Disclaimer: I have no means through which to make money from this story; it is written purely for enjoyment because Harry Potter does not belong to me.
Chapter Three
Hermione stood rooted to the spot where Scott had left her. She looked down and traced a finger over the dried ink on one of the envelopes. If Scott hadn't sent them, then...
Part of Trelawney's revelation came to her:
Though seemingly sent by one, it is written by another.
She stared at the cursive writing, trying to piece it together.
"Hermione!"
She was snapped back into reality at once, hastily stuffing the letters back into her bag. She turned around just in time to see Ron and Harry weaving around the last of the students.
"There you are," Ron breathed.
Harry gave her an exasperated look. "We've been looking for you everywhere!"
"Sorry," Hermione smiled apologetically. "I, um, got a little bit caught up in something."
The boys exchanged looks and shrugged. Ron opened his mouth to say something when Ginny ran up to them.
"Oi!" She exclaimed with a huff. "I see how you are, leaving me behind at the first sight of Hermione. What am I, chopped liver?"
The group shared a laugh and began walking to the castle.
"Did you see that dive near the end?" Ron asked, leaning around Hermione and Ginny to give Harry a proud look.
"How could I miss it?" Harry shot back with a chuckle.
The boys launched into a Quidditch discussion about the game, Ginny throwing in her two cents here and there. It gave Hermione a chance to think.
She couldn't help but admit, within the privacy of her own mind, that the prophecy was starting to sound real. The first part had been true, at any rate—unless Scott was an unusually good liar, the letters were sent by someone else.
But then, Hermione wondered, what about the plea in disguise part? And why, of all people, did this stranger pretend to be Scott Logan? She continued to mull over questions like these throughout dinner, pausing once to apologize to Neville for bumping his elbow.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ginny pulled Hermione once again from her thoughts. The group had just started walking to the Gryffindor common room from dinner.
Hermione glanced between Ron, Ginny, and Harry, all of whom were staring pointedly at her. "Did I miss something?"
A thoughtful expression crossed Ginny's face. She turned to the boys. "You two go on. We'll catch up."
As soon as they disappeared up the stairs, Ginny's eyes narrowed. "You might be able to use some excuse for the boys with how distant you've been acting all week, but not me. You've been out of sorts ever since that episode with Trelawney."
Hermione opened her mouth, fully prepared to spout off some ridiculous lie that she'd strung together on the spot when she remembered what a terrible liar she was.
"Well, I went to Divination early and something strange happened. Professor Trelawney started talking in this strange voice and then she—" Hermione faltered, unsure of how much she was willing to share, "She just, you know—collapsed. It was all very sudden."
Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "What did she say?"
"Some kind of prophecy, I think," Hermione admitted.
Catching the concerned look spreading across Ginny's face, Hermione scrambled for an excuse to cover up the fact that she, herself, was beginning to believe it.
"But, obviously, there's no way it could be true," she spluttered. "After all, she is the same person who tells Harry another horrible way he'll die every day so…"
Ginny contemplated this for a moment before, much to Hermione's relief, letting out a giggle. "You're absolutely right." She linked her elbow with Hermione's. "Who knows what kind of bullocks she'll come up with next—maybe it'll be about me!"
Hermione nodded, forcing out an uncomfortable laugh. Ginny, obviously not picking up on Hermione's reluctance, continued her tirade about the Divination teacher all the way to Gryffindor Tower. They reached the Fat Lady's portrait and Hermione mumbled the password, nodding absently at whatever her friend was saying as they climbed through the portrait hole.
"And those stupid teacups!" Ginny exploded, her face starting to turn a little red. "I absolutely hate having to make predictions using those blasted things!"
Hermione nodded mutely. "Who wouldn't?"
Ginny's subsequent laugh turned into a yawn. "Well, I believe that's my cue."
"Goodnight, Gin," Hermione returned warmly. They parted ways as they went to their respective dormitories.
She looked both ways, grateful that the others hadn't returned from dinner yet. The last thing she needed was Lavender or Parvati to start poking around in her business. As soon as Hermione got to her bunk, she pulled out the letters and spread them over the bedspread.
She grabbed a piece of parchment and quill from her bedside table, scribbling down the prophecy before she forgot it altogether.
Though seemingly sent by one, it is written by another.
Through disguise and careful wording a plea is made clear.
Read it once and you'll miss it, twice you won't see.
Look to the start of every stop and find the hidden meaning.
Leaving herself a good bit of space after the last line, she started writing out a few of her thoughts. Annotating notes was, after all, a skill Hermione took great pride in.
"Though seemingly sent by one, it is written by another" – meaning that the object in mind, in this case the letters, were signed by one person but sent by someone else in actuality
"Through disguise and careful wording a plea is made clear" – some kind of message, perhaps, is hidden among the text…?
"Read it once and you'll miss it, twice you won't see" – obviously refers to the hidden message from the previous line; it takes a careful eye to find it
She brushed the feather across her cheek thoughtfully as she considered the last line. If the first part of the prophecy hadn't started making sense, she definitely would have chalked up that last line to being more of Professor Trelawney's driveling nonsense.
Setting her shoulders determinedly, she began writing again.
"Look to the start of every stop and find the hidden meaning" – the start of every stop must refer to
Hermione's quill stopped mid-sentence. She looked between the letters and the prophecy.
"So—so," she whispered, barely daring to believe it as she reached for the first letter, "The start of every stop must mean…"
She opened the envelope to re-read the letter again.
Dear Hermione,
I saw you in the library today. Not surprisingly, you were surrounded by books of all sorts. Eventually, though, I noticed that you were alone. Even you, it seems, need some time alone every now and then; I understand that.
Did you enjoy your book, at least? You picked a good day to go, I must say; everyone else is in Hogsmeade. Of course, I feel a bit hypocritical, as I am getting ready to head over there myself.
Usually I prefer to stay in the castle on days like this when the weather is as horrible as it is, but I suppose grabbing a butterbeer with my mates wouldn't hurt. Really, I don't think they would notice one way or another if I wasn't there, but it's too late to change my mind now.
However, I do regret that I couldn't stop by and hold this conversation with you in person. Eventually, I would like to do that. Let's make plans to do it sometime in the near future…
Perhaps it could wait until another dreadful day like today—we could skip the Hogsmeade trip together to discuss that book you were reading, if you'd like.
Scott
Slowly, she began to write the first letter of every sentence onto the parchment. She knew she was on the right track once she read what she'd copied down and hurriedly wrenched the second letter from its envelope.
Dear Hermione,
Hello again! Ever since I sent that letter to you a few weeks ago, I've been waiting for a response from you that I fear might never come. Relieving me of this rather girlish fretting would be delightful. Maybe I should explain myself before you make any assumptions.
I wrote because I've been desperate for a friend. Oh, I know what you're thinking: how could I feel this way when I'm constantly surrounded by friends? Not everything is as it seems, I'm afraid.
Even so, I thought it was at least worth a try to write again—if only to explain myself.
—Scott
Finally, her eyes drifted to the third and final letter.
Dear Hermione,
Maybe there really was a point to all of that waiting—ha!
Everything's been going well since my last letter. Every day has been along the same lines: wake up, attend class, Quidditch practice, then go to bed. This letter-writing thing to you has been a great new addition to that rather strict schedule. Makes my everyday routine a little different, which is nice.
Everyone sure is excited about that Quidditch match, huh? Since all of your Gryffindor mates are on the team and all, I'm sure I'll see you there. One day, I promise you that I'll personally see to it that you sit on Hufflepuff's side during one of them!
Oh, can you imagine the talk that would happen after people saw you? No one, not one person, will see it coming!
Till next time,
Scott
She skimmed through the postscript, her heart pounding faster and faster with each letter she copied, until it was finished:
I need your help, Hermione. Meet me soon. I can't wait to see you.
There it was—a plea made clear—but from who?
She scanned through the letters again, brows furrowed. Suddenly, the third letter fell from her hands to the floor, face-up.
Cedric Diggory.
But—but how? Her eyes were wide. That was impossible!
When she finally got over her shock, she pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and dipped her quill back into the ink and wrote her reply with shaky, uncertain hands.
She folded it up and put it into an envelope that she carefully left unaddressed, rushing into the corridor to the owlery even though it was after hours. She called out for Heather and attached it to her outstretched leg, then watched as it disappeared into the night sky.
O-O-O
Cedric,
How do I meet you? When?
Sincerely,
Hermione