Chapter 20 - Trapped
Unbelievable.
Hermione threw the wand against flat concrete, earning her stares from everyone in Professor Lockhart's classroom, and she cared not at all, because she was well and truly frustrated… How best to verbalize her dissatisfaction? Err…
"Grr!" Had she just growled? Of course she had, she was truly quite frustrated, and everyone knew that frustrated people growled. Truly she was a natural improviser.
To be defeated by Ginny was one thing, but to lose to a student of Draco Malfoy's quality was simply unacceptable. The impotent wand laid on the ground uselessly. It was the defective wand's fault. She had done so poorly, she hadn't managed so much as a spark of light from it (honestly, couldn't they have put some pop-its in the transfigured jar or something? What honest observer would believe The Hermione Granger capable of such incompetence?).
"You can't study away your blood," Draco sneered, quite convincingly.
"You'll see," Hermione sobbed. The past week of lessons had all gone poorly. It turned out that for all her brilliance, Hermione was quite mediocre when it came to practical applications of magic, such as dueling (what kind of tart would one have to be to believe that?). "I'll learn some proper hexes, and then you'll see!"
"It'll never happen," Draco said, really very smugly. "You can't find real magic in books, and no self-respecting wizard would bother teaching a mudblood!"
Hermione didn't much care for his tone, even if it was all an act. She only had herself to blame, Draco was simply rising to meet her performance. Still, she quite relished to remind everyone just who she was when this nasty business had concluded.
"It's quite amazing that you can't even manage a simple expelliarmus," Pansy giggled delightedly. "Reading and writing aren't real magic Granger, and spending all night with your nose buried in a textbook is really a very muggle thing. Studying is beneath the dignity of a proper witch. Anyone raised in a real family would know that."
Hermione put her hands over her eyes to cover the fact that she was rolling them.
"And your hair is dreadful. A proper witch would have fixed it by now. Honestly Granger, when I first saw you I thought you must've been the offspring of a selkie and hag," said Daphne immediately. It was actually quite the clever insult, far too clever for the slow-witted girl to have come up with on the spot. She must've been saving that one for quite a while.
Yes, yes, she'd let them know they were to insult her today. They ought to get their feelings of inadequacy out while she quite literally had to play the helpless heroine.
"You suck Granger!" Said Millicent, and Hermione didn't need to legilimency to know that that was the best invective of which the girl was capable.
"Don't talk to Hermione like that, Millie!" Said Vincent Crabbe cruelly, joining the chorus of insults. Just another barbarian swept up in the mob mentality, fully incapable of individual thought. "She's brilliant!"
Quite the strange insult, but just what she'd come to expect from the backwards yokels that made up her house. All the inbreeding must've taken away their ability to form an insult even remotely hurtfu-
"Just the kind of shoddy magic I'd expect from the child of a couple of dentists," said Ginevra slyly. "Dentistry? Is that even a real doctorate?"
Hermione blushed. Oh, and what doctorate did Ginevra's parents have? And further, had Ginevra's parents really actually graduated high school? Wasn't she the youngest of seven siblings? Had her mother never heard of contraceptives? Hermione was quite sure such material was covered in any health class in the nation. So Ginny really ought not be so eager to expose Hermione's shameful origins when the same argument could be…
Had Hermione just engaged in a Tu Quoque Fallacy? Oh how dreadfully embarrassing! Just what one might expect from the child of mere dentists! Not even able to argue logically, falling back on fallacies like some publicly educated ninny!
"You'll have to go to college somewhere where they accept people from even the lowliest backgrounds. So you'll probably end up going to Yale," said Ginevra. "Or maybe even… Brown."
No! No it wasn't true! Not Yale! But how could she deny it, when she had just displayed such disregard to logic! Precious logic! Why, she didn't even deserve to go to Brown!
"When you're eighteen," said Ginevra.
Hermione gasped. No, what was Ginny even saying? Hermione wouldn't attend post-secondary school at eighteen like some ordinary lump of-
… Wait… Ginny was just insulting Hermione, as she'd been instructed. Just playing along like an obedient little employee. It was… Hermione wouldn't attend Brown, such ideas were obvious nonsense… Right?
All the same, when Professor Lockhart was forced to dismiss the class early Hermione's tears were half real. Skeeter seemingly left with the rest of the Slytherins, while Hermione hung behind, until it was just her and Professor Lockhart alone in the classroom.
Hermione scooped up what appeared to be her wand.
"I need you to teach me more," Hermione declared quite loudly, rushing to his desk in the corner of the classroom. "The Unforgivable Curses! I have to shut them all up! Show them that I'm not just a bookworm! I know that there shan't be any turning back from this, that this is the start of a horrid journey in which I become The Dark Lady Pourlivres, but I really must know!"
Skeeter must have overheard that. And as soon as Hermione overheard the hum of that stupid beetle it would be game, set, and match.
"The Unforgivable Curses?" Professor Lockhart asked casually from his desk, scribbling some notes in a journal. "Because some students were belittling you? Miss Granger, this is most unusual!"
He waved her closer. In the middle of a college-ruled page of his composition journal he'd drawn a circle with a dot in the middle of it- and as someone who'd received a proper education at Eton- Hermione knew that meant an arrow pointed out of the paper. A beetle crawled above them. Professor Lockhart's smile told her that they were on the same wavelength.
"Impressive Granger, you figured it out," whispered Professor Lockhart softly. Louder he said, "The Dark Lord and his lackeys will hardly refrain from using them on you. The Curses are as Unforgivable as they are potent. Only a fool would remain willfully ignorant of them. If you really want to know, then I'll teach you."
Hermione swooned. Gilderoy Lockhart had figured out that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered animagi as well. To be so handsome, so intelligent, it really wasn't fair.
Professor Lockhart leaned over his desk, and whispered into her ear, "It's not quite enough for the old codger. Rita Skeeter needs more. Play along."
"Come over to this side of the desk," said Professor Lockhart. "What I'm about to tell you mustn't leave the room Miss Granger. Am I clear?"
Hermione nodded, and bustled beside him eagerly.
"You'll find the Unforgivable Curses quite useful in the future," said Reliable Professor Lockhart calmly. "Because Lord Voldemort would like to formally invite you into his ranks. Don't worry about being a muggleborn. The Dark Lord does not care about such trifling matters. His bigotry is merely a deception to help him secure the base of support necessary to overthrow the government. He will grant you immortality, guarantee the safety of your friends and family, and whatever else your heart desires- all for a single simple favor: he would like you to procure for him an object hidden within a magic veil with an inscription placed upon it by The Great Albus Dumbledore: Klyeaezrf."
…Um…
…What?...
…Seriously, what?
"And what exactly would that object be?" Hermione asked. Wait what? Why was she even considering this? No wait- it was all pretend. But even if it was pretend, wh-
Professor Lockhart waved her to come closer, until his warm breath tickled her skin. "The object my master would like you to retrieve is called The Phil-"
He grabbed her fake wand, untransfigured it into an enchanted jar, and slammed it over a beetle.
…Um…
Oh yes, the plan. The trap. She'd caught Rita Skeeter at last. Hermione was victorious.
Hurrah?
Professor Lockhart winked at her, wearing a cheeky smile. "Some people will believe anything. Gilderoy Lockhart a death eater? Laughable!"
Hermione managed a weak laugh.
"Now Miss Granger, can you do me a favor?" Asked Professor Lockhart. "It's about Rita Skeeter. I need you to take care of her for me."
"You want me to kill her?" Hermione asked, trembling.
"Merlin's Beard! No!" Professor Lockhart said, laughing heartily. "You're still shaken up about that whole death eater thing? I'm hardly the evil type Miss Granger. I'd just like you to alter her memories. You see, in the wizarding world it's in rather bad taste to joke about being under the guidance of The Dark Lord. They would put me under veritaserum, just to be sure, and well… I'd rather like to avoid that. I do have my secrets after all." Professor Lockhart winked at her.
"I… I don't know," Hermione said. She could hardly even think right now. Why did Professor Lockhart even want her to perform the spell, when he was fully capable of it himself. What did he want? What was his angle? What if Skeeter had been right all along?
Wait, Skeeter! What if Hermione had been mistaken?
What if…
What if…
What if Rita Skeeter was actually a goo-
"You don't feel confident," Professor Lockhart said, nodding sympathetically. "Understandable, it is an advanced spell. I sometimes forget that despite everything else, you're just eleven. I had simply thought that this would be a wonderful opportunity to practice the charm. You're unlikely to get a test subject like this ever again, and the effects of a botched memory charm would be quite horrendous and really very obvious. I'd offer you my wand to perform the charm of course. If anyone finds out, I will take the fall. The time to learn this magic is now or never."
Hermione straightened and pushed aside her silliness. She'd made no mistakes, and Professor Lockhart had given her an Unbreakable Vow so he was quite trustworthy of course. "I'm twelve," she said testily, taking his wand. "And I just thought… Well, nevermind. I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of performing the memory spell, thank you very much."
And as Hermione flawlessly performed the False Memory Charm, erasing world-shattering revelations with memories more mundane, Gilderoy Lockhart's gleaming smile only widened.
XOXOXOX
Draco Malfoy took his ear off the door.
So… The Dark Lord had returned at last, and Lockhart was operating under his orders… His orders… His bloody orders.
Malfoy squeezed his fists.
So…
So…
Granger was a muggleborn! She'd been taking them all for fools! Infiltrating their ranks, laughing at them, looking down her nose at them… As had the Dark Lord. The pins! The ones he'd given to Granger, to protect the ungrateful wench, that must've been part of the Dark Lord's recruitment plan! He'd been… Father… They had been used as pawns! It was like… like… like the Dark Lord didn't even realize they were The Malfoys and he was merely a… a… Who exactly was the Dark Lord anyways? Who was the Dark Lord's family? Voldemort was obviously a fake name- and… And…
What kind of self respecting pure blood would hide away their name?
Malfoy's heart sunk. Even the Weasley's didn't hide their name. Lord Voldemort, the wizard Malfoy had always looked up to the most, was almost certainly not pure-blooded, and quite likely a muggleborn just the same as Granger.
Father needed to hear of this at once! What had Father been thinking all this time? Demeaning the family name! Following a fraud! Idiotic! From Father's stories Malfoy could gather that following the Dark Lord hadn't exactly been pleasant, but Father had always told Malfoy that it had been necessary, that the Dark Lord was the only one who could save the magical world from Dumbledore's tyranny!
A lie. The truth was that the Malfoys had been used as pawns. Lockhart had said it himself, they were merely tools necessary to overthrow the Ministry of Magic. The Dark Lord was evil!
"We've got to stop them," Malfoy found himself saying, squeezing Ginevra's hand. "The Veil of whatever it's called must be protecting The Resurrection Stone! If Hermione gets it, then You-Know-Who will surely return!"
Ginevra stared at him. "C'mon Malfoy, Ole' Gilly Boy's a lot of things but a Death Eater he's not. He was just putting together a string of words like he always does, he had no idea what he was actually saying."
He was scared too. Barely holding it together really. He squeezed Ginevra's hand again. "You don't really believe that, do you? No- you're too clever- you proved that with your quidditch game plan. Who would risk Azkaban as a joke?"
Ginevra pulled back her hand and stared at him with those enchanting blue eyes. "I wouldn't have thought the return of the Dark Lord would bother a Malfoy of all people. I thought your sort was all for him. Wasn't your father bosom buddies with him or something?"
"Oh, and what kind of sort am I?" Malfoy bristled. "Just because Father has been played for a fool doesn't mean that I have."
Ginevra snorted. "I don't know what you're playing at, but just because we're teammates on the pitch doesn't mean we're friends off it. See you at practice, Malfoy." She turned and left with a swing of her silky red hair.
It wasn't fair! Ginevra was judging him based on Father's actions! Malfoy had never done anything to support You-Know-Who. And after he'd been so gracious as to overlook her heritage and acknowledge that she wasn't some fool like the rest of her worthless family. He'd even only made fun of her shabby robes twice this week.
Well fine! He was a Malfoy. He didn't need her bloody help anyways. He'd only offered it because it was the proper thing to do, and he'd been raised to be a gentleman. He just needed to figure out how to get past the Veil of… The Veil of… What was it called again?
Trifling details. But he just needed to get past the veil of whatever, retrieve the mysterious artifact before Granger could nick it for herself, and then…
Then what? Hand it over to the Dark Lord Dumbledore? No, that would be foolish of course, the man would surely resurrect his lost love Grindelwald. But then…
He just needed to talk it over with Snape and… But could he trust Snape? No, the man was in You-Know-Who's pocket, everyone knew that.
Why was this so difficult? Why was he so frightened? Well no matter, he just needed to talk it over with some of his peers. He did his best thinking in a group afterall. What about Nott? No, his family supported You-Know-Who as well. Perhaps Parkinson? No, word would get back to Father.
Then his best friends. Surely he could trust Crabbe and Goyle… No… No, they weren't really his friends, so much as his henchmen, his servants really- they'd been serving his family for years…
His family. Not him. And for the first time he realized that when he said his name, and people bowed their heads in respect and fear, it was inspired by 'Malfoy' and not 'Draco'. Nobody cared about him, that's why they all called him Malfoy. Just once, he'd like somebody to call him-
"Draco," said Granger eagerly, holding up a jar with a beetle. How dare she call him Draco! "Mission accomplished. I've some things to do, but soon enough we'll have the treacherous Miss Skeeter locked away in Azkaban where she belongs."
The beetle had little dark rings around its eyes. Like little eyeglasses. It really was Rita Skeeter, wasn't it… How? How had she done it? He'd been there with her for all of it, been privy to all the same information, but she'd been answering questions before he'd even realized to ask them, even though she was a Granger and he was a Malfoy and it di-
Something clinked against the jar. Granger's Order of Merlin. Ahh, of course, she'd done this all before. For her it had been easy. Fun. If he had her talent then foiling You-Know-Who's return would be easier than writing to Father.
Ha! Hehehe.
Malfoy had finally realized something of utmost importance.
"Oh do shut up mudblood!" Malfoy hissed. "Rita Skeeter? That's just a beetle." He smacked the jar out of Little Miss Perfect's hands. It was all too easy, she had half the dexterity of Dobby after he'd found Mother's hidden stash of fire whiskey. Unfortunately the blasted jar bounced, reinforced with magic far above the capabilities of even a gifted third year. Malfoy sneered, because it was really the only thing to do to such a detestable witch. "I hope the Heir gets you next, Hermione."
He walked away before she had a chance to say something clever. He ripped the stupid Hermione Pettigrew pin off his chest and disposed of it like the trash it was.
He didn't need some fancy blood purity reason to hate Hermione Granger. The girl was quite bad enough on her own, standing at the top, mocking him.
Draco was gonna tear that noveau riche, classless, charlatan off her bloody pedestal.
XOXOXOX
Nothing was more unattractive than a sour loser. Draco ought to have congratulated her on her second correct prediction of an unregistered animagus, but instead he'd given in to his envy. Hermione clucked, and fiddled with her Order of Merlin superiorly. Ahh well. She'd been a geniu- quite clever since she was a child and naturally been inundated with such atrocious behavior. She was quite used to jealousy, and she couldn't find it in herself to care what some spoiled brat thought of her.
No, all she cared about was that at last she'd win her Ronald. She skipped to the Gryffindor Common Room to show off her catch to Ron. But he wasn't there. Dean Thomas informed her that he was in the library, and asked her what was in the jar.
"A beetle silly," Hermione said happily. More good news, Ronald was finally getting serious about his studies!
"Hello Madam Pince," Hermione chirped as she entered the library, quickly locating her cute little redhead. Unfortunately, he was sitting next to The Evil Neville Longbottom. She skipped over to him, holding up the jar quite proudly.
Ron dropped his books in a display of shock that was as fitting as it was surprising. "What's in the jar Hermione?"
"You won't believe this," said Hermione excitedly, as Ron glanced at the beetle inside. She'd found that she actually did miss him quite a bit, and was quite ready for their silly little fight to be over. "This is actually-"
"LET HER GO!" Ron bellowed.
"Err…" Hermione held the jar to her chest protectively.
Ron snatched it from her like some horrid brute, and tried to unscrew the lid. It was useless of course, Lockhart had had it magically fastened, just-in-case.
"Oh Ronald, I know you're delicate but it's just a silly little beetle," Hermione said knowingly. "However, it's my pet, my property, and I'm not quite ready to part with it. Coincidentally, if anyone except me opens the jar, a pesticide will be released, killing the beetle inside. Get it?"
Ron stilled at once. He got it. And he gave her a look that even she knew was bad although she couldn't for the life of her divine why. Some people were just a little crazy, she supposed.
"I suppose Rita revealed herself to you," Hermione whispered compassionately. "Yes, it's the only explanation for how you might know her true form. She's been trying to manipulate you, Ronald. She tried to do the same to me, but-"
"Why are you doing this?" Ron asked.
"I…" Hermione swallowed. She put on a smile. "Why I'm doing this for you of course! She wrote such nasty-"
"Good. You're doing it for me," said Ron gently. "I appreciate it. But listen Hermione, I don't mind what she wrote about me. It was what I needed to hear. So please, since you're doing this for me, just let her go."
"But…" Hermione's lip wobbled. "But she broke the law Ronald. She's an unregistered animagi. Letting her go would be against the rules."
"Nobody would know," Ron said softly. "Maybe Ginny and Draco, but they won't say anything if we ask them not to. If you let her go I'll… I'll forgive you for Scabbers. Thank you even. We can be friends again."
It was everything she'd wanted so… So… So it would be prudent to let Rita go. Hermione nodded, thinking it over. "I suppose… I suppose I could always capture her again… But… But I'll need to tamper with her memories. I won't have her silencing me as soon as she's free." That way, she could erase Rita's memories of her playing hooky during the flying lesson.
Ron nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Thanks Hermione. I always knew you were decent."
And then he pulled her into a tight hug. "I missed you 'Mione."
Yes. Brilliant. Hermione hugged him back.
After a moment, she pulled away, and put her hand on the lid to free Poor Rita. Her little grudge seemed quite silly in retrospect.
"Oh, and one more thing," said Ron, with a big dopey smile. "Almost bloody forgot somehow. Keep away from Lockhart alright? I think he's bad news, kinda has a death eatery feel to him y'know?"
Oh… Yes… Professor Lockhart.
She'd almost forgotten about him. Until Stupid Ron had gone and reminded her of him, what a wanker, what a bloody cock up!
She took her hand off the lid, suddenly furious.
"Err… Hermione?"
"The law's the law Ronald," said Hermione haughtily. "You can't just ignore it when it's convenient. It seems quite clear you've been brainwashed by Rita Skeeter. But I… When I turn her in, and her curses are undone, you'll surely come back to your senses."
"What did he do to you?" Ron demanded.
"Nothing," Hermione said angrily. "I can tell what's happening! You fancy me and you're jealous that I'm spending so much time with Professor Lockhart. Honestly Ronald, jealousy doesn't suit you. Your mediocrity is your problem, not mine, and I've had quite enough of it."
Ron looked as miserable as she felt. Good! This was all his fault!
"If you make it far enough to meet me in Friday's Dueling Tournament, you'll forfeit if you know what's good for you."
With that said, she turned and fled from the library to have a good cry in the girl's bathroom.
XOXOXOX
Something about a bug, Rita Skeeter, and Professor Lockhart? Neville didn't really get what Ron and Hermione had been going on about, he knew he was missing something, but years of listening to Gran talk over him had taught him to follow along alright even when he didn't know all the details. It looked like Hermione Granger had done something careless and stupid again. Strange thing was, he liked that she'd gotten angry and blown her top. It made her feel more human, y'know? She'd probably just forgotten about Trevor, it had never been personal- and who could blame her? Neville deserved to be forgotten.
"What a bloody cunt," Ron said angrily, but he didn't mean it. "You were right about her, Neville! She only cares about herself, and proving that she's better than everyone. Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her! She's the worst person I've ever met. She's a bloody budding serial killer. If I see her in the tournament, she's the one who oughtta…" Ron deflated. "I suppose I really should forfeit. Because whatever else she is, she's a bloody brilliant witch."
See? Ron was already calming down. He'd probably give credit to Neville later, but Ron would've calmed down just fine without him. Ron just liked to be nice was all, which was… Nice?
Neville sighed. Sometimes he wished he wasn't so empathetic. Then he could just let himself go. He could get angry, say his piece, and move on. Things would be so much easier if only he were normal. But it had always been so easy for him to put himself in the shoes of another. He hated having to side against his best friend, but… "I think you ought to forgive her."
"What?" Ron bellowed. "You too! I thought you were different! I thought you understood!"
"I do," said Neville, looking at his feet, wishing with all his heart that he didn't. "Hermione looked like she was going to hurl the moment you mentioned Lockhart. He probably has something on her. If he's as dangerous as you seem to think, she can hardly oppose him, can she?"
And Neville could read Ron's emotions easily. Almost hear his thoughts. Anger at Hermione turned to fear for her, then outrage at Lockhart. That sort of thing had always come easy to Neville- of course everything important came hard.
"Fuck!" Ron bellowed. "Fuck! Fuck! Well! What's the plan then? How do we save her?"
Neville shrugged. "We don't. If Hermione can't see a solution, then what can people like us do? Sometimes there's nothing to do, Ron. Sometimes you're just trapped. And that's Hermione. She just realized, see? You were just the person nearest, don't take it personally. I'm sure she's in some bathroom crying right now."
"Fuck," Ron said. "If there's nothing we can do, why'd you even tell me? Now I can't even be bloody angry."
"Sorry," said Neville sadly.
Ron glowered, but Neville knew that eventually he'd get over it. It was never easy for him, but Ron always got over it eventually.
That was something Neville admired.
XOXOXOXOX
Later that night, after Hermione had had her cry, she returned to the library. She'd read all about the philosopher's stone of course, but it seemed prudent to perhaps check the texts just one more time. And after she'd made sure she was alone she did just that. It was briefly mentioned in A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, but only superficially. It could transmute gold and produce the elixir of life. It had sounded quite like a fantasy, even knowing that Nicholas Flamel was apparently over six hundred years old. One of the first books she'd checked out from the library had been The Immortal Nicholas Flamel by Brutus Malfoy. Reading it she'd learned that Doctor Flamel had been quite hated in the 17th century for daring to upset the natural order. Silly nonsense of course, but on her second read through another story caught her eye. Doctor Flamel had once used the stone to heal four dancers and Charles VI, after they'd been burnt so badly that there had been nothing left of their bodies but ash. The elixir of life was so potent it could even restore a muggle to their body. It was the single most important fact Hermione had ever read. Its implications had not been lost on the people of the time either. Brutus had been quite horrified by the prospect, and called for Flamel's stone to be destroyed, writing that both Doctor Flamel and his stone were unnatural abominations that were only marginally better than Herpo The Foul.
If her suspicions about The Dark Lord were indeed correct. If he had created horcruxes, and his body had been destroyed he would indeed be quite desperate to get the philosopher's stone. But why in the world would one be hidden in Hogwarts?
Because of Headmaster Dumbledore of course. He was the most powerful wizard in the world. Yes, if Doctor Flamel knew that The Dark Lord was after his stone then he would surely give it to Headmaster Dumbledore for safe keeping. They were friends after all, Hermione had read as much on one of those delightful chocolate frogs…
Wait…
Had she completely lost her wits? If the philosopher's stone was here in Hogwarts it could only be for one reason: It was a trap for The Dark Lord… The Dark Lord would know this of course, and yet for such a prize he would surely take the risk anyways. But…
But why now? The Dark Lord had been without a body for a decade, why wait so long? Perhaps it had taken him some time to restore his strength? No, from her readings of the research on the matter, she knew that while the horcruxes could possess somebody over time it was a long process, and that the shade of The Dark Lord could have possessed somebody at any time, given that they were willing. Why then would The Dark Lord wait so long to make his move? Hmm…
Well, if her suspicions were correct that was certainly horrifying.
But there were two other parties who could have instigated the events. Headmaster Dumbledore and Doctor Flamel. And assuming it wasn't Doctor Flamel, who seemed an irritatingly stable fellow, why would Headmaster Dumbledore manipulate events in such a manner? While Hermione appreciated the Headmaster's machinations (it had made her First Year ever so interesting), she knew her arrival at the school had hardly been something he would have prepared for. So what was different about this year than the others?
…Hmm…
Hermione came to some conclusions, made some contingency plans, and ultimately decided they were unimportant because it was all poppycock. Afterall, her reasoning hinged on Professor Lockhart being some kind of undercover death eater, and trying to trick Hermione into stealing the philosopher's stone for Lord Voldemort. Nonsense and fantasy. Such devious plots were only in stories. Instead of focusing on global politics, some silly war, and potential prophecies, she ought to be focusing on tomorrow's dueling tournament. Paschelbel's Canon, it was getting late! Hermione hurried off to bed to make sure she was well rested! Afterall, Hogwarts would be opening itself up tomorrow, and would soon be full of alumni and parents eager to watch Gryfindor play Slytherin in the silly game of quiz ditch or whatever it was called.
Still though, precaution was the better side of valor. So she wrote a reminder of her coming lesson with Professor Lockhart, gave her future self a single hint in her personal journal: writing and boxing ONE MONTH, found a vacant bathroom, pointed her wand at her head and said, "Obliviate."
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This chapter was incredibly revealing. Hopefully, you don't guess everything that happens from here. Please leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter!
Jinx or Feed - Oh yeah! I'd advise against thinking of intelligence as a power level in this story. The more of an expert someone is on a certain matter the more likely they'll be able to figure it out. Don't underestimate Ron! Thanks for the review!
ViviTheFolle - The reason Hermione becomes apprentice to Lockhart will be very apparent by the end of the story, if it isn't already. I would say that character parallels with the past generation in this story are somewhat useful, especially when used very specifically. But like you say, straight parallels don't exist, and Sirius is finally moving beyond them. Glad you like Luna! She was much more fun than I expected, because I could do things with her that I couldn't with any other character. Hopefully the character's have enough depth to them to keep your interest throughout! Thanks for the review!
Merendinoemiliano - I've got the rest of the story all planned out and outlined! I think you'll like it. Thanks for the review!