Chapter IX

The air grew significantly cooler as Ron and Hermione pattered down a long, spiraling stairwell. At the landing everything seemed to change; the magnificence of the castle was abruptly lost as their feet hit rough un-hewn stone, and sputtering torches were braced on the slimy walls with mossy brackets. Dripping water could be heard down several passageways, all of which were narrow, dark, cold and crooked. There was certainly no doubt that these were the dungeons.

"Hermione, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Ron whimpered as a large spider scurried across the corridor in front of them.

"Honestly, Ron, it's just an insect," Hermione sighed, and took the lead in tugging him onward. The pitch darkness was so complete going forward that she had to go on tiptoe and yank a torch from its bracket; she grimaced at the sensation of slick moss and damp wood against her hand.

Three passages greeted them: one leading straight and two going either left or right. After some debate the two decided to journey on directly ahead. The dripping sound amplified, and after some time Hermione abruptly stopped and threw out an arm.

"Stop—! Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"No, but now I wish I had," Ron whispered back, practically clinging to her.

"It sounded like movement..."

"A rat, maybe?"

Hermione shook her frizzy head, curls bouncing and swaying. "Something definitely bigger than a rat. Almost like footsteps...but who in their right mind would be down here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," hissed a menacing voice behind them.

Hermione and Ron both spun around and the young man gave a rather shrill, choked half-scream. A tall black figure towered over them, its face hidden in shadow, but what was very visible was a leather apron spattered in congealed blood and a dripping carving knife gripped in the figure's right hand. Hermione recognized exactly who it was then and smacked Ron's arm to snap him out of his terror—"Calm down, Ron! It's just Master Snape!"

Snape took another step forward, allowing his features to be illuminated by the torchlight. That move in of itself wasn't exactly very comforting either, though, as Hermione saw smeared streaks of gore on his cheeks and...was that a bit of fur in his hair? "You two are either very bold or very stupid to come wandering down here," he said. "Likely both."

"Sorry, sir. We were just exploring," Hermione explained breathlessly. "What, um...what are you doing?"

Snape examined his fingernails, which were crusted with flaky crimson. "As of right now, I am apprehending a pair of feckless young dunderheads," he said. Looking back up at them, he lazily twirled the carving knife, which flicked several drops of blood onto Ron. "But before I heard you two crashing about my dungeons like a pair of runaway dragons, I was skinning and eviscerating a brood of nifflers for use in a potion."

"Oh." Ron sounded like he might be sick, or faint. Perhaps both, and neither option would end well with Snape. "Wait..." Suddenly he seemed to come to, like a sleepwalker from a waking dream. "Wait, you're...Snape? Severus Snape?"

A familiar and irritable sneer curled the knight's upper lip. "So often I wish I was not. However, as your partner in crime Miss Granger stated earlier, yes. I am." He slipped the knife into a loop in his apron and planted sticky red hands on his narrow hips to glare impassively down at them. "Did you need something from me, or have you just come to disturb my peace?"

"We're sorry, sir," repeated Hermione, forcefully pulling a dazed-looking Ron behind her. "I'm afraid he got a rather nasty bump to the head on one of these torches and, well," she laughed apologetically, "as you can see, he's a bit confused. I'll get him back up top and we'll leave you to work in peace. It won't happen again."

Snape's black eyes rolled and he stepped aside to let them pass. "For your sake it had better not," he growled. As they went for the stairs Hermione shoved the torch into its bracket and chanced a look back; Snape was still staring after them with a neutral expression on his face and an odd glitter in his liquid black eyes.

"Let's not do that again, shall we?" she panted as they came back up to the sun-drenched corridor.

"Holy bollocks," Ron mumbled weakly. "That was Snape...?"

"I think we've established that fact."

With her friend still trembling in tow, Hermione led them outside to the courtyard. There she spotted Harry bent over a stack of hay and pitching busily. Sirius was not far off, having set up an anvil and now clanging a hammer on a red hot length of metal. "Hi, Harry, Sirius!" Hermione called, waving. Both looked up and waved back. "I'd like you to meet my friend Ron."

"Hi, I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," the ginger blurted excitedly as he shook hands with Harry and then Sirius, who had set aside his metalwork. "You're in the Order, right?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "No, that's him," he said, nudging his godfather. "But someday I might be, hopefully."

"Sir Harry—has a nice ring to it," said Ron thoughtfully. "You seem like the heroic sort, I can just tell. Like you're going to do great things."

Harry blushed and looked away. Sirius smiled, "That's what I'm always telling him, but he never believes me!"

The four chatted for a while longer before the doors opened again and a familiar blue-haired woman entered, looking calm but content. "Hi, Tonks," greeted Hermione.

"Wotcher, Hermione! Actually, I'd come for you—we need to do some magic practice."

"Magic practice?" Ron echoed dumbly, looking from one to the other.

Tonks blinked at him. "Who's this?"

"Oh, this is my good friend Ron. Ron, this is Tonks. She's an Order knight helping me learn healing magic," Hermione said.

Now it was Ron's turn to be confused. "But...you're..."

"A woman? Well spotted." Tonks put her hands on her hips, looking unimpressed. "For your information, the Order holds no discrimination against blood status or gender. So long as you can hold your own in the qualification, you can be a knight. Don't think it's easy, though," she warned.

"Hardest thing I ever did," growled Moody as he clumped up to the table and set his flask down.

As Order knights continued to file in, Ron's eyes grew progressively wider. By the time Lord Dumbledore swept in, draped in magnificent robes of deep purple with glittering gold embroidery, he was speechless. Snape had slipped in behind Dumbledore and now silently took his seat on his lord's right side as the older man remained standing and spoke:

"My honored knights and esteemed guests, welcome to Grimmauld Castle."

Ron's family—consisting of his mother, father, sister and two twin brothers—shifted and murmured excitedly among themselves. They had spotted Hermione's wild hair from across the hall and immediately run over to crowd around her, pelting her with questions and greetings. From the shifty glint in Fred and George's eyes Hermione could tell they were already plotting how to make mischief; she desperately hoped it didn't involve Snape.

"Tonight, this place is a harbor of peace and joy," said Dumbledore, "especially because I have a rather thrilling announcement to make. We currently have two stable boys here who have applied for the highly honored and coveted position of squireship in the training program for a knighthood in the Order of the Phoenix."

He paused, smiled and twinkled.

"...and it gives me great pleasure to announce that both Harry James Potter and Draco Abraxas Malfoy will be our newest squires!"

Harry looked like he had been hit in the face with a club; Sirius laughed heartily and pounded him happily on the back as applause filled the room. Further down the table, Draco wore a very smug expression. Dumbledore raised his hands for silence once more.

"With that being said, let us celebrate our young heroes-in-training with a feast to remember!"

Two hours later Hermione stumbled to her bedchambers. She had drunk so much butterbeer she felt slightly ill, and the Weasley boys had taken up a competition to see who could belch the loudest. Seeing Snape's murderous expression at the end of the table the young woman had quickly excused herself and headed to sleep off the traumatic experience. She hoped to be nowhere nearby when the black-robed warrior finally cornered Fred and George.

As she pushed open the door Hermione felt it bump against something, which slid across the smooth floor. Puzzled, she shut the door behind her and looked over to investigate, only to find a small book bound in plain black leather. She hadn't taken any books out of the library earlier; it was odd that this would be in her room.

But she was nothing if not bold, so she picked it up and flipped through the pages. It wasn't a book—it was a diary...and an empty one at that.

"Well, fancy that," Hermione smiled to herself. "A free diary...seems almost too good to be true..." Flopping onto the bed, she summoned Dobby and requested writing material. Within moments she was supplied with a sharp quill and a full jar of ink. But what to write as the opening line of a blank journal...?

Hermione's slender hand hovered over the paper for a bit before she made up her mind and simply wrote: My name is Hermione Granger.

Shock gripped her as the dark strokes of ink were absorbed into the parchment almost as soon as they touched it. She sat and stared at the newly blank space and was about to burst out of her room to show Ron what she had found when something moved on the page.

It was letters—words—and they were writing themselves.

Hello, Hermione Granger. My name is Tom Riddle. You seem to have found my diary.