The Penny Drops

Harry was sitting in the common room the following morning, contently leafing through the pages of updated tactics Wood had devised for the final game of the year, when Hermione barrelled down the girls' staircase like an avalanche. Between her reckless pace, lack of clothing beyond pyjamas, and the way her hair was crackling with static, he took all of a fraction of a second to recognise something was terribly wrong. She was panicking, in a way he had never seen before. Not from her, nor anyone.

"Hermione?" he asked; she immediately latched on to his direction.

"Harry! Oh thank God!" she cried, rushing over. "We need to find Professor McGonagall, right now!"

"What, why?"

"No time, let's go!"

"Hang on, don't we need three people?" he argued, not fancying running into Snape or Filch early in the morning - especially so when breaking a rule.

"Wouldn't help. Hurry up!"

She grabbed him by the collar, roughly, and yanked him to his feet. Shock from being manhandled, by Hermione no less, brushed any remaining hesitation aside. His inner lion leapt to battle stations so fast he nearly batted her away; she had just grabbed him after all.

"She'll be at breakfast," he stated, removing her hands from his robes, keeping one in his grip so he could lead her.

Not waiting for a reply, as there was apparently no time to dawdle, he led her as fast as he could down to the great hall. They passed a group of older students including a prefect, who shouted at them for only being a pair, but it fell on deaf ears. He wanted to ask Hermione what was happening as they went, but she was clearly too focused on keeping upright at their demanding pace. Bursting into the Great Hall, they drew the gazes of a hundred students; not that it mattered.

The Weasley twins waved wildly enough to get his attention and shot him a hand signal for 'assist', with a questioning flourish. He shook his head as he passed; he had no idea whether Hermione might need their help, or if they could help, and no time to think about it until he got her to the professor. Thankfully the woman was at her chair, already half standing at the interruption of two of her cubs moving toward her at, for Hermione, a flat run.

Harry tried to slow Hermione down, but she was too frantic to pay immediate heed and crashed into the head table before she had entirely stopped. She took the impact with a soft 'oof', slamming her hand down amongst the breakfast spread to spare her face the same, then taking a few harsh breaths to recover.

"Ms Granger?" McGonagall queried.

"Minerva," Hermione panted, "privacy charms, now."

"Whatever is the matter? Why are you not dressed?"

"Don't want - to cause - a panic."

Minerva looked at Harry, who could only shrug, and then waved her wand. The noise of the hall fell away.

"And what, pray tell, might cause said panic?" she asked firmly.

"Slytherin's - monster. Penelope. I know - what happened. Know what - it is."

"How do you-"

"I remember. That night. The stairs. I - I remember. I thought it was - just a dream but - last night it - it was real."

"Out with it then," the headmistress urged; a sentiment Harry could not agree with more.

"Penelope's dead. It killed her. It… oh God, it killed her," Hermione sobbed.

"What? What was it?"

A tremor ran through Hermione's body. She drew a shuddering breath, squeezed Harry's hand painfully hard, and whined her answer:

"Basilisk."

Harry had no clue what a basilisk was, but the speed with which Minerva went pale, and the way she gripped her chair for support merely to remain standing, told him enough. Then, for good measure, the headmistress shepherded them, along with professor Kettleburn and professor Snape of all people, into one of the hall's side rooms to speak properly. Harry stood off to one side; Hermione was put in a chair as her legs were shaking.

"What has the Potter boy done now?" was Snape's comment at his breakfast being interrupted so.

"Nothing," he protested, rankling at the greasy bat.

"Hush Severus," Minerva chided. "Miss Granger has managed to recall the night of Clearwater's disappearance. Miss Granger… from the beginning if you would."

"Yes, do enlighten us," Snape sneered.

"OK, uh," Hermione stammered, fretting with her hands, "I was in the library, and I found a book that mentioned a basilisk, which seemed to fit - it explains the petrifications, maybe, and I think that voice Harry heard ages ago… well, the reason only he heard it could be that it was parseltongue, right?"

Harry hadn't thought of that, for which he was kicking himself. If this basilisk was a snake of some kind then of course he would hear something, while everyone else would just hear background hissing.

"So it's a bit hazy still, but I met Penelope in the library when I was leaving, and-"

"Leaving alone?" Snape accused.

"Hush Severus, this is hardly the time," Minerva snapped, waving him off.

"So I told Penelope, and we were coming to find… well, anyone really, when - when it found us first. We tried to run, but it's so fast, so fast, and Penelope... Penelope, she... She stayed with me; she was guiding me. That meant she was behind when we… when it…"

Hermione broke into a fit of sobs; uncontrollable convulsions that stole her voice from her.

"Sorry, so-rry," she forced out.

"It's quite alright Miss Granger," Kettleburn assured her. "Perhaps we ned to source some calming draught?"

Hermione shook her head violently, then threw an arm out toward Harry, fingers outstretched, reaching for him. He had taken her hand in his before he could think, and at once her sobbing came under control. The way she was squeezing, his hand was starting to feel rather abused of late. He'd have to have a word with her, if he ever got that far down his priorities list.

"Penelope was… it was at the stairs… she told me to, to keep going, that she would catch me. I didn't have a choice, so I, I - I threw myself down the stairs. I heard her casting something behind me, a levitation charm, or cushioning or something; I don't know because… I don't… she… she didn't finish the spell. She barely even screamed, it was ju-just this crunch, and then… then Lockhart woke me at the bottom."

The room fell silent for the longest moment, but for Hermione's weeping rising again.

"You expect us to-" Snape started viciously, but Minerva hit him - actually hit him, across the arm with a firm backhand - then crouched down in front of Hermione, resting a hand on her knee.

"Miss Granger, I understand this is difficult, but we must know; how large was the creature?"

"She tried to save me. She did save me," Hermione rambled. "Should have left me behind, I was slowing us down; only slowing us down. She could have got away. Slowing her down. Should have… shouldn't be…."

"Hermione, please calm down," Minerva urged softly, but it didn't seem Hermione was listening anymore.

The headmistress looked up at Harry with searching eyes which flicked more than once to where his friend clung to his hand with deathly grip.

"Mr Potter, can you help her?" she asked.

He wanted to be able to shout 'of course I can', but honestly he was almost as lost as she was. He was feeling very much the thirteen year old kid in a room full of adults and school full of monsters.

"How?"

"If I knew that," Minerva muttered, "I would be her friend; not you."

Hermione was starting to rock back and forth, her chair creaking louder than she was muttering. Harry tried to recall how he had helped her the last time she had been like this; he laid his free hand on her shoulder, terribly self-conscious. He had talked her through it the last time, but the words weren't there for him then; he couldn't remember, nor force new ones out in the presence of three teachers.

Her grip went slack, then she removed her hand entirely to cradle her chest instead, closing in on herself.

"Fetch a calming draught, Severus," Minerva ordered.

As he left, Harry thought about how far it was to the infirmary, and how long it would take Snape to return. Given he wasn't moving in any hurry, it would be a good while; a good while of Hermione suffering as she mumbled, rocked and hugged herself tight. Far too long a while; unacceptably long.

Hugged herself tight.

Caught between Hermione's predicament and his own, Harry let his lion fully take the reins. Its decision was instant, the action unthinking; he put his arms around her and enveloped her in a hug from behind. She continued trying to rock, so he rocked with her, finding some comfort in the motion himself. Merlin knew he needed it, to keep that up. Her hands slowly wrapped about his forearms, trapping him there, then her head fell against his to bury him in a bush of curls. Yet still she rocked; still she sobbed.

"Come on Hermione," he whispered in her ear, despondent. "You're the strong one. We need you; we can't do this without you. I don't know what to do."

He looked to Minerva for help, with the one eye not covered in auburn locks; she smiled encouragingly and gestured him to carry on. But it wasn't working; he couldn't calm her down. He was failing to help her. His fierce, independent Hermione was little more than a scared girl, pushed past her limit, and he was useless…

No! No, he refused to be useless. He wasn't useless; he wasn't out of ideas just yet. He couldn't cheer her up, but maybe he could refocus her. He could still be her punching bag. It beat being her teddy bear.

"I don't know how to stop a basilisk," he told her. "I don't know what one is. But it's upset you, so I'm going to find it, and I'm going to kill it. Terrible idea, I know, but that's sort of my thing. Normally I've got this friend who talks me out of being an idiot, only she isn't available right now, so I guess I'm just going to have to make it up as I go along. If you know any spells that are good against basilisks, I'd appreciate it. I reckon incendios might not cut it."

She didn't answer, but her breathing was changing. Not slowing, just settling in rhythm. She was regaining control.

"Right, uh, wish me luck I guess? No point dawdling; I've got a snake to kill."

He made to break the hug, and her grip tightened about his arms, pinning him in place. He swallowed his anxiety and pressed on.

"Come on, Hermione, let me go. It's gonna be hard enough without dragging you around too. And I sort of need my wand arm back. I know my casting sucks, but it sucks even worse with my left."

He pulled away more firmly, and she almost let him go, but then he was yanked back down to where Hermione was now sitting stock still, her laboured breathing turned to the huffing of an angered bull.

"You're a git, Harry Potter," she hissed.

"Uh, thanks?" he beamed.

"You even think about doing what you said, I'll set Patricia on you."

"That's alright," he laughed nervously, "I was kidding. Trying to snap you out of it."

"Why does that even work?" she lamented. "And are you hugging me?"

"Because you can't stand people being wrong?" Harry ventured. "And I'd honestly rather not be, if you're good?"

"I'm hardly good," she scoffed, "but you can stop if you must."

Harry let her go, and she reluctantly allowed him to. He stayed close, stood behind her chair, and smiled anxiously at Minerva, who was appraising the both of them.

"Might we continue?" she asked, standing and fussing the rim of her hat.

Hermione nodded, and the headmistress waved Kettleburn over.

"Right, need to know some more 'bout this snake," he said. "First, any clue 'ow big she is?"

"It's not like I saw it, but by the sound… There was this deep rumble as it moved, and it was knocking over suits of armour."

"We didn't find any suits out of place," Minerva noted.

"Well I heard them," Hermione insisted.

For what it was worth, Harry believed Hermione over the headmistress. There was a niggling doubt over how well she was remembering the event, but the steel in her voice spoke to her own certainty, and her standards for being sure were higher than most.

"Rumbling," Kettleburn mumbled, clearly troubled as he rubbed his good hand absently on his chin. "How fast was it?"

"Fast. Too fast; we couldn't outrun it. Maybe Penelope could have, if I hadn't been slowing her down. Maybe she could have…"

"Don't blame yerself girl; shouldn't be a blasted five-x in a school in the first place. Ain't yer own fault yer weren't prepared fer one. Now, if she's fast as a person, and on stone no less… and rumbling… Any other clues as to her size? Any at all?"

"Just one," Hermione sad sadly, hanging her head. "When it - got her… the sound; Merlin the sound it made." - Her breathing was rising again, but she seemed mostly in control of it - "I know the sound of bone being crushed, sir, but how was it that loud? So loud… she didn't…"

Hermione fell forwards, head in her lap and her hands over her ears.

"Make it stop. Please, make it stop," she moaned.

"Where is Snape with that draught?" Kettleburn wondered aloud.

Harry was steeling himself to deliver another round of hugging when Hermione lifted a little, removed her hands and used one to punch her thigh, hard.

"I can do this," she muttered, "I'm fine, I'm fine. Get it over with, Hermione."

"I think we have enough," Minerva said, "don't you agree, professor?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, quite enough, thank you Miss Granger; you did wonderfully," he said with a fake smile. "I just… I don't understand it. When she said basilisk, what with all the petrification I thought it must be a little one; the babies have a weaker gaze, see? But at that size… Well, at that size it should kill with a glance. And how was it snuck into the castle?"

They all stood in contemplative silence, although Harry's was more bewildered if he was honest. There was a magical snake with some sort of killing or petrifying gaze in the castle, which had attacked three of his friends already. And apparently, by rights, all three should be dead. Any one of them could have glanced at the thing - two could have, he corrected - and died right there. Instead, the two with sight had been petrified, the other throwing herself down a staircase to avoid being… eaten? Was that why Penelope's body hadn't been found; the basilisk had eaten her whole?

Which raised the question of why hadn't it eaten Colin and Neville? They'd been totally helpless. Was it just surprised it hadn't killed them? Was a stiff meal not as appetising? But then why would it have petrified them, not just killed them? It must not have had a choice in the matter, surely? It petrified them by accident; something about its gaze wasn't working the way it should? Some mitigating factor, perhaps, but what?

It was a shame Colin hadn't managed to snap a picture of it with that camera of his. He must have missed the shot by moments; he was petrified with it up to his face, wasn't he? Looking right through the… the… oh, what was it called? He'd never listened to Colin talk about it; all he remembered was it used a mirror somehow - you weren't looking directly at the thing you were taking a picture of…

"They weren't looking at the basilisk," he said to no-one in particular, "they saw a reflection of it. Colin had his camera; Neville was outside Myrtle's bathroom, and always looks at his feet - he'd have seen it in a puddle; same with Filch's cat."

"He's right!" Hermione cried. "The book was in archaic French, I could hardly make sense of some parts, but there was something about mirrors in there!"

"So one can look in the basilisk's eye through a reflection, and not die?" Minerva speculated.

"Like the legend of Medusa," Hermione enthused. "The snake-woman who turned people to stone - reflections weren't s bad - was she just a witch wearing a basilisk on her neck?"

"I'll have to look into this," Kettleburn mused. "Should be books on it-"

"Monstres Macabres, sixteen-eighty-six. Restricted section, aisle three, two yards in, second shelf," Hermione recited, sheepishly adding: "I hope your French is better than mine."

"The restricted section?" Kettleburn quizzed, frowning. "Those books are kept away from students for a reason-"

"And if they weren't I may have solved it months ago," Hermione snapped, "so if you're planning on telling me off, you can quite frankly go shove it! Sir."

"What is-" Snape started as he chose that moment to reappear, clutching a potion vial.

"This is not the time for tellings off, nor undue rudeness," McGongall intervened. "Kettleburn, find that book; Snape, go with him, assuming your French is still better than mine?"

Snape could barely answer in the affirmative before Kettleburn was hustling him out on their way to the library.

"Potter, Granger, you should get to breakfast," Minerva firmly suggested, "though I must ask you not to speak of this before the faculty is prepared; you were quite right about the danger of causing panic. Should anyone ask, tell them for now you were the victims of a confundus charm; it would not be the first time one has been used in these halls as a prank."

"We can't tell anyone?" Harry asked, thinking of his friends going about their day unwarned - unprepared should the snake go hunting again.

"Safety provisions will be in place by the time breakfast ends," she assured them, "and they will be more effective if students are not running about like headless chickens, would you not agree?"

"I guess so," Harry mumbled, thinking about telling a select few anyway.

They would keep it secret, wouldn't they? Luna had no one to tell, really, and Ginny would only tell her brothers. The twins would tell Lee, Ron might let his dorm mates know. He should let the chaser girls know too, and Patricia would murder him if she wasn't told when others were, then they would tell their friends of course, and them theirs, and the whole school would know by lunch.

Oh. I get it.

"Run along then," McGonagall urged.

Harry did as he was told, but at the door he noticed Hermione wasn't following; she had stood up, but not taken a step. McGonagall saw him looking back, looked at Hermione herself, then gently shooed Harry with a gesture. Reluctantly, he left to save a seat at the table. He hoped Hermione wasn't going to be in trouble.

"You have something else to say, Ms Granger? What is it?" McGonagall invited.

"I'm just sick of hearing promises and seeing nothing happen," she fumed, staying worked up as an alternative to breaking down. "Or the faculty waiting what seems as long as possible before acting. This has been happening since September, and still it's all just words!" she fumed, her frustrations finally boiling over.

"I assure you there will be more than words this time," the headmistress rebutted. "But I also think you might appreciate an explanation."

"Yes, that would be nice."

"Very well. Do please understand; most students are never told this, primarily because they do not ask or even wish to know, but also because many would become too wrapped up in their emotional bias to grasp the value of the logic behind our actions. I trust you can rise above such mental failings."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That was not a question. Now, the first tool Hogwarts uses to ensure the safety of its students, is divination. Whilst the subject is flighty and unreliable most of the time, in predictions of doom and disaster it performs far better. Before taking any major actions, professors Dumbledore, Trelawney, and Vector consult the cups, stars, and whatever else seems appropriate for ill omens."

"Divination? They really entrust us to that hocus-pocus? Hardly a surprise they didn't see this coming," Hermione huffed, thinking not only of that year's events, but also those the year before.

"They saw something, Ms Granger. Something with the potential to be so much worse than it has been. It has been a narrow path to tread, minimising the damage to all involved, and unfortunately there are situations in which one may only choose the lesser of two evils."

"This doesn't feel very lesser."

"Does it not? Tell me, then, what might have been had a - a basilisk found its way into the great hall during dinner? How easily could your friends have been killed, rather than petrified? How close did a young girl come to losing more than her eyesight?"

"You mean, I could have…?"

Hermione knew she could have died, but to hear it said out loud still stung. The crazy thing was, she couldn't even be sure which near death experience Minerva was actually referring to.

"You, or someone else, or several others even. I hope you will not blame Dumbledore for shouldering the burden of such difficult decisions."

"Still…" Hermione mumbled, unwilling to accept fortune-telling as a sound policy.

"Still," Minerva spoke over her, "in an entire year of danger, only one casualty has befallen us. As a witch who has lived through two wars, I assure you that can, in trying times, be considered a success."

"But if you knew about the basilisk all along, why not hunt it?"

"We knew only of the threat's existence, not its nature," Minerva corrected gently. "Its approximate number of victims, not their names nor precise severity of injury. Divination, at its height, gives only vague answers, and changing one thing on its account can alter other outcomes in ways the mind cannot comprehend."

"The butterfly effect…" Hermione muttered, having read about such a concept.

"I have heard that term before, and it is fitting."

"So what now?" she demanded, her aggravation taking hold again. "You're going to Trelawney to decide how many more people get to die?"

"Not at all, child. There is a time and a place for such things; that time has passed. Thanks to you, we know what we are dealing with, and the time has come for decisive action."

"You know how to find it? Stop it?" Hermione asked, latching onto the sliver of hope Minerva was offering.

"Professor Kettleburn would, I'm sure, swear on his remaining limb to find the answer. And contrary to appearances, he is rather fond of keeping it."

Hermione mulled over everything the headmistress had told her. Having her school life determined by divination, and woolly divination at that, with a small group of teachers playing chessmaster, did not sit well with her. But thinking on it properly, she couldn't fault their logic, or even their results, and found herself wondering what else they had quietly manipulated - or refused to have a hand in.

"Wait, does this mean you knew about me and Harry leaving the tower even sooner?" she asked.

"Did you never wonder how no one found your room, for whatever reason, save those you wished to?" Minerva responded smugly.

"It was out of the way…"

"It was also protected by a formidable array of wards; wards which I personally placed upon it the very night it became occupied."

"You knew all along…"

"There is very little which happens among my cubs without my knowledge," she asserted, with a hint of warning. "Very little. But direct intervention is not always the best way for lessons to be learned, or friendships forged."

"So that was divination too?" Hermione asked as she mused on that last part.

"Not everything can be found at the bottom of a teacup, dear. Often, it is better simply to listen; the ears of a cat are sharper than even your own. Now, you must excuse me; I have a thousand year old magical snake in my school, and I intend to give it a piece of my mind."

Lessons were cancelled for the day, but at the same time the rule of three was abandoned, and students were encouraged to spend their time outside. An early curfew was established; immediately after dinner all students would be sent to their dorms. Word was, prefect patrols for the night were off, with more direct prevention methods keeping students in bed. The faculty could be seen hurrying about, lips tight both physically and metaphorically. And the rumour mill churned at maximum pace.

Only Hermione and Harry knew what was happening. They encouraged their fellows to abide by the new regime, evaded questions about Hermione's pyjamas as best they could, then elected to shut themselves up in Gryffindor tower - right at the top where a giant snake would be unlikely to venture - along with as many others as they could subtly convince to join them.

Which meant Luna. No-one else took them seriously without cause, but their unconventional friend explained, in her own way, she had been disbelieved too often and too harshly to wish it upon her friends. It also helped that they had smuggled an entire coconut cake and pitcher of custard from lunch.

"It is very nice up here," Luna opined between sips of custard (having declined the offer of a spoon). "It's cool, and the air is wonderfully moist."

"Moist?" Harry asked, taking a breath to sample and finding it remarkably normal.

"Yes, in Ravenclaw it's always hot and dusty."

"Are there a lot of books in Ravenclaw tower?" Hermione questioned, not pausing in reading her own.

Harry could never figure out how she multitasked whilst reading braille. He had tried it, and found the amount of concentration required to differentiate one set of bumps from another, over and over again, then consciously convert the string of letters into words, took the entirety of his brain power. Feeling one set of words and speaking another was boggling.

"Oh yes, everywhere," Luna happily replied. "How did you guess that?"

"Low humidity is good for books. They probably keep your tower dry on purpose."

"Couldn't they just protect the books, with, you know, magic?" Harry suggested.

"Oh, absolutely," Hermione agreed, as Luna nodded too, "and I expect they do."

"Then why would they…?"

"The same reason they run the Hogwarts Express from London, even for kids who live in Scotland?" she ventured sardonically.

"Ah, you thought that was weird too."

"A lot of things around here are weird," Hermione said, not even in complaint, just flat and neutral like she was reading the shipping forecast. "The trick to figuring them out, I find, is approaching them logically, whilst pretending to be an idiot. Ask yourself: What would an imbecile think is smart? Smart to keep the tower dry for the books; dumb to forget there's no need."

"It isn't all bad," Luna mused. "I was nice and warm at night the week my bedcovers went missing."

"How do bedcovers go missing?" Harry asked emphatically, even though he suspected he knew the answer.

"Rachel took them," Luna said bluntly, before nonchalantly slurping the last of her bowl's custard.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I just expected it to be nargles, or an errant snorkack," Harry admitted, taken aback that she had faced the problem head on.

"Don't be silly, Harry," she chided. "Snorkacks only steal silk to make their nests. Naturally I suspected a conspiracy by the elves at first, but when I caught one for questioning he assured me it wasn't them. Then Rachel needed space in her trunk so she gave me the covers back to make room."

"You need to speak to the faculty about all this bullying, Luna," Hermione asserted, finally stopping with her reading.

"Oh it's nothing really," Luna said, utterly unconvincing.

"Maybe not yet, but it will get worse. First it's whispering behind your back, then before you know it they're tripping you up in corridors and laughing at your bleeding nose."

Hermione sounded so bitter as she said it, Harry had no doubt she was talking from experience. Whether it happened at Hogwarts in her first year, or before, he daren't ask. His own list of such tales was as long as his arm, and as he wouldn't be sharing it happily, there was no reason to think she would.

"I did tell Flitwick once," Luna lamented softly. "He said he'd sort things, but…"

"We'll speak to McGonagall for you," Harry offered, thinking her a better bet, given the way she solved his own issues, "soon as she's done getting rid of the basilisk."

Hermione let out a loud groan; the one reserved for when someone around her had done something phenomenally stupid. Harry didn't see why though. All I said was we'll help, after the basilisk is…

"What's a basilisk, Harry?" Luna sked innocently.

"Oh. Uh," he stammered, stalling for time as his mind raced in search of an excuse. All it found was a myriad of reasons he shouldn't be trying to lie to his friend.

"Right," he said, collecting himself, "so, we should probably explain…"

"We?" Hermione scoffed.

"…what's going on," he finished over her, gulping nervously.

The idea to not tell anyone seemed so much more attractive the moment it was no longer an option. Luna smiled at him sweetly; expectantly. He looked to Hermione for help, but she obviously didn't notice and, by the way she was pointedly pretending to read again, wouldn't have helped if she had.

Bloody traitorous mouth; look what you got us into now.

A/N

Quick thanks to my following readers, and a shoutout to new reviewer Nickiel, welcome :)

So... There's my AU explanation for half the incompetence of the faculty at Hogwarts. I didn't feel I could just leave it be, but also this story isn't meant to address logical issues in the canon. What do you think?

And a heads up, going to a bi-weekly update schedule again until the end, because the climax is coming and stretching it out over weeks and weeks would ruin the pacing.