Chapter IV: A Slight Interference
"I'm not going to say it," Hermione announced aloud, as she and Harry marched up the stairs, straight towards the Seventh Floor. Harry looked at her from the corner of his eye, one eyebrow raised in a way that made him look unconvinced.
"But you are, aren't you?" he stated rhetorically. Hermione tried to glare at him, to protest that she could control herself, that she wouldn't say the four words that had been screaming through her head for the past few hours. Ever since she had learned the turn about who exactly the Half-Blood Prince was. "Go on. I know you want to."
And so she did.
"I told you so!" she exclaimed. "I told you, you-" Her eyes grew to the size of saucers, her eyes darting around wild to see if anyone heard. Hushing herself, she carried on in a softer tone of voice. "I told you that the Prince was bad news. I knew it! If you had just listened to me from the start-"
"From the start?" Harry scoffed. "Back when the only reason you hated the book was that it helped me beat you at potions?"
"That is hardly the point, Harry! The point is that you shouldn't have messed with that book in the first place."
"How was I supposed to know that it belonged to that slimy bastard? As far as I knew it was just a textbook with notes in it," he seethed. "It's got to the point where even my textbooks are dangerous. My bloody textbooks, Hermione!"
"I think Hagrid made sure that this wasn't the first time," Hermione mentioned.
"You know what I mean!"
He saw Hermione flinch at his tone and realised immediately that he had crossed a line. He took several deep breaths, calming himself, realising that it wasn't Hermione that he was angry with. She certainly didn't deserve to deal with his attitude.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said wearily, palming his forehead. "I'm just… tired of it all. I'm tired of having no choice. I hate that, no matter how hard I try, it's always me. Like everything I do or everything I own has to mean something."
Turning back to the girl by his side, Harry realised that he hadn't explained himself very well, not if the confused expression on her face was anything to go by. He readjusted himself, plotting out the right words to describe his thoughts.
"I nearly killed a person, because of that book," he explained, trying to express in a glance the depth of his shame. "Even if it was Malfoy, I still nearly did it. I never thought it would come to that. And I know, I should've taken it more seriously. I know, looking back, if I had taken the time to look into it, if I had studied it properly, I might have figured out that it was dangerous… but a part of me feels like, 'Well, surely I shouldn't have to'.
"Why should I have to second guess everything in my life? Why do I have to be surrounded by all these coincidences? Why can't I have something or do something or meet someone who is just normal? Why can't I just be normal, for once?"
Hermione was looking at him with the same concerned expression that he saw during his panic attacks. The same expression that she would usually adopt whenever he was in pain or injured, and every time he saw it, Harry was reminded just how much she really cared for him.
"You know, it's why I was interested in Ginny," he chuckled awkwardly, "for a time. Because she's so… so… nonplussed about it all. She's so cool, she's so… there. Like, when she's in the room, she just owns the stage, so much so that sometimes she helps me forget that I'm the chosen one."
Hermione pursed her lips, her brow furrowed in an endearing way. A motherly way that made him feel warm inside.
"So, you want someone who just sees you as you?" she asked.
Harry nodded.
"Yeah, I guess so," he shrugged as if it were some farfetched wish.
"Not even I did that," Hermione remember solemnly. "Not at first."
"No," Harry concurred, "but you have ever since. More often than most. How do you manage it? I mean, it seems like every year I'm pulling you and Ron into some dangerous new adventure, for the fate of the world. Is it difficult, not seeing me as the Boy-Who-Lived?"
From anyone else's mouth it might've come off as arrogant, but the way that Harry spoke of his title, the one he had been given nearly 16 years ago, made it sound like a horrible slur. Hermione shook her head, taking Harry's arms in her's.
"No, Harry," she assured him with a smile, "because I know that if you had any other choice, you wouldn't be. Which is why it frustrates me, too, to see you so caught up in these grand conspiracies. You deserve a normal, quiet year Harry. You, more than any of us. Most of the people in this school don't realise how lucky they are, that they have the choice to just be like anyone else. That they have the choice to be anonymous."
"You do, too," Harry pointed out. Under her piercing, expectant gaze, Harry shrank away, refusing to meet her eyes. "If you wanted. You could run away, leave me to deal with Voldemort by myself. You don't have to-"
"Harry," she said, interrupting every thought in his brain. He looked up and saw her staring at him, her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn't quite identify. "Running away was never an option. Especially not from you. You need me, so I'm staying."
Harry tried to smile back, but he failed.
"And what if I get you killed?" he asked, his voice hoarse as he suddenly felt far older than his sixteen years of age. "What if you're the next person I lose?"
Hermione cupped his cheek, stroking it with her thumb.
"You can't think of it like that, Harry." She manoeuvred his face so that he staring her dead in the eye. "Look at me. I'm here, now. Because I want to be, because I will never leave you, Harry. I'm here."
Harry couldn't help the way his hand found her waist, the surprise mingled with relief when his hands found her body, and he realised that she really was there. Just like she'd promised she would be.
Hermione, the one he could rely on to be there for him when no one else was. The who never gave up on him, who was always there to lend a hand, to comfort him in the worst of times. The one person he trusted most in the whole wide world.
Harry's mind imagined her absence for only a moment, and the thought flooded him with more terror than he thought possible.
"Hermione. I…" Harry didn't know what he was about to say when he started talking, but he knew he had to say something. People who felt like this usually say something. He noticed for the first time, as he was staring at her, that there was a pleasant aroma around her.
"Have you got a new perfume?" he asked, to which she merely chortled sweetly.
"Lavender," she replied. "I'm just trying it out."
"I really like it," he told her honestly, and she smiled brightly, illuminated her eyes in a way that ripped the breath from his lungs. That was it, he thought to himself. He had to tell her. "Hermione…" he began.
She gazed on, patiently waiting.
"Y…You're my best friend."
Hermione tilted her head at him.
"I know, you've told me," she assured him. "Many times."
"No," he insisted, holding her tighter. "Hermione, you… I mean, what I'm trying to say is…"
And yet the words wouldn't come. His tongue twisted and his throat closed and his teeth felt large and obstructive in his mouth.
"It's okay," she tried to placate him, to which Harry sigh in frustration.
"No, it's not," Harry growled, disappointed in himself. "I-I can't say it."
"Why not?" she asked.
Harry looked up, gazing at Hermione's warm face, framed by curls upon curls of chocolate brown hair like a beautiful mane. The feeling he held for her, so deep they threatened to take the strength from his body, so powerful that he couldn't possibly think of the words.
"I don't know," Harry said finally, and he hung his head, suddenly realising far more about himself than he enjoyed. So much for the house of the brave.
Their conversation was interrupted, however, by the sound of the bricks on the far wall twisting and morphing. They turned and saw the doors of the Room of Requirement begin to take shape.
"That was quick," Hermione admired, smiling at him. Harry stared back at her, suddenly realising what she presumed.
"That's not me," he said shaking his head. Hermione's eyes widened. Clearly, it wasn't her doing either. So whose was it? Just as the question passed through his head, the doors began to fully materialise. "Quickly, behind here."
Harry took hold of Hermione's arms and pulled her behind a nearby stone pillar, pulling her into himself as tightly as possible to hide them from view.
The pair heard the sound of two heavy iron-cast doors swing open, and footsteps striding out, quickly making their way down the hallway, luckily heading away from their hiding place.
Harry and Hermione chanced a peek around the corner of the pillar, and their eyes immediately met the back of a head of platinum blonde hair.
"Malfoy?" Harry whispered. "What's he doing in there?"
"Does it matter?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Harry murmured. "I really think it does."
They until Malfoy turned the corner of the hallway, then wait, just to be sure, for a couple of minutes more.
It was only after a solid minute of silence, that Harry took his chances.
"Okay, I think he's gone," he announced quietly. Harry walked up to where the door used to be, having sunken back into the wall when Malfoy departed. He began pacing back and forth in front of the wall, muttering something softly.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, only hearing what he was saying as she began to tread closer.
"I need to see what Draco has been up to," he was quietly chanting, a look of intense concentration on his face. Hermione sighed.
"You think it's something to do with him being a Death Eater," she reasoned. Harry gave a serious look in return.
"I know it is," he replied. "But what?"
"You don't think you're reading too far into it?" she offered as the towering oak doors of the Room of Requirement began to slowly reappear. Harry smirked, glancing at her cheekily.
"Well, look at how the tables have turned, Miss Granger."
Hermione blushed despite herself.
The doors opened to a large room full of what looked like abandoned things. Piles and piles of rubbish as far as the eyes could see, things like tables, chairs, books, glasses, goblet, chests, and all sorts of other lost items. Immediately in front of them, however, alone in the middle of a cleared out space, lay a cabinet. The junk that would have hidden it pushed away to make room for it, creating a large circle around it, allowing the ambient light from the open door to shine directly onto it like a spotlight. Harry and Hermione instinctively knew that this was what Harry had asked for.
"Is that it?" Harry asked, slightly disappointed.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, more to herself than to Harry. Not that he could tell the difference by the way he shrugged.
"How am I supposed to know. It just looks like a wardrobe."
The two circled around it, studying the wooden contraption for any clue as to its purpose. Which Hermione soon found.
"What's that?" Harry heard her murmur, to which he quickly walked over to her side.
"Hmm?" he asked.
"There're runes, all along the sides," she explained, her finger lightly tracing the top of the cabinet, where what looked like runes lay carved into the wood. "'Door to Door, Brother to Brother.' This thing looks ancient."
"What's Malfoy been doing with it?"
"I don't know." Her attention soon turned to the sides, where a large line ran up along the walls of the box. "It looks like it's been fixed recently. Maybe he's the one who fixed it. But whatever for?"
Harry took a step back, taking a good long look at it, closing the doors of the Room just incase. Just as the doors closed, they disappeared, revealing that they were far deeper into the room than Harry initially realised. He turned back to point this out to Hermione when he paused. Suddenly seeing the cabinet again, in the dingy, musty light of the rubbish reminded him of something. Something that happened to him a few years before.
Harry's eyes widened as he finally connected the dots.
"I've seen this cabinet before," he announced. Hermione's head popped around the corner almost comically, her face alight with curiosity.
"What? When?"
"Do you remember back before second year?" Harry asked. "When we met in Diagon Alley?"
"Yes?"
"Early that morning, I accidentally flooed into the wrong fireplace. I ended up in Knockturn Alley. Specifically Borgin and Burkes. That's where I saw this cabinet."
"In Borgin and Burkes?" Hermione asked, to which Harry nodded. "But why would Dumbledore buy a cabinet from Borgin and Burkes?"
"Who says Dumbledore bought it? "
"Well, it would've been under his supervision," Hermione deduced, dusting off her hands on her skirt. "A student couldn't possibly sneak this in. Unless…"
Hermione paused, a thought suddenly occurring to her.
"Harry," Hermione asked, "did you get in it?"
Harry looked at her.
"In what?"
"The cabinet, in Borgin and Burkes?"
Harry thought back to that day, back to when he was but twelve years old, stuck in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by darkness and horrible things.
"Yes," he remembered, "I think I did, to hide from Malfoy and his father."
"Did you close the door?"
"What?"
"Harry," she said urgently, "did you close the door?"
"No," he quickly insisted, "I didn't I kept it open, just a little, just so I could spy on Malfoy."
Hermione's brow furrowed, and she bit her lower lip, testing out an idea in her head.
"Let me test something," she held out her hand. "Give me I can use."
"Will I be getting it back?" Harry smirked. Hermione shrugged.
"I honestly don't know."
Harry decided, then and there, that hearing those words coming out of Hermione's mouth was one of the most uncomfortable feelings he had ever experienced. Without hesitation, he took off his jumper and gave it Hermione, who smiled and rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek. She then carried it over to the cabinet, opened it, placed the jumper carefully inside and closed the door. Hermione waiting for several seconds, before she hesitantly opened it again.
The jumper was nowhere to be seen. Hermione gasped loudly, and Harry quickly found her side, checking to see if she was okay.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Harry," she said faintly, with a hint of wonder, "this is a vanishing cabinet."
"A what?"
"A vanishing cabinet," she repeated a broad smile on her face, her eyes wide. "I read about them. They were used pretty often during Voldemort's time. Someone could step inside one cabinet, close the door, then step out of another. An easy escape route."
Harry frowned.
"Then the cabinet in Borgin and Burkes must be a different one," he surmised. "That's why he's been fixing it. He's trying to sneak something in Hogwarts."
The expression on Hermione's face quickly turned from wide-eyed amazement to pale-faced dread, as she realised the implications.
"Or someone," she pointed out. Harry glanced at her, his face set. Hermione saw him remove his wand from his pocket. "Harry, what are you doing?"
She felt him grab her arm, pulling back as he took several paces away from the cabinet. She saw his wrist movement and realised he was preparing to set fire to the cabinet. Her eyes widened.
"Harry, stop!" she called, grabbing his hand gently and pulling it away. "He might not have fixed it yet."
"How do you know?" he challenged.
"Look," she instead, as she pulled him back towards the cabinet.
Hermione quickly closed the door and reopened it. The jumper did not reappear. She gave a sigh of relief.
"I knew it," she replied. Harry stared at her dumbly.
"So?"
"Right now it can make things disappear," Hermione carefully explained, rubbing his arms in a soothing manner, "but not reappear. When I closed the door, instead of sending your jumper to the other cabinet, it just made the jumper vanish into thin air."
"So, where did it go?" Harry asked. Hermione gave him a strange look.
"It didn't go anywhere. It just vanished," Hermione described with an unsettling finality. "But that's a good thing because it means that this one is useless to him for now."
"But he's close," Harry argued. "Look at it. It doesn't look broken."
Hermione rolled her eyes endearingly.
"Fixing a vanishing cabinet takes more than a simple repair spell," she assured him. "You have to repair the enchantments as well. The cabinet is just a shell for the real magic that happens inside of it. And so far he hasn't gotten that to work yet. We have time."
"But how much?" he warned. "It could be fixed by tomorrow for all we know."
Hermione smiled, pulling out her own wand.
"Not if we have anything to say about it," she smirked, making Harry suddenly feel a thousand times better. She presented her wands, waving it around, preparing it. "Repeat after me, Harry," she instructed, demonstrating a slicing motion with wands, cutting the air in a horizontal line. "'Finite Incantatem'. Ready?"
Harry nodded.
"Finite Incantatem," he chanted at the same time as Hermione, slicing the air. A purple glow erupted from the ends of their wands. The cabinet shook, ratlin from side to side so violent that Harry thought it was going to topple over before it then fell deathly still.
Harry, gasped, suddenly feeling very tired as if he had just run a long, arduous race. Hermione buckled beside him, and he caught her just before she toppled to the ground.
Hermione leaned on his shoulder, hugging his arm for support, as Harry rose to his feet.
"Okay, what now?" he asked, slightly winded.
"Give me your tie," she ordered tiredly.
Harry carefully unravelled the Windsor knot in his tie and presented it to Hermione, who ceremoniously placed it into the cabinet and shut the door. She waited for a few moments, just like the first time, reopening it. Contrary to the last time, the tie remained, and Hermione she smiled a satisfied grin.
"Mind telling me what you did?" Harry chuckled, seeing how her hands had clasped together excitedly.
"We, Harry," she reminded him. "We removed the cabinet's enchantments. It's just a cabinet now."
"Is that why I suddenly feel drained?" Harry assumed.
"It takes a lot of magic to disenchant a magical object this big," she noted. "I couldn't do it alone. Thank you."
"Thank you," he insisted, pulling her into a hug. Hermione stiffened, unused to Harry initiating hugs - that was usually her job - but she soon relaxed, relishing the feeling him, wrapped around her.
The two merely stood in each other's embrace for a while, the exertion of the counter-spell rendering them perfectly happy to stand around relaxing. Eventually, though, they knew they had to move. They had to do something.
"We need to tell the headmaster," Harry told her, leaning back to see her face. Hermione nodded, her smile was replaced with a determined frown.
"Agreed."
The two soon after departed, heading straight for the headmaster's office.
"Mr Potter, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore called as he strode down the seventh-floor hallway a few minutes later, several paces behind both Harry and Hermione. "I admire your enthusiasm, but please do remember I am getting on a bit."
The two paused, looking slightly embarrassed as they allowed the old headmaster to catch up.
"I'm sorry, sir, but this is urgent," Harry explained.
"He's right," Hermione chorused.
"Very well," he nodded and continued as a more sedate pace. The reached the empty wall, and harry began pacing back and forth, whilst Dumbledore took a moment to admire the tapestry beside it. Specifically, the one that depicted Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach a group of eight trolls in the art of ballet, each of the hulking beasts dressed in bright tutus, floundering in their attempts at plies. "I always like this tapestry. I grew up on stories of Barnabas. Do you know what happened to him after this?"
"What happened, sir?" Hermione asked as Harry concentrated on opening the room.
"The trolls ate him," Dumbledore replied. "Apparently, that was how they discovered their taste for humans. A shame, really. He was an enthusiastic teacher if a little confused."
He turned back to Hermione, a glint of mischief in his eye.
"If you're here to show me the Room of Requirement, I'm already very aware of its existence, I'm afraid," he noted.
Harry scoffed.
"Forgive me, sir, but I'm not surprised," he said offhandedly, before turning back towards the wall. "I need to see what Draco has been doing."
Dumbledore suddenly looked very tired.
"Harry-" he attempted to placate, but Harry shook his head.
"Please, professor," he begged, just as the Room of Requirement opened once more. Harry gestured Dumbledore inwards, and the old man walked inside, prompting Harry and Hermione to follow. When Dumbledore finally noticed the vanishing cabinet in the centre of the cleared out space, surrounded by walls of furniture, he didn't seem surprised. In fact, he looked at it with an air of recognition, one which Harry immediately noticed.
"You know what it is, don't you?" Harry asked.
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. "I'd been meaning to throw it away. Especially when its twin found its way into Mr Borgin's possession."
Harry's eyes widened and his face fell.
"You knew?" he accused. "You knew about the one in Borgin's?"
"I did," Dumbledore replied calmly. "However, I knew the threat it once posed had passed when Peeves broke it in your second year."
"Not anymore," Harry retorted. "Draco's been trying to fix it."
"'Trying,' Harry?"
"Well, we found it earlier today, when we were…" Harry paused, remembering what their original mission had been, what he had been trying to get rid of, and suddenly feeling very guilty.
"When you were what, Harry?" Dumbledore prompted.
Harry took a deep breath, determined to be brave.
"When I was coming to destroy my potions textbook," he explained. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
"I never considered you a vandal, Harry. Although, we all have hobbies. May I see that textbook, Harry?"
Harry withdrew his wand and waved around his head.
"Accio textbook."
The potions book flew from a far corner of the room and landed in his hand. Somehow it felt heavier than it used, despite Harry knowing that actual weight hadn't changed.
Dumbledore politely took it from Harry's outstretched palm and examined it, turning the pages, carefully. The twinkle in his eye disappeared as he read page after page after page.
"This used to belong to Professor Snape, I believe," he said, his usual warmth chillingly absent.
"Yes," Harry nodded. Dumbledore glanced at him, neither angry nor upset. Rather disappointed, which hurt far more than either.
"Is this where you found the dark curse you used on Mr Malfoy?"
"Yes, sir."
Dumbledore sighed, clasping it shut.
"Why did you not report this to me, immediately?"
Harry met the headmaster's gaze, channelling all the frustration he had felt that morning into courage, forcing himself to stand taller for Dumbledore's inspection.
"Because I was selfish, sir," he answered truthfully. "Because I thought that my grades were more important than the safety of those around me." Harry eyes momentarily found Hermione, who was looking at him with an apologetic expression, as if she wanted to speak up in his defence, but knew that she couldn't. Harry wouldn't have let her anyway. This was his fault, and he wasn't about to let anyone take it for him. "However, if I knew it had belonged to Snape, sir, I never would have used it."
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected, to which Harry's eyes darkened.
"He's not my professor, sir," Harry replied darkly. "Nor does he deserve to be."
"Harry-"
"Just read that book, sir. The things he's written in there-"
"Are all things I already know," Dumbledore replied patiently. "I would appreciate if we could move on to the matter of the vanishing cabinet?"
Harry wanted to argue on, but he knew that it was pointless. This wasn't the first time Dumbledore had taken Snape's side, and it wouldn't be the last. The very fact that Snape was teaching in Hogwarts was proof of that.
"Of course," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "Sorry, sir."
Dumbledore seemed to accept his apology and soon turned his attention back towards the cabinet.
"What do you believe I should do to it?" the old man asked them both.
"Well, Harry and I removed the enchantments on the cabinet, sir," Hermione quickly explained, trying to discreetly emphasise Harry's involvement. "It's completely useless to anyone now."
"Excellent initiative, Miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled. "What else is to be done?"
"I think we need to deal with Draco, sir," Harry offered. "For good."
Dumbledore more hummed.
"Is that so?"
Harry glanced at him, his brow furrowing.
"You don't think we should?"
The headmaster shook his head.
"Mr Malfoy is no longer a threat," Dumbledore explained. "You and Miss Granger made sure of that."
"But that doesn't mean he won't try other things," Harry pointed out. "He gave Katie the cursed necklace and nearly poisoned Ron-"
Dumbledore gave Harry a stern look.
"Those are bold accusations, Harry," he warned.
"Oh, come off it! We both know he was responsible!" Harry growled.
"Harry," Hermione quietly exclaimed, her eyes wide.
"Harry," Dumbledore admonished, "I would ask you to calm down."
"I will once you have Malfoy expelled," Harry challenged, "or arrested, even!"
"I will not be expelling Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said firmly. "That is my final decision."
Harry stared him down, refusing to give in so easily.
"What are you not telling me about him?" he challenged, gauging the old man's face very carefully. "What are you keeping from me?"
Dumbledore remained passive, drawing himself up to his full height and pocketing the textbook.
"Thank you, both, for bringing this to my attention," he calmly told them. "Ten points each for your initiative. Good afternoon."
And with that, the door out of the room reappeared and Dumbledore stepped through it, closing it behind him with a twitch of his finger.
Once he was gone, Hermione turned to him, her mouth agape.
"Harry," she scolded, "you shouldn't have been so rude?"
"Hermione," Harry bit back, "you know he was hiding something."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Obviously," she countered, "but he wouldn't do that unless there was a good reason for it." She suddenly looked uncertain, wrapping herself tightly in her jumper. "Would he?"
Harry glanced back at where the door used to be, seeing Dumbledore striding through it, acting completely dispassionate towards Harry's anger, just like he had done so many times during last year.
"I don't know, Hermione," he said truthfully, as anxious as she was, but refusing to show it, for her sake. "I don't know."
The pair soon left, their moods much lower than when they arrived.
