Chapter 2.2

Harry was shouting, Ron was spitting mad, and Neville… well Neville was just stark pale. She tried to decipher what they were saying. There was a huge dog - with a lot of head, something about a slimy Slytherin failing to show up, and Neville stammering about a trap door. They were giving her a headache.

She sat down in one of the cozy settee in the common room and gestured for them to settle in front of her. Emulating Dr. Perrier, she began her session.

"Explain to me what fully happened? Let's start with you Harry."

"Me?"

"Yes, you said you saw a dog in a locked room, because of slimy Slytherins?"

"Well, It's just that Malfoy challenged me to a Wizard's duel…"

"He what? Wait, wait, wait. Are you trying to tell me that Malfoy provoked you three to a Wizard's duel?" She heard simultaneous Yeses.

"Ok go on." She said dryly. That was just typical.

"..And he never showed up. He tricked us! (No surprise there) So we tried to go back to the tower but it was past curfew and we heard Filch's cat. So we ran to try to shake him off ya know? (No, not really.) But we ended up hiding in a locked room…"

"Massive mistake that was!" Ron interjected, while Neville was still shaking like a leaf.

"And there was a three headed dog. And Neville here, said there was a trap door under its paws. Which I don't know how he noticed, as we were all trying to escape being dog food." What the fink. Did he just say there was a Cerberus in the castle? After explaining himself, Harry looked proud he got out that much.

"Is that all?" She sarcastically asked, but the boys didn't catch on as they started bobbing their heads up and down.

"And what do you want to do about it?" Please say nothing.

The three boys started looking at each other, casting knowing glances. Please, please say nothing.

"We want to find out what's under the trap door!" Ron said proudly with a smug smile she wanted to punch.

See the principle in reverse psychology is to subtly encourage a behaviour by advocating its opposite. Young impressionable boys do not want to hear their innate desires to be thwarted. They'll rebel more if you implore reason and logical thinking. You don't flat out say NO, you have to first discourage chaos by claiming interest and pointing out the obvious.

But first. "How big is this dog?" The boys yammer altogether. Judging by Ron's informative adjective of "very big" and Neville's paler face, it must be huge. Well it is a Cerberus, what did she expect.

"Colossal dog, you say? Well, huge guardians equally mean huge treasure!" She exclaimed too jovially. "If what you're describing is a Cerberus, then Greek mythology says you just have to find its weakness. This is a castle, there's bound to be an Armory here somewhere. It will be hard to slice thru their heads, what with your height and all." She said with nonchalance and squinted her eyes as if calculating their heights. Her enthusiasm caught them by surprise, even Ron looks dazed now and Harry's eyes were bulging wide.

"Of course you could do magic, but there are limited spells that can work on a Cerberus, not to mention a spell could be detected by the Professors. You wouldn't want to get caught, do you?" Three heads slowly turning, uncertainty obvious on their faces.

"So I suggest, a long sword would do? But you have to sharpen that one, never know when they're just ornaments or real weaponry. But you can make do, just a good slash right behind its forearm or underneath the hind leg. This will incapacitate it, somehow giving you three a chance to slide over the hatchet… However, there is still a chance this Cerberus might breathe fire. And you three might just end up toasted before even getting near it." She pretended to think her next answer, hand tapping the base of her chin.

"I know! Better get a shield too, just make sure the material is thick enough. Oh… but metals are good conductors of heat. Perhaps wear leather gloves? Maybe the dragon hide gloves for potions might work! That will do the trick…" The three looked befuddled. Poor Neville looks like he's about to vomit.

"Hold on. This just made realize something!" She added as Harry and Ron looked hopeful at her. "It's just like those Arcade games I used to play! I wonder what other monsters lurk beneath that door?"

"There could be more?" Neville whispered, horrified at the idea.

"Well of course! Every level has its own form of beast to slay. I highly doubt it's that easy. If the theme of the game is from Greek Mythology, then expect a pack Furies, a Hydra, maybe even a Griffin - won't that be neat?" They didn't agree. "Or perhaps a Chimera or angry Sirens? The lake does reach under the castle, they could very well use water creatures. Wait do you guys know how to swim?" Again, they didn't respond.

She started packing up her books, a big smile on her face. The boys were truly perturbed, even Ron had his mouth hung open. "This is so exciting, isn't it? And at the very bottom level, you guys get to challenge the evil big boss!"

She hauled up her books and stood from her seat before finishing the night with, "Well have fun boys!"

'Nicely done.'

She secretly smiled. Before retreating to her dorm, she heard them agreed that the third floor corridor was forbidden, unless they wanted to die a horrible painful death.

After avoiding the colossal mistake things went smoothly over the next few weeks. Until they had their first flying lesson. Now she's the one who feels sick.

"You know, I wonder what the witches of the old were thinking. That when they wanted to fly they pick a broomstick." She said to Harry. But Harry just seemed happy enough as it is. Probably has to do with avoiding a horrible painful death.

"I think it's pretty neat." She didn't agree. Nevertheless she has to pass this class.

"Madame Hooch?"

"Yes Ms…" "Granger Ma'am" "Of course Ms. Granger, how can I help you?"

"Madame Hooch, this is a flying class right?"

"Yes, we're you not informed?"

"What, the little girl afraid to fly." A blonde boy teasingly cooed at her. What was his name again… Malory? Derek?

"It's just that, do we have to fly with these brooms?"

"Well they are a bit old, but what else would you use to fly?"

"Is that rhetorical or deliberate?"

"Just shut your mouth Hermione…" Ronald hissed to her right ear. Neville, ever the silent one was giving her funny looks.

"Well lassie, unless you learn how to fly on your own, we'll keep using them brooms."

Okay then. Challenge accepted.

Challenge failed. Turns out flying was hard. No, not hard, just clearly impossible for her. But it is an unheard branch of magic and a well kept secret by greedy broom companies. She wanted to study the mechanisms of a broom, but runic charms and spells are beyond first year level. She also thought of just charming a carpet from the common room, but Parvati informed her flying carpets are banned in England. Disappointed that she can't channel her inner Jasmine.

Upon further research, apparently staying airborne is a form of dark arts. That is what Dark Arts Through The Ages claim. You either chose from being a Dark Lord or an Obscurial, neither of which she wants to do just to pass her flying class.

Nevermind then, she'll just writes an essay.

Unlike her, Harry turned out to be a natural flyer. Unlike her also, despite turning out 45 points for her house just into the third month, Harry was awarded for a stroke of good luck.

So this is how the socio-political system in Hogwarts work. Hermione wonders when they'll drop him like hot potato.

Still the student body of Hogwarts, especially the faculty favors Harry a lot more than anyone. She'll have to test the dynamics of having a close friendship with the boy-who-lived. She just better remember though to play her cards close to her chest.

Fuck the cards!

She could not run faster even if she wanted to. She wanted her mum, her dad, and him. Being friends with Harry was the worst idea ever. Trouble seem to find him every time! First, he suggest they smuggle a dragon – A DRAGON!, to give to Ron's brother Charlie, who apparently is a professional dragon tamer. This is what she gets for keeping her smart mouth shut. They could've just owled his brother to discretely collect said flying baby lizard, but no they had to be Gryffindors about it.

The lack of common sense and practicality of the boys' plan disgusts her. Too late now. She's running, in the middle of the forest because a gigantic adult think its wise to let tiny bumbling children find the creature apparently killing unicorns. She vowed to familiarize with all the almighty deity of the magical world because she could use one right now, make it two.

Oh Hermione wanted to kick the blonde git beside her who got them into trouble in the first place. Afterwards probably burn Hagrid's hut for thinking they'd be safe with a hound. A hound! The nerve of this man was astounding. It's like he wants them to purposely walk into death, now she's running for her life.

"Bloody hell Granger! Can't your feet run any faster! It's coming at us! Yaaaghh!"

Gee. Who knew Malfoy could scream like a 5 year old girl. Unfortunately, that's all she could think right now because the git accidentally (or that's what he wants to think) pushed her out of the way ending her face first on the moist ground of the forest. She'll kill that git, and if she dies there and then she will haunt his life F-O-R-E-V-E-R!

The figure crawled faster after her and she was frightened in place. Drawing closer, she starts to recognize the profile blurred by the shadows.

"P-p-professor?" The hooded figure crouched beside her.

Favourite professor or not she was well aware the situation was bad, and it was horrifyingly BAD. The man had silvery blood streaming down from his mouth. It might be internal bleeding he just coughed-up, but she highly doubted it. Because not a minute ago the guy was literally sucking at the severed neck of a fallen unicorn. When the wind blew hard in their direction, the professor's hood fell, and a monstrous sight greeted her. The professor had another face at the back side of his head, its mouth open as if trying to scream but all she's hearing are incoherent hissing.

"…Ggeeet ouuut" it echoed in the woods.

"Run Ms. Granger. RUUNN!" Her professor choked out, his mouth gaped abnormally wide. Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She slipped trying to haul herself up but still did not bother to stop, neither did she even look back when she heard the professor's blood-curdling scream.

When she was about to get to a clearing, his booming noise was trying to stop her. Screaming for her to stop running aimlessly, instead she went deeper into the forest. Her fear consumed her logic, her head felt like exploding. Hermione could feel the wind going in a frenzy around, her magic crackling under her skin. All of a sudden she found herself unable to breathe, her deep gasps for air coming short, her sight turning black. After what felt like a life time but only seconds from her erratic breathing, the thunderous noise stopped. Then little Hermione fainted.

"Right over here!" Professor Flitwick shouted. Funny how he was the one ahead of his colleagues, and was only yea big.

"Honestly Minerva what were you thinking sending them in the dead of night into the forest! Looking for what? UNICORN MURDERERS!" The professor's dark robes billowing behind him.

"I sent them to Hagrid, Severus!" The elderly witch poorly argued.

"And THAT makes it better?" The man sneered.

The dour professor recalls when he was greeted by a girlish scream, his lip slightly twitching when he saw it coming from the Malfoy Scion. However the two Gryffindor goons, one boy-he-wished-to-strangle and a redheaded moron, soon followed after the giant menace and were shouting incoherent complaints after another. The sheer stupidity of their expedition to the forest astonishes him. Turns out they left a little witch behind, one he was slightly fond of but dare not say.

When the trio of professors arrive deeper in the forest, they all stopped short at a clearing.

Ms. Granger was floating in a middle of a little pond. Her long curly hair surrounding like an imperial crown. There were waterlilies surrounding her, tiny fireflies bouncing atop them like little fairy lights. It was mesmerising, if only the water did not eerily glow. Natant lights beneath its surface, green like the spectral glow of an all-too-familiar curse.

A breath of relief escaped them, grateful that no harm came to the child. However, among them three, only one pair of dark eyes could see. Slithering lights, like a snake, familiar to his very own arm.

"She has your eyes, my Lord."

"Thank you Tyche."

"It was an honour… my Lord." Her weakening voice drifting.

The man did not look back at the withering figure laying limp on the bed. Instead, just swept away from the room. A bundle held firmly in his arms.

"Poppy, what news you have?"

"She's still out Headmaster. There are no physical injuries, but my scans show a minor trauma in her head. Possibly from falling or slipping, judging from her disheveled appearance. Aside from that, I don't know how she's not waking up." The matron said as she rubbed out the evident exhaustion from her eyes.

"Have you tried to rennervate her?"

"Only once. More and it could compromise her stable condition. I… I don't know what's keeping her in slumber Headmaster, if it weren't for a positive looking scan I would've suggest we bring her to St. Mungos immediately. She should be awake by now." The Matron said helplessly.

"Should we inform her parents Albus?" The motherly professor asked. She felt a flash of guilt when she found out one of her cubs was put in harm. Damn Hagrid and his questionable ways, she cannot understand how she agreed with Albus letting the school's key-keeper assist in their detention.

"No need for that Minerva. It will only distress them knowing they are unable to help." The headmaster dismissed her concern. Unfortunately, that just aggravated the elderly witch, it didn't help that the Headmaster seems more concerned with the golden boy who appears to have not a single scratch to his body - aside from his all too familiar scar. She dread to think the circumstance of the night had the girl been born from a pureblood family. The backlash they would be receiving from such incompetence.

Minerva softly stroke the girls hair, it was surprisingly soft to the touch. She looked so fragile and small on the bed that it aches her aging heart. Assuring that she is in good hands, the older witch decided to retire back to her chambers. Turning a corner, Minerva passed by an unassuming nook failing to notice a small blonde boy silently waiting for the adults to leave. His hunched form hidden among the shadows.

When the boy was sure he was all alone, he walked towards the tiny silhouette on the bed. He sees her chest, shallowly rising as she breathes. Draco Malfoy had to take a large gulp as he got closer.

"Knew you weren't smart enough Granger. Had to be dumb as those friends of yours." She didn't move of course. He wanted so much to shake her awake and scream at her. But the little prince never really knew how to be gentle, or humble, grew up never having to apologize. Not to little girls, and not to those whom his father deem of lower in standing.

"Just wake up already Granger." Please, he wanted to say.

He caresses her cherubic face. Committing to memory every curl in her tiny head, a teeny mole under her left eye, her long dark lashes, a button nose, rose tinted lips and cheeks. When she blinked up at him, he saw a depth of gold he is familiar with.

:Herrrmiiionne: He hissed. He was pleased to see the recognition in them, a spark of curiosity and intelligence. Just like his, he thought.

"You my child will be my salvation." The man said, as a spell encase both their forms. Blinding light shrouding over them.

"Uuugghh.." The little witch started stirring.

When she was 9, her parents had to attend medical conventions that lasts till the late hours of the night. Her dad will bound the entry way clumsily, like as if his motor-skills were disabled. And she could hear her mum laughing at his idiocy. Then by morning, when she runs to their room with her too excited voice and jubilant perkiness, they topple her to the bed and smother her with their heavy arms under the blankets. Hug her squirming body till she stops and just remain still, frozen in place, until she gets bored and starts to whine. This was a morning ritual for them whenever her parents leaves and ask Mrs. Clarke to watch over her for the night. So even before she start to protest, her dad shoves a heavy looking book in her hands, snuggled closer and proceeded to snore.

She reads them the lines of a medical textbook about root canal treatment and dental implants. Her soft voice soothes their throbbing heads. She tries to read with little to no light, aware that a smidgen of the sun's rays can get her mum going. She also ignores the all too familiar scent of their last night's escapades, something like whiskey and wine.

Oh she can sympathize with her parent's hangover headache. She's groaning, her brain's a slush, she wants to burn the flimsy curtains failing its only job to dim the room, and her body feels a hundred stones heavier. She's aching all over, her throat dry like the Sahara.

"Oh you're awake! How are you feeling Ms. Granger?" The school matron asks.

"Like death." Hermione croaked.

"Here take this, it's just a pepper-up." She hands her a glass vial with a bubbling concoction inside.

Even after many years, Poppy still finds the side-effect of the potion amusing, her lips twitching upwards as steam emits from Hermione's ears, puffing her curly hair more. Despite her current state, the little girl was cute as a pixie, if only a little too pale.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione called out after the older witch cast her diagnostics and they resumed to a comfortable silence.

"Yes dear?" She replied, not fully looking at the girl on the bed as she organize the potions in the tray.

Hermione chewed her lip and twiddled her thumb. She was trying to gather her thoughts and that famous Gryffindor courage to fully explain her perilous nightmare of an adventure. Though she guess there is beauty in simplicity, and the house of lions are quite known to be blunt with their words.

Hermione always find time for articulacy and coherence. But that is not today. To put it quite simply, she just shrugged and said.

"I saw Professor Quirrell drinking Unicorn blood that night…. Also he has another face at the back of his head."

The matron snapped her head at the younger witch, dropping the vials on the floor with a resounding crash that even with the heavy dose of pepper-up still made her head ring.

Oh well. Guess that ends the professor's career.