Chapter 4: A Grim Encounter
The carriage ride up to the school was a nearly silent one, which Hermione wouldn't previously have thought possible with Harry, Ron, and Ginny in a confined space. Ginny was staring listlessly out the window, hardly seeming to register what she was seeing. Harry's eyes bored holes in the carriage floor as he picked at his cuticles, and Ron seemed to be deliberately avoiding looking at him out of a bizarre sort of deference to the events on the train. Hermione felt as though she were slowly recovering from a particularly nasty fever; a bit cold, vaguely shaky, and empty inside. The only sound, as they slowly approached the castle, was Neville whimpering.
To Hermione's dismay, two more hooded dementors towered over them as they passed through the wrought-iron gates into the grounds, and a fraction of that damp, penetrating cold slithered into the carriage. Harry leaned his head back and closed his eyes. At this, Ron gave Hermione a significant look, and Hermione shook her head sharply; Harry was clearly embarrassed enough without Ron hovering anxiously over him. As they glided smoothly up the vast, sloping grounds, Ginny opened the window and stuck her head out to look at the castle. The fresh air made Hermione feel immeasurably better, and she could see the color coming back into Harry's and Ron's faces as well. By the time they fought their way through the crowd up the steps and into the Entrance Hall, Ron and Ginny were talking and laughing again, and Hermione simply felt excited by the prospect of watching another Sorting Ceremony and impatient for what she already knew would be a delicious feast. However, they'd no sooner stepped into the Great Hall than Professor McGonagall descended upon them, blocking their path to the Gryffindor Table.
"Potter! Granger! I would like to see you both."
Harry and Hermione turned to frown at one another, shrugged, and began fighting their way back toward her.
"There's no need to look so worried," she told them, seeing their obvious bafflement. "I just want a word in my office. I assure you, Mr. Weasley, that they shall return quite soon," she added, for Ron was staring after them and looking quite startled.
"What's going on?" Harry mouthed at Hermione, as Professor McGonagall led them back out of the Great Hall and up the staircase that led to the rest of the castle.
"No idea," she mouthed back, and they allowed themselves to be ushered briskly along until they reached Professor McGonagall's office. She closed the door and gestured for them to sit.
"Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter," she said abruptly, as soon as she'd settled behind her desk. Harry sighed slightly and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.
"I'm fine," said Harry at once, edging his chair away from her. "I don't need anything-"
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, sounding resigned. Hermione stifled a giggle. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"
"It was a dementor, Poppy"," said Professor McGonagall darkly. Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.
"Setting dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing up Harry's hair and feeling his forehead, ignoring his soft yelp of surprise. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate-"
"I'm not delicate!" snapped Harry, and this time Hermione couldn't entirely hide her snort of laughter. To her astonishment, Professor McGonagall caught her eye and gave her the barest hint of a smile.
"Of course you're not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse.
"What does he need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"
"I'm fine!" cried Harry, jumping up from his chair.
"Well, he should at least have some chocolate," said Madam Pomfrey, with a deep, put-upon sigh.
"I've already had some," said Harry quickly. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."
"Did he, now?" Madam Pomfrey sounded much happier at this news. "Finally a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies."
"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," Harry insisted.
"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger, and then you shall be free to return to the feast." Looking as though he'd narrowly escaped a hanging, Harry shot out of the room at once. Madam Pomfrey bustled out after him, and the moment the door closed, Professor McGonagall fixed Hermione with a long, severe stare.
"At the end of last term, Miss Granger, you expressed the desire to take on every new subject offered to third years," she said at length. "Is that still your wish?"
"Yes, Professor," said Hermione clearly. She had the sneaking suspicion she was about to be told this wasn't allowed, and mentally steeled herself for a fight. Professor McGonagall, however, studied her for a very long time and gave her a vaguely approving look.
"I thought that might be the case," she said. "So I took the liberty of arranging something I believe will be of great use to you." She reached into a drawer in her desk and pulled out a tiny golden hourglass attached to the end of a long, delicate chain. It was beautiful, and Hermione couldn't resist a soft gasp of awe as it caught the light and glittered.
"Yes, quite striking, isn't it?" said Professor McGonagall briskly. "It is also quite useful, and, in careless hands, very dangerous. This is a time-turner, Miss Granger. Are you familiar with what it does?" Hermione's breath caught in her chest. Strictly speaking, no, but she had a guess.
"Turns back time?" she breathed.
"That is correct," Professor McGonagall told her. "One turn of the hourglass will allow you to repeat one hour, two turns for two hours, and so on. I must impress upon you, Miss Granger, that the use of this device is tightly controlled, and strictly prohibited without prior approval of the Ministry of Magic. It took a great deal of work to obtain permission for you to use it in your schooling, so I hardly think I need tell you how ghastly the consequences shall be if you use it for anything other than your schooling." Hermione's heart had leapt into her throat and hammered there with some odd combination of excitement and trepidation.
"N-no, Professor," she choked.
"However, I am going to anyway," Professor McGonagall went on. "Obviously, the very moment I, or any other teacher, has a hint of suspicion that your use of this time-turner has veered toward the recreational, it will be removed from your possession. You must use it far from prying eyes, and keep it absolutely hidden at all times. No other student must know you have it. Not Mr. Potter, not Mr. Malfoy, not a lost first-year who stumbles into the wrong place at the wrong time." She paused here, fixing Hermione with a beady stare. "Do I make myself clear?" The adrenaline shooting through Hermione's veins was such that she wanted to break into song and dance, but she had the impression that wouldn't help her case.
"Perfectly, Professor," she said calmly. Professor McGonagall nodded.
"Good. Meddling with time can have frightful consequences. I trust you will therefore treat this with the utmost care and discretion."
"Of course, Professor. Thank you, Professor." Professor McGonagall gently pressed the hourglass into her hand, and she slipped it at once into the inside pocket of her robes.
"I daresay Mr. Potter is likely growing impatient," said Professor McGonagall. "Kindly accompany him back to the feast." The moment Hermione turned away from Professor McGonagall to slip out into the corridor, her face broke out into an involuntary grin. She was so overcome with excitement that she nearly walked smack into Harry.
"What's with you?" he asked grumpily.
"Er-nothing," she said quickly, arranging her face back into a neutral expression. "Shall we go down to the feast?"
"Right." They set off back down the corridor the way they'd come, but before they reached the staircase leading down into the Entrance Hall, Harry caught Hermione's arm. "If you tell anyone, I swear…" he trailed off, and Hermione laughed.
"Relax, Harry, you're going to hurt your delicate constitution," she said seriously. He gave her a hint of a smile.
"Thanks."
As they stepped into the Great Hall, they were greeted by the familiar babble of happy talk and the glimmer of hundreds of candles floating in midair. They grinned at each other and set off to find Ron at the Gryffindor table.
"There you are," he said impatiently, as they sat. "What did Professor McGonagall want, then?" Harry froze. Hermione opened her mouth to whisper an explanation, but at that moment Professor Dumbledore stood and waved for silence from the staff table.
"Welcome!" he called, eyes twinkling warmly around at the students. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…"
"We haven't missed the Sorting?" Hermione whispered to Ron, who shrugged and nodded.
"As you may be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business." He paused. "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave the school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises-or even Invisibility Cloaks." Here, Hermione saw Harry and Ron exchange a look. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore look to the prefets, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors." Percy, who was sitting a few seats away, drew himself up impressively; Ginny caught Hermione's eye and gagged.
"On a happier note," Dumbledore went on, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As to our second new appointment, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties." Applause broke out across the Hall. Ron let out an enthusiastic cheer and pounded the table with his fist.
"We should've known!" cried Harry. "Who else would've assigned us that biting book?" Across the Hall, Draco caught Hermione's eye and gave her a look which suggested he shared Harry's sentiments exactly, sans his enthusiasm.
"I believe that is everything of importance," Dumbledore concluded, once the applause died down. "Let the feast begin!"
The golden plates and goblets filled, as always, with mountains of delicious food and drink, and talk broke out across the Hall once again. By the time the desserts cleared away, it seemed everyone had all but forgotten their brush with the dementors on the train. As they headed up to bed, Harry and Ron now talking and laughing normally again, Hermione was filled with anticipation for the following day's lessons. She could feel the time-turner tucked into her pocket, and as Parvati and Lavender drifted off to sleep, she burned to take it out and give it a few turns, just to see what it felt like.
I hardly think I need tell you how ghastly the consequences shall be if you use it for anything other than your schooling, said Professor McGonagall's voice in her ear, and she sighed softly. Without her permission, some small part of her brain she'd never noticed before spun a detailed fantasy of taking the hourglass out, turning it over and over in her hand and watching the hours spin back before her eyes. She reached out her hand and Draco appeared beside her. They'd roam the castle freely, chase one another, laughing, out into the grounds, and then, the moment the sun came up, she'd make him close his eyes as she turned the hours back again.
How did you do that, he'd ask, eyes full of wonder as he watched the moon rise for the second time in one night, but she'd never tell. Instead….she felt her cheeks burn in the darkness. That certainly fell under the heading of "anything other than schooling."
Hermione's first trial in concealing her time-turner from her friends came, infuriatingly, before she'd had the opportunity to use it. She went down to the Great Hall for breakfast with Harry and Ron, and the moment she took out her schedule to look over it, Ron pounced.
"Hermione, they've messed up your schedule," he said, frowning. "Look, they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time!"
"I'll manage," said Hermione briskly, and she made to shove her schedule back into her bag, but Ron snatched it.
"But look," he insisted. "See this morning? Arithmancy, nine o'clock. Divination, nine o'clock...and look, Muggle Studies, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"
"Don't be silly," said Hermione, snatching her schedule back. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once." Ron looked at her as though she'd gone mad.
"Well, then-"
"Pass the marmalade," she interrupted, but Harry, who was nearest the marmalade, didn't seem to hear her. He was staring across the Hall at something, eyes narrowed and jaw ridgid, and Hermione knew even before she followed his gaze what it was. Draco was talking animatedly to his friends, but she didn't think it could possibly be about Harry. For one thing, Theo was laughing, which he never did when Draco and Blaise ridiculed their classmates.
"Stupid git," muttered Harry.
"Harry, I really don't think he's paying attention to you," said Hermione briskly. "Please pass the marmalade."
"You told him," Ron accused, now following Harry's gaze as well. "About Harry-on the train, you told him." This was so ridiculous that it took Hermione nearly half a minute to understand what he was suggesting.
"Oh, honestly, Ron, no I didn't," she snapped, reaching across Harry and snatching the marmalade for herself. "When would I have? I was with you all evening."
"Well, apparently you can be in two places at once," muttered Ron, turning back to his toast.
"What's that about two places at once?" asked Ginny, swooping in and rescuing Hermione from smacking Ron upside the head with the milk jug.
"Ronald is under the impression I somehow found the time to tell Draco that Harry fainted on the train," Hermione told her. Ginny gave an incredulous snort, and her gaze flitted across the Slytherin table as well.
"Is it possible," she began snidely, "that they're discussing something else while not once looking in Harry's direction?"
"Shut up, Ginny."
"Shut up, everyone," Harry amended. "What've we got this morning?"
"Divination," said Hermione at once, grateful for the change in subject. "We should get going, that's in North Tower."
It was a very good thing they left when they did. The journey to North Tower was a long and arduous one, involving more stairs than Hermione had ever climbed in her life. Ron argued with her any time they came to a crossroads, making everything take much longer than necessary, but several wrong turns and a truly ridiculous encounter with a portrait of a knight later, they found the rest of the class grouped below a trapdoor in the ceiling, seemingly in the midst of a heated argument.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked Neville, who was nearest.
"No one can figure out how to open it," he told her, and at that moment the trapdoor swung forth and a silvery ladder descended gracefully from above. There was a pause; nobody seemed to want to go first.
The moment she climbed the ladder into the classroom, Hermione knew the journey there had been the easy part. It wasn't so much a classroom as a cross between her great-aunt's attic and the incense-filled tea shops her mother always seemed to land them in on holiday, and although they couldn't see anyone in the room, a deep, mysterious voice came out of the shadows the moment they'd all found seats.
"Welcome, my children," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."
And then, into the center of the room stepped a very thin woman draped head to toe in thin, gauzy shawls and at least fifty pounds of beads and bangles. She wore enormous spectacles which magnified her eyes to several times their normal size, and settled herself regally into a maroon velvet armchair by the fireplace before continuing to speak.
"Welcome to Divination. My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye." She paused for a moment to allow this pronouncement to land, and Hermione fought not to roll her eyes. Across the room, Theo whispered something to Pansy, who frowned deeply and lowered her foot onto his. "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can only take you so far in this field…"
How very convenient, thought Hermione snidely. Beside her, Harry and Ron exchanged a grin. Knowing they were making fun of her love of books, and thoroughly annoyed about it, Hermione ignored them.
As the lesson proceeded, Hermione's misgivings grew. Professor Trelawney set them in pairs reading one another's fortunes in the soggy remnants of tea leaves in china cups-making several vague and ridiculous predictions of the doom and gloom to befall them this year in the process-but it wasn't until the end of the lesson that the real trouble began. Professor Trelawney skulked among them, tutting and sighing, as they worked. When she came to Harry and Ron, however, she stopped, snatched Harry's cup from Ron's trembling hands, and shrieked.
"My dear boy….my poor, dear boy….no...it is kinder not to say….no, don't ask me…" To Hermione's annoyance, Dean Thomas took this painfully obvious bait at once.
"What is it, Professor?"
"My dear," moaned Professor Trelawney. "You have the Grim." Half the class gasped, Lavender Brown shrieked, but this meant nothing to Hermione.
"The what?" she mouthed across the room at Theo, who was watching this display with a disgusted look Hermione had never seen on his face before. He gestured helplessly at Harry, who looked similarly confused.
"Er-what?" he said dully, and Professor Trelawney looked shocked.
"The Grim, my dear, the Grim! The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen-the worst omen-of death!"
Of course it was. Ignoring the anxious muttering breaking out across the classroom, Hermione stood and peered into Harry's cup.
"I don't see a dog," she said flatly. Professor Trelawney gave her a look of extreme dislike.
"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future." Hermione felt her face grow hot, but held her ground. Seamus Finnegan closed one eye and tilted his head bizarrely to the side.
"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said thoughtfully. "But it looks more like a donkey from here."
"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" snapped Harry.
"I think we shall leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney mistily. "Yes...please pack away your things…"
Hermione didn't wait to be told twice. She sped down the silvery ladder at once, drawing ahead of her classmates; she supposed Harry and Ron would think she was upset about Trelawney's remark, but that was fine with her. Reaching a nearby bathroom, she slipped inside and, once alone in a stall, withdrew the tiny hourglass from her robes and turned it over once. Her immediate sensation was of falling backward very fast, and she stumbled back against the door; she tried to scream, but her voice was swallowed by the rush of colors and sounds and then, just as suddenly, her feet landed on solid ground again. The bathroom was unchanged, except she could hear voices. Yes, two girls were idling by the sinks. Hermione sighed; if she emerged from the stall now, they'd think she'd appeared out of nowhere.
"...doesn't start taking it seriously," one of them was saying. Hermione vaguely recognized the voice, but who? There was a snap like a clasp being shut, and then a few footsteps. Hermione placed her hand on the door, ready to emerge as soon as the girls left, but then-
"Hang on," said the other girl lazily, and now she recognized them both. This was Daphne Greengrass, which meant the first girl could only be Pansy Parkinson.
"Why?" asked Pansy.
"They probably think we're talking about them, and I think that's funny." Pansy laughed, and Hermione mentally groaned. A glance at her watch told her she had plenty of time, but she sincerely hoped they weren't going to spend the four minutes until the bell rang loitering by the sinks.
"So what are you going to do about your sister?" asked Pansy, after a moment.
Leave, thought Hermione viciously. Standing in this cramped stall and trying not to make a sound was excruciating. Daphne groaned loudly.
"Push her into the lake and let the giant squid have her." She paused. "Then maybe my hair will grow long and beautiful like the stepmother in that fairy tale."
"What fairy tale?" asked Pansy, with a snort.
"I dunno, isn't there a Muggle fairy tale with a stepmother who kills the princess to keep her youthful beauty? Rasputin, or something?" Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth, fearing she'd die from holding in her snort of laughter. She honestly couldn't tell whether Daphne meant Rapunzel, Snow White, or Cinderella, but she supposed this was an equally ridiculous re-telling of each.
"You're an idiot," said Pansy casually. "Let's go." Nothing in her life thus far had prepared Hermione for the rush of gratitude she now felt toward Pansy Parkinson.
"We've got three minutes," Daphne countered, and Hermione fought the urge to burst out of the stall and smack her.
"Honestly, Daphne, I don't care whether they think-"
"It's not that, the longer I have to wait outside Professor Vector's classroom the longer Ernie McMillan is going to try to talk to me and I don't think I can stand it this morning."
"Talk to Draco instead." Pansy paused, and when she continued, there was a mischievous edge to her voice. "See if you can find out whether he likes me." Hermione's blood froze. Daphne snorted.
"He's not thick enough to fall for that. Besides...I don't think you're his type."
"If you're talking about that Hermione Granger…" Two years ago, Hermione had fought a three-headed dog, a murderous plant, and a giant living chessboard, but somehow this was worse. She felt as if her organs were fighting to escape her body, and she was certain the other girls could hear her heart beating a hundred times faster than normal in her chest. Daphne, however, sounded perfectly casual, infuriatingly oblivious to the gravity of the situation.
"Oh, please. You're telling me you honestly haven't noticed the way he looks at Theo?"
"Oh my god, don't be daft!" shrieked Pansy, and Hermione suddenly felt very dizzy. She could physically feel her brain revolving in circles, searching without success for the foggiest idea what Daphne was talking about. What on earth must go on in the Slytherin common room?
"I'm serious."
"Well you're completely off your rocker then."
"I'll bet you ten galleons."
"Twenty." They were moving, at long last, toward the door now.
"Go on then, twenty." The door slammed shut behind them, and a few moments later the bell split the air from above. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. Taking a few deep breaths, she let herself out of the stall and joined the mad rush through the corridor. With a horrible jolt she realized she'd need to avoid the corridors she'd wandered down with Harry and Ron earlier, and as a result found herself forced to take a bizarre and very roundabout way to the Arithmancy classroom. By the time she arrived, the class was already filing inside.
"There you are," said Draco, stepping out of line to walk in with her. "Where the hell have you been?"
Trapped in a bathroom listening to your idiot friends.
"Got held up a bit, that's all."
Or am I the idiot?
"Well, something incredible happened while you were gone." But Hermione wasn't listening. She doubted very much that anything that had taken place in the corridor in her absence could come anywhere near the display she'd witnessed as a hostage in the bathroom. Obviously she'd need to re-think her hiding places, or this time-turner was going to cause her more problems than it solved.