Chapter 5

Hermione's First Broken Rule

It had taken Hermione nearly two weeks before she felt confident enough with her calligraphy to write a proper letter to her parents (and she couldn't help feeling envious that Harry had taken to calligraphy like a fish to water after only a few days). She had sent a quick note with a school owl the day after she had arrived at Hogwarts, of course, to let them know that she had arrived safely. She had been quite aggravated with herself at the time for not thinking of bringing some ballpoint pens.

But now she sat at one of the tables in the common room, gnawing on the end of her quill and contemplating how to start the letter. As it was Saturday morning, there was no time constraint, so she could take as long as she wanted. Harry was sitting on the other side of the table, reading one of the storybooks that Hermione had brought with her. Finally, she decided that she might as well begin at the beginning…

Dear Mum and Dad,

Hogwarts is amazing! You should see the castle—it's like something straight out of a fairy-tale, and the countryside is beautiful, with mountains, an old forest, and a lake.

Learning all about magic is exciting, but best of all, I met a really nice boy on the train and made friends with him. His name is Harry Potter, and you've already met him. He's the boy who asked you how to get onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He grew up with non-magical guardians and he didn't know he was a wizard either until he got his letter, so he's almost like me. His parents were actually wizards, but he didn't know because his aunt and uncle aren't wizards. They are apparently quite horrible, and never told him that he was a wizard.

Another way he's a bit like me is that he never had any proper friends. Actually, it's worse than that, because he never had any friends at all (his mean aunt and uncle wouldn't let anyone come around to play with him). At least I had a few people who liked me enough to talk to me now and then at school, and not tease me too much about being a swot. Harry didn't even have any casual school friends because his cousin is horrible too, and bullied other children. Nobody wanted to risk being Harry's friend because they were afraid of his cousin.

I was ever so surprised that he actually asked me to sit with him and wanted to get to know me—but I'm really happy that he did. I rather went on a bit at first about how I had read all of my schoolbooks and learnt them all by heart. I could have kicked myself for blurting it out like that. I really have to try harder not to do that, so I don't put people off me. Children here are just like in the non-magical world, and aren't very fond of swots.

Harry wasn't put off me at all though, even though he's not nearly as much of a swot as me. I have to admit, at first I thought he might be, because of the glasses, even though I know that it's stupid to judge people by looks. But he hasn't once teased me for studying so much, and he does seem a fair bit more interested in studying than most of the others. In fact, he's the only other student in my year, in Gryffindor, who actually read all of their books before the school-term started (I couldn't help asking the other First Years if they had). He didn't remember a lot of it until I jogged his memory a bit, but still, he had only read them through once, and I read mine loads of times.

And even though I can speed-read, and I'm much quicker on the theory than him, Harry is really quite smart. He is one of the only two Gryffindors in my year who are consistently above average and put more effort in than the rest—the other one being Parvati, which is very surprising, as she and her best friend, Lavender, are a bit giggly and obsessed with fashion (but she and Lavender seem quite nice otherwise).

Though Harry doesn't mind studying, he does seem happier when we make time for doing other things too. Mum, you would be proud of me—you've always said I should try to relax a bit, and I have been, thanks to Harry. He's also quite funny at times—which I didn't really expect at first, as he seems quite serious a lot of the time.

I've been reading some of the storybooks you bought for me to bring to school, and I'm sharing them with him. He seems to like the science fiction and fantasy ones best.

Harry is quite famous in the Wizard World actually, not that it's important, of course. I had no idea who he was until after we had already chatted a bit on the train...

Hermione paused and chewed the end of her quill again, frowning, and wondered if she should tell her parents why Harry was famous. Then she sighed and kept on writing, reckoning that she had never lied to them before, and it didn't seem right to start now.

Harry is famous because he survived when his parents were murdered by a horrible wizard who was trying to take over the wizard world. The Dark wizard tried to kill Harry too, but the wizard was killed instead, and apparently Harry is the one who stopped him (nobody is sure how, not even Harry, though some of the history books think it was accidental magic) so he's seen as a bit of a hero by most people in the wizard world.

It's not a very nice thing to be famous for, actually, and Harry doesn't really like being famous. That's why it was particularly dreadful that Professor Snape made fun of Harry for being a "celebrity" in our first Potions lesson.

I never thought that I would ever meet a teacher that I didn't like, but Professor Snape is the nastiest, most vile teacher that I've ever met. I'm really not making this up. He's absolutely awful—he's mean to students, and he's not even a good teacher. If I hadn't studied the Potions books loads before school, I would have no idea what I was doing, because all he does is put the Potions recipes on the blackboard, and he just expects students to know how to do it properly.

Thankfully for Harry, he and I studied the Potions books a bit together for a few days before our first lesson, so he was able to remember what he'd read and he answered Professor Snape's questions perfectly. Professor Snape was SO horrid, that he made fun of Harry for answering the questions correctly. Have you ever heard of such a thing? I couldn't believe it!

At least all of the other teachers are nice, even if they are a bit strict. I don't know why Professor Dumbledore allows such a mean one to teach here…

Hermione went on to describe some of the other teachers and classes in great detail, and Harry's name came up multiple times.

...and you should see him wave a wand. Harry takes longer than me to get the theory, but he really is amazing, once he gets the hang of a spell. I can do the wand movements quite well, better than most, actually, but Harry is a natural. He gets them faster than me, and his precision is remarkable. I'll be lucky if I'm ever as good as him. And he's better than me all the way around in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He's going to be a great wizard one day, I'm sure of it.

Anyway, I have met a lot of other students, of course, but Harry is the nicest by far. Well, Parvati and Lavender, the two girls I mentioned earlier, are friendly. Neville, who is also in our year is quite nice too, but he's not very good at magic. And then there is Ron—he's not very good at magic either—but he doesn't like me very much, and can be quite rude to me sometimes. But I suppose he must be a decent sort—he's Neville's best friend, and I can't imagine that Neville would be friends with anyone who was truly nasty.

I think that's everything for now. If you're planning on sending me anything for my birthday, you can send it back with the school owl bringing you this letter. Magical owls can carry quite heavy things and are much smarter than non-magic owls…

"You didn't tell me your birthday was coming up."

Hermione gasped, and heat rushed to her cheeks. Thoroughly embarrassed, she turned and saw Harry standing behind her.

"Erm… You're not supposed to be looking at my letter," she squeaked, quickly covering it with another piece of parchment and hoping that he hadn't seen all of the things she had written about him.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry. "I didn't mean to. But why didn't you tell me when your birthday was?"

Hermione was a bit bewildered, but then she remembered that Harry had never really had much opportunity to get to know other children and learn proper birthday etiquette.

"Erm… Well," she said, "generally speaking, it's considered a bit gauche to tell people when your birthday is, unless they ask you, because it might seem like you're just trying to get them to give you a present."

Harry had looked puzzled when she had said the word "gauche," but he seemed to have caught the meaning by the end of her sentence.

"Oh!" said Harry; then he grinned at her. "Erm… Well, I'm asking, so you can tell me."

Hermione wasn't really sure why, but at times Harry made her feel a bit shy, and that was a feeling which she wasn't used to. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire now.

"It's… er, on September 19th," she said, giving him a bashful little smile.

"That's just a few days from now." Harry, looked thoughtful, and then disappointed. "I wish I'd known you before going to Diagon Alley, then I could have got you a present."

"That's okay, Harry. I really didn't expect anything from anyone except my parents and my aunt."

"Well, I'll try to make up for it at Christmas, if I can. I guess I can order something from a shop in Diagon Alley, and send Hedwig to pick it up."

"You really don't have to do that," she said, feeling even more abashed.

Harry raised his eyebrows, and gave her a 'don't-be-silly' sort of look, then he said, "I'm fairly certain that's the sort of thing that friends are supposed to do, isn't it?"

"I—I suppose so," she agreed, trying to think what she should get Harry for Christmas.

A light seemed to spark in Harry's almost impossibly green eyes, and he said, "Hey, you can send Hedwig to your parents instead of a school owl. I can share her with you, if you'd like."

Hermione was stunned. She didn't know what to say. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever offered her. Harry stood there, peering at her hopefully.

"Y-yes—all right," she said. "I would like that. Hedwig really is quite beautiful, you know."

"Great! That's settled then," said Harry, beaming at her. "We can go to the owlery as soon as you're finished with your letter. Just let me know when you're ready."

Hermione finished her letter quickly, as she didn't have much more to add, then she followed Harry to the owlery at the top of one of Hogwarts' many towers. She still found it amazing to see so many owls in one place, particularly as she had never seen even one owl up close. She took care to avoid stepping in the droppings littering the stone floor, and rather unnecessarily looked around for Hedwig, as Harry simply called out her name.

The snowy owl lit upon a perch next to Harry and he stroked her feathers.

"Hi, Hedwig," he said, "I've actually got a real letter for you..."

Hermione bit her lip and a little crinkle formed between her eyebrows, hearing a hint of excitement in his voice. It was obvious to her that Harry had not expected that he would ever have someone to send a letter to—even though the letter wasn't his own—and she couldn't help her eyes feeling a bit watery.

"It's for Hermione's parents..." he trailed off and glanced at her. "Er…"

"London," she said, "We live next to Hampstead Heath—"

Hedwig gave her a little hoot, as if to say that it was quite unnecessary to give her the address, and held out one of her talons. Hermione tied her letter around Hedwig's ankle.

"Anyway," Harry said to Hedwig, "I'm going to let Hermione share you. You don't mind, do you?"

The snowy owl shook her head and gave Hermione's finger an affectionate nibble. Hermione still couldn't get over how smart magical owls were, living up to their mythical reputation for wisdom.

"Thank you, Hedwig." Hermione beamed at her and gave her feathers a tentative stroke, then glanced at Harry, still beaming. "Thank you for sharing her with me, Harry."

Hedwig flapped her wings, and then she was gone.

The next few days passed quickly, and were marred only by another Potions lesson with Professor Snape. He swooped around the classroom like a bat, and spent an inordinate amount of time hovering behind Harry and Hermione with a scowl on his face, as if he was looking for any little excuse to dock some more points from Harry. Hermione grew more and more annoyed by the distraction, and Harry wasn't faring much better, judging by the look on his face. Unfortunately, just over halfway through the lesson, Professor Snape found a reason to berate Harry.

It wasn't a very good reason. In fact, there was no reason at all for Professor Snape to go after Harry, and Hermione found herself growing more and more distressed at the unfairness of it all. As he had the first lesson, Snape used the failings of another student as an excuse to harass Harry instead. This time it was Ron, whose deep maroon tar-like potion had drawn Snape's ire. The Wiggenweld potions were supposed to be a light turquoise colour and the consistency of melted butter at this stage, but it wasn't the state of Ron's potion itself which had triggered Snape's tirade—it was the billowing maroon clouds of smoke filling the classroom and making everyone cough violently.

Neville—whose own potion was orange and foaming—passed out and collapsed on the floor after nearly hacking up a lung.

"You imbecile!" Snape snarled at Ron, and with a flourish his wand-tip began to suck up the smoke like a vacuum. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and another ten points from you, Potter, for not monitoring Weasley's progress. That's twice now you've allowed your Housemates to ruin their potions and disrupt the class—one more time and it's a detention for you."

Harry glowered at Snape as the vindictive Professor brought Neville back to his senses with another wave of his wand and stormed back to his desk in a swirl of black robes. Hermione could see Harry struggling to not respond to Snape's provocations. "Git!" she heard Harry mutter under his breath.

Once back at his desk, Hermione saw a horrid but satisfied smirk on Professor Snape's face. After the end of class as they trudged through the corridor towards the stairs leading up from the dungeons Ron caught up to them with a gloomy looking Neville trailing behind.

"Sorry, Harry," Ron mumbled.

"It wasn't your fault," said Harry. "Snape's just evil. I don't know why, but he's really got it in for me."

"Yeah! I suppose so," Ron sighed. "Still, if I wasn't complete rubbish at Potions he wouldn't've had a reason to have a go at you."

"He probably would've just made up a reason, anyway," chimed in Neville.

"Neville's right, Ron," said Harry. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah—okay. Thanks, Harry."

The rest of the day passed without further incident, and by the end of classes Harry and Hermione were feeling a lot better and headed up to Gryffindor tower to drop off their books and change their clothes. To Hermione's great surprise, when she entered the girls' dormitory she was waylaid by Parvati and Lavender.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione," said Parvati, grinning at her and handing her a red and gold envelope.

"Happy Birthday," said Lavender, beaming and handing her another envelope.

"Wh-what?" Hermione stammered in shock. "How did you know?" she squeaked.

"Harry," said Parvati, still grinning. "He told us it was your birthday in Transfiguration—"

"You were buried in your book," Lavender interjected with a giggle.

"Anyway, it's not much," Parvati added with a shrug. "Just cards..."

"Well, er… Thank you very much," said Hermione, still reeling. "Cards are plenty—really!" She smiled at them both, her cheeks reddening.

Apparently Harry had told Hagrid about her birthday too—after classes, Harry led her, and Lavender and Parvati, to Hagrid's hut for tea. The chocolate icing on the cake was a bit lumpy, and Happy Birthday Hermione was written in squiggly lines of green icing. All in all, it was one of the nicest birthdays she could remember having. It was the first birthday party of sorts with proper friends who didn't need prodding by their parents to attend.

~o0o~

It was the weekend again, Saturday, and Hermione was more determined than ever to help Harry work out what the ferocious dog behind the door on the third floor was guarding. It was the first time in her life that she had ever considered breaking a school rule, not just because she had made a promise, but because he was her best friend.

"...Okay, yeah," said Harry, nodding, when they were making plans for later that night. "Alohomora should work on the lock, but what about the big dog?"

"I found a charm in one of the second year textbooks," Hermione said eagerly, pulling a schoolbook from her bag. "It's called Immobulus. It should freeze the dog in place long enough for us to find out what it's guarding."

"Brilliant!" said Harry, grinning at her broadly. "You're a genius, Hermione."

She blushed at Harry's high praises.

"All I did is find the book, Harry. We should practice it a bit now."

After practicing for a few hours on insects and a hapless frog while clouds drew across the sky, Hermione deemed that they were both as ready as could be. The frog hopped away as a big fat raindrop plopped on her nose. She shoved the The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk into her bag, knowing that Madam Pince, the school librarian, would have a fit if the book got wet. The rain quickly turned into a downpour and she and Harry were both drenched by the time they reached the front doors of the castle.

That night, after she was sure that all the other girls in her dorm were fast asleep, Hermione drew her dressing gown around herself, put on her slippers, and tiptoed all the way down to the common room. She found Harry already waiting, looking as nervous as she felt.

"I'll keep a lookout for Filch," he whispered as they clambered out through the portrait hole.

Once they were in the corridor, the Fat Lady's portrait closed behind them. Hermione gulped, her heart thumping wildly, and almost kicked herself for not thinking about this part of the nighttime excursion; the Fat Lady was yawning and staring sleepily at them.

"Oh, don't mind me. You're not the first students to take a stroll after curfew," said the Fat Lady, winking at them conspiratorially. "My lips are sealed."

Hermione then remembered that Ron and Neville hadn't been turned in by the Fat Lady's portrait. Her heart slowed and she heard Harry let out a sigh of relief. Silently they crept through the stone corridors, past burning torches which flickered in the draft, staying to the shadows. Her stomach tied up in knots, she half expected Filch to jump out at them at every corner. Finally they were on the forbidden third floor, staring at the locked door.

Harry's eyes darted around the landing and the staircases.

"All clear," he said quietly.

"Okay, here goes," Hermione murmured, aiming her wand at the lock, "Alohomora."

There was a click, and she held her breath in anticipation as Harry cautiously turned the tarnished brass doorknob. Hermione had her wand ready, as he did also, poised to cast Immobulus if the dog was awake. Harry pushed the door open, and they both winced when the hinges let out a creak. Fortunately, there was no growling or barking, and they entered a dark corridor which was lit only by one sputtering torch. Hermione shut the door behind them so the dog wouldn't escape and terrorise the whole castle.

They both peered into the darkness. On the stone floor ahead was a trapdoor, and behind that there was a snoring, monstrously large shadow.

Hermione and Harry gaped in horror at the size of the beast, and took one step back. Suddenly the snoring stopped, and they heard sniffing instead. The gargantuan shadow rose to its feet, filling the passage up ahead from floor to ceiling. Its three heads snarled, saliva drooling in long strings from its curled lips. The three-headed dog bounded towards them. Hermione stood frozen in shock, forgetting temporarily that she was a witch.

Harry aimed his wand, and shouted, "Immobulus," but the monster dog kept coming. He grasped the handle of the door and swung it open, grabbing Hermione's arm and pulling her out onto the landing; he quickly slammed the door behind them. For a moment they stood there, panting and quaking from fright, listening to the dog barking and scratching at the door.

Hermione snapped out of her shock, glanced around, and seized Harry's hand.

"Come on, Harry! We've got to go before we get caught."

"Yeah!" he said, still shaking and gasping for air. "You don't have to tell me twice."

Hand in hand, Hermione and Harry ran for the top of the stairs and halted. Filch's voice could be heard from one of the staircases below.

"Nasty little brats—think they can go sneaking around the third floor, do they? They'll soon wish they hadn't."

There was a meow in response from Filch's cat, Mrs Norris.

"Oh no," Hermione moaned. "We can't go down."

"Then we go up," said Harry, pulling her towards another staircase nearby.

They hurtled up the stairs as the bottom of the staircase leading to the fourth floor began moving away from the third floor landing, hearing a string of vulgar expletives c0ming from Filch. Hermione desperately hoped that he hadn't seen their faces.

"—Blast it!" yelled Filch furiously. "They'll be long gone by the time we get there," he grumbled at Mrs Norris.

When Hermione and Harry reached the fourth floor, they saw that the next staircase going up to the fifth floor hadn't reached its landing yet. They both looked around, panicking.

"Over there," said Hermione, who still had a firm grip on Harry's hand, pointing at a door next to a gleaming suit of armour.

They ran towards the door that Hermione had spotted, and she hoped that there wasn't another monster behind it. Fortunately, it appeared to be an empty classroom, judging from the shadowy shapes of desks in the darkness. Hermione closed the door, aimed her wand at the lock, and said, "Colloportus."

There was a click, and Harry tried turning the doorknob just to be certain that it was well and truly locked. They both eyed the door worriedly, and Hermione clasped Harry's hand in her own again. She knew that Filch would make it up to the fourth floor soon enough, and she hoped that her Locking Charm was strong enough to counter Filch's Unlocking Charm.*

Five minutes later, their ears caught the sound of Filch's feet roaming around outside.

"Where are they, my sweet?" they heard him ask his cat. "Maybe one of the floors above?"

Then Hermione's heart leapt in her throat, throbbing in her ears, and Harry squeezed her hand as tightly as she was clutching his. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Mrs Norris scratching at the door. The doorknob rattled and she and Harry both held their breaths.

They let out quiet, tentative sighs of relief when the rattling stopped; it was hard to let go of their anxiety completely with Filch still outside.

"Blast it!" they heard from the other side of the door. Filch muttered. "You sure they're in there, my sweet?"

Apparently, Mrs Norris had given him a sign of uncertainty, because then Hermione heard Filch say, "Well, they can't be far if you smell 'em 'round here. Let's check the rest of this floor before going up to the next one..."

Filch's footsteps faded into the distance; Hermione and Harry let go of each other's hand.

"We should probably wait a bit before going back, until we're sure that Filch isn't on the fourth floor," said Hermione.

Harry nodded.

"Yeah! I was thinking the same thing," he said. "Why don't we have a look around a bit?" he added, and lit his wand; Hermione lit hers as well.

They both turned around and gasped when they saw it: a mirror which was almost as tall as the ceiling, within an ornately carved, gilded frame, and standing on two clawed feet...

*AN: Hermione and Harry don't know that Filch is a Squib yet. They didn't find out till Chamber of Secrets.