Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter, his friends, or his enemies. But if I did, I wouldn't have to worry about student loans. Harry's probably better off without me anyway. Any OC's I've created are mine, of course.


Chapter II: The Waiting Game

Hermione was worried. She and Ron had gone on together along with Harry Potter the night before in an attempt to prevent Professor Snape from stealing the Sorcerer's Stone. Together, they had followed him through all manner of obstacles, only to wind up balked by the trials, leaving Harry alone to confront Snape in that last room.

A couple of hours had passed since she had seen him pass through the flame barrier, and she was surprised to see a group of professors rushing their way past her in a great commotion, having apparently made their own ways through the trials. But she was truly shocked at the presence of Snape, who ran headlong past her, robes flapping behind him like a mad bat through the corridor. He hadn't even stopped for a snide remark, or to berate her while she simply stood there with her mouth gaping open. Hermione couldn't help but be curious, even as she feared quietly for Harry's safety, and remained close to the wall next to the space where the flame barrier had once been.

Yet her patience went unrewarded. It had proved nearly impossible to hear anything from her position, but once she thought she might have heard the sounds of a confrontation, and perhaps even spells being cast. But after that, she thought, things became worryingly quiet. Hermione was about to venture into the passageway herself to find out for sure, when Professor Sprout, looking careworn and a bit upset, came up from the stairs. She felt herself crumple a little inside as the professor laid a comforting arm across her shoulders and they turned away from the passage.

"Come along now, dear, you shouldn't be here for this..."

She allowed herself to be led along by the shoulder, hardly conscious of her own movement, towards the Gryffindor common room. The last thing she could really remember from the end of that night had been herself, crying, while standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait trying to choke out the day's password.


Hermione awoke the following afternoon in her own bed, with an unfamiliar and sleepy-looking owl awaiting her attention while it sat stolidly on the bedside table. Nearby was an unassuming-looking glass. Not sure what to expect, she pulled the scrap of parchment from the proffered leg and began to read:

Dear Miss Granger,

You need to speak with me in regards to the issues concerning your adventures during the previous evening. You are requested to meet me in my office as soon as you are able. I would advise you to be certain to drink from the glass that's been left out for you; one might welcome a cheering draught considering recent events.

-Prof. McGonagall

As she looked up from the message, Hermione spied the tail end of the owl as it sailed out of the room. She considered the glass only briefly before downing the peppermint-flavoured drink and glancing around at the dormitory. The rooms seemed to be oddly quiet this evening, she thought. The other girls were only just beginning to pack up their things for the end of the year, a process she had already begun even before she'd left to join the boys the night before. This left her largely alone while they either took care of matters or strolled through the grounds, but she was, for once, glad to be left alone and out of attention. She freshened herself up and set off to visit Professor McGonagall.


Hermione found the door ajar when she tried to knock. She had been to visit the transfiguration professor before and enjoyed the décor of her office. It was tastefully decorated, with tartan patterns and Gryffindor regalia dominating. She found her eyes being drawn past some old photographs and towards a bookcase. And it was there that she found herself some time later, still inspecting the books, happily engrossed, when interrupted by someone clearing their throat a short distance behind her. She gave a little squeak of surprise and spun around.

"Professor McGonagall!"

The professor gave a patrician gaze down at the girl, who blushed slightly. At that, even McGonagall had to soften a bit, and she sat behind her desk, motioning Hermione to come closer.

"Please, Miss Granger. Do have a seat."

Hermione seated herself in a small wooden chair facing the corner of the professor's desk.

"Despite how I may have been informed by certain professors, it is clear enough to me that the motives behind the recent activities of you and Misters Weasley and Potter are quite self-evident, regardless of what others may believe."

She wrinkled her nose a bit at this.

"That being said, though the actions performed by the three of you were highly irresponsible, you have all, without a doubt, displayed the characteristics of true Gryffindors, even if the application of your efforts has gone awry."

Hermione was rapt in attention.

"However, those may be the only kind words you will hear on the subject. Especially considering something that you may or may not have yet realized--that is, the extent which these consequences have been brought to affect the Gryffindor House point totals." Here, she trailed off for a moment, gazed out the window, and gave a brief, unhappy sigh. She then turned back and allowed herself a rare smile at the nervous bushy-haired girl facing her. "Hermione, you must do your best not to pay any attention to the unkind things that may be said due to this, and to remember that others cannot belittle you without your consent. A true Gryffindor should remain unflappable in the face of adversity."

She tried to offer up a small smile in return to McGonagall at the encouraging remarks, only to see a stern look cross the woman's face between sips of tea.

"Of course it also means, Miss Granger, that you must still endure the consequences of your actions."

Hermione's face fell.

"In light of that, it seems that, due to particular circumstances, in order for me to properly finish my preparations for the end of term, I may be requiring an extra pair of hands." Here, she motioned for the girl to stand. "Normally I'd have one of the fifth-years aid me with something like this task, but do you think you might wish to assist me?"

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Of course, Professor McGonagall!"

"Splendid. Beginning this evening, for every day until the end of term, I will expect to find you waiting for me in the transfiguration classroom at eight o'clock, to serve for your detention."

"Detention?"


The next few hours following Hermione's meeting with Professor McGonagall would pass in excruciating slowness. In the Great Hall, she studiously avoided making a direct glance at the hourglass jewels on the wall. All around her, dinner seemed to be a boisterous affair--but she hadn't anticipated how lonely the table could seem without Ron, who was evidently yet to be released from the infirmary, or Harry, whose status apparently remained, as of yet, a closely guarded secret.

She watched the commotion at the other end of the table in muted amusement, where the Weasley twins, along with Seamus (...and was that Neville?) were having an energetic and expansive discussion as they attempted to animate a small man-shaped lumpen figure that appeared to be composed mostly of mashed potatoes. The boys grew more excited as 'Mashers Man' (as he'd apparently been dubbed), after insistent prodding by the grinning twins with wand and fork, began taking choppy, tottering steps, leaving a trail of gravy footprints behind. And even though she still felt a little bit set apart from everything, she still couldn't help a giggle as a hesitant Neville gave the Mashers Man a reluctant poke with his wand. But the greatest surprise was when it turned back around to face him, rudimentary mouth open, and shook a squishy fist menacingly. Neville, panicking, almost dropped the wand, causing it to involuntarily shoot out a stream of sickly yellow sparks. Potato bits went everywhere.


Ron woke up to find himself in a strange bed. A quick check around and it dawned on him that he was in the infirmary...and for some reason, his head ached something fierce. He couldn't really remember how it all happened; the best he could come up with after a few minutes of careful thinking was something about playing chess, with Harry and Hermione in some strange cave...but that couldn't be right, could it?

The room was dim with the oncoming twilight, enough so that Ron didn't spare a look around the room before hopping off the bed and pulling his socks on. This is how he failed to notice the owl waiting for him as he left the infirmary. On his way out, he almost decided to stop and pay a visit with Madam Pomfrey, who was sitting in her office, but from his stomach's growling, he realised he was about to miss dinner!


Hermione left the Great Hall early, leaving half of her dinner behind. She'd been splattered with mashed potatoes and gravy from when Neville had accidentally exploded that little monstrosity the Weasley twins had created. Of course he'd apologized profusely towards the whole table, but that didn't clean her robes now, did it? That sort of thing always frustrated her: boys never seemed to stop and consider the consequences of their actions.

She stepped over a couple of legs that seemed to accidentally stray out from under the Gryffindor house table, and did her best to ignore the snide comments as she passed by the others on the way out. But the words still stung, even as she tried her hardest to keep it from showing.

"I thought she was supposed to be the smart one..."

She couldn't help but notice Draco's smirking face at the farthest end of the Slytherin table, or the nasty little grin he sported while he waved over at her.

"Hey mudblood, if you're feeling a little too hard up, well, I suppose I can give you an offer I believe you might find very reasonable. I could be persuaded to part with a few house points for Gryffindor for...oh ...five Galleons apiece."

Hermione gritted her teeth and stomped her way past the jeering Slytherins, finally arriving at the girls' bathroom nearest the Hall.


She opened the tap and let the water heat up a little. A quick grab at a towel, and she wiped her face before beginning to dab away at the mashed potatoes on her hair and robes. But this only made things worse as the gravy smeared into the fabric. She gave a small groan of frustration and started scrubbing again.

"Oh my, Hermione, what happened to you?"

She heard a stall door swinging open over the running water, and gave herself a final splash in the basin before looking up at the mirror to seeing them standing behind her. She switched off the tap and turned around, but at seeing the expressions on their faces, felt herself flush slightly. Maybe, she thought, all the hot water had boiled her brain a little.

There was this imprecise sort of unawareness that came over her, and Hermione heard herself give an uncharacteristically vague answer to the question, involving the Weasley, boys in general, and exploding mashed potatoes...

Lavender seemed to be having trouble keeping a blank look on her face, and blinked heavily at Hermione, who was looking quite confused herself. "My...they sure work quickly..."

Parvati shot a look back at Lavender. "No, they didn't waste any time..."

She glanced from one girl back to the other, completely baffled. "Wait, what?"

"Seriously Hermione, you don't know? Everybody kind of...hates you right now."

"Don't you have any idea how low our house point totals are? People are saying Gryffindor hasn't done this badly for hundreds of years!"

"Really, it's all anyone's been talking about since this morning."

"And you're probably going to get it really bad, at least until the boys show back up."

"So yeah..." Parvati started ticking the points off on her fingers. "Everybody in our house hates you right now, because Gryffindor ended up losing so many points...again. And then Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw aren't going to like you either, because we were their best hope of taking the House Cup away from Slytherin. And really, the only people that aregoing to appreciate you after this are Slytherins, which just isn't something I'd go around bragging about. So even though rumour has it that you've been assigned detention for the rest of the year, don't be surprised if most of the school goes out of their way to get revenge on you until the end of term."

"But really, try not to take it too personally; you're just their only target right now. ...And really, we shouldn't even be talking to you...so please don't tell anybody."

Parvati elbowed her friend. "Actually, we were planning to tell you earlier, but first you were asleep...and then later, there were people around...and you know how it is..."

"But we found you now, so...that's a plus, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm still confused with this whole exploding food thing? So what's with--?"

Hermione interrupted. "So now everybody...hates me? But I was just trying to help! The boys needed my help, and that's what I was there for! I was -helping-!"

"But see you were still there, that's why everybody hates you. Because where are those boys now, when you need help?"

"Yeah, and this whole gravy situation is a perfect example. Helping people was what got you in trouble to begin with, but helping really only works if it actually...helps. After all, look what your helping did to Gryffindor!"

"Well anyway, we're late to dinner as it is, so it was nice chatting with you, Hermione, buuuut...we've got to go... bye!"

Lavender gave a cheery little wave as the two girls made their way out of the bathroom.

Hermione watched the door close behind them, and went back to the sink. "But what about me, I need help!"

She caught a glimpse of herself again in the mirror, and threw her hands up in frustration. "And I'm still covered in gravy!!"


Ron was starving! He was hoping he might have been able to show up in time for dinner, but once he had managed to make his way to the Great Hall, it was empty! He watched mouth open, as a single crumpled napkin fluttered past him and then disappeared with a small 'pop'. Ron sat down against the side wall of the Great Hall. He slumped over, put his head in his hands, and groaned. He couldn't believe he'd managed to miss dinner! He was pretty sure he hadn't missed a meal his entire year at Hogwarts, so why did it have to happen today?

A deep voice rumbled from behind him. "Lad, you seem distressed whatever has you so upset?"

Ron turned around to face a large painting framed with chipped scrollwork. Contained within was an enormously fat man in Edwardian clothing holding an overflowing horn-of-plenty.

He stood and faced the painting, only to realize a small audience had assembled. Nearby, other residents of paintings had become interested in him. "Well," he said, hoping that he seemed to be including everyone, "I've managed to miss dinner." Then he paused for effect. "And I'm really hungry, so I don't know what to do."

In one of the adjacent paintings, he heard the sound of a small dog yapping. "Shush, Gael." A pinch-faced woman in a Victorian-era gown pulled a pearled lorgnette from her bodice and peered out at him. "I can't believe," she began, huffily, "that a young boy would be sent away hungry from the kitchens of Hogwarts!" The dog began barking excitedly at her heels. "Back in my day," she blustered, "such a thing…."

"Now then, don't be too hasty," called over a trio of voices from another nearby painting. From the corner of his eye, Ron spied a trio of nuns riding a three-seated tandem bicycle. One of them waved and called out over at him "Young man, would I be correct if I guessed that you may not know where the kitchens are?"

"No, ma'am...ma'ams, I don't." Actually, he hadn't even thought about going there, not that he would have known how to get there even if he had.

"Harrumph! That won't do at all. Everyone needs to know where the kitchens are." The fat man licked his lips before pulling out a gaudy-looking purple fruit from the cornucopia with an elaborate flourish.

"Oh yes," continued the woman, who kept cosseting the lapdog. "It really shouldn't be that difficult. Although the castle is constantly rearranging itself, some things actually must stay the same, for safety's sake."

"It's the house-elves, you see," interrupted the fat man through bites of roast turkey leg. "They always got upset back in my day whenever Headmaster Demitra allowed the school to alter the layout of the kitchens." Here he tossed the leg bone behind him with a crash. He assumed a look of regret as he continued. "The meals would always taste funny for a few days afterwards. To think of all the marvelous Hogwarts dinners that I might have missed…"

"Orson," interjected the woman, "I'm hardly convinced you're suffering too badly from missing a few meals." The dog added an insulting little bark as punctuation.

"Drusilla, if you don't quiet up that dog…"

Ron sighed. This wasn't helping at all. He gave a hopeful glance over at the nuns' painting, but they had apparently already ridden out of the frame. He stood there, stomach rumbling, for a good five minutes while the man and woman nattered at each other from frame to frame, becoming more and more impatient. The yapping dog didn't help matters.

He finally decided to resort to pleading. "Please………….please! Mister…..uh…. and Miss……..bloody hell, I don't even care anymore! Just tell me where the kitchens are!"

Drusilla was the first to respond. "Young man, really! Students these days have no manners at all..."

"Oh Dru, give the boy a break. He's hungry."

"And you! All you think about is food, have you truly no other interests?"

Here Orson paused with half a roll hanging from his mouth. "Err… No, I don't think I do. Why would I? Food is fascinating; you can make so many different-"

"Yes, yes thank you once again for another rousing lecture on the wonders of eating."

"So, are you not going to tell me where the kitchens are? I'm still hungry you know," reminded Ron.

"Whatever gave you that idea? We're not heartless you know, oil and canvas aside."

"Oh yes, here's what you do, young man…"

And the argumentative duo proceeded to give the young Gryffindor surprisingly straightforward directions to find a painting of a giant fruit bowl …


Ten minutes later, a slightly damp Hermione entered the transfiguration room. McGonagall was sitting at her desk, grading some final few assignments before the end of term. She turned towards the doorway to note the girl's arrival. "Good evening Miss Granger; You're here early, I see."

She nodded quietly, and assumed her normal seat. She brushed a few errant strands of hair out of her face, and closed her eyes, trying to replay the events of the last 24 hours in her mind.

Professor McGonagall decided perhaps grading examinations could wait for a moment. She strode over to the table where Hermione was sitting, trying to read the emotions that were beginning to flicker on the girl's face. "Miss Granger… ...Hermione…"

She took that moment to burst out, "What was I thinking?"

"That is actually what I've been—"

Hermione continued, heedless of interrupting the professor. "I'm supposed to be the smart one! I've never broken any rules before! Then I come here, and everything is incredible, with magic wands and so many secrets to learn about…" She trailed off into a sob, the continued, between great gulping breaths, while McGonagall looked on. "I remember being so happy when I went into Ollivander's… but I was so scared the first time I picked up a wand……felt like a loon waving it around. But the first time I picked up a wand and it spit out sparks; that was really the best! Even if it did set the rug on fire, seeing that happen was the greatest thing ever, knowing it was all true…" She added softly, "You know, sometimes I still make it send out sparks…"

"That reminds me, the house-elves still haven't replaced that singed tapestry in the dormitories," McGonagall mused.

"But things like that just aren't practical! And look what happens! I'm trying to be the best possible student, always being there with the answer, and look what happens? I get my first friends ever," Hermione blurted, not noticing the woman wince at that admission. "and do everything I can for them, and look at them now leaving me alone when I'm the one needing help!"

"Dear, the sooner you realize that you cannot rely on the male species, the happier you'll be."

"...and the House points! Everyone tells me that we lost all of our house points, and it's all my fault. It's not like it was my idea. Do you even know how bad the house points are? I—"

"I am regrettably quite aware of that fact," McGonagall replied, partially to herself. "It was brought to my attention… repeatedly… in a staff meeting… by Severus."

Hermione only vaguely registered the response. "I'm supposed to be the sensible one, I've always been perfect, and just don't understand it, but Harry, he comes up and says, Snape is trying to kill me, and he's evil. And I know how he's always greasy and growling and mean, but he's a professor! Professors wouldn't do something like that, it's just wrong! But it's hard to argue against, when they keep talking to me, and telling me what they think…..and do you know just how different it's been; simply how different things have been for me to even have some friends? "

"Miss Granger-," interjected Professor McGonagall, trying to get her attention.

"Before, nobody liked me. I know I've been a little bit of a know-it-all, but I thought I was getting better. But when did I have to learn… to…to go… against the rules? That's not me! Every single rule that's been put in front of me I've always followed…but when I think about everything that's happened, all I can think about is just that…it just isn't me."


Author's note:

So then, hello everyone. I know this is a chapter entirely without Harry. Sorry about that, and also for the delays, but sometimes that's just the way that things happen. About the delays, I blame exams, mostly. I really want to be able to keep up with a monthly schedule here, and I'm still going to try to stick to that. Didn't get anywhere near that this time, of course, and that's with splitting a chapter in half to give you this one!

Okay then. Hope I don't have it ending on a sad note for you guys; I think it's a good thing really, to have a greater focus this time on Hermione. With the Sorcerer's Stone encounter having never been a success, what would that mean to everyone? If Hermione's taken a chance on the whole event, with the basis of her friendship, and the result was a failure, what would that mean to her? It can't possibly easy times. I'm going to be exploring this, the effects on other characters, as well as the world at large, in the future.

As always, much thanks to GrasshopperKnight, as my beta and for dialogue help in this chapter. There's really nothing like having somebody else to back you up so that you're not the only one knowing what's going on!

Anyway, again sorry for ending this on a sad note, but maybe they aren't happy times. But don't worry, next chapter is bound to be interesting—we do get Neville again. Wonder what the twins have him up to? And, of course, don't forget about Harry...

As always, reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. I'll keep writing as long as anybody at all is still interested.