Disclaimer: For every Harry Potter there exists a JK Rowling such that JK Rowling is the owner of Harry Potter.

A/N: Yes, I'm sure I butchered the Middle English. The spelling is phonetic, not historical. That was about the best I could do quickly from what I could find about the Great Vowel Shift.

Chapter 11

"Does someone want to explain how a mountain troll got into the castle?" Septima Vector demanded as soon as she came into the emergency staff meeting the next morning, and she wasn't the only one. Minerva had even more right to be angry than Septima, since it was three of her students who had been endangered. And Hermione Granger was the favourite of many of the teachers, with the exception of Severus.

No one bothered asking why the Defence Professor had fainted at the sight of a troll. That was almost to be expected these days.

"I think we would all like to know that, Septima," Minerva said acidly, glaring at Quirrell. Once again, if any sort of disaster happened, it was the Defence Professor who was usually the first suspect.

But now, the Headmaster approached the table. "I inspected the wards myself last night," he said grimly. "The troll entered the castle from the ravine through the drainage tunnels in the sub-basement. From there, it began climbing, eventually reaching the first floor washrooms.

"But why didn't the wards alert us when it entered the grounds, much less the castle?" Minerva protested.

"The wards had been specifically opened to permit trolls to pass through without report," the Headmaster said, to the surprise of most of the table. "Quirinus, do you have anything to say about that?"

Quirrell turned even paler than usual and started stammering fearfully: "I-I-I opened the w-w-wards to b-bring in a…t-t-troll—" his voice squeaked loudly "—for the p-p-protections on the Stone…I m-m-m-must n-not have c-closed them p-properly," he whimpered.

About half the staff groaned and raised their hands to their foreheads. Severus glared at Quirrell suspiciously. The Defence Professor had taught Muggle Studies for years, but taking a year off and switching positions was a quick way to get turned into an outsider. After all, with the apparent curse on the position, they already knew he probably wouldn't be around next year. Septima felt a bit sorry for him at times, but not anymore. Actually, she had to wonder how a troll would be that big of an obstacle in the first place, but if it were charmed magic-resistant, it might be.

"Your 'mistake' nearly got three of my first-year students killed, Quirinus" Minerva hissed, slipping deeper into her Scottish brogue. "Frankly, you're lucky we don't have anyone to replace you at the moment, or you'd be out of here by the end of the day."

"As it is, that is not possible," Albus said gently. "I resealed the anti-troll wards last night and checked all the other wards for good measure. The castle is once again secure."

"Secure against anything but more incompetence," Bathsheda Babbling commented.

"There is another issue to be addressed," Septima said harshly. "I move that we review our emergency procedures. In the chaos last night, only I and two of Miss Granger's classmates remembered that she was not at the feast. It is unacceptable that we would lose track of a student like that. Miss Granger's extraordinary arithmancy skills might well have saved her life, since it seems no one else remembered to look for her." Minerva turned noticeably pink at that. "The prefects should be required to do a head count in such a situation and report anyone who is missing."

Filius and Pomona instantly agreed to that, and the motion carried quickly, with the three of them drafted to make the review.

"Very good," Albus concluded. "Now, Severus, I believe you had an additional security concern?"

"Yes," the Potions Master said. "Letting the troll into the castle would have been the perfect distraction for someone to try to steal the Stone. Perhaps a mission of opportunity, or perhaps not." He glared at Quirrell again.

"Y-yes, I had the same c-concern and w-w-went up there as well," Quirrell said nervously.

"I approached the third floor immediately after the warning and again once the troll was dealt with," Severus continued. "I could find no sign of a breach, but Hagrid's dog made it impossible to search thoroughly."

"Hey, now, Fluffy was jus' doin' his job," Hagrid protested.

"How is your leg, Severus," Minerva asked.

"I will be fine," Severus growled. He glared back and forth between Quirrell and Hagrid. "Let us just hope that we have no more similar incidents in the future."

"Are you sure it's even the best idea to keep that thing here in the first place?" Septima asked.

The Headmaster nodded firmly. "As I have said, it is vital that we keep the Stone secure. You know that I would not allow it to be kept within the walls of Hogwarts if the students could not be kept safe, and if it would not be even more dangerous to the wizarding world to keep it elsewhere. Unless I can convince Nicolas and Perenelle to dispose of it, it must stay here."

A majority of the staff grumbled at that, but they knew the stakes just as well as he did. And the protections were sound. Everyone involved agreed that no one person besides Dumbledore himself could get through them. Certainly, Septima was sure no one could get through her part. They would conclude that they had to accept the arrangement, just as they had when he had first proposed it.

"Now, then, to the repair work. Argus, what is your assessment of the damage?" Albus asked.

Argus Filch looked even more disgruntled than usual today. He wasn't exactly the type for dealing with catastrophes like this, and not only because he was a squib, but as Caretaker, it was technically his job to organise repairs to the castle when it was damaged. "There's about nothing left in there," he wheezed angrily. "It'll take you lot all weekend just to clear out the debris. I don't have the tools for that. We'll have to knock out parts of the walls and rebuild them if we want to do it right, reinstall all the fixtures from scratch. Why'd you have to go and make such a mess of things, Quirrell?"

"M-m-my apologies…"

"Thank you, Argus," Albus replied. "I myself will oversee the repairs. The ancient magic within the walls of Hogwarts is a rather tricky medium to work in. Once the walls are repaired, it should be simple to install new plumbing fixtures. We should be able to reopen the bathroom in a very few weeks."

Hermione was correct that they were to brew the Dizziness Draught in Potions class. Dean had no objection to working with Harry, so she helped Ron muddle through. It was a little trying on her patience, especially as Ron had not got into the habit of keeping his workspace clean, but she did it, and they produced a draught that she thought would be worth an E grade.

Surprisingly, Professor Snape didn't say anything about their new partner arrangement. In fact, the class was unusually pleasant today. Not because of Snape's temperament—indeed, he was a good deal more acerbic than normal—but because he never once rose from his desk, and that meant he couldn't wander the room making his usual caustic comments to the Gryffindors and gratuitous compliments to Draco Malfoy.

"Seems kind of suspicious, don't you think?" Harry said at lunch.

"What do you mean?" Hermione was sitting with Harry and Ron for the second meal that day, something her other friends had noticed well after how Ron had treated her yesterday, but aside from being interrogated by Parvati and Lavender at breakfast—among the many people who wanted to hear what it was like facing a troll (she mostly let the boys answer that) none of them had said anything about it.

"Why Snape didn't leave his desk." Harry said. "He missed plenty of chances to insult us."

"Maybe he felt like being nicer for a change—"

"Yeah, right!" Ron guffawed.

"—or maybe he's tired from cleaning up after last night. I doubt he meant anything by it."

Harry looked sceptical, but he didn't say anything more.

"Why, hello, Hermione," a voice sounded in stereo behind her. She looked up and braced herself for whatever the Weasley Twins had cooked up today. But they were looking friendly at the moment. And wait, she was Hermione to them, now? She supposed that was nice of them.

"We hope you're feeling better today." She was pretty sure it was George who said it. Fred, on her other side, was idly picking over the food on the table.

"Much better, thank you."

"All made up with your little friends, now?" Fred said in a babyish tone.

"Cool it, Fred," said Ron.

"That was pretty brave of you running in there like that, Ron," George said. "Mum'd be proud…except she's gonna kill you first." Ron's ears turned red enough to match his hair.

"Well, I'm doing alright, now," Hermione assured them. "I was really just being too hard on myself. I…I think you were kind of right. I did need to lighten up a bit."

"Oh, we're so glad to hear that," George said with a mischievous grin. "Because hanging around with Percy was bad enough. Hanging around with two of our brothers—that's double trouble."

She rolled her eyes. "I think I'll take my chances."

"Brave words, Hermione. We'll see if you can live up to them." The Twins walked away, chuckling.

"Are they always like that?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron said, "but don't worry. They'd never hurt their friends—just annoy them."

Ron lifted the cover on one of the dishes in front of him. The moment he did, a swarm of large gypsy moths flew out and started fluttering densely around all three of their heads. Hermione screwed up her face and did her best to swat them away.

"FRED!" Ron roared, jumping out of his seat.

Down the table, Fred and George high-fived.

"So, yeah, I know Ron was being a git, but he figured that out on his own pretty quickly. And I only really let it get to me because he'd hit so close to the truth."

After lunch and classes were over for the day, the other Gryffindor girls had all but picked Hermione up and carried her back to the Common Room, insisting on getting the full story out of her without any more delay. Now that she had accepted it for herself, or had started to, Hermione managed to get through the story with only a few tears—in fact, between them, the girls around her were showing more tears than she was. And they were all very impressed—more than she thought she deserved—at how she had devised a plan to knock out the troll on the spot. (There were sure to be all sorts of crazy rumours about it by Monday.)

Lavender and Parvati sat on either side of her, each wrapping an arm around her as she related the trials of the past few weeks. It was an eye-opening experience for a lot of the girls that she had been suffering so much so silently, and several of them started commiserating about their own hidden problems by the end of it.

"Oh Morgana, Hermione, how could you go through so much like that without flunking out or something?" Lavender said. "I never could have made it going through what you have."

"That's just how I was raised," Hermione said softly. "My parents made sure that no matter what happened, I would never let it interfere with my schoolwork…and they helped me a lot along the way when I needed it. I just kept doing what I've always done."

"It just sounds so awful," Parvati said. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

Hermione smiled slightly. "Well, honestly, I think if you could just remind me of when to go to bed, it would be a big help."

"Of course," Parvati and Lavender said at once. Hermione wasn't sure she liked how eagerly they accepted the job.

"Thanks, girls," she said, once again feeling much better than she expected.

True to their word, her roommates made sure she got up to bed at a reasonable hour that night, and, thankfully, they weren't too pushy about it. She laid down to sleep feeling as every bit as good as she had the night before, and to her surprise and great relief, she managed to stay asleep until it was time to head down to breakfast. Her resultant good mood was enough to carry her through the whole day.

Hermione had already come up with a response to Fred and George by dinnertime last night, but it took her until morning to work up the nerve to use it. As everyone was getting ready to go to breakfast, she spotted them in the Common Room. Surprisingly, they weren't dressed alike today. Dressed in casual clothes for the weekend, one of them was wearing a red shirt, and the other was wearing a blue one.

"Hi there, Fred and George," she said with a smile.

"Good morning," they replied amiably.

"Listen, you asked me to tell you if I learnt anything new about the castle."

"That we did," George replied.

"How touching that you remembered," added Fred.

"Did you find out what's above the Great Hall?"

"No, not yet, but there was something else that I should have told you a while ago."

The Twins were all ears.

"Have you two ever been to the top of the Grand Staircase?"

They glanced at each other. "Why, no," George said. "Did you see something interesting up there?"

"I saw a lot of interesting things when I explored the Great Tower a few weeks ago," she said precisely.

"Such as?" Fred asked.

"Well…it's hard to explain. You really have to see it to believe it."

They grinned at each other. "Very interesting. We'll have to check that out after breakfast."

"Thanks for the tip," George said.

"Sure, no problem," she replied innocently.

Hermione indulged herself in an mischievous smile after the pair left the Common Room. That had been too easy and entirely too much fun.

With her plan set in motion, she went down to the Great Hall for breakfast with a spring in her step, then came back up to the Common Room and curled up on one of the sofas with her Calculus book. She laughed out loud when she remembered that the next lesson was about limits at infinity.

She was still getting funny looks from people when she did this. Most people, muggle and magical alike, balked at seeing those kinds of equations, but for Hermione Granger, this was her idea of a relaxing morning. She was at it for a little while when she heard someone call her name. Harry and Ron had come down to the Common Room, bringing some of their course books, which surprised her for a Saturday morning.

"What are you working on?" Harry asked.

"Calculus."

"What's that?" Ron said.

"My maths independent study. Arithmancy's nice, but the maths is way too easy."

Ron looked over her shoulder at the unfamiliar symbols on the page with a disbelieving look, but he held his tongue. It had taken him only a few minutes to learn not to question Hermione about her attitude towards maths. "So you really can do crazy maths stuff in your head?" he finally said as he sat down.

"Well, I wouldn't call it crazy."

"Right, but, like, you can figure out what's a hundred and ninety five times seven forty-eight?"

"A hundred and forty-five thousand…eight hundred and sixty," she said casually.

"Bloody hell! I thought Fred and George were joking when they said you could do that," Ron said while Harry's eyebrows disappeared under his messy fringe.

Hermione shot Ron a dirty look for his language, but she answered, "No, it's not that hard if you want to learn it, but this stuff is completely different." She indicated her book.

"What is it, then?" Ron asked.

"Well, this in particular is limits at infinity. It's like…" She tried to think of how to explain limits to someone who didn't even know algebra yet. "Say you have a bunch of numbers, and they're one half, one third, one fourth, one fifth, and so on. What number would you get if they kept going on forever?"

Ron looked perplexed, but Harry tentatively said, "I guess zero."

"Right. It's like that, but…a lot fancier."

Ron and Harry looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

"What are you working on, then?" she asked them.

Harry sighed. "Transfiguration. I don't know how I'm gonna get all this stuff done with all the extra Quidditch practises Wood's scheduled. Do you…do you think you could give us a hand."

Hermione closed her book. "Sure—as long as you don't expect me to do it for you. Let me see…"

With her help, both boys got through quite a bit of their Transfiguration homework that morning. They barely noticed her frequent glances toward the Common Room door. But her vigilance paid off when, nearly at lunchtime, two dishevelled and disturbed redheads ran into the Common Room. Both of them were wearing shirts that were half red and half blue, divided along a randomly zigzagging edge.

"Hermione Granger!" they yelled as stumbled over and knelt on either side of her chair.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" Ron said.

"We were in the—"

"—Grand Staircase and—"

"—way, way above the top—"

"—and there were—"

Both of them were out of breath and incoherent, and Harry and Ron were baffled, but Hermione just smiled smugly and said, "So, how high did you get?" to her friends' amazement.

"Big, huge moths—" Fred held his hands a couple of feet apart.

"Crawling everywhere!" George added.

"We got swarmed."

"We tried to repel them with our wands."

"The magic didn't like that."

"Our shirts…"

"Wow. That sounds like it's about as high as I got. It's a good thing I didn't try to cast any spells."

"Wait, you did this to them?" Ron exclaimed.

"I only suggested that they try to explore the Grand Staircase," Hermione said, still smiling.

"You told us to climb to the top," Fred complained.

"No, I believe I only asked if you'd been."

Fred and George stared at each other again, wondering how they'd been had so easily, while Harry and Ron were staring at Hermione in utter confusion.

"I'm pretty sure the Grand Staircase just goes on forever," she explained. "But it all has to fit in the tower, so it keeps getting smaller, and the bugs and mice and stuff look huge when you get high enough. And there's so much magic that it mixes everything up, like their shirts."

"And you knew all along! Did you put those moths up there, too?" George demanded.

"No, of course not. I'm not going back up there. That was just luck."

"I told you, brother," Fred said. "Merlin help us if Hermione starts using those brains of hers for pranking. Now, we're all in trouble." Hermione giggled slightly.

"Indeed," George replied.

"You are a worthy opponent, Miss Granger," they said in unison, tipping imaginary hats. They stood and backed up the boys' staircase, as if not wanting to take their eyes off her.

"Wicked, you actually managed to prank Fred and George?" Ron said. "Oh, I've gotta write Ginny about this. I didn't think you'd be one to break the rules, though."

"Well, plenty of other people do," she groused. "Besides, I don't think that was technically against the rules…just not advised."

"Well, it's nice to see you have a Gryffindor side after all. You know they're going to try and get you back, though, right?"

"Yes," she sighed, "but at least they know I'm not an easy target, now. That should keep me a little safer." They started to pack up their things for lunch. "Oh, by the way, Harry, I still have Quidditch Through the Ages on loan from the library. Do you want to read it?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

Hermione wanted to try exploring the Great Hall again, but with Harry's Quidditch practice and reading the book plus Ron being behind on homework, they didn't have all that much time. They went around the Great Hall once after lunch trying everything that looked like it might be a door, but plenty of doors in the castle were too well hidden for that. Afterwards, they told her she could keep going without them, but she didn't feel like it. She needed to finish her own homework—and address something that had been a growing concern in the back of her mind for the past two days.

What was she going to tell her parents?

Dear Mum and Dad,

I want to start off by telling you that I'm fine, and even though some really bad things have been happening, they're over now, and I got through them alright. I hardly even know where to start, but I suppose I should get the worst out of the way first. On Halloween, a mountain troll got into the castle and attacked me…

And then they would be too hysterical the read the rest. Hermione crumpled up the parchment, threw it in the bin, and started again.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm sorry I've been so distant, lately. The truth is that I'd got myself into a bad habit of not getting enough sleep, which I'm just starting to get out of. Honestly, things are quite a bit better here than I think I've let on…

And that was a blatant lie. There was no reasonable way she could objectively say that except that she just felt that way. Try again.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I think things are finally looking up here at Hogwarts…

This was ridiculous. Was she really going to keep it from them? Why should she? But why shouldn't she? They'd have her out of Hogwarts before she could say "Wingardium Leviosa" if they knew the truth.

But she just couldn't take the secrecy anymore. They deserved to know, didn't they? She would just tell them she was old enough to make her own decisions…even if they involved extremely dangerous creatures…it was hopeless, wasn't it?

Dear Mum and Dad…

Hermione threw her quill down in disgust and slumped back in her seat. On a whim, she pulled out her wand and decided to try out a new charm she'd read about in the library: "Lacarnum Inflamari."

A little blue flame shot out from the tip of her wand and landed on the parchment. It spread, and the parchment began to smolder. It felt rather satisfying to see the attempted letter go up in flames. From what she had read, the Bluebell Flame Charm was supposed to consume very flammable things like parchment and cloth, but it didn't actually need fuel, and it was supposed to be cool enough to handle if one was careful. She reached out tentatively and brought her hand up to the flames. The fire felt like hot water as it licked her fingers, maybe uncomfortably hot, but not scalding. She laughed and scooped the flames into a spare jar from her potions kit before they started to scorch her wooden nightstand. The flames in the jar would make a nice little portable lamp and heater.

Anyway, there was no way she was going to figure this out on her own. Maybe her new friends (or her old ones) could help.

"Tell your parents? Are you mental?" Ron Weasley yelled. "They won't understand. My Mum completely freaked out when Percy told her, and she's a witch. They'll withdraw you, and the Ministry'll snap your wand and erase your memory!" Harry looked positively horrified at the suggestion.

"Ron, they don't do that to people who withdraw," Hermione corrected. "They'd only make me transfer to another school, like Beauxbatons." Harry sighed with relief.

"But you can't want to leave Hogwarts, can you?" Ron said.

"Of course not! But I can't keep keeping secrets from my parents. I need to be able to talk to them honestly."

"Well, I don't know. You can try if you want, but I'm telling you, no good'll come of it."

Hermione sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of. Harry, are you going to tell your relatives?"

"No, they'd probably just be mad that I didn't die on them."

"Harry…"

"It's fine, really. I'm sorry; I really wouldn't know what to do either."

"Well, thanks anyway…I think I need to think about it some more."

The other students all had similar responses, either rejecting the idea of telling her parents about the troll out of hand, or not really being able to come to an opinion. Her fellow muggle-born, Sally-Anne, was among the latter group and was one of several who suggested that she ask a teacher for advice.

More than one person had suggested that she go to Professor McGonagall, but Hermione was reluctant to do so. She still didn't consider her head of house to be the most supportive teacher, though her house-mates had few problems with her. And more to the point, she was a little worried about the consequences of any stories other than the glossed-over version she'd told reaching the ears of the Deputy Headmistress.

It took her longer than it ought to have, well into Sunday afternoon, before she remembered that there was one adult in the castle who did know the full story, or more of it than the others, anyway. Of course, it was Sunday, and no one held office hours on Sunday (if she deluded herself into thinking she'd get the letter done today at all), so Hermione screwed up her Gryffindor courage and took a different tack.

Few students besides the Weasley Twins ever thought about where the teachers slept at night. Professor Trelawney, of course, stayed cooped up in her tower, and Professor Dumbledore's apartment was known to be above his office. Married staff often commuted, at least on the weekends, but most of the teachers weren't married. They were never really seen going in and out of their residences, as they usually stayed out until curfew themselves. It was only by paying careful attention while she was mapping the school that she figured out that the staff apartments were located in the Great Tower and the body of the West Wing.

Her main clue had been the cluster of unusually notable portraits in that area. Her attention was first drawn there by a portrait that she was amazed that she could recognise as John Flamsteed, the first Astronomer Royal, who had been appointed before the Statute of Secrecy was enacted. The rest she could only identify as notable thanks to her overzealous reading habits. The Irish Druidess Cliodna, a known animagus and one of the greatest transfiguration mistresses of the medieval period appeared on one stretch of the corridor. Charms mistress Hedwig of Vienna graced the corridor nearby. On the floor below was the preeminent Renaissance potioneer, Zygmunt Budge.

But what had really tipped her off was when she studied John Flamsteed's portrait for so long that he asked her what she wanted and informed her for no apparent reason that Professor Sinistra was in her office. From that, it all became clear soon enough. Each portrait was a leading historical figure in his or her field, and each guarded the door to a professor's apartment, just like the Fat Lady guarded Gryffindor Tower. Once she looked up all the portraits, it was easy to piece together who lived where. (She had decided not to tell Fred and George that little tidbit, although it wouldn't surprise her if they already knew it.)

And so it was that Hermione followed her map to the portrait of Bridget Wenlock, the founder of modern arithmancy.

Bridget Wenlock wore purple and had wild black hair and half-moon glasses. She didn't particularly look like she came from the thirteenth century. Unfortunately, she rather sounded like it. Even more unfortunately, Bridget Wenlock was known for both paranoia and absent-mindedness.

"Excuse me, Madam Wenlock?" Hermione said tentatively.

"Forsoath! Tawht purpoase hast tho, cheeld?" the portrait said, or at least that's what Hermione thought she said.

"Um, I was just wondering if Professor Vector was in," she replied, doing her best to interpret the Middle English.

"And ho mah thot bay?"

"Professor Vector? The Arithmancy Professor?"

"Arithmahnsay!" the portrait shouted. "Eek am thay Arithmahnsay Professor haireh! Has this Vector stolen me thayores?"

"What? No!"

"Eek will not have hit!"

"Madam Wenlock, you're a painting," Hermione pleaded. "You haven't been the Arithmancy Professor for seven hundred years. I was hoping I could speak with Professor Vector. This is her apartment, isn't it? I…I could come to her office tomorrow is she's not in."

"Stoadents areh not toe bay given occess—" Wenlock started, but then the portrait frame swung open, and Professor Vector was standing in the doorway, smiling.

"Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise," she said.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione said nervously. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"Of course, of course. Please come in."

Vector led her into a small parlour with a tea table and a couple of chairs and a desk in the corner. The room was furnished in the same general style as the Gryffindor Common Room, but with green accents. A kitchenette was visible through one door and a short hallway extended from one side of the room. Hermione decided it was a fairly nice apartment for one.

"Have a seat." Vector said, indicating the chairs. "And don't worry about Bridget. She gave me that for a year after I started teaching here. I take it you figured out the clues from the portraits?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm not surprised, with someone like you. Would you like some tea?"

"Um…sure, thank you, ma'am."

The professor produced two cups of tea and sat down across the table from Hermione. The first-year sipped thoughtfully.

"I was hoping you would come to see me, Miss Granger," Vector said. She was being about the friendliest Hermione had ever seen her. "I could tell you've been under a lot of stress lately, even before Thursday. All of your teachers say that your course work remains exemplary—even Professor Snape, when one corrects for his usual bias—but there is more to life. I wouldn't want to see you burned out so early. If there is any way that I can help, you need only ask."

"Th-thank you, Professor…It's…it's complicated. You see, I'm afraid I've let myself get into some very bad habits…" She gave a brief summary of the disaster that the past few weeks had been as Vector listened with concern. "I am doing better now," she assured her. "I probably need some time to really get back on my feet, but I'm feeling a lot better getting a full night's sleep, and I'm working faster, too." Vector smiled a little. "But what I really wanted to talk to you about is…well, I usually right my parents every Sunday night."

"Ohh…" Vector said with an understanding nod.

"I just don't know what to tell them!" The words came spilling out. "I've been keeping so many things from them. I don't like keeping secrets, and they deserve to know what's happening. I'm tired of not being able to talk to them. But I'm so afraid that if I tell them what happened, they pull me out and transfer me to Beauxbatons or something, and I don't want to leave Hogwarts, even with the bad stuff that's been going on. I really like it here, and I like my friends, and all my classmates say I shouldn't tell them, and they'd be so scared with me being away from them, and—"

"Miss Granger…" Vector cut her off. "Hermione…" She gave her a sad smile and lightly patted her hands. "I know this can't be an easy decision for you, but ultimately it is one that you'll have to make for yourself. You're the one who knows your parents best."

"I just don't know know what to do," Hermione whined with tears staining her cheeks.

"Well, I'm glad you feel comfortable coming to me for advice, but I'm afraid I don't have much experience with this kind of situation. We only get about one muggle-born in Slytherin every five years or so, and about half of them wind up transferring at some point. I think you've already seen the unfortunate prejudice shared by most of my former house. And I've certainly never seen anyone attacked by a troll before—I promise you anything like that is quite a rare occurrence at Hogwarts. But I have seen difficult situations along similar lines, so I'll tell you what I have seen, and you can hopefully decide for yourself.

"Muggle-born students almost invariably wind up living in the magical world," Vector explained. "After all, even after the short time you've been here, can you ever imagine going back to the life you had before? Their friends are all magical, and they usually marry magicals, because of the Statute of Secrecy, and unless they work very hard, like you are, they rarely have the educational credentials to get a good job in the muggle world. Meanwhile, your parents are still living in the muggle world, they have limited access to the magical one, and you're not allowed to do any magic at home.

"Now, it can be hard enough to relate to one another across that gap under normal circumstances…But I'm sure you know by now that about ten years ago, there was a very bloody civil war in the magical world while things were perfectly fine in the muggle one. It was very dangerous for everyone back then, but especially for muggle-borns. You friend Harry Potter's mother was a muggle-born—and one of my best students, too. Dirk Cresswell, the year after her, he was another one. They came from homes where you'd hear about the occasional murder or assault somewhere, but it was a one-in-a-million chance. But at school, every month they'd hear about more and more attacks on muggle-borns. They started getting in fights with rising Death Eaters in Slytherin—I suspected some of them were marked Death Eaters. When they graduated, Lily Potter, at least, actively fought against them.

"Growing up in that world, they had an even more serious decision to make than you have, and to my knowledge, neither of them ever told their families—never told them how much danger they were in. Whether they didn't want their parents to worry, or they didn't want to create a rift in their families over it, or they wanted to stand and fight for justice, or some combination of the three, I don't know. Whatever their reasons, they kept it up—they never told them…but it hurt them deeply. They hid it, of course, but you learn to recognise it as a teacher—you could see in their eyes how much it tore them up inside. Living through that does things to a person…and as far as I know, they both became completely estranged from their families, stopped contacting them altogether. Now, I'm not saying that will happen to you. Your situation is different, and your parents are different. I just thought you should know how I've seen things go before."

Hermione was doing her level best not to start sobbing over the table. She would have been mortified to be seen like this around a teacher in public, but here in her parlour, it wasn't so bad. She was so grateful for Professor Vector being so frank with her, no matter how painful her words.

"Professor, I…" she squeaked. "I have to tell them. I can't let that happen—I can't…"

"I understand, Hermione. If you like, you can tell me when you send your letter, and I can send one of my own to help explain the situation. If you are concerned about their reaction, a professional view might help."

"That's…that's very generous of you, ma'am, thank you."

"My pleasure. I'm glad I could help."

Hermione finished her tea and slowly composed herself, but her mind was already racing thinking about what needed to go into her letter. It was fast looking like it would wind up being longer than most of her homework essays. She was certain she wouldn't be able to send it tonight, and she could only hope her parents wouldn't be too worried about that. Finally, she felt ready to get up to leave.

"Thank you again, Professor," she said.

"No trouble at all, Hermione. Please come see me anytime if you need help."

Hermione nodded and stood up, but then she remembered something.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"There was one other thing I was wondering about. How did you stop that troll so easily?"

Professor Vector smiled. "That? It was actually quite simple. The Freezing Charm is a simple second-year Defence charm. I just put a lot of power into it—although even then, if you hadn't knocked it out, it only would have held long enough to get you out."

"Really? That's all it was?"

"Yes. A crude method, I admit, but trolls aren't very bright, so it's all you need. There is a time, even in combat, to be really clever. This is especially true if you have less power than your opponent, as you yourself learnt. But there is also a time when something fast and simple is best. The power you need to cast a Freezing Charm that strong will come with age and practice."

Hermione wondered at how such a simple spell could have such amazing results, but she was glad to hear it wouldn't be too hard to learn down the road. She left the apartment and started back toward Gryffindor Tower.

Professor Vector sighed as she left. That girl really was one of a kind, more than even she herself knew.

Hermione wanted to get started on her letter right away, but she knew there was one more thing she needed to do first, uncomfortable though it was. She found her new friend in the Common Room and sat next to him.

"Harry…can I ask you something?" Hermione said nervously.

"Sure."

"It's…it's okay if you don't want to answer."

Now Harry looked a little confused. "What is it?"

"Harry, did your aunt know—know what was going on with your parents? The war and everything?"

Harry stopped and thought. It was something that hadn't really occurred to him. Aunt Petunia had said his parents had got "blown up", but from what he'd heard, that wasn't exactly true. He had to wonder how much she really knew, the way she talked about her sister. It might even be something worth the risk to ask her next summer.

"I don't think so," he said. "I know she didn't know about my dad's money, or she would have taken it. And she never talked about any of it except when Hagrid came. She knew my parents had been killed, but I don't think she ever really knew there was a war on."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Professor Vector—you could talk to her if you wanted—she said your mum was one of her students. But she didn't think she ever told her parents about the war, and eventually she just stopped talking to them."

"Well," Harry said slowly, "my aunt thought she was a 'freak' from the beginning, so…"

"She did? Why would she do that to her own sister?"

"I don't know. I guess some people are just like that. Kinda like Malfoy."

Harry didn't have any more to say after that. Hermione pondered his words as she climbed up to her dorm room. She started writing. But it was going to take a while.