Trigger warnings for creatures that can steal peoples' happiness, Hermione having possible PTSD and mentions of bigotry and killing.

The serpent's mates

Chapter six

The language of snakes

They had come up with a story quickly. That the five of them had figured out that Lockhart had been stealing other witches and wizards' stories and had tried to confront him about it. And then he had tried to obliviate them, and they had run, and then they had gotten into a scuffle. In that scuffle, Lockhart had broken his wand and so when he had gotten away from them, and had tried to use the obliviate spell on them, the spell had backfired and had hit him instead.

When Dumbledore, McGonagall and the other teachers had come along and had found them and a Lockhart now lacking in all his memories, that had been the story that Hermione and the others had given them.

Pansy even picked up Lockhart's wand and handed it to Dumbledore, saying, "Go ahead, see what the last spell was that Lockhart used with this wand."

Dumbledore investigated it and saw that the wand, indeed had been used for the obliviate spell, very, very recently.

Dumbledore had sighed, looking down at the kneeling and oblivious looking Lockhart, asking where he was almost innocently.

McGonagall nodded. "This doesn't surprise me," she said, disgusted, "This actually answers a lot of questions. How else did such an incompetent wizard become so famous?" She then looked at the five young students in front of her and the headmaster. "You know," she said, voice sounding troubled, "I wonder, after last year? Are the five of you looking for trouble now? Why didn't you come to one of us, as soon as you had these suspicions?"

Hermione, Daphne and Astoria stiffened up and Millicent glared at McGonagall. Pansy said nothing.

Hermione had to wonder, WERE she and her friends looking for trouble by this point?

After what had happened in their first year, after all the danger they had gone through, after being called heroes after stopping Quirrell and Voldemort, were they just looking for the next big thrill?

Hermione felt her stomach dropped. She hoped that hadn't been why they had ignored the danger and had confronted Lockhart, instead of going to Dumbledore or McGonagall with their suspicions.

And their hesitant looks, Dumbledore said softly, "I suppose we shouldn't be too harsh, Professor McGonagall. The naïve courage that comes with youth, is to be valued. But guided correctly," He looked at Hermione and the other girls, "You all have again, done a service. But in the future, I advise that you consider coming to us for similar problems."

Hermione nodded, though she wasn't sure she'd be able to trust him or the other teachers. She just didn't trust authority.

It was just too difficult for her to do-given her past experiences.

Lockhart said, "So, uh," he picked up a scroll on a desk, looking at it, as if wondering what it was for, "This a strange sort of place…"

Dumbledore sighed, and turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Madam Pomfrey," he said, "Please escort Lockhart to the medical wing and get him ready to be transferred to St. Mungo's."

Pomfrey nodded and walked over to Lockhart, taking his hand and escorting the confused former teacher away, down the hall.

Hermione had to tighten her jaw to keep herself from smirking.

It seemed like justice, didn't it?

Lockhart had erased the memories of so many magic users. Had had them thrown into various magical mental hospitals-all so that he could be more and more famous. And now he was going to be going to one of those mental hospitals himself. It sounded like justice to her.

At some point, Lockhart had been sent off with healers to go to St. Mungo's, and the rest of the students chattered about what had happened. About how Lockhart had been a fraud and about how he had tried to erase the memories of all five Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and Astoria and Daphne Greengrass.

And that the five girls in question, had been the ones to stop Lockhart's reign of memory wiping and fraudulence.

And again, for the second time during their time at school, Hermione and her friends were called heroes.

And again? For their service, they gave just enough points to the Slytherin house, for them to win the House cup.

The cheers that filled the hall were strictly Slytherin and the teachers-well, usually, but this time, both the entire Slytherin table, the teachers and some students from other tables applauded, obviously respecting what Hermione and the others had done.

Well, all of them, except for the people at the Gryffindor table. But as Hermione had come to understand, Gryffindors weren't into other people having the glory.

Hermione by no means missed the dark glare that both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley gave her and her friends from across the Great Hall.

After that, everyone packed up and headed off to the train.

It was during their trip back to the train that Hermione mulled over the question that had popped into her head whenever she spoke with Tom.

Why had Lucious Malfoy given her the diary?

She didn't trust him even remotely. And he was a slimy git. But despite that? He had given her a diary with a ghost or a memory of some half-blood. But why? What would he have benefitted from doing something like that?

When Hermione, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne had gotten to a compartment on the train and were alone together, without anyone except their familiars to hear them, Hermione asked them that question and she put that query exactly like that. Asking why a pompous pureblood had given her, a muggle-born, a diary of a half-blood.

None of them had an answer.

Astoria had nodded, looking disturbed. "That's a good question," she said.

Hermione leaned back in her seat with Crooksanks on her lap. Tom, she suspected, didn't understand or didn't know if he was being used as a means to an end by Lucious-if that was actually what was going on.

She decided when she got home and had the chance to be alone, she would ask Tom herself, see if he suspected anything. While she didn't think he knew anything specifically, he might have had an insight that she hadn't grasped yet about what Lucious Malfoy was planning-if anything.

Hermione and her friends promised to write to each other over the summer and that when they were back in the train next semester, they would find each other by meeting up in this specific compartment, compartment 8. And if there were people already in this compartment? They'd wait by the compartment, until all five of them were together by the compartment, and would find an empty compartment for themselves.

When they parted ways at the train station, Pansy, Millicent, Astoria and Daphne all hugged each other and Hermione and went to join their parents.

Hermione eyes the pureblood parents. Astoria and Daphne's parents, Calvin and Mary Greengrass eyed her, suspiciously.

Daphne turned to her mother, telling her parents that Hermione was one of her best friends.

"She is a muggle-born, correct?" Calvin asked, and Hermione tried to ignore the tightening in her chest.

"Yeah," Daphne said, nodding, "She is. And is that a problem? She's braver than anyone I've ever met and in my House. And she defeated 'He who must not be named' in her first year. Using the killing curse. And she helped protect us from a troll in our first and a teacher that tried to obliviate us this year."

Hermione smiled, feeling warmth in her chest at her friends defending her.

Pansy's parents and Millicent's parents were nearby and heard all this. Hermione kept an eye on Charles Parkinson, wanting to keep him in her view.

The Greengrass parents looked at Hermione, curious, then Calvin came over and stuck his left hand out to her in a universal offer of a handshake.

"Hello, Ms. Granger," Calvin said, voice sounding even, "It's an honor meeting you. Thank you for being there for my daughters."

Hermione cautiously met his hand with hers, shaking his hand.

"Thank you, sir," She said, also keeping her voice even, eyes on all the pureblood parents, "It's nice to meet you too." She deliberately said 'nice.' Not 'an honor.' There was a difference between being polite and nice and being actually kind or a good person. Mr. Greengrass might be polite to her right now, but she doubted he was pleased by the fact that his daughters had become friends with a muggle-born.

Calvin said, releasing her hand, and startling Hermione with his words, "I hope you'll continue to be there for my girls."

Hermione's eyes widened. She admittedly hadn't been expecting that.

Calvin walked back to his family. Mary Greengrass still eyed her, but didn't seem vindictive. Astoria and Daphne both grinned, seeming satisfied by this development.

Millicent's parents, Anne and Cornelius Bulstrode had watched this whole thing and seemed to come to decision. Anne nodded to her and Cornelius, who had a top hat on, tipped his hat to her, saying, "Ms. Granger," before he and his wife left, with Millicent waving to her as she followed her parents, a hopeful and optimistic look on the chubby Slytherin's face, indicating that she thought her parents' reactions to her friend was a good thing.

Hermione hoped that Millicent was right.

Hermione then glanced at Pansy and her parents, Charles and Olivia Parkinson.

Olivia gave Charles a look, and Hermione tried to read that look, but wasn't quite sure what the look meant.

Charles seemed to nod, yielding to his wife's nonverbal suggestion.

Then both parents turned to Hermione.

Olivia said, "Ms. Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you, Ms. Parkinson," Hermione said, hoping none of her distrust leaked into her voice, "It's a pleasure to meet you too." She then turned to Charles Parkinson, "Mr. Parkinson," she said, nodding to him.

Charles nodded to her, looking uncomfortable. Hermione half suspected it was either because he didn't know how to act around a muggle-born, or because he was self-conscious around a muggle-born given his history-but which of these was the actual reason, Hermione couldn't guess.

The Parkinsons began to walk off and Pansy smiled at Hermione, and again, like Millicent, Pansy had a hopeful look on her face-as if optimistic about how this encounter Hermione had with Pansy's parents had gone.

Hermione watched all the purebloods walk away, and she hoped that her friends' assessment of the situation had gone was correct. That their parents were fine with them being friends with a muggle-born.

Still, Hermione was not going to forget that one of those purebloods had been a Death Eater at one time.

Before Hermione reached the other side of the platform, where the portal between this platform and the muggle platforms were, she caught sight of three figures near the train.

Hermione's eyes widened, recognizing Draco Malfoy and his father. She also noticed a tall, curvy woman with long blonde hair next to Lucious and Draco. Hermione couldn't help but assume that this woman was Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black.

Hermione glared at all three people, hoping they knew the extent of her dislike for them.

Draco glowered right back at her and Narcissa looked at her with an unreadable expression. Hermione presumed that it wasn't "ladylike" in the pureblood world for pureblood women to show any big emotion about anything. She had a good idea of how purebloods and how the magical world saw women in general. It was a disgusting fact.

Hermione then caught sight of Lucious Malfoy's face. Lucious looked surprised. He looked stunned at the sight of Hermione. Shocked that she was here. That she was alive and safe.

Hermione's stomach turned, her mind going to the diary that Lucious Malfoy himself had given to her. Her suspicions had now been raised.

Unable to help herself, though she doubted that any of the purebloods in front of her understood this gesture, she raised her left hand, putting up two fingers in a reverse-peace sign to them, her index and middle finger up in a V shape, with her knuckles aimed at the Malfoys.

She doubted they knew what this sign meant-it was a sign that basically meant "fuck you" in the UK. The Brit's version of the Americans' middle finger.

At Lucious's still startled and confused look, she dropped her hand and went to the portal to go through it, too disgusted by the Malfoys' presence to want to be there anymore.

Hermione left the platform, got to the muggle world and headed off to the front of the station, grinning as she dragged her things along to where her mother was waiting for her in the car, outside of the train station.

Last year, her mother had been busy with her job, so it hadn't allowed her to pick Hermione up at the station, but that time had been rare.

Hermione got everything into the trunk and backseat of her mother's car, secured Crookshanks's carrier in the backseat, smiling wryly at Crookshanks's displeased "meows" and she went to the front seat of the car, put her seatbelt on and closed the car door.

Her mother leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Hermione," she said happily, "Are you alright?"

Hermione was surprised at the worry in her mother's voice and Hermione understood.

Of course. Her mother was worried. After all, the last year, Hermione had come back, and what had happened? It had turned out that Hermione had had to kill someone in self-defense.

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine, mama," she said, "I promise. Nothing like what happened last time happened this time."

She would explain that she and her friends had almost had their memories erased by Lockhart and that he had accidentally erased his own memories, but that would have to wait when her mother wasn't already on the verge of complete and utter concern.

She and her mother would need to get settled back at their home before she did.

As her mother drove them home, Hermione pressed her left hand to her robe, feeling the diary secure in her robes' pocket.

And Tom? No, she knew that she couldn't tell her mom about Tom. Not yet.

Hermione was sure, so sure that the magic that had bound Tom to the diary, was dark magic.

She was sure, that it had been dark magic.

And while it certainly brought into question whether Tom had been experimenting with dark magic or not, it also meant that it could be potentially dangerous for her mother, unless Hermione knew what to do with the diary.

Also, she wondered if Lucious Malfoy had anything to do with the dark magic in the diary.

And that was all the more reason not to tell her mother about the diary and Tom.

And as much as she liked Tom, there was something in the back of Hermione's mind that kept telling her that she couldn't trust him. She wanted to ignore that voice that told her that. But it was just a lingering feeling.

Hermione didn't like that feeling. Tom had been like her. A half-blood in a Hogwarts House that abhorred anything other than pureblooded witches and wizards. And what was more? He had a much worse life, having grown up in a muggle orphanage without anyone to love him or be there for him.

Hermione felt for him. She truly did.

So, why did she have this feeling in the back of her brain that kept telling her not to trust Tom?

Why was there some feeling in her gut that told her that something was off about him?

But here was the thing-gut feelings didn't automatically mean that someone was a bad person.

So, Hermione wasn't going to pursue that distrustful line of thought. Not where Tom was concerned. If anyone couldn't be trusted, it was Lucious Malfoy and his awful family.

After a few hours of Hermione settling back into her home, she eventually told her mother about what happened with Lockhart-or rather, the story that she, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent had come up with.

Hearing this story, Jean had actually sagged in her seat, looking stunned and drained.

"Hermione," she said weakly, "I know that you'll protest about this, but…maybe this place is too dangerous-"

Hermione shook her head. "No, mama," she said, "I'm not going to not go to Hogwarts. Just because there's been dangerous stuff. Every place is dangerous, mama. I think you know that."

A pale Jean sighed, nodding. After all, the first several years of Hermione's life had been in danger, not because of any witches or wizards, but because of the supposedly "normal" muggle world.

During those first years of Hermione's life, she had been in danger of being killed and cut apart for science, by muggles claiming that they were doing what was right.

There was danger everywhere. Just because the danger this time was magic related, didn't make it any worse than the other dangers.

Jean said tiredly, sure that she would regret what she was about to say when the words came out, "You had to kill someone in self-defense, darling."

Hermione winced but nodded. "I did," she said, "But so did you. Years ago. To protect me."

Hermione added, before Jean could respond, "I can't stay at home safe forever, mama. I have to know the world where my magic comes from. And that means taking risks. Even dangerous ones."

Jean nodded. She knew she wouldn't be able to reason with her daughter. Could she put her foot down and insist on Hermione not going to Hogwarts? Yes. But what would that do to Hermione? Outside of when Hermione had been adopted by Jean, she had never seen Hermione look nearly as happy as the girl had been these past couple of years.

If she kept Hermione from her friends at Hogwarts, from the magical world where Hermione seemed to have made something of a life for herself, she would be destroying her daughter.

And Jean wouldn't do that. Not until there was proof that she had to.

Jean sighed, nodding again at her daughter. "Alright," she said, "But please, Hermione, be careful next year."

Hermione smiled. "I will be, mama," she said, "Promise."

And Hermione meant that promise. But she and Jean both knew that danger often came from out of nowhere, and made people break those kinds of promises.

As Hermione went off to her room and her mother got dinner ready, it was then that Hermione opened up the diary and allowed Tom out.

Tom stood in the middle of the room and looked around, startled.

He turned to Hermione. "Where are we?" He asked curiously.

"My home," she informed Tom, "Me and my mother's home. In the muggle world. Sorry," she chuckled, "I'm afraid this isn't as fancy as the Slytherin common room."

Tom smiled. "It's alright," he said, "I was raised in an orphanage, remember? This is much, much nicer than any place I've stayed, before Hogwarts, anyway."

Hermione smirked. "I'm not sure how much of a high bar that is," she said, "But glad to hear that it's not a bother for you," she then sat on the edge of her bed, frowning, and focused on the troubling line of questioning she was about to ask of Tom. "Tom," she started, "Can I ask you something?"

Tom looked at her and nodded. "Of course," he said.

Hermione said softly, "Tom, the diary that you're in? It was given to me by Lucious Malfoy. Did you know that?"

Tom seemed visibly startled by this piece of information, his eyes widening.

"Really?" He asked, "Lucious Malfoy did? Abraxas's son?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm afraid so," she said, "Which makes me a little nervous, I'm sure you can understand."

Tom nodded, frowning and looking understandably worried. "I understand perfectly," he said, "That IS troubling. I don't know why he would do that. Maybe he didn't know what the diary contained?"

Hermione nodded. That was a thought. And she had considered that before. Perhaps Lucious Malfoy had given Hermione the diary in hopes that it would be a cursed item that would kill or hurt the "pesky mudblood" that had caused his "Dark Lord" so much trouble. But it was possible he hadn't known what was in that diary.

It was very possible that he thought it was a dangerous item to Hermione and didn't know that the thing inside it would just be a half-blood wizard who would eventually become Hermione's friend.

"I hadn't thought of that," Hermione said, "At least not for a while. I mean, I thought of it. But I never really looked at that closely as a possibility. But that makes sense."

Around the floor, Crookshanks stalked around, eyeing Tom every now and then, but thankfully not hissing at the apparition or memory.

Hermione asked, "You think that Lucious Malfoy will try something else?" She then added, "I saw him and his son, Draco and I presume his wife, Narcissa too, at the station. He looked genuinely surprised to see me. I think he had been expecting me to be dead or not physically healthy. Which means that he obviously was hoping something would happen to me. Had even intended for it," she remembered the taste of her disgust for the man at the train station.

"So," Hermione said, smiling grimly at Tom, "Any advice?"

Tom frowned and thought about it. "It sounds like Lucious Malfoy is a threat," he confessed, "I don't like saying this. But you're going to have to defend yourself. Do you think there's any possibility that Lucious or any of his family would attack you outright in the open?"

Hermione thought about that and quickly nodded. No. Lucious and his family didn't have the spine for it. They were too cowardly.

"I don't think so," she said, "Lucious Malfoy and his son don't seem to have spines. I don't know anything about Lucious's wife, but she's likely the same way if she married Lucious."

Tom nodded.

"Alright," he said, "Here's my advice. Stay in public whenever one of the Malfoys are around. Don't ever be alone with one of them."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she said, "I already figured that much. I don't want to have to hurt any of them. But I'm worried it might come to that."

Tom sighed. "I know you don't want to have to kill again," he said, "But if it comes to it, if one of the Malfoys or someone else tries to kill you or your friends, are you willing to defend yourself? What if someone tries to hurt your mother?"

Hermione tensed, feeling cold. She already knew the answer. Yes. If it came to it? She WAS willing to kill. To defend herself, to defend her friends. To defend her mother.

"Yes," Hermione said, looking at Tom with conviction, "If it comes to that? I'll do it."

Tom nodded again. "I know that that's not what you want to do," he said, "But if it's necessary and you CAN do it, but I'm sorry, that's a good thing. Because it sounds like danger is coming."

Hermione grimaced. He was right. He felt it too. Trouble was coming.

Voldemort was still out there. And Lucious Malfoy had given her an item of dark magic for a reason.

Something was going on, and Hermione knew that she had to be ready when it all came to a head.

"Thank you," she said to Tom, "I just wanted to make sure what it was you thought."

When dinner was ready, Hermione had to close the diary and Tom disappeared. Hermione hid the diary under her mattress, as she had in her dorm at Hogwarts and went downstairs to get the dinner.

She fed Crookshanks and made sure he had more water too, before she washed her hands and she and her mother sat down for dinner.

The summer went by without incident. Hermione and her friends exchanged letters, as before and Hermione grinned at some of the funny things her friends said. One of the letters she received from Millicent mentioned that her parents had verbally mentioned they never had imagined a day when they would allow their daughter to be friends with a muggle-born. But if their daughter was going to be friends with any muggle-born, they supposed it might as well be someone as brave and talented as Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes at that, figuring that Millicent's parents' comments about that basically was insulting, but perhaps the best she could expect of pureblood parents at this point in time.

At the very end of summer, few days before it was time for Hermione to head off to Hogwarts, Hermione was gathering things from her mother's garden and her mother was at work right now, so Hermione had let Tom out of the diary to spend time with her in the garden.

The garden was in a secluded place in the backyard. It was unlikely anyone would see Tom out and about. The diary was opened up on a table in the backyard, just outside of the garden.

She had never mentioned that she had the Sorcerer's Stone hidden under her house. She trusted Tom. But she wasn't sure she trusted him that much, just yet.

Hermione and Tom were talking, when Hermione noticed a snake near one of the pepper plants.

Hermione growled, irritated. Why were there always snakes near her mother's house?

She went over to the snake, and snapped at it, "Leave! Get out of here, you little-"

The snake turned and darted quickly away from the plant, seeing a large figure and potential predator and fled the scene.

Hermione sighed, turning around to get some of the other vegetables from the garden, when she saw Tom staring at her, stunned.

She frowned. "Tom?" She asked.

"You're…," Tom said, mouth dropping, "You're a parseltongue?"

Hermione froze, her eyes widened. What?

"Tom," she said, feeling a chill go down her spine, "What do you mean by that?"

"You can talk to snakes," Tom said, looking at Hermione now in confusion, as if he didn't recognize her, "And snakes obey you. And are drawn to you."

Hermione felt cold seep into her heart.

She read a lot. So, yes, she knew what a parseltongue was.

But she wasn't…she wasn't a parseltongue.

She couldn't be. She was muggle-born.

Parseltongues were witches or wizards who could talk to snakes, control them and would draw snakes to themselves.

Salazar Slytherin himself? He had been a parseltongue.

That was why the symbol of his House had been a snake.

"I'm not," Hermione said, shaking her head, "I'm not a parseltongue. I can't be."

Tom shook his head. "I know what I heard," he said, "You sounded like you were hissing."

"But I wasn't hissing," Hermione said, shaking her head, "I was just talking."

"It sounded like hissing to me," Tom said, "I've read about parseltongues. As I'm sure you have. And apparently, people can't hear the words that parseltongues say. It sounds very different for those that don't speak parseltongue."

Hermione shuddered. She was a parseltongue? She was a parseltongue?

No, her mother had seen her yelling at snakes before. Wouldn't her mother have told her if she had been speaking another language when doing this?

Hermione knew that her mother had to have noticed something like this. Had to have.

Wouldn't her mother have told her?

"I heard you," Tom said, "I know you were speaking parseltongue."

Hermione shook her head slowly, not willing to mentally accept it.

That couldn't be true. But she was positive that Tom wouldn't lie to her.

"I….," Hermione said, "I think I need to talk to my mother about this."

Tom said nothing, just looked at her sympathetically.

When Hermione's mother arrived home, Hermione closed up the diary and Tom disappeared and Hermione hid the diary under her mattress and went to her mother as her mother came in and put her things away.

Hermione cautiously approached her mother and asked, "Um, mama?" Hermione watched as her mother looked at her, smiling.

"Hi, love," Jean said to her daughter, "How are you?"

"I'm alright," Hermione said, nodding, though she wasn't sure how accurate that statement was, "I need to ask you something."

Jean nodded. "Go ahead, sweetie," she said.

Hermione sighed and began speaking, "Alright. You've seen me scare snakes off before, right?"

Jean frowned and nodded. "Yes," she said, "I have. Why?"

Hermione sucked in a breath, "Mama, do I speak differently when I do this? Does it sound like I'm hissing when I do this?"

Jean's answer brought fear and shock to Hermione. "I thought you knew you were doing that, honey," Jean said, sounding troubled, "You speak another language when talking to snakes. I thought that that was just one of your special things when you were a kid. That all kids like you could do that."

Hermione's stomach fell.

Her mother HAD heard her speaking parseltongue. And she had thought that that was the norm for witches and wizards, which it wasn't.

Hermione felt her heart fall.

She was a parseltongue.

But what did that mean? She was muggle-born.

How could she be a parseltongue?

Unless…

Hermione paused, thinking. She had heard a theory that the reason why muggle-borns existed, was because they had magical ancestry.

It seemed like a likely enough possibility.

However, that thought made her even more unsettled.

If Hermione had had an ancestor had that had been magical, and it was a parseltongue, then what did that mean?

The only known parseltongues, including Salazar Slytherin, had been registered throughout history as cruel. Bigoted. Vicious.

Hermione swallowed. Had an ancestor of hers been a bigoted parseltongue? If that was the case, how had their blood ended up in her veins? Wouldn't that parseltongue had abhorred muggles? And would have taught those same lessons to their children and grandchildren?

How had Hermione ended up with a parseltongue as an ancestor, if that was what had happened?

Jean asked, "Love, are you alright?"

Hermione nodded, though she knew she was lying even before she spoke, "I'm fine, mama, promise."

She felt bad for lying to her mother. But she felt like she had to. Until she figured out what was going on.

She could see the doubt on her mother's face, but Hermione knew that her mother wouldn't push for answers.

Hermione got back up to her room, disturbed. She almost didn't want to tell her friends, but she knew that she had to.

They needed to know this. And besides, they might have insight, where she didn't.

A few more days passed by and then the day for when Hermione was to head to Hogwarts came along.

She packed everything up, packed away Tom's diary, her wand, her books, got Crookshanks's carrier ready, much to Crookshanks's displeasure-and got ready, going through the remaining mail that she had gotten recently.

As soon as she did, she found some of Pansy and the others' letters.

She opened them up and read through them, seeing something that made her heart stop.

She had hoped that the next year would be uneventful.

It seemed that that would not be the case.

Sirius Black, the man who had betrayed James and Lily Potter, had gotten them killed and had murdered Peter Pettigrew, and was a secret Death Eater, had escaped from Azkaban.

Hermione felt cold. Like a deep, icy cold starting from her stomach and traveling throughout her body.

Sirius Black. He had escaped. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Hermione tried to reassure herself that Hogwarts would be hard to break into. The only reason why Voldemort had been able to get into Hogwarts had been because he had had the help of Quirrell.

And besides, why would Sirius even want to get to Hogwarts? Except maybe to get at Harry Potter.

And even then, he had only just escaped Azkaban. It was unlikely that he would risk capture so soon again.

She packed away those letters, making sure her mother wouldn't find them.

She had only just been able to get her mother to let her go back to Hogwarts. She didn't want to think about how her mother might react if she found out that an infamous Death Eater had escaped from Azkaban recently.

She made sure that the enchantments she had put on the house were still in place. They were.

She checked to make sure the enchantments she had put on her mother as well were still in place, checking them silently without magic, while her mother had gotten the keys, and she was relieved to see that the enchantments were still there on her mother.

Hermione was positive her mother would be safe.

Besides, what reason would Sirius Black have had to go after her mother? She had killed Voldemort's vessel, Quirrell, sure. But she hadn't killed Voldemort himself. She most likely wasn't as big of a target as Harry Potter was.

And while Hermione felt awful for hoping that Harry would be targeted instead of herself, if it meant that her mother would be safe, she'd take that outcome.

But it was still unlikely that Sirius would try to get into Hogwarts.

Hermione clung onto that suspicion. Confident in it. That made sense to her. It seriously did.

Hermione hugged her mother fiercely, telling her goodbye as they separated at the train station.

She headed onto the platform and went to the train.

She got to compartment 8, and saw that Pansy was already waiting there.

She grinned and she and Pansy hugged tightly. Compartment 8 thankfully was empty, so they quickly went inside it and settled in.

Astoria, Daphne and Millicent joined them soon afterwards and they all hugged and sat down in the compartment.

They faced each other and Hermione sighed, "So, I got your letters. About Sirius Black."

Pansy nodded, looking incredibly worried.

"Yeah," Millicent said, shaking her head, "Merlin's beard…this is bad."

As the train went on, going a few hours through the mountains, something happened.

And that always seemed to be the case, didn't it? Something always happened.

The train stopped, making all five girls in compartment 8 get jarred on their seats, yelping.

"What the hell was that?!" Daphne demanded, panic in her voice.

"I don't…," Hermione said, shaking her head. Something in the back of her mind told her to look out the window.

She did.

She felt cold spread throughout her chest when she could have sworn she saw something in the distance. It looked dark. A patch of black-gray in the distance, like a cloud, drifting across the blue and now graying sky.

But it wasn't a cloud.

It was moving way, way too fast to be an actual cloud.

"I think there's something out there," Pansy said, seeing what Hermione had seen.

Hermione then noticed something disturbing. It was getting colder. It wasn't just her imagination or her dread.

It was actually getting colder in the train.

But why?

Ice began spreading across the window of the train and the glass of the door of the compartment.

A thin layer of frost spread across both the window and door.

Hermione, Pansy, Astoria, Daphne and Millicent gasped and breathed out, eyes wide as they watched their own breath became visible.

"What's going on?" Astoria asked, fear in her voice, "Why is it getting so cold?"

Crookshanks got in Hermione's lap, squeezing close, trying to either warm his human or gain warmth from her, or both.

Pansy's owl, Roger, flapped and hooted, shaking a little and trying to fluff his black feathers to get warmer.

Astoria wrapped some cloth around her pet, an iguana named Isla, to keep the iguana warm.

Daphne's own pet, her toad, Miles, was much in the same physical situation, as Daphne had wrapped a cloth around him.

Millicent's own cat, Amelia, snuggled close to Millicent, most likely to gain warmth or give warmth as Crookshanks was doing for Hermione.

Hermione looked down at Crookshanks and Crooks watched the reptiles skeptically. Thankfully, Hermione had learned that Crookshanks wouldn't hurt either of the reptiles. He seemed to see them as beneath his notice.

Amelia more or less had figured out that Roger, Miles and Isla were sort of part of the "pack," she didn't mess with them. If only for the consequence of what would happen if she tried to hurt any of the other animals.

Hermione turned to the door and she and the other girls froze and watched as a dark, shadowy figure passed by the frosted glass door of the compartment.

"What is that?" Astoria asked, voice trembling.

Hermione shook her head. She had no idea.

Hermione took Crookshanks off her body and placed him onto the seat and got up, getting close to the door and watched the dark, shadowy figure go down the hall, away from the door of her and her friends' compartment.

She was relieved that whatever it was, hadn't entered their compartment.

Yet…yet she couldn't help but wonder. What was that thing? It couldn't have been Sirius Black, because as far as she knew, he didn't have the ability to just stop the train or make it freezing cold.

Suddenly, down the hall, Hermione could hear a door opening up. A compartment door had been opened up. Hermione gasped, when she heard another sound. It sounded like someone was yelling, and that yell had been cut off.

Thankfully, Hermione wasn't the only one on the page of trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

When that yell was heard and when it was cut off, Daphne put her toad in a bag full of warm cloth, which had her warm scarf inside it, and jumped up from her seat and opened up the compartment door, pulling her wand out.

Hermione did the same, taking her wand out and she and Daphne jumped out of the door, aiming the wands at whatever it was that they had seen.

And they were not prepared for what they saw.

One of the compartment doors down the hall of the train had been slid open, and there was a tall figure in a big, billowy gray-black cloak, the cloak waving as if swirls of smoke. Hermione felt an icy bolt hit her heart.

Oh, fuck.

She knew what that thing was.

It was one of the things about the magical world that had filled her with fear, just at reading about it.

This? This was one of the guards that was stationed in Azkaban.

It was a dementor.

Hermione heard Daphne suck in a weak breath.

"Oh, Merlin," the older Greengrass sister said, "What is THAT doing here?!"

Hermione then saw the dementor pulling its head back, and she saw something going into the face of its hood.

Hermione felt horror fill her. She knew what was happening. The dementor was attacking someone.

For dementors, attacking someone meant draining them of their happiness-all the joyous memories, would be stolen from that person.

Then there was the Dementor's Kiss. Where they would steal a person's soul. But that was different.

This was someone getting their joy and happiness drained.

At least, Hermione hoped that that was all was happening here.

Hermione knew the spell that needed to be used against a dementor. The patronus spell.

Unfortunately? That spell was incredibly hard to use. Particularly against a dementor, which existed specifically to drain happy memories.

And a patronus? That thing could only be summoned with the most joyous, most happy memory anyone ever had.

Hermione aimed her wand, and focused her mind.

Her most happy memory. She could do that.

She saw the memory in her brain, focused on it. A great-horned owl, with a letter in its beak. Her first Hogwarts letter, telling her that she had been invited to Hogwarts and that she was a witch and that there may just be a place where she belonged. And that there was a magical world that awaited her. The happiness she had felt in that moment. The pure joy.

She focused onto that memory, clung to it, felt it fill her being.

"Expecto Patronum!" She yelled.

White light began to spill out of her wand. She grinned. She could feel it. Something warm and powerful began to exude out of her. Bright white-blue light began flooding from her wand and out of her.

The dementor turned its attention from whoever it had been attacking, turning its head to Hermione and Daphne.

Hermione heard Daphne grumble, "Oh, crap."

Hermione felt the power coming out of her, but…something was wrong.

The dementor was moving closer, not further away. And it wavered slightly as soon as it got close to Hermione's attempted patronus-attempted, because Hermione saw no patronus animal coming out of the wand.

She sucked in a breath. What the hell was going wrong?

The dementor leaned in close and that was when Hermione felt it. Her happiness, her joyful memories, she could feel them being drained out of her into the dementor.

The dementor's opening-which horrifyingly was a toothless mouth of a small hole, sucking in Hermione's good memories and happiness.

Hermione shuddered, a new memory flashing through her brain. Her and Daphne in a similar situation. Almost two years ago, in her and Daphne's first year, in the Forbidden Forest. They had been cornered by a hooded figure with unicorn blood on its grinning mouth.

Hermione whimpered, feeling horror fill her now, ice traveling throughout her body.

This time there was no centaur here to save them.

Suddenly, movement fired out from the compartment where the dementor had been standing at before. Hermione felt her happiness fall away, her attempted patronus disappearing.

The figure that had come bolting out of the other compartment appeared. It was a man. Tall, slim, with short brown hair and a tired look on his face. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the dementor.

He said, "Expecto patronum!"

Unlike Hermione's attempt, his patronus came out fully formed, white-blue light exuding out of his body, a wolf appearing from out of the man's wand leaping at the dementor.

Hermione was weak against the wall, as was Daphne, but the dementor almost shrunk and fled, going past both Hermione and Daphne as it ran away down the hall of the train.

Hermione gasped, shaking as she balanced herself against the wall. Daphne did the same, eyes wild as fear covered her face. Astoria came out and saw Daphne and hugged Daphne and Hermione both.

"Are you okay?" She asked tearfully.

Hermione and Daphne met each other's gazes, dread and fear in both their gazes.

No. No, they were NOT alright.

Millicent and Pansy came out a few seconds later, hugging both Hermione and Daphne too.

Pansy turned to the man who was watching them, the man that had gotten rid of the dementor.

"Thank you," Hermione said to him.

The man nodded.

"Um, who are you?" Pansy asked, "Thanks, by the way," she was trying to be polite, but was clearly still suspicious.

The man smiled. "My name is Remus Lupin," he said, "And I am your new Defense against the Dark Arts professor."

Author's note

So, in case anyone's wondering, again, Hermione is not a pureblood. An ancestor of hers was a parseltongue.