Disclaimer: Expecto JK Rowling!

A/N: I've asked for reader suggestions before, but now I have a more specific request. Real spellcrafting is starting now, so what are some simple (first- or second-year level) spells that Hermione and her classmates could create this year? Review or PM me if you have ideas.

Chapter 42

Dobby popped into Hogwarts and climbed up to a strange place that he had never seen, but had heard fanciful stories of since he was a little elfling: the house elf living quarters at Hogwarts. The yellow-and-black-draped bedrooms, bathrooms, and common room, all filled with elf-sized furniture and fixtures, were like nothing he had ever seen before.

But not everything was perfect at Hogwarts, for from the moment he arrived, Dobby could feel the stares of the other elves on him and hear the suspicious whispers behind his back. He couldn't deny that he stood out like a sore thumb there. All of the other elves were dressed in matching tea towels, while Dobby, in his muggle children's clothes, looked odd by both elf and wizard standards. That he had brought luggage with him made him look even odder.

Many of the elves looked nervous at his appearance, and the parents tried to hide the elflings away from him behind them as the little ones whispered inappropriate questions.

"Who is that being?"

"What is he wearing?"

"Is that being a free elf?"

"What is he doing here?"

Even Dobby, as insular as he was, knew that these were awkward questions for elf parents, who didn't like to broach the topic of free elves, much less bad masters, until their children were older. Dobby could hear some of them whispering simplistic partial answers, but those only provoked more questions that usually resulted in the parents glaring at him.

"But why is he wanting to be free?"

"Is he being sick?"

"Why is he having those scars?"

"Is he the elf Hermione Granger freed?"

"She is paying him?!"

"Why is she doing that? She is always being nice to elves."

Dobby was rapidly growing nervous and wondering if this whole idea was a mistake. He had never been around this many elves before in his life, and as a result, he was more comfortable with wizard culture than his own, which only made things worse. And he was well aware that his—what had Miss Hermione called it? Lifestyle choices—that was it. His lifestyle choices were positively scandalous to normal elves.

"I hope he will come to his senses and bond to the castle or to Hermione Granger like a good elf should," many of them whispered to each other, not seeming to care if he heard them.

Dobby didn't think that was likely. He didn't want to leave Miss Hermione's employ if she would have him, and he was sure that she was too stubborn to ever bond him without pay, which for now was how he liked it, though he definitely did not like the angry stares and jeering comments behind his back. He started hunching over and wringing his hands nervously, like he did around his old bad masters.

Suddenly, a very old elf wearing an especially fancy tea towel came up to him, flanked by two more elves, one of whom Dobby recognised as Sonya, who glared at him with arms crossed. "You is Dobby?" the oldest elf asked.

"Yes, I is Dobby," he said, forcing himself to stand straight again.

"I is Flory, the Head Elf," she replied, looking down her nose at him like a disapproving village elder. "Professor Dumbledore told me about your…contract," she whispered the last word like a shocking taboo—which it really was to the elves. "You is reporting to me in all school business. I is reporting to Professor Sprout and Professor Dumbledore."

"Yes, Madam Flory. Dobby understands," Dobby replied. The title seemed appropriate for the proxy for the wizard masters of the school.

"Your…contract is saying you is not to work overnight shifts, so you is going to clean the boys' toilets in the dorms during the daytime shift," Flory told him without further acknowledgement. "You is also to deal with all ambiguous clothes situations in the castle."

Dobby noticed some smug nods from some of the other elves. It wasn't hard to work out that cleaning the bathrooms was the lowest-ranked job in school. He was sure he would have got the night shift, too, except that he needed to sleep at the same time as Miss Hermione so he could come more quickly if she called him. And yet, he got the feeling that it would be helpful to them to have an elf around who could handle any clothes without consequence. "Yes, Madam Flory."

"Tilly and Sonnett is helping you move in," she finished before turning around and hobbling away.

"Hello, Tilly. Hello, Sonya…" Dobby told the other two elves. "I is Dobby."

"I know you are," Sonya replied with an icy stare, looking only slightly mollified by his use of her nickname. "Is Hermione Granger being well?"

"Miss Hermione is being very well, and she is very happy to be coming back to Hogwarts tomorrow," Dobby told her.

"That is being good. Hermione Granger told Sonya to be nice to Dobby, so Sonya will be nice, but Sonya is still thinking Dobby is a sick elf and should not be giving Hermione Granger wrong ideas about elves."

"Miss Hermione knows that Dobby is not like other elves, Sonya. She is not having wrong ideas," he defended her. Miss Hermione had told Dobby that Sonya was her best elf friend at Hogwarts, so it wasn't hard to guess that part of Sonya's dislike of him was jealousy, but he was still determined to be nice to the younger elf, for Miss Hermione's sake.

"Please be following Tilly, Dobby," Sonya's grandmother interrupted. She also looked a little disapproving, but she was being more formal and polite than the other elves. "Your room is being this way."

"Have fun at school, Hermione, and stay out of trouble," Emma Granger said as she saw her daughter off for the new year.

"Yes, Mum."

"And take care of yourself," Dan added. "We know this is going to be a harder year for you, and we don't want you overworking yourself like you did in your first year."

"Me neither, Dad, but I've got Ron and Harry and Professor Vector to keep me in line. I'll be fine."

"Okay, good luck, Hermione. We love you."

"I love you, too." She hugged her parents and boarded the train, following Ron and Ginny into the car.

She looked around for Harry, but Mr. Weasley seemed to have pulled him aside for a last minute conversation. And it really was last minute. She felt a lurch as the train started to move. "Harry!" she yelled at the same moment Mrs. Weasley called to him, and he came running up to the edge of the platform. Ron held the door open, and she and Ginny grabbed him by the arms and pulled him inside.

"Phew, that was close, Harry," she told him. "You wouldn't want to have to take the Knight Bus again. What was that about?"

"I need to talk to you in private," Harry muttered to them.

"Go away, Ginny," said Ron.

"Oh, that's nice." Ginny turned to leave in a huff.

Remembering her promise to be a better friend, Hermione stopped her. "Ron, don't you think that should be Harry's decision?" she said. She looked pointedly at Harry.

Harry turned to face Ginny and seemed to think for a moment. "Ginny, you can stay," he concluded.

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny said sweetly, blushing, as usual.

"Come on, Harry, really?" Ron complained.

"She's my friend and your sister, Ron. She might as well find out, too."

"Let's find a compartment," Hermione said, defusing the situation.

Only the very last compartment on the train had enough room for the four of them. Surprisingly, the sole occupant of the compartment appeared to be the new Defence Professor. That put Hermione on alert, considering how the last two Defence Professors had turned out—but no, that was the Gambler's Fallacy again. Oh great, now she was turning paranoid.

In any case, Professor R. J. Lupin looked more sick than evil. He was fast asleep next to the window, even though it was the middle of the morning, and he looked pale and thin. That his robes had been patched in several places was even more telling. That meant they'd been magically repaired so many times that the charms wouldn't stick anymore. He must not have bought any new clothes for years for some reason. Hermione remembered that Lockhart had been the only person to apply for the Defence job last year. Had things got so bad that Dumbledore had to hire a homeless man to teach? That didn't bode well.

"Anyway…" Ron said, turning to Harry, "what did you need to tell us?"

Despite no one being around (awake, at least) to listen in, Harry automatically leaned in as he spoke: "Last night at the Leaky Cauldron, I overheard your parents arguing." He motioned to Ron and Ginny.

"Well, that's not new," Ron said."

"Shh!" Ginny told him.

"They were arguing about whether to tell me something," Harry continued. "Your dad wanted to tell me what's really going on with Sirius Black, but your mum thought it would scare me too much—as if facing Voldemort twice weren't scarier than that."

Ron gasped at the sound of the name. Ginny choked a little, but kept it together better.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione muttered. "What's going on with Black, Harry?"

"Well, for one thing, nobody knows where he is. No one's seen him, and no one knows how he broke out of Azkaban. But there's something else: before he broke out, Black was talking in his sleep. He kept saying, 'He's at Hogwarts'. They think Black's coming after me."

"Eep!" Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth in horror, then collected herself and slowly lowered them. "Why is it always you, Harry?" she asked.

"I've been wondering that myself," Harry grumbled.

Ron looked thunderstruck at the revelation, and Ginny—poor Ginny who was relatively new to this business—was trembling and staring at Harry in horror. "Ohmygod, Harry," she said breathlessly, "no one's ever broken out of Azkaban before, and now he's after you?! What're you gonna do?"

"It'll be alright, won't it?" Hermione said, trying to convince herself. "I mean, the Ministry is providing security, right?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "Mr. Weasley said Dumbledore doesn't really like the Azkaban guards."

"Why wouldn't he like them? If they keep the school safe—"

"I guess they're kind of a bad sort or something. He didn't explain."

"Well…still, they've got to be some good," Hermione said nervously. "And…and I think Dobby will be able to track you at school. I'll ask him so you can call him if you need help."

"Er, thanks." I think. "There was something else that was strange, though." He turned back to Ron and Ginny. "When your dad talked to me before I got on the train, he made me promise not to go looking for Black."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Why would you go looking for someone who wants to kill you?" Hermione asked.

"That's what I said," Harry answered.

"You'd have to be a total nutter to do that!" Ron exclaimed. "I mean, he was You-Know-Who's second in command, for Merlin's sake!"

"You know, that's a little odd, too." Hermione said. "I noticed something in my reading. People talk about Black being Voldemort's second in command." Ron and Ginny flinched again, but she ignored them. "But in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, it says he didn't really lead any attacks until…well, until the night your parents died, Harry. It sounds like he showed up out of nowhere and tried to take over after Voldemort disappeared…more like a sleeper agent than a second in command."

"Sleeper agent?" Ginny asked.

"It's kind of like a double agent—someone who pretends to work for the other side, but turns around and openly attacks them from the inside when they receive a certain signal."

"So…You-Know-Who kept him a secret and wanted him to take over if something happened to him," Ginny reasoned.

Ginny really was pretty smart, Hermione thought. "Yeah, he might have done."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while, then awkwardly changed the subject. Harry didn't seem as concerned about Sirius Black as the rest of them, but then, that was Harry. It was true, Voldemort was worse, but they'd had a lot of help both times they'd faced him. Hermione could only hope that Harry's luck was better this year, especially if Black really was coming for him. As much as she disliked it, that sounded like something to not mention to her parents if she could help it, especially after Riddle had come after her to get to Harry last year. They worried about her enough as it was.

The weather seemed to worsen with the mood in the compartment, growing darker and rainier as the day progressed. Ron kept talking about Hogsmeade, partly for his own interest and partly to try to cheer them up, but it put Ginny off since she couldn't go until next year. Meanwhile, Ron complained when Hermione let Crookshanks out of his basket and frequently grumbled as her new cat sat across from him and stared at his pocket where Scabbers was sleeping.

Professor Lupin stirred a couple of times, but he didn't wake up all day. Hermione wondered if he was a vampire on top of looking like he was homeless—he looked pale enough, although those scars on his face made her doubt that. Perhaps he had some serious illness, but then why would he be on the train? Still, even asleep, he was enough to repel Malfoy and his cronies, so that was one good thing.

Night fell, and the rain seemed to grow colder and ominous, almost as if the chill and wet was seeping into the compartment. Everyone was eager to get to school and the Welcome Feast, but as the train slowed down, Hermione noted that the landscape she saw out the window in the flashes of lightning didn't look right. She checked her watch. She remembered that time seemed to drift back and forth a few minutes each day at Hogwarts, so she couldn't say unequivocally that they were stopping early, but it certainly didn't look like they were at Hogsmeade, and she became certain when they stopped with such a jolt that they could hear the thuds and bangs of luggage falling out of the overhead compartments up and down the train.

"What was that?" Ginny asked. "Are we at the station?"

"No," Hermione said, peering out the window. "We're on a bridge." No way off, she thought. I have a bad feeling about this.

The lamps went out. Ginny yelped in surprise. Ron shouted, "What's going on?" and scrambled up to look out the window. He stepped on Hermione's foot.

"Ouch! Ron, be careful!"

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Did we break down?" Harry asked.

That would make sense, Hermione thought. Probably too much sense. She looked out the window and thought she saw black shapes moving around outside.

Ron saw it, too. "There's something out there!" he whimpered.

"Quiet!"

All four of them gasped, but they quickly cut themselves off. That hoarse, pained voice didn't belong to anybody who had spoken all day, which could only mean it was Professor Lupin. Suddenly, a soft orange glow filled the compartment. Lupin seemed to have conjured a handful of cool flames, presumably much like Hermione's Bluebell Flames, except in colour.

Did he just cast that wandlessly? Hermione wondered in awe. She was about to ask him when the chill came back over her, much heavier than before. She had an inexplicable sense of foreboding. Oh no, please don't tell me something bad's going to happen before we even get there, she thought.

"Stay where you are," Professor Lupin said in that same hoarse voice.

Hermione clutched her arms around herself and started shivering. When had it got so cold? Her stomach clenched in knots as she felt the energy drain out of her.

The compartment door opened, and she beheld a horrible sight. A skeletal, half-rotted hand with long fingers reached inside, followed by the tall, cloaked figure it was attached to.

Oh God, oh God, oh God! Hermione's mind kicked into overdrive. Unfortunately, it just spun in circles and produced only dark and despairing thoughts: We're going to be attacked by a monster, and school hasn't even started yet!

The creature drew a slow, rattling breath. Harry and Ginny were both shaking so badly that it looked like they would fall off their seats. Ron looked frozen with terror.

She felt like the cold had seeped into her veins and her heart. Oh, why did I ever want to come back to this cursed school in the first place? I'm only going to get myself killed here. I'm such an idiot! I never have any fun here, anyway. I only end up getting teased and made fun of for being smart and attacked my monsters and dark wizards. Good Lord, I've nearly died here three times! I'm doomed, aren't I? I should have stayed at home. Her memories of fighting the troll, Quirrell, the basilisk, and Riddle flashed through her mind like a movie, all showing themselves in the worst possible light.

Harry fainted and collapsed to the floor in an apparent seizure.

Oh no, Harry! What do I do? What do I do? Come on, focus, focus! But her mind was so scattered it wouldn't focus on anything but how bad her predicament was. She knew she should do something—try to get away, scream for help, cast a spell, call for Dobby, but she quickly found she didn't have the will to do anything but curl up in a ball and cry.

"Sirius Black is not in this compartment. Go."

Go away, please just go away, she thought. Why can't I do anything? I can't think of a way to help. I'm so stupid! Harry, I'm so sorry. I was just an idiot girl who thought I could help, but I couldn't—

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silver light filled the compartment, and all of Hermione's dark thoughts fled away so fast that it almost gave her whiplash. She looked up and saw an indeterminate silvery form emerging from Professor Lupin's wand and pushing the dark-cloaked monster out of the compartment.

What…what just happened? she thought in horror. Why was I thinking like that? None of it's true! And why couldn't I think of a way to help? I could have at least called Dobby. That's what I'm supposed to do. Suddenly, she turned to Harry. He was blinking awake on the floor. The oil lamps flickered back on.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah…" Harry groaned. "What happened? Where's that…thing? Who screamed?"

"Huh? No one screamed, Harry."

"But I heard—"

SNAP!

All four of them jumped and spun around. Professor Lupin was breaking apart…a giant chocolate bar? He handed a piece to each of them, giving Harry the biggest piece. "Here. Eat it. It'll help," he said.

"What was that thing?" Harry asked as he pushed himself up.

"A dementor. One of the dementors of Azkaban."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "That was one of the Azkaban guards?" she asked in horror.

"Unfortunately. Horrible creature, I'm afraid, but it's gone now. I have to talk to the driver. Eat the chocolate. It'll help." He quietly slipped out of the compartment.

"What…what happened?" Harry said with a quaver in his voice. Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen him like that before, and his hands were still shaking. So were her own, now that she noticed it.

"You—you looked like you were having a seizure, Harry," Hermione said. Her voice felt weak, like she hadn't spoken in days. She heard a sniffling sound and turned to see Ginny curled up in the corner, sobbing. Hermione slid over and put her arms around the younger girl. Ginny shuddered and pressed herself close against her chest.

"I was so scared," Ginny spoke even more weakly than Hermione did. "Everything went dark and cold and…" she trailed off, unable say more.

"Did…did any of you faint?" Harry asked worriedly.

"No, nobody fainted…" Ron said slowly, "but I felt awful—like I'd never be cheerful again."

Never be cheerful again…The thought struck Hermione, and she set her analytic mind to the experience and ran through her symptoms, whispering under her breath: "Feeling of hopelessness, negative view of things I enjoy, loss of energy and motivation, loss of concentration, feeling of worthlessness—Oh Merlin!" she exclaimed loudly. "I think I just had a depressive episode! What were they thinking bringing those things here?"

None of the others had an answer to that. Absentmindedly, she bit into her piece of chocolate and was stunned to feel the warmth flow back into her limbs. Wow, that's almost too stereotypical, she thought, but what she said was, "Huh, that really helps. Ginny…"

She steadied Ginny's hand to take a bite. The little redhead immediately relaxed and slid away, albeit slightly. Even close, she leaned in and whispered in Hermione's ear: "Hermione…I heard Tom!"

"What?" Hermione gasped, barely keeping her own voice to a whisper.

"I heard his voice. I remembered everything he made me do."

"It's okay, Ginny. It's gone, now."

"I don't get it," Harry spoke up. "Why did it do that? And why was I the only one who fainted."

"I wish I knew," Hermione said.

"I do hope there's pudding tonight," the little blond-haired girl said—Luna Neville thought her name was. He had tried to strike up a bit of a conversation with her, since Harry and his closer friends had gone off to do their own thing, but it was really uncomfortable with everyone else in the compartment calling her Loony and conspicuously ignoring her.

"Um, yeah," Neville replied awkwardly. "They always have just about everything at the Welcome Feast."

No one had a chance to say anything more as the train jolted to a halt and the lights went out.

"Neville…?" Luna said nervously. "I don't like this. I think there might be an umgubular slashkilter coming on board, or a swarm of aquavirius maggots—" The compartment door was forced open by a skeletal hand. "Eek! Or a dementor!" she squeaked.

Everyone in the compartment cowered back in fright. All of them were coincidentally purebloods, so they all knew at least basically what a dementor was.

Neville felt dizzy. He became vaguely aware that he was shaking badly and sinking to the floor. Somewhere, a high-pitched voice cried, "Mummy, no!" but that was the last thing he heard clearly because his ears began to ring with distant screams—horrifying screams—the screams of a man and woman in unimaginable agony—that shut out everything else. Screams that, he only fully realised now, had haunted his dreams for the past twelve years.

And then it was over. The dementor left the compartment, and the screaming faded. Neville came to his senses on all fours, panting heavily. Slowly, he began to feel normal again, except for a strange pain in his hand.

He looked over and saw the cause. Luna was lying on her side beside him, shaking, with tears in her eyes, and gripping his hand so tight in her own he was sure he'd sprained a finger. With difficulty, he pulled both of them back into the seats and wrapped the trembling girl in a hug. It was far more than he'd ever expected of himself around a girl, but it came naturally to him, as someone who had weathered similar storms. "Shh…it's okay," he whispered. "It's gone, now."

"Aww, got a soft spot for Loony, do you Longbottom?" a particularly disagreeable older Ravenclaw girl said, even as she still looked shaken herself and trying to dispel her own fear.

"Shut the hell up!" Neville shouted, surprising himself again. He started to withdraw into himself at his own outburst, but he still managed to stammer out, "B-be thankful you d-don't have any memories this b-bad." That sufficiently cowed the girl that she didn't say anything more.

The Sorting was quick—noting to write home about, although Hermione did notice one of the new Gryffindors, Romilda Vane, whispering to people who pointed out herself and Ron to her, presumably as Harry's friends, and she sent them a bit of a creepy look. Harry himself had been dragged off to the Hospital Wing over his protests for treatment for severe dementor exposure. However, Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin both assured her he would be fine.

Hermione had felt the dark, brooding thoughts come back to her again when they passed a pair of dementors coming in the castle gates. Why did I ever come back here again? her mind repeated. But whether because she recognised the depressed thoughts this time or because she wasn't as close to the dementors, they didn't affect her as strongly. Even so, what kind of horrible creature could hijack your emotions like that, and what was the Ministry thinking putting them around the school? That couldn't be good for the students. She said as much to Professor McGonagall when she escorted Harry, but she just replied, "The Ministry believes that they are the best way to keep the school safe."

Suddenly, her claim to her parents that the Ministry would be on top of things was starting to ring a bit hollow.

"What'd I miss?" Harry said as he sat between Hermione and Ron.

"Just the Sorting," Ron said. "Nothing big."

"Look, Professor Dumbledore's going to say something," Hermione said.

Professor Dumbledore stood up and addressed the school before the meal, in contrast to his usual custom. He looked more sombre than normal, and his first announcement was equally serious: "As you will know from their search of the Hogwarts Express, dementors from Azkaban Prison have been placed around the school as a security measure. They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds and will also intercept anyone attempting to enter or leave by an alternate route. I know that this decision has been controversial with a number of families, but I can assure you that this move has been fully sanctioned by the Ministry for your protection." Just like Harry had said, Hermione didn't think he looked too happy about the whole business.

"However," Dumbledore continued, his tone turning a couple of notes darker. "I must impress upon each and every one of you that dementors are not creatures of nuance. They perform the task they are given—no more, no less. They do not differentiate between degrees of harm or disobedience, and they are not swayed by pleading or excuses. They are also not fooled by tricks or disguises—or even invisibility cloaks. Dementors are extremely dangerous and should be treated as such, and all of the staff will help to ensure that no student runs afoul of them."

So they're half demon and half Terminator, Hermione thought. Got it.

Still shaken by her ordeal, Hermione really needed a good night's sleep. She had applauded appropriately when Professor Lupin was announced as the new Defence Professor, and she and her friends got a big surprise when Hagrid was named the new Care of Magical Creatures Professor, but her heart really wasn't in it for the Feast that night.

She felt much better in the morning, though. The trio made it to breakfast with only some brief trouble from Malfoy, and he was quickly forgotten as they dug into their food and Professor McGonagall handed out their timetables. Once again, McGonagall had been able to manipulate the class schedule to accommodate Hermione. She quickly noted that her fifth-year Arithmancy class was on Monday and Wednesday mornings before turning to her friends. "What's your first class, Harry?" she asked.

"Arithmancy."

"Excellent. I'm sure you'll do well. What about you, Ron?"

"I've got Muggle Studies," he said, giving her his what did I let you talk me into? look. "You?"

"Free period," Hermione said with annoyance. "First day, honestly."

"You should have taken Divination, Hermione," Lavender insisted from down the table. "It sounds like a lot of fun."

"I told you Professor Trelawney said I don't have the Sight. And anyway, I think I'll be better off with Arithmancy."

"Numbers cannot convey the full experience of the inner eye," Parvati told her. She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Hermione, you're worse than Padma."

"Hey! I heard that," Parvati's twin called from the Ravenclaw Table.

"Maybe they can't, Parvati," Hermione said, "but try asking Professor Trelawney to predict who's going to win the Scandinavia-Netherlands Quidditch game on Sunday, and see what she says."

"Scandinavia-Netherlands?" said an incredulous Ron. "Have you heard how the Dutch play? The Nordics are gonna get flattened."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Hermione said. "Most of the Quidditch pitches in Scandinavia are up in the mountains, and the game will be held at the Group C arena in Switzerland, so they'll have the advantage of being used to the altitude. Also, while the Dutch have been playing a good game all year, their best Chaser, Van Grootel, is out with an injury, and the admittedly limited numbers suggest that she's more of a linchpin than most people seem to think. And I know the Nordics' own Chaser line is lacklustre, but their defence is consistently good, so under the circumstances, I'd peg them as the favourites to win."

Half the table was staring at Hermione by the end of that little speech. Lavender and Parvati glanced at each other in surprise and then back at her. Ron was looking at her with something like awe. "Bloody hell, I didn't even think about the altitude," he said, "but blimey, since when do you even follow Quidditch?"

"You've been talking about the World Cup so much, I thought it would be an interesting statistical exercise," she replied as she looked about nervously.

"More importantly," Fred jumped in from behind her, making her flinch, "do you seriously think the Nordics are gonna win, even without Van Grootel on the pitch?"

"The Dutch are a tough act to beat, including their other Chasers," George added.

"I know, but I still think the Nordics are favourites. Van Grootel's flying may not be as flashy at the others, but if you look at the numbers for some of the specific plays, it's pretty clear she's the anchor of the squad."

"You know, I think you might be on to something, Hermione," Ron said, looking lost in thought himself, probably thinking about the strategies involved.

"I don't know, Ronniekins," Fred told him. "I'd say it's just as likely our little Hermione's gone round the twist."

"Well, she's always been a little off, Fred," George added.

"So you disagree with me then?" she bristled.

That was probably the wrong thing to do. "Ooh," said George, "she's being all determined, now."

"Care to put your money where your mouth is, then?" asked Fred.

Hermione was taken aback: "Um, I'm not so sure we should be gambling."

"Oh, it doesn't need to be a major thing," George assured her. "Just a friendly wager—a couple of sickles, if you're not comfortable with more."

"We just wanted to see how confident you really are in your arithmancy skills," Fred added with a smirk.

Hermione couldn't very well let that go unanswered. And as she thought about it, it was far from a sure thing, but it also wasn't very much money. And as betting went, the Twins were positively incorrigible, so there wasn't much use objecting. Maybe she did need to loosen up. "Okay then," she said conspiratorially, "two sickles on Scandinavia."

"That's the spirit! You're on!" Fred told her. "We'll see who's right on Monday." The Twins walked back to their seats.

"Blimey, betting on Quidditch, now?" Ron said in surprise. "What's got into you?"

"I'm just trying to show confidence in my skills," she defended herself. "Anyway, what's next after the first class?"

"Transfiguration second class and Magical Creatures and Charms after lunch," Harry told her.

"That sounds nice. We'll get to see what Hagrid's up to." She just hoped it wasn't another dragon.