Disclaimer: Take three drops of JK Rowling with every dose of Harry Potter.

A/N: The Arithmancer now has its own TVTropes page. If there are any Tropers in the readership who want to expand the page, please take a look.

And for a bonus update this week, Chapters 4 and 5 of His Mother's Love are now up.

Chapter 32

"Alright, you all know the plan?" George Weasley asked as the four Gryffindor boys huddled in Myrtle's bathroom.

"I think so," said Harry.

Ron was next: "I don't like it, but I got it."

"And I'll be waiting with you, George," Fred continued.

"And then when we've got him, we let Hermione's potion work its magic," George finished.

"Simple, elegant, and sneaky," Fred commented.

"The perfect plan," said George.

"Glad I thought of it."

"You mean glad I thought of it."

"Who cares? Let's just do it," said Ron.

Harry's part of the plan went surprisingly easily. He just lurked in the Entrance Hall after Christmas tea waiting for Malfoy's goons to finish scarfing down food and head back to the dungeons. Just before they came on, he took two cakes laced with Sleeping Draught and Forgetfulness Potion and left them on the banisters at the top of the staircase. When Crabbe and Goyle came out, they spotted the cakes, stuffed them whole in their mouths and chewed them triumphantly. A moment later, they both collapsed in a heap.

"How thick can you get?" Harry said to himself.

The one thing Harry hadn't counted on was the difficulty of moving the two Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were huge. Luckily, he knew where there was a broom cupboard close by. He tickled the feet on the statue of the Architect just a few yards from where they lay and popped open the small cupboards doors. He was thankful for the smooth marble floors as he grabbed Crabbe and Goyle one at a time and dragged them to the cupboards. Only the elves used these cupboards, and each one was only big enough to squeeze one of the large boys in sitting upright. According to Hermione, they'd both wake up in about and hour and a half, having absolutely no idea what happened. Harry checked that there was enough of a gap around the cupboard doors that they wouldn't suffocate before leaving them and racing down to the dungeons.

Meanwhile, Ron was having a bit more trouble. Even with a copy of Hermione's map, it was hard to find his way around the dungeons, much less find Malfoy. He hoped he hadn't already gone into his Common Room, but Fred and George swore he hadn't, though he didn't know how they knew. He had to dodge a couple of prefects, including Percy whilst he was looking around, but no one noticed his disembodied footsteps under Harry's invisibility cloak.

Finally, Ron saw him, his hair standing out like a white rat sitting on his head in the torchlight. Malfoy was looking around cluelessly, no doubt wondering where his minions were.

And then, Ron made his move. They are gonna owe me big time, he thought as he broke out his best falsetto and let out a very girly giggle. Malfoy stopped and looked around. "Oh, Draaa-coo," Ron said in an impression of Pansy Parkinson's simpering voice.

Malfoy looked around again: "Pansy?" Pansy had stuck around for Christmas, unsurprisingly, given how much she hung on him.

"Draaa-coo…" Ron ducked around the corner, making just enough noise to get Malfoy to follow, leading him into the trap.

Malfoy followed, but was confused when he rounded the corner and saw an empty corridor. "Pansy, what are you doing?" he said.

Ron didn't reply but just grimaced and made another giggle from the end of the corridor before going around the next corner.

Malfoy rushed to keep up: "Alright, Pansy, what are you playing at?"

Ron made a silent, disgusted, retching gesture under the cloak and said, "Come here, Drakey, I need to give you your Christmas present." He didn't wait to hear Malfoy's response to that and just ducked around the next corner and quickly dashed to the door the large broom cupboard in that corridor. He had to time this just right, like a delicate luring strategy in chess, he forced himself to think. Just when Malfoy rounded the corner, he shut the cupboard door from the outside whilst saying, "In here…"

Draco Malfoy ran to the door eagerly and wrenched it open, but his smug smile turned to horror in an instant when he saw not Pansy Parkinson, but Fred and George Weasley standing there with evil grins and wands drawn.

"Happy—"

"—Christmas."

"Drakey!" they said.

"Wha—mmph!" Malfoy was bound in ropes, his wand taken away, and a hand clapped over his mouth before he had the sense to move.

Ron pulled off the invisibility cloak out of Malfoy's sight, just in case, then stepped into view: "I can't believe I just said those things. I think I need to wash my mouth out with soap, now."

"Ronniekins, it is really disturbing that you can do Parkinson's voice that well," said Fred. Ron glared at him.

"Disturbing, but useful—never would have thought it," George added, taking his hand away from Malfoy's mouth.

"Weasley!" Malfoy exclaimed. He looked a little sick. "You…but Pansy was…Oh, Merlin—mmph!" Fred gagged him properly.

Suddenly, Harry skidded into view. "Did you get him?" he asked.

Malfoy tried to shout Harry's name through the gag.

"We're all set," said George. "What about Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Taken care of," Harry grinned.

"Great. Let's get going. Hermione said we only have a few minutes."

Malfoy continued to struggle and mumble insults through his gag, no doubt including some very rude things about Hermione, as they carried him off to an unused classroom. Once there, Fred and George used Sticking Jinxes to stick the Slytherin in a chair and took off the gag.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Malfoy shouted. "When my father hears about this, he'll make sure your father is out of a job!"

"But that's the beauty of it, Drakey," said Fred, training his wand on him. "Your father won't hear about this."

Malfoy's eyes widened in terror. "What—what're you—? Help—aaaggghh!"

George had stomped on his foot and, while his mouth was open, dribbled in three drops of a colourless potion from a small vial. "We'll be asking the questions, here," he said, "und vee haff vays of making you talk…"

"Huh?" Ron and Harry said.

"I dunno, it's something I read in one of Dad's books once."

Malfoy had stopped shouting, his face slackened, and he seemed to be staring at nothing.

"You think it's working?" asked Fred.

"I think so," said George. "Let's try it. What is your name?"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," the Slytherin said in an expressionless monotone.

"What is your quest?" said Fred.

"My…what…?" Malfoy snapped out of it. "You—you gave me Veritaserum!"

"Yes. Yes we did," George said. "What is your favourite colour?"

Malfoy snapped back into his monotone: "Slytherin green."

"Obviously," the Twins said together.

"Alright, let's ask some serious questions," Ron said. "Are you the Heir of Slytherin, Malfoy?"

"No."

The boys' jaws all dropped open. Malfoy wasn't the Heir of Slytherin? That threw off their calculations.

"Who is the Heir of Slytherin?" asked Harry.

"I don't know." Malfoy snapped out of it again. "I wish I did. I'd tell him to off all of you creeps—and your little mudblood, too!"

"Why you—" Ron threw a punch at Malfoy, but Harry held him back. "Let me at him!" Ron yelled. "You heard what he said."

"Ron, we've gotta find out what he knows," Harry said. "Now, where is the Chamber of Secrets?"

"I don't know."

"What's in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"I don't know."

"Dammit, Malfoy, you're the Prince of Slytherin," George exclaimed. "What do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?"

At this point, they weren't expecting much, but Malfoy actually delivered this time: "The Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago. Four mudbloods were petrified and one died. Then, the person who opened it was caught and expelled."

"Who was it?" said Ron.

"I don't know."

"How do you know all this?" asked Fred suspiciously.

"My father told me."

"Did he tell you what's going on now?"

"No. He just told me to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it." He slipped out of his monotone again: "Is that all this is about? I don't know a damn thing. Father refused to tell me—and I'm starting to see why."

"If the person who opened it last time was expelled, how'd they get back in?" Ron said.

"I don't know—I keep telling you."

"Fine. How is your father involved in the attacks?" Harry asked.

"He didn't tell me. He just said to expect the Heir to make his move."

"Are you plotting to kill Hermione?" Ron demanded.

"No—as much as I'd like to."

"Do you know anyone who is?"

"No—but if I find the Heir I'll tell him to do it."

Ron made another lunge at Malfoy, and the Twins were growling.

"Oh, you care about her, do you? I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"Oh, no you won't," Fred said evilly, holding up a small pastry. "You won't be keeping anything in mind."

"Hang on, there's something else I wanna know," George said shrewdly. "Dad told us the Ministry raided Malfoy Manor last week. Did they get all the dark artifacts?"

"N-n-no."

"Where are the rest of them?"

Malfoy clenched his teeth and his fists, trying to fight the Veritaserum, but he slowly choked out, "They're in a…secret chamber…under the…drawing room floor."

Fred grinned even wider: "Thanks for the tip. Our father will hear about that." Then, he forced the strange-tasting cake into Malfoy's mouth and forced his jaw closed.

Draco Malfoy woke an hour and a half later in the library having no idea how he'd got there. He must have been doing the Christmas partying thing a little too hard. He had also had strange, but vague dreams about three redheads and a scarhead…Heh, there was a joke in there somewhere, he thought.

Dear Hermione,

The good news is the plan worked. We questioned Malfoy with the you-know-what, and he spilt everything he knew. The next day, he didn't remember a thing.

The other good news is that Malfoy's not the Heir of Slytherin. The bad news is that he doesn't know who is, or anything else for that matter. Malfoy Senior is definitely involved, though. We tipped off our Dad to raid Malfoy Manor again and see if he can find something. We'll let you know if he does.

All Malfoy Junior knew was that the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, four muggle-born students were petrified and one died, and the person who did it was caught and expelled. The git didn't even know how the Heir got back in the castle. But we did get him to admit that he's not trying to kill you and doesn't know anybody who is. Don't get us wrong—he'd still love to see you dead, but he's not looking to get his hands dirty.

We hope you can come back. The castle's not the same without your smiling, hyper, arithmancy-mad, face.

Sincerely,

Gred and Forge

(and Ronniekins and Harrykins)

Hermione didn't actually show her parents that letter, since they would start asking questions she didn't really want to answer, but when she saw it, it made her question her decision to leave even more. If Malfoy wasn't the Heir, the school was still dangerous, but no more so than for any other muggle-born.

The Grangers had to formally choose where she would be going to school in the spring by 31 December. On the 27th, she wrote a letter to Professor Vector asking about the security measures she'd mentioned, and she received a reply on the 29th. She hoped that her little experiment the next day would help butter up her parents enough to convince them that Hogwarts was still a viable option.

The potion she chose to teach them was the Alihotsy Draught, which induces laughter and hysteria and would hopefully help things along a bit further. She had made that one perfectly in class, and even if it went wrong, the effects were physically harmless. The worst that could happen was either a deep, but short-lasting depression, or being unable to stop laughing until they passed out. The setup was the same as last summer. The new potions kit her parents had bought her for Christmas (albeit with some muttering about being more careful with her possessions) was laid out in the kitchen, and the cauldron was being heated on the stove top.

"Okay, first, we need a control," Hermione told her parents. "The control is to try brew the potion without magic. It's going to fail miserably, but that's the point. I need to show that it really was the runes that made it work."

"The rune spells are what's going to make things dissolve that normally shouldn't?" Mum said.

"That's right. Without them, all you'll get is a useless stew, or at least you should…I'd like you to each try it on your own."

Her Mum tried it first, diligently working through the instructions, but skipping the spells. It surprised no one when many of the ingredients didn't dissolve, didn't react (and thankfully didn't explode), and didn't turn into any kind of useful potion, but Hermione made careful notes on the "potion's" appearance and consistency at each step. She then cleaned out the cauldron and had Dad repeat the process, obtaining the same result.

"Great. Now that's over, we can get to the real potion-making," she said. "Mum, here are the spells you'll need…"

She handed Mum three squares of wood inscribed with the Latin runic circles she and Ron had worked out last spring. The Alihotsy Draught required three spells: the Dissolving Charm to start, the Potion-Sealing Charm to finish and a Magic-Amplifying Charm in the middle. This last one was barely a step above dumping raw magical energy into the cauldron, but it was quite common to bring out the latent magical qualities of the many useful plants that were known to muggles (in this case—Merlin knew why—horseradish).

"Start with the Dissolving Charm straight off," she instructed. "It's pronounced Dial-yo."

"Dialyo," Mum said. The run glowed, releasing its magic into the cauldron, and the water shimmered.

"It's safe to touch, although it could contaminate the potion," Hermione said. "A lot of spells don't work on living tissue, especially simpler ones. Apparently, many wizards consider life to be a type of magic, which sort of makes sense because it takes more complex magic to affect it."

"Good to know," Mum said. "So, just the same as before?"

"Uh huh."

This time, with the Dissolving Charm in place, the ingredients all dissolved smoothly, just as they were supposed to, and the potion gradually came together, eventually taking the form of a pale liquid of about the consistency of gravy with shimmering blue fumes rising in a thin column.

"Perfect. Now, use the Potion-Sealing Charm to reverse Dissolving Charm. The pronounciation is Ou-det-ero."

"Oudetero," Mum said. The Potion shimmered, but remained otherwise unchanged.

"Great. That looks just like it's supposed to," Hermione said, making her last notes on the process. "Now, we just need to test it." She donned her gloves and scooped a small,, measured vial out of the cauldron.

But Mum stopped her: "Um, Hermione, I don't think you should be drinking an untested potion."

"It is tested, though," she replied. "It's a standard second year exercise. It went almost exactly the same as it did in class, and that turned out fine. The only difference is using the runes. It's possible the delayed use of the spell weakened it a little, but it's not going to have dangerous side effects."

"Well…okay…just be careful," Mum said nervously.

"Yes, Mum. Well…for science!" Hermione drank her measured dose of the potion and at the same moment started a stopwatch. Within seconds, she was laughing hysterically and fell backwards so that she was lying flat on her back, and Mum and Dad had to carry her to the sofa. She could barely speak the few words to tell her parents not to worry and that this was expected. After six minutes and thirty-five seconds, by her stopwatch, she stopped laughing, out of breath, but still cheerier than she had been all holiday.

"Dear, that was kind of disturbing," Mum said, "Is, um, potions abuse common in the magical world."

"Oddly, no," Hermione said, giggling incongruously at the thought. "Of course, at school, the teachers would notice and stop it pretty quick. Do you want to try it?"

"Us? Um…" Mum said.

"Well, Dad might want to wait, since he has to make it next. But it won't hurt anything. It's not even habit forming, according to the book, and it's fun." She giggled again.

"I…I guess I can."

"Maybe you should sit down, though, Emma," Dad said.

"Good idea."

Mum tried the potion and began laughing at once, which Hermione timed for her notes. When she could speak again, she said, "You were right, Hermione, this is fun."

"I might be a little worried about what it does to your endorphin levels," Dad said skeptically. "Has anyone done a long-term study?"

"Probably not," Hermione admitted. "Well, maybe a case study. So are you ready to try making it, Dad?"

"Oh, if I must."

Dad's potion didn't come out quite as well, but it was still acceptable, although took considerable cajoling from Hermione and Mum to get him to drink it.

After that, now that they were all in a good mood, the conversation gradually took a turn to the more serious topic of discussion facing them. "So you're going to write this up in a paper, now?" Dad asked.

"Mm hmm—I'm going to start to, anyway. I'd like to get a squib to try it, too, but—"

"A squib?"

"A non-magical person from a magical family. Finding a way for them to brew potions would actually do them a lot of good. They're kind of looked down upon and left out of a lot. Unfortunately—for me, that is—there's not that many of them. At Hogwarts, there's Mr. Filch, but he doesn't like to talk about it."

Despite the aftereffects of the potion, this was enough to make Mum and Dad a few shades more serious. "You're still thinking about going back to Hogwarts?" Mum asked in surprise.

"I…I am…"

"Really?" Dad said. "I thought you were worried about that Malfoy boy. You said you thought he was plotting to kill you."

"I did. I really did—I know how horrible it sounds. But I told you my friends were looking into it, and that they figured out he's not."

"But you did say someone died the last time this Chamber thing was opened," Mum observed.

"Yes, but Dumbledore knows that, and he'll be more careful this time. And since Malfoy's not the Heir of Slytherin, that means the Heir isn't after me in particular."

"Hermione, we understand you don't want to abandon your friends," Mum retorted, "but we hope you can understand that we don't feel too confident about the safety of the school if students are being attacked, and no one can do anything—especially after last spring."

"I know. I don't like it much either, believe me, but I'll be careful. And the teachers are going to be more careful, too. I showed you Professor Vector's letter."

"Yes, that's true," Mum said. Hermione knew that Professor Vector had impressed her parents far more than anyone else in the magical world in terms of looking out for her.

"I was already not going anywhere alone," she pressed, "and my friends and teachers will be looking out for me."

"We know they will be. But you know we'd still worry about you going back there. We'd really rather you went to Beauxbatons, at least for the spring term."

"I know you would. But think of it this way. There's a bunch of other muggle-borns in the school—Sally-Anne and the others—and most of them don't have as many options as I have—money, grades, connections. A lot of them don't have a choice in going back to Hogwarts. The Ministry will make them, if they have to, but they'd only do that if they thought it was safe. And the Board of Governors must think it's safe to have the students come back, too, or they'd close the school."

"That doesn't mean you have to, Hermione. The wizards may all think it's safe, but you can't deny it would be safer somewhere else, and if you get the chance—"

"But…but I don't want to run away," she gasped, tears filling her eyes. "Not when most everybody else won't or can't. I don't want to let him beat me like that—the Heir."

"Hermione, it's not your fight to win," Dad said sternly. "You're only thirteen. Something like this is something for the adults to handle."

"But it feels like my fight, Daddy. I'm a muggleborn, and I'm having to deal with pureblood bigots like Malfoy—ones my own age. Even before I came home, it felt like I was running scared, no matter how logical it was. It felt awful. Please, Daddy, Mummy? Maybe it's my Gryffindor side showing, but I don't want to run away anymore. I needed to get away to collect myself, maybe, but I'm going mad here thinking about how my friends are going back there, and I'll be hiding away somewhere else. I…I really think need to go back and face my fears—for my own sanity."

Mum and Dad looked at her with disbelief. "Hermione…" Dad said. "You know, you've always been bold and eager to try new things, but we never expected that to extend to facing evil wizards and mysterious monsters. You've never been reckless before, and I hope your friends aren't making you that way."

"I don't think I'm being reckless now, Daddy. Like, everything I did last spring was to try to save Harry from his own recklessness. And I'm not doing this now on a whim. I've been thinking about it all break…Look, the worst case scenario is gone," Hermione continued. "No one's out to get me specifically, and I'm doing more to keep safe than I was before. That's the important thing…Please…could you…just think about what Professor Vector said? I'm really not too worried anymore with the new measures they're taking."

Mum sighed: "Hermione, I…we…" She trailed off and sighed again. "I think your father and I need to discuss this privately."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded reluctantly.

She went to bed that night more worried than she had been since before she left school. She'd never particularly wanted to go to Beauxbatons. The thought of trying to start over and make new friends, especially in the middle of the year, and in French, was more than she'd signed on for. She had simply been desperate to get away from Hogwarts, and she wasn't anymore. There was also the small matter of testing into Arithmancy again, although Professor Vector would surely give her a glowing reference. But somehow, she got a full night's sleep, and when she went downstairs for breakfast in the morning, her parents were waiting for her.

"Hermione," Mum said.

"Yes, Mum?" she said nervously.

"We talked it over last night, and we decided that…if you promise to continue to be careful…and not go anywhere alone until this Heir person and their monster is caught…and tell a teacher if you think anything is wrong…then we'll give you another chance to go back to Hogwarts."

Hermione vaulted into her mum's arms. "Oh, thank you! Thank you, Mummy! Thank you, Daddy!" she cried. "I promise I'll keep safe."

"That's all we can ask you," Mum said.

"It's not what we wanted," Dad said, "but we think we can trust you, and we can trust Professor Vector, so if you trust your other teachers and your friends to protect you, too, we can accept that."

"I do trust them, Daddy," Hermione said. More than I can get away with saying.

The return to Hogwarts was happier than she could have believed it would be two weeks earlier.

"Hermione!" Fred and George called over the crowd. They ran over to her and grabbed her in a four-armed hug that lifted her off her feet and left her a little dazed.

"We thought you were a goner," said Fred.

"Yeah, gone to France," George quipped.

"I nearly was," she admitted. "Ron! Harry!" she hugged both of her year-mates. "Thank you all so much," she whispered to the four of them. "I don't think I would have come back if you hadn't been able to get Malfoy's to tell the truth."

"Always happy to help," George said. "And that reminds me." He handed her a small vial of clear liquid. "Here's your share of the potion. Use it well."

"Shouldn't I be telling you that?"

"You could…" Fred said innocently, "if it would make a difference."

"Granger!" Their joyful meeting was disrupted by a certain Slytherin git storming over to them. "So you still came back," Malfoy growled. "Typical Gryffindor. Not scared away by anything. At the rate you're going, I bet you'll be the next one the Heir nails."

All the boys drew their wands at once.

"You leave Hermione alone," Ron snapped.

"Yeah, you should really back off while you've got the chance," Fred added.

"We Gryffindors stick up for our own," said George.

And they would have chased Malfoy away at that, but Hermione raised her hand to stop them. Two weeks ago, those words from Malfoy would have scared her out of her wits, but now, they were just pathetic. She actually felt the urge to laugh at him. "Malfoy," she said, "I might feel threatened by you if I thought you had the slightest clue who the Heir of Slytherin was."

"What? I—"

"I had a lot of time to think over break," she said. "I realised that you're obviously not the Heir, and you don't know who the Heir is. If you did, you would've sent him after me months ago. Now, how about we skip the insults this time and just stay out of each other's way."

"Yeah, and besides, I bet Hermione could kick your arse," Ron added.

"Ronald!" she scolded.

But Malfoy didn't rise to the bait. He just made a rude gesture and walked away. Well, you can't win them all, Hermione thought. They started to head to the welcome back dinner, but they hadn't got very far when they ran into Professor Vector, who had surely come out specifically to meet her.

"Welcome back, Hermione," Vector said.

"Professor!" Hermione hugged her, which there thankfully weren't too many people around to notice.

"It's good to see you again."

"You, too, ma'am. Thank you for your letter. It was one of the most important things that convinced my parents to let me come back."

"Well, I'm glad I could help once again," Vector said, "although I hope you can stay out of trouble this term."

"That makes two of us, ma'am."

A/N: Dialyo: from the Greek for dissolve.

Oudetero: from the Greek for neutral, in the sense of neutralising.