Hello again! So, I decided to post the second chapter the day after the first, just to get the ball rolling with this story. So far, it's been so much fun to write, and I already have loads of different ideas about where to take things (although I usually have very basic plans for my stories- I tend to make things up as I got along, that way it's also exciting for me to see what will happen next).
Also, shout out to lilyflower49, JuliSt and vampireknight11- thank you so much for reviewing! Anyway, I think from now on I'm more likely to post chapters weekly, as I am quite weighed down with schoolwork at the moment, and I need some time to think more carefully about each chapter. Though on this occasion I felt the need to write some more immediately! Tell me what you think :)
2. The Vanishing Cabinet
Peace and quiet never really happened. The rest of the day passed so quickly, Hermione felt as if she herself were a train, blurring past life without so much as a proper glance, and not before too long, every moment was far behind her. She vaguely remembered arriving at Hogwarts, escorting the first years to the Great Hall, and the grand meal that followed- though she didn't eat much of it. She had laughed with her friends and talked about the summer, but none of the conversations she could remember. All she could recall was that she had been happy, and yet sad, all at the same time.
She wasn't sure if she still felt that same, confusing mix of emotions- even at the current moment in time as she lay sprawled across the arm of one of the sofas in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny was slumped closest to her, her face hidden beneath a curtain of thick, ginger hair as she snored softly to herself, fast asleep. Harry and Ron were sat facing them on the opposing sofa, surrounded by a group of boys- including Neville and Seamus- who all appeared to be laughing at some comedic article in the Daily Prophet. Ron had been avoiding her all evening, or was it Hermione who had been avoiding him? Either way, she wasn't ready to forgive him for his ridiculous outburst earlier: Ron could get mad, but Hermione could definitely hold a grudge.
With Ginny out cold and the boys distracted, Hermione found herself feeling rather bored. She knew she could read- a book was likely to engage her and take her mind off things- but for some reason she couldn't find the strength to actually get up and find one. Of course, there were loads lying around, but none to her level of intellect. Then there was the Daily Prophet: copies of the most recent edition were strewn all over the room, however all the stories were the same these days. There was nothing to talk about. Just anticipation.
What Hermione really wanted was to move her legs, which were stiff from being curled up in the same, awkward position for at least an hour. With a yawn, she rose slowly to her feet, ignoring her knees as they protested with a click. 'Gross,' she cringed as she began to tip-toe off to the portrait, amazed that no one even noticed her departure- not even Harry. She had finally decided to go on a small walk around to clear her head, and possibly escort any lost pupils should she come across any.
Once she was out in the corridor she realised how stuffy it must have been in the common room; outside of it the air was much cooler and a refreshing change to the oppressive atmosphere she had just experienced. The candles that lined the stone walls were very dimly lit, providing just enough light to cast a faint glow across the floor. Most of the corridor was bathed in shadow, as many of the candles had been blown out since it was so late in the evening. There were, however, still enough to see where you were going. Even if it did get too dark, Hermione had brought her wand with her- which was now stashed securely in her robes- to use if she needed.
As she began to walk, she also wondered if this had been a good idea. There was no specific rule saying you weren't allowed out in the corridors late- and she was a prefect- but she couldn't help feeling uneasy. It was too quiet. A refreshing change to the bustling Gryffindor common room, yes, but it was quiet enough to make Hermione's breath sound like thunder to her ears. Regardless of her strange unease, she walked on, picking up her pace and wrapping her arms round her torso as if they offered her extra protection. There was no denying it: this year Hermione was certainly more superstitious than previously. But then again, everyone was.
After hurrying down what felt like hundreds of corridors (though she had probably only been walking for 10 minutes or so), Hermione finally slowed down a rather short corridor which was almost completely black. The only way Hermione could see was due to the mauve light of the moon which shone in through the arched windows lining the left wall. The opposite wall was bare of ornaments, but every meter or so along it there stood a wide, stone pillar which measured about a metre in width, also. Hermione was feeling less apprehensive compared to when she had left the common room, and was grateful for the first opportunity to clear her head and have a little time to herself since the beginning of the day. Just as she was about to turn right down the next corridor and head back to bed, however, she heard footsteps. Quick, sharp footsteps that echoed with every step, coming steadily closer from down the corridor adjacent to where she stood.
In panic, she leapt behind the closets pillar and pressed her back up against it, suddenly fearful of being caught wandering around so late again. She sucked in a breath as a tall figure swept by where she was hidden, melting as far into the shadows as she possibly could. Luckily, they didn't seem to acknowledge her presence, rushing onwards with a sense of urgency, as if they had somewhere important to be. Hermione could instantly tell who it was, even in the dimness, for the whitish hair that hung down over their eyes and their even whiter skin was unmistakable: it was Draco Malfoy.
Her mother once told her curiosity would be her downfall, but Hermione had always thought it a useful skill, to be so inquisitive. She wasn't so sure now, as she peeled herself away from the wall and slipped after Draco, keeping to the shadows. A small voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to stop. Whatever Draco was up to, it was probably none of her business, and she probably didn't want to know. However, no matter how much she felt she should stop, it didn't make any difference. Curiosity flooded through her veins and fuelled her rapidly thumping heart. She followed Draco as if in a trance, like she wasn't even able to control her own body. It kept moving forwards, smooth and silent as a cat, and she let it.
Draco turned sharply at the end of the corridor, continuing down an even darker hallway, which was useful for Hermione, considering there were no more pillars to dart behind. She made sure she was well behind him as he marched steadily onwards, turning another few times, then ascending a flight of stairs two at a time, his jet black robe billowing out behind him like a crow's outspread wings. He was definitely up to something, because every minute or so he would glance nervously around- to the left and right, and behind- before continuing. Each time he did this Hermione would stop sharply, trying to keep her breathing silent and her body as still as possible. Fortunately, he hadn't seemed to notice her.
And still, after a good five minutes, Draco was unaware he was being followed as he climbed another flight of stairs, getting him to the 7th floor. Here he turned left, giving Hermione a sudden realisation. She knew where he was going, she was absolutely positive. For down the left corridor on the 7th floor was none other than the Room of Requirement. As if confirming her thoughts, Draco drew to a halt as soon as he reached the end of the corridor, between the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and a seemingly bare stone wall. Hermione hovered at the turning to the corridor, waiting.
Just as she expected, Draco began pacing- back and forth, back and forth- three times along the corridor until a great door covered in a dozen swirling metal grids began to appear along the bare wall. In a matter of seconds, the entire door had materialized, and as soon as it had, Draco stopped pacing and tugged it open a few inches, just wide enough to allow him to slip inside. Before he closed the door he looked back down the long corridor once more, this time directly towards Hermione.
With a squeak of surprise she prayed wasn't too loud, she flung herself sideways back towards the stairs and out of view. Heart beating, she waited with baited breath for the sound of footsteps coming towards her. But none came. After she felt she had waiting long enough, she slowly peered back around the corner, finally assured she hadn't been spotted by the fact the wall opposing the tapestry was once again bare. Both Draco and the door had vanished.
'Ok, you can do this,' Hermione muttered to herself as she began to half walk, half run down the corridor to where Draco had been stood minutes before, her footsteps echoing loudly in the silence. As soon as she reached the wall she quickly walked past it three times, which was the number of times requisite to ensure the door appeared. While pacing she thought to herself 'I need to find out what Draco is up to' repeatedly, and sure enough, after three times back and forth, the door once again melted into existence.
Behind the door, she knew she would find Draco, and whatever he was up too. For some reason this made her oddly nervous, for, although he wasn't the most intimidating person, he could be doing anything in there. He was a Slytherin, and his parents were Death Eaters, she was sure of it. Why Draco was using the room of requirement in the dead of night she had no idea, but one thing she was absolutely certain of was that it wasn't good. Despite this, and her lingering fear, she was desperate to find out. So, pushing her doubts aside, and drawing her wand out at the ready, she took a deep breath and opened the door as quickly as she could, darting inside and closing it with a sharp pull.
Then she stared. Her arm, which had been extended forward as it gripped her wand, dropped to the side as she continued to gape openly. Draco was nowhere to be seen. She had been expecting something terrible, like an army of Death Eaters, or some sort of portal, or Voldemort himself to be stood in the centre of the room with Draco kissing his feet. Not complete emptiness.
All she could see were a couple of broken chairs, a cracked mirror tipped on its side, and various other pieces of old furniture, all covered in a blanket of dust and stringy cobwebs. The room she remembered from the DA meetings was long and narrow with a great fireplace on the far wall and candelabras decorating the high ceiling. This room was entirely different: it was slightly wider, but only marginally, and ended only a few feet away. The light was much dingier, and seemed to come from nowhere in particular, and it stank. The air was thick and humid, a foul smell of rot and mould that filled Hermione's nostrils and made her want to choke. Nevertheless, it wasn't any of this that really bothered Hermione. Her main concern was the apparent disappearance of Draco. If he was in here, she would have easily been able to spot him, for there was no place to hide. Every corner of the room was visible, and even the furniture offered little coverage. She had asked the room to show her what Draco was up to, and why else would it give her a disgusting, cramped space filled with dank furniture?
There had to be a reason she was seeing this, and she knew that Draco had to be somewhere. The room was never wrong. Maybe there's another door somewhere? she thought to herself as she began edging further inside, drawing up her wand again. She began feeling along the walls with one hand, keeping her wand grasped tightly in the other, searching frantically for anything- a crack, a dent, a button- that would indicate there was another way out. The stones she ran her hand over were unusually smooth and flattened; as if they had been sanded until there was no uneven surface. No matter how many times she circled the room, she could find no purchase or secret door.
It was hot in the room. A cool sweat had broken out at the hairline on Hermione's forehead and neck. Her hair began to frizz in the heat, and curl where it had gone damp at her temples. She huffed in annoyance as she moved away from the wall and began to examine the furniture piled all over the floor. Everything was broken and empty of anything that would give her clues, such as a pendant or a spell book, or even a strange marking carved into the wood. The only thing that stood out was the largest item in the room, a tall, triangular cabinet of dark oak with a large cloth heaped at its base.
This is what had caught Hermione's eye: the cloth. Of course, she thought to herself. How could I have been so stupid? With another sigh, this time directed towards herself, she rushed over to the cabinet and plucked the cloth from the floor. A cloth which looked as if it had once been covering the cabinet, that someone might have flung off. And that someone, she guessed, was Draco. As she shook the material, she noticed a small slip of parchment that must have been under it fluttering on the floor.
Crouching, she snatched up the parchment and unfolded it eagerly to read what was written. Sure enough, someone had scrawled something across the scrap of paper in black ink. The words read 'Harmonia Nectere Passus'. Hermione frowned as she stood and stared at the cabinet. She glanced back towards the parchment in her hand, then up again, and tried reading what was written out loud.
'Harmonia Nectere Passus,' she called out with as much confidence as she could muster, all the while staring hard at the cabinet. Her voice rang out sharply, resonating around the room, despite it being full of furniture, before silence one again befell. Nothing happened. Hermione's frown deepened, and this time she reached forwards and tugged at the cabinets handle. Locked.
Frustrated, she took her wand and pointed it at the uncooperative lock. 'Alohomora,' she whispered, speaking the unlocking charm she had used many times before from the Book of Spells. Surprisingly, she heard a welcoming click, and then the door creaked open slightly.
'Interesting,' Hermione observed, as she pulled the door fully open to reveal a bare space inside. Although there was no Draco, Hermione was no longer worried. What with the strange charm scrawled on the piece of parchment, and the unusual shaped cabinet, she had a pretty good idea of what this was, and how Draco had managed to disappear, although she didn't like what she was thinking. She had never encountered a Vanishing Cabinet before, she had only read about them. But, the more she thought about it, she realised she had seen pictures of a tall, triangular-like closet, and this matched the description. If she thought hard, she could also remember how they worked.
Vanishing Cabinets allowed a person or an object to travel between two places that could be any distance apart, as long as there was a cabinet at either end. Although Apparition would accomplish the teleportation method without them, Hermione was pretty sure you couldn't Apparate within school grounds, unless you were a teacher. So that meant Draco was using Vanishing Cabinets to leave the school grounds, but why he would do that, Hermione didn't know. To use one, she knew you had to climb inside and speak an incantation, allowing you to travel to the twin cabinet. She also knew that in order for her to find out what Draco was up to; she would have to follow him to his destination.
This was, of course, incredibly dangerous. Draco, due to his family, was in with a bad crowd. Many people he knew were worshipers of Voldemort- so it was highly likely he had gone to some sort of Death Eater meeting. What was more alarming was the fact that the cabinets worked both ways. That meant someone, anyone, could travel back the way he had come, right into the heart of Hogwarts. Hermione knew that she should turn back immediately, find anyone and tell them what she had discovered. But she was in a trance again.
Without thinking she clambered inside the cabinet and swung the door closed with a bang. In an instant she was enveloped in darkness. Surrounding her she could feel the flat wooden panels of the cabinet she was hunched against. All she could hear was the scuffing of her shoes and her quick, panicked breaths. In her hands she still clutched her wand and the now crushed parchment containing the words she needed for this to work. Shakily, she unfolded the paper and flicked her wand, resulting in a flare of light appearing at its tip. Gulping, she once again read out the password that would transport her to the unknown. 'Harmonia Nectere Passus.'
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