, as she carefully filled her plate, considering her precarious situation of being seated between two hungry boys while there were a number of edible dishes around.
"I'm meeting Lupin for my first lesson on fighting Dementors," Harry whispered excitedly, so as not to be overheard, as he refilled his plate. "I don't want to be late."
"You have plenty of time, but you won't if you choke on your dinner and we have to take you to the Hospital Wing. I think it's safe to say that it would not be good for your health to try to beat Ron's record for putting away the most food in the shortest time."
"Ehy," Ron said indignantly; mouth full of chicken and a drumstick in each hand.
"He was conditioned for that from years of competing with his brothers over the dinner table. You'll just make yourself sick. Look, Lupin isn't even finished with his dinner yet," she stated, pointing up at the head table with her fork.
"I'm just excited, is all. It will be great not having to worry about the Dementors anymore," he said, going back to eating his dinner, but this time at a less choking hazard pace. He left right after dinner, leaving Hermione and Ron to finish their desserts, Hermione chatting away with Ginny about arranging lessons of their own. She was still having nightmares, it seemed, but not as often as before.
Later that evening found Hermione and Ron waiting up for Harry to get back and tell them about his first lesson. She was not surprised when her friend came back less enthusiastic than he had been at dinner, having not made any progress with the charm and would continue to have lessons on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.
"What do you think is wrong with him?" Ron asked, as the trio settled down on one of the couches near the fire.
"With whom?" Harry asked, looking over an old newspaper for the latest news on the upcoming Quidditch Cup.
"With Lupin," he said, leaning around Hermione to try to get a look at Harry's paper. "I mean, he's great and all, but it seems like he is sick all the time."
"Does it matter?" Hermione asked, slipping off the couch to sit on the floor, so Ron and Harry could sit next to each other without invading her space while she worked on her Charms essay. "I mean, Harry, you said that Lupin was getting treatment from Professor Snape and I'm sure Madame Pomfrey is taking care of any other needs he has." She highly doubted Remus would like any of his students finding out about his furry problem, especially Harry.
"I guess not, I was just wondering if there was something we could do to help him," Ron said, shrugging.
"It's a nice thought, Ronald," she said surprised at Ron's initiative, reaching up to pat his knee next to her head before going back to her writing.
"It's odd, don't you think," Harry remarked curiously as he flipped through the paper. "There was such a big deal about Black escaping, but there hasn't been any news of him since the break-out. I mean, it's been over half a year, and no one has seen a glimpse of him."
"Yeah, Dad said that he was coming after you right? But if he had come anywhere near Hogwarts someone would have seen him by now."
"Maybe he left the country?" Harry suggested, shrugging.
"Or maybe your dad and the Ministry, were wrong about why he broke out." Hermione supplied.
"What do you mean by that? He was convicted of murder and then imprisoned, what is there to get wrong about that?" The red-head asked haughtily.
"Actually, I did some reading a while back, and a lot of people during the First War were convicted without a trial. So, maybe, he was one of those that was sent straight to Azkaban," she said, finishing off her last line and pulling out her ruler to check the length.
"Why were you reading about trials during the war with You-Know-Who?" Ron asked, sure after knowing the girl for three years that he should just stop asking why she read the things she did, she always found the oddest and most boring things fascinating.
"And what do you mean by 'first war'?" Harry asked, folding his paper and passing it to Ron.
"First war, did I say that?" Hermione asked a little too quickly, trying to cover for her slip. Of course by referring to the war as the first, would imply that there was more than one, which had not happened yet. "Must have had Goblin Wars on the mind. Speaking of which, have you finished your essays for Professor Binns?" This got a groan from both boys, and Hermione sighed in relief, as they left to collect their needed texts from the dorms.
The next evening found Hermione making her way through the halls to Lupin's office. Once they were settled with drinks and seated in a pair of comfy chairs beside the fire, Lupin began questioning her on the progress of her Animagus Transformation.
"It's slow, but I think I'm making some headway. I've managed to change my hand into the general shape of a paw a few times and even cover most of my arms in fur, but I still can't seem to take that next step to finish the transformation."
"You'll get the hang of it," Lupin said, taking a drink from his cup. "At this rate you'll have it down by the time we go to see Sirius next Hogsmeade visit."
"How are your extra lessons?" she inquired teasingly.
"I would have thought Harry would have told you all about it?" Lupin said, Levitating a plate of biscuits over to himself before offering it to the witch.
"Oh, he did," she assured, taking a biscuit. "He seemed kind of bummed that he couldn't get the spell right away. I think he was under the impression that he would be able to master the spell easily and impress you. He's become quite fond of you."
This brought a fond smile to the werewolf's face. "He is quite a bright lad, reminds me so much of his father at times."
"It's good for him to have a responsible adult figure, looking out for him. Merlin knows that he doesn't have enough good role models to look up to."
This peaked his interest, he had not been able to get much information on Harry's life out of school. "I take it, there are not many responsible adults in his life."
"Well, there are the Weasleys' who I think are the closest thing to a real family Harry has ever been a part of. They do their best to make him feel a part of the Weasley herd, but there are so many of them, it's easy for someone to get overlooked. Hagrid's a good friend, but he's gotten us in more dangerous situations than most students see in all their school years, not that he was trying to. First, there was the dragon—"
"A dragon?!" Lupin sputtered in disbelief.
"Just a little one, but yeah, a dragon. We were there when he hatched it and then ended up helping him get rid of it before anyone noticed the fact he had an illegal fire-breathing reptile in his hut."
"Oh, dear," Remus exclaimed exasperatedly.
"Then he revealed Flamel's involvement in a very unique item, before letting slip how to get past Fluffy to both us and Voldemort."
"Fluffy, is that someone's dog?" he questioned, not recognizing the name.
"A fully grown Cerberus that was locked in the school." This caused Lupin to raise his eyebrows in alarm. "That was just in our first year, then second year he sent Harry and Ron wandering off into the Forest into a nest of Acromantulas. The man is as sweet as they come, but has no sense of danger at all. I suppose he forgets not everyone is built as sturdy as he is. Dumbledore looks after him a bit, but after the way things played out before, I don't think I can ever really trust him like I used to, at least not with things concerning Harry."
Lupin nodded, though he did not see why she held such distrust for the Headmaster. "What about his relatives?"
"Well, his aunt and uncle are definitely out of the responsible adult list, they are cruel. I saw them over the summer, his uncle's sister was visiting and set her dog on him a few times. Harry won't talk much about his life with the Dursleys, but I heard him mention a number of times that his cousin and his gang have beaten him up and that he didn't get a lot of food when he was younger."
"They starved him?" Lupin's voice dropped down into a more serious tone at this news, sitting up straighter and setting his cup on a nearby table.
"I don't know," she said honestly, searching through her memories from over six years and a lifetime ago. "Since starting school they have been a lot better about feeding him and even gave him Dudley's second bedroom, or so he said. They don't allow him to send or receive any mail over the summer, and from what I remember the summer before second year all his mail was intercepted by a house-elf. He never goes home for the Christmas holidays either, so I've really not heard much from him while away from school, and he doesn't want to talk about it while we are at Hogwarts."
"I see." Lupin's face took on a darker expression, the more they spoke. "If he got his cousin's other bedroom, where was he before?" Hermione was hesitant about answering. Dumbledore obviously knew of Harry's previous living arrangements before school, her own letter had been specific down to her very room, she was sure Harry's was as well. If Dumbledore wasn't going to do anything to help the living conditions of someone so important to the future of the Wizarding World, she was going to do something about it; not only for the future of the Wizarding World, but more importantly for her best friend.
"I wasn't sure at first, he had off-handedly mentioned getting his cousin's junk room and I don't think he has told Ron anything." She was quiet for a minute before asking, "do you remember Halloween?"
"Yes, when you snuck Sirius in." Remus said confused on how that connected to Harry's living arrangements before school.
"I had to get the Invisibility Cloak from Harry's trunk before that and I found his Hogwarts letter. It was addressed to Mr H Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock. That hadn't been surprising, Harry had said his Uncle had reacted badly and lugged them on a long trip to avoid the post owls. Then I found a slip of what I can only assume was the remains of his first letter; it had been burned and what I could make out were the words Cupboard under the. Even without the rest of the address the fact that a cupboard was even mentioned in an address detailed as Hogwarts letters are isn't reassuring. In addition I've heard him make remarks on doing chores like the cleaning, cooking and gardening, something I would expect but what I hadn't realized is that he did all of it. I could see his cousin nearly the whole time I was watching his house, he never moved from that couch. His family would leave the house and he would always be left behind, only to be called to lug in whatever they happened to have brought back. Added to how thin he is compared to his cousin, part of that could be genetics, his Uncle is a big man but I know the difference between thin and underfed." She stated gravely.
"They didn't," Lupin growled, standing to his feet in anger and beginning to pace the length of his office agitatedly. "I can't believe Dumbledore would place him in an abusive home. He assured me Harry was going to a good home when he took him."
"As far as I can tell, the Headmaster has done little to help in Harry's home life," Hermione said sadly. "Surprisingly, the one who has made the most difference in his home life, was a certain Half-Giant that will remain nameless. Gave Harry his first birthday cake along with giving his cousin a nice pigtail," she said, smiling to herself at the memory of Harry's tale of Hagrid's epic entrance into his life.
"He can't be allowed to go back there," Lupin said with a tone of finality, as he came to drop back down into his seat. "If I could take him I would, but there is no way the Ministry would allow someone with my condition to take custody of him, even if he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived."
"I know you would, and Emma can't become his guardian like she did with myself. The transfer of guardianship of some Muggle-born child to a witch doesn't cause much stir, but trying to get custody of The Harry Potter. That is an entirely different matter. Which makes proving Sirius's innocence all the more important. As Harry's godfather Sirius can legally gain custody of Harry, and since he would be a wizard, taking him from a Muggle home, I think the transfer would be approved quickly enough."
"You've really got everything worked out before the issue even comes up, don't you?" the Werewolf said, chuckling, shaking his head at the girl's preparedness.
"No, not everything," she said with a chuckle, tossing her curly locks behind her shoulder, "but I won't deny the betterment of the life of my best friend is up there near the top of my list of things I'm planning on meddling in this year. I sure hope Sirius is up for the task; he is going to have to be the parent and not the crazy fun uncle who eggs him on to whatever crazy thing he gets in his head to do. Brave he might be, but Harry doesn't always think things through."
"I'm sure he'll do fine, and if he needs some help he's got us around; after all, you're already Harry's voice of reason while he is at school, from what I can tell," returning her smile with one of his own. "What would he do if you were not around to keep him out of trouble?!."
"He'd be dead," she replied bluntly, her smile falling away, as her thoughts turned to the past.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Lupin said, catching on to her dark thoughts.
"No, I know you didn't," she said, shaking her head and reaching over to pat his arm. "I think I'll take my leave now, it's late."
"Of course, and I think I need to write Sirius on Harry's current living conditions so he can start preparing," Lupin said, rising and walking her to the door, "If he agrees, which he will, it would be best for him to get all his affairs in order as quickly as possible so he can apply for custody. If we can get Peter sorted out quick enough, Harry might not even have to go back at all for the summer."
"So it's all on me to get Peter, no pressure," she said jokingly. "Good night, Remus."
"Good night, Hermione."
As January moved into February the harsh weather continued. Even so Oliver Wood had the team out as often as they could, sometimes five or six times a week, until McGonagall got involved. Despite her wanting her House team to be at their best, she was forced to speak up when it began to affect the class work of a number of team members.
Two days before the Quidditch match, the mission to capture Peter finally took a turn for the worst. When Ron discovered blood on his sheets and Crookshank's hair on his bed. Hermione had taken to sending Crooks into the boys dorm while Ron was out, trying to drive the Rat out of his hiding place. Ron was upset to say the least; he seemed torn between being heartbroken and furious at Hermione and her cat for the death of his rat.
Hermione let him shout at her without a word, till his anger sputtered and died before he slunk off up to his room with bloody sheets in hand to mourn his rat.
"He didn't mean it, Hermione, he's just upset." Harry was torn between going after his distraught friend and making sure Hermione was alright.
Hermione gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm fine, Harry, go see that Ron doesn't do anything stupid." Harry nodded and ran up the stairs toward the dorm.
As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione pulled out the Map discretely and began searching floor to floor, a cold weight settling in her stomach the longer she went without seeing the marker with Peter's name. She went through it again just to be sure.
She had managed to drive the Rat from his safe haven, but now he was missing.
Next Chapter 12: It's The Moment Of Truth, And The Moment To Lie-The conclusion of Third Year and the Peter's fate is determined.
Edited-03/05/18
German Translation by the wonderful and patient Alea Thoron.