Hermione's eyelids fluttered open, and she found herself lying in the hospital wing, surrounded by the sterile atmosphere and the faint scent of antiseptic. Her entire body throbbed with soreness, a painful reminder of the lightning strike, being flung through the air, and her subsequent tumble down the stairs with Draco. Other students who had been caught outside during the storm were also scattered across nearby beds, some sporting bandages to tend to their minor injuries. Madam Pomfrey had attended to the more severe wounds, ensuring that everyone was relatively unharmed. Hermione attempted to shift, but a sharp jolt of pain shot through her side, forcing her to wince and settle back onto the soft mattress.
In a haze, Hermione slipped back into unconsciousness, her mind seeking respite from the chaos that had unfolded. When she eventually roused from her slumber, she realized she was the only student left in the ward. Neville and Luna stood by her side, their expressions a mix of relief and concern. Hermione surveyed the empty beds and the quiet room, her heart sinking at the sight. She turned to Luna, her voice weak as she inquired, "How long was I out?"
Luna, her dreamy eyes alight with curiosity, responded, "A few hours, Hermione. It was a fascinating storm, you know. The clouds resembled dementors, but without the dementors themselves. And they seemed so calculated." Hermione struggled to grasp Luna's abstract description but pushed herself upright, yearning for stability amidst the whirlwind of events.
Neville, always attentive to his friends, chimed in, "Malfoy stopped by earlier."
Hermione's eyes widened with surprise. "He did? What did he want?" Neville simply shrugged, unable to provide any further details.
Just then, the infirmary door swung open, and Madam Pomfrey briskly entered the room, her presence commanding attention. She promptly sent for McGonagall through one of her assistants, and Hermione was handed a vile-looking potion. Hermione grimaced at the sight but obediently swallowed it down, suppressing a shudder as the unpleasant taste lingered on her tongue. A peculiar sensation coursed through her veins, making her feel strangely off-kilter.
"I feel really strange," Hermione admitted, her voice tinged with unease.
Madam Pomfrey offered her a gentle smile. "That's the effect of the lightning, dear. You were lucky. All of you. The lightning should have been fatal, but somehow, you survived. You should thank your lucky stars," she said, a mixture of sternness and relief in her tone. "You have a minor concussion. It's not severe, but I suggest you take it easy. If you experience prolonged dizziness or headaches, come back immediately."
Hermione nodded, absorbing the information, just as McGonagall and Severus Snape entered the room.
McGonagall approached Hermione's bed, her eyes filled with genuine care and concern. She treated Hermione as if she were her own, well aware of the burdens Hermione carried—her parents Obliviated, the lingering grief over Ron's death, and the complicated emotions that stemmed from the war. Severus stood stoically beside McGonagall, his brooding demeanor intact. He had survived the war, his true motives revealed, and had formed an unexpected bond with Harry, akin to that of a father and son.
"I've already informed Potter," Severus interjected, his voice dripping with iciness. "He's been on standby since he was informed about your accident. He insisted on coming down to make a scene."
McGonagall swatted at Snape's arm. "He was worried about you. If I had believed your well-being was in jeopardy, he would be here."
Hermione's gratitude swelled within her, and she expressed her thanks. "I wouldn't want him to sacrifice his Auror training for me, anyway." The odd glances exchanged between McGonagall and Snape caught Hermione's attention, prompting her to ask, "Is something wrong?"
McGonagall paused, her gaze searching Hermione's face, before speaking, "You were assigned to a group of six. However, only five of you were present at the scene."
"Michael Corner has yet to be located. His whereabouts are currently unknown." Snape simplified the situation in his deep, monotone drawl.
Hermione fidgeted with the blankets, her mind racing to recall what had happened. "He slipped on some spilled paint. It was messy, got all over him, and he stormed off before the storm hit. I assumed he went to clean up."
McGonagall nodded, her expression calm. "Not to worry. The Head Boy and Head Girl have been instructed to organize a thorough search party with the prefects. We'll find him."
After a fairly good night's sleep, Hermione returned to her dormitory the next day. Despite being given the day off to rest, she couldn't resist the temptation of collecting her assignments for Advanced Arithmancy in the Turris Magnus on the first floor. She also made sure to get notes from Luna for Transfiguration. Determined to stay ahead, she found herself in the Library, working on a complex equation and breaking it apart in her attempt to unravel its secrets. Lost in her concentration, she was suddenly startled by a shuffling sound, causing her to look up. It was Sue Li, her classmate, entering the library with her belongings in hand.
Hermione greeted Sue with a friendly wave, and Sue waved back before approaching her. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, hoping to study together.
"Sorry, Sue," Hermione replied, her tone apologetic. "I'm actually working on an extremely difficult Arithmancy equation. I've almost got it, but I really can't afford any distractions right now. You're still welcome to study anywhere else, though."
Sue Li nodded understandingly. "Yeah, of course. I'll leave you to it," she said, giving Hermione a small smile before finding another spot to study.
Returning her attention to her work, Hermione delved back into the complex equation. However, a few moments later, a strange comment reached her ears.
Prissy little witch.
Perplexed, Hermione looked up, unsure if she had heard correctly.
"What?" she questioned, her voice tinged with confusion.
Sue Li glanced back innocently. "I haven't said anything," she replied, her voice devoid of any insult. Hermione hadn't seen her lips moving either. Perhaps she was just hearing things.
"Right," Hermione mumbled to herself. "I thought I heard something. Peeves must be at it again." Shaking off the strange comment, she redirected her focus back to her work, determined to solve the equation.
But the unsettling encounter with Sue Li stayed on her mind.
What a nutcase. Coining her the Brightest Witch of our age was a sympathy tribute.
Hermione lifted her head back up, this time louder. "Excuse me?"
Sue jumped up, startled. "What?"
Hermione stammered, still taken aback by the disparaging comment. "You—you just—" Before she could finish her sentence, Madame Pince, the librarian, appeared around the corner, hushing the two girls.
Sue gave Hermione a confused look, and Hermione quickly gathered her belongings and dashed off, needing some time to process the unexpected turn of events.
The next day, Hermione found herself in Potions class with Professor Snape. As she entered the room, her eyes immediately landed on Draco, noting that he wasn't in the common room reading a book like he usually would. Curiosity sparked within her—why had he come to the infirmary when she was still unconscious? She pondered over what he wanted but decided against asking him. She simply didn't have the energy. In fact, she had struggled to even get the prefect bath running that morning. Yesterday, she had missed breakfast due to feeling unusually tired, likely still recovering from her injuries. However, later on that day, seeking solace and a semblance of strength, Hermione made her way to the Great Hall during both lunch and supper, arriving before the usual influx of students. She'd gathered her plate of food and sought refuge in the Mirror of Erised room.
Taking a seat at an empty desk in the Potions classroom, Hermione waited for the rest of the students to file in. Snape entered and wasted no time diving into the lesson. Since it was an N.E.W.T. level potions class, the number of students was relatively small. As the class progressed, Hermione felt herself growing increasingly exhausted. Casting a mixing charm on the spoon in the cauldron seemed to require extra effort from her. When Snape made his way toward her to inspect her work, he looked her dead in the eye.
"Miss Granger, stay a few moments after class. I won't take up much of your time," he said, his voice stern. He scrutinized her work once more, not revealing any approval or disapproval. "How many lacewing flies did you add?" he inquired.
"Five," Hermione replied, her voice steady. "But only after letting the brew simmer for twenty minutes. One at a time, stirring clockwise in between each one."
Snape inserted a spoon into the cauldron and brought his finger to taste the potion. Hermione's attention, however, was momentarily diverted. She noticed something peculiar—Snape's lips weren't moving, yet she could hear the echo of his voice in her mind, just like she had with Sue Li.
Impeccable. It would be an intolerable disaster if she were aware.
It was a strange sensation, and it left her feeling bewildered. Nonetheless, she quickly refocused herself and awaited Snape's verdict.
"Hm," Snape muttered, his thoughts still lingering in Hermione's mind. Satisfied, he walked away, leaving Hermione with a mix of curiosity and confusion. What was happening to her? She had experienced it with Sue Li and now with Snape. It was as if their thoughts were being projected directly into her mind, bypassing spoken words.
Shaking off her bewilderment, Hermione gathered her belongings as the class came to an end. She remained seated, allowing her classmates to file out. Draco engaged in a brief conversation with Snape before glancing in Hermione's direction and leaving the classroom.
Hermione noticed Professor Snape approaching her. He motioned for her to follow him, and curiosity piqued, she obliged. They walked together, Snape leading her to his office, his steps purposeful and precise. Unlocking the door with practiced ease, he gestured for Hermione to enter.
Inside the office, Snape retrieved a vial and handed it to Hermione. His gaze bore into hers as he spoke with a serious tone, "It has come to my attention that the storm has left students with lingering after-effects. If you are going to perform in my advanced courses, your magic and health must be in optimal condition." Placing the large glass vial on his desk in front of her, he continued, "Take this once every morning."
Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine as Snape's words echoed in her mind, just like the strange phenomenon she had experienced before. It was as if the world around her was shifting, and she found herself questioning her own perceptions. The room seemed to grow colder, and a sense of foreboding filled the air.
"That is all, Miss Granger," Snape concluded abruptly, his voice resonating within her mind. He swiftly turned away, leaving Hermione standing there, her thoughts buzzing with unanswered questions.
.
Hermione walked into the disused changing rooms, a mix of anticipation and unease brewing within her. The space resembled a grand bathroom with a central fountain, showers, bathroom stalls, and a luxurious tub symmetrically arranged. A single row of lockers divided the girls' and boys' sections, allowing free movement across the space but sacrificing privacy. As she entered, Hermione made her way to the girls' side to change, the empty silence surrounding her.
One by one, the rest of the group entered, led by Neville, with Hermione closely following behind. The tension in the air seemed palpable, a mix of lighthearted banter and underlying frustration.
"That miserable git was being unnecessarily prickly," Theo complained, his annoyance evident.
Blaise, never one to shy away from sarcasm, chimed in. "No more than usual. Did you hear him back there? He was like an angry lion, but with grimy hair and dirty fingernails."
Pansy held up a piece of parchment paper, a triumphant smirk gracing her face. It was the same parchment Filch had instructed them to pick up each day before their detention tasks. "Told you she'd be here. You owe me thirty galleons, Nott."
Hermione, taken aback by the revelation, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You wagered on whether I'd be here first?"
Theo shook his head, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "No, we wagered on whether you were late or just had a really massive brain."
Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to hide her amusement. "That doesn't even make sense."
Just as the conversation continued, Draco sauntered into the changing rooms, his jumpsuit half-zipped as she caught a glimpse of him in the mirror. Hermione's gaze involuntarily drifted towards him, her breath momentarily catching in her throat. She noticed the contours of his alabaster chest, subtly defined with lean muscles—an image that sparked an unexpected attraction within her. But as Hermione averted her gaze, she sensed Draco's eyes on her. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her mind—had he noticed her brief moment of captivation? She could almost feel his penetrating gaze, an unspoken connection that she desperately tried to ignore. Suppressing her conflicted feelings, she focused her attention on the conversation at hand.
"Pansy bet that you'd come here first, knowing full well that one of us would visit the detention chamber to pick up our slave duties. Theo bet that you were just late," Draco explained, his eyes on her just as she imagine.
Pansy chimed in smugly, "And I'm always right. Give it up, Nott."
"You might want to be a bit more specific. For you, I might just give up something else entirely, Pans." Theo leaned towards Pansy who shoved him lightly with her elbow.
Hermione gagged at the innuendo and turned to Neville, who appeared fully dressed. "Hey, Neville. Are you feeling alright?"
Neville nodded nervously. "Yeah, I still feel odd since the storm. Madam Pomfrey prescribed me a calming draught for the nerves."
"You'll be alright, Nev. You're stronger than you think." Hermione smiled sympathetically.
He smiled back. "Thanks, Hermione."
However, Hermione suddenly heard a loud echo in her head, similar to what she experienced with Sue Li and Snape.
Should I tell her? I haven't even told Luna.
It was Neville's voice, but not a single word left his mouth. But that's impossible. Unless she was hallucinating. She did suffer some minor injuries but...unless...was she... actually hearing his thoughts? It's unlikely, even in the magical world. Legilimency existed, but Hermione's skill in it was not that advanced. What was happening to her?
Just as Hermione was about to speak up, Theo interrupted, unrolling the parchment paper. "Alright, freaks, make sure your knickers are clean. We've got a mess to clean up."
The group's banter resumed, drawing Hermione's attention away from her internal battle. They gathered their belongings and made their way to the first-floor corridors outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where the remnants of the graffiti awaited them. The scene invoked a sense of nostalgia within Hermione, a reminder of their second year when the Chamber of Secrets was unleashed.
As they approached the vandalized corridor, Hermione's frustration reached its peak, her voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and sadness. "This is a joke! Did one of you do this?" Her accusing gaze landed on Pansy, questioning her involvement.
Pansy raised an eyebrow, adopting an innocent expression. "Don't look at me. I admit I'm a fan of wicked good gags, but I claim no part in this."
Hermione's gaze shifted to Neville, whose expression mirrored her distress.
"This is the same corridor that was vandalized in our second year when the Chamber of Secrets was opened." Her voice wavered, betraying the pain and memories that flooded her mind. She fought back tears, her longing for stronger Occlumency abilities more evident than ever, as she tried to shield herself from the overwhelming emotions threatening to consume her.
Hermione felt the weight of distress settle upon her as she surveyed the defaced walls before her. The words painted in red were a direct attack, and she couldn't help but question the motive behind such a malicious act. "This is awful. Why would anyone do this?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with disappointment.
Draco, ever the rational one, read the writing aloud, attempting to make sense of the situation. "'We do not pander to the unwelcome. Enemies of Sirron be gone'? Whoever did this is not a very clever riddler."
"Who the bloody hell is Sirron?" Blaise, always quick to question, voiced his confusion.
"I'll tell you who that is. Some prick with a small chap." Theo, never one to hold back, interjected with his irreverent humor. "I mean, what kind of name is Sirron anyway? I'd do the world a favor and off myself."
"You're mental." Pansy snickered at Theo's remark, finding amusement in his twisted sense of humor.
"I think someone's having a dig at us." Blaise's earlier comment seemed to still linger in his own mind as he pondered the hidden message behind the defacement.
"Us? You think this is some hidden message?" Theo seemed skeptical.
"We're not exactly the most beloved group of people." Draco, his usual brooding self, added a touch of self-deprecation. "Except for Granger and Longbottom over there," he admitted, his words filled with a mix of bitterness and resignation.
Surprisingly, Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy for Draco. The layers of complexity in his character seemed to reveal themselves to her, and she couldn't help but see glimpses of a different side to him. Neville's comforting hand on her upper back served as a reassurance, a silent acknowledgment that they needed to focus on the task at hand. "Maybe we should just get to scrubbing," Neville suggested, his voice calm and level-headed. "McGonagall obviously didn't want to frighten the other students. That's why she warded this wing of the halls. And if it were something she thought was worth concern, the place would be flooded with Aurors."
"I should go and speak with her." Hermione agreed with Neville's assessment. "This is... completely unacceptable behavior. Especially after everything that happened."
Pansy, unimpressed with Hermione's theatrics, rolled her eyes. Draco, hesitant but pragmatic, stepped forward to offer his opinion. "I hate to say it, but he's right. The Headmistress is probably already questioning students. It's most likely just a couple of third years in the woes of mischief that did this," His voice tinged with a hint of reluctant acceptance.
Hermione nodded, feeling an odd sense of reassurance from Draco's words. There he was again, displaying a surprising display of understanding. She reminded herself not to read too much into his actions. Draco Malfoy wasn't known for being nice. She couldn't let her thoughts wander to the times he had covered for her, saved her and Neville during the storm, or held her hand so tightly as they ran across the field.
As they began scrubbing the painted words, Hermione found herself lost in her thoughts. She realized she should at least thank Draco for his actions and consider asking him about his purpose when he sought her out in the infirmary. With determination, she focused on the task at hand, using a brush and water to scrub the dried paint off the stone walls.
Pansy, clearly dissatisfied with the manual labor, voiced her complaint. "This'd be much easier with magic. Tell me again why one of the elves couldn't just do this?"
"I'd rather be the one scrubbing than subject poor elves to more forced servitude." Hermione sighed heavily, her dedication to the rights of house-elves evident in her response. As difficult as it was having to give up their wands while on active service, she'd never make a house-elf work uncompensated under her watch.
Amidst the silence, Hermione heard a faint echo of what sounded like Draco's thoughts:
I wouldn't even be able to use my magic anyway. Haven't recovered it since the accident.
Her curiosity piqued, she turned to look at him. "You know, after the storm, did any of you feel... different?"
Draco met Hermione's gaze, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering in his eyes. He stopped scrubbing and held her stare, as if contemplating whether she had just heard his thoughts.
His silence spoke volumes.
Theo, never one to let a moment pass, chimed in with a mocking tone. "Yeah, I felt it too."
Hermione's hope soared for a split second, believing that she wasn't alone in her experiences.
"I felt a strange tingling sensation in my arse!" Theo placed a hand behind him over his bum, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Hermione's hopeful expression faded, replaced by a mixture of disappointment and frustration. Without thinking, she picked up a sponge soaked in soap and water and hurled it at Theo, aiming for his mocking face.
"If you're referring to the loss of magic, then yes. Pomfrey says we should be back to normal by the end of the week." Pansy intervened, adding her own perspective to the discussion. "Though I'm not complaining. It gets me out of a few classes."
Caught up in her thoughts, Hermione caught another glimpse of Neville's thoughts:
I should say something... but they already think I'm weird.
The experience was still unfamiliar to her, but it was slowly beginning to no longer startle her as much. She was afraid of what other thoughts she might uncover, particularly those concerning herself.
Hermione felt the need to reassure Neville, to tell him to ignore anything Theo said.
"Neville, did you feel weird?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
"What, you don't want to hear about the inside of my arse?" Theo, ever the provocateur, continued to mock Hermione's genuine concern.
"I don't think that's a question anyone needs to answer." Draco, his tone firm, interjected.
Neville, hesitant but determined, continued speaking, pushing past Theo's mockery. "Something happened-"
"-C'mon, airy-fairy, spit it out!" Theo, unable to resist his snide remarks, interrupted once again.
"Would you shut up!" Hermione shot Theo a glare, her patience wearing thin.
Theo feigned shock, putting up his hands as if surrendering, though a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. Hermione, momentarily forgetting Neville's revelation, picked up a scrubbing brush, dunked it into a bucket of water, and stood up, ready to refocus on the task at hand.
But then she heard a voice, a voice she recognized all too well, echoing in her ear.
Theo:
Draco was being too coy. She is proper fit under all those robes. Wonder who'd have a chance at shagging the Mudblood first.
Hermione's jaw dropped in shock and disbelief. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. In a surge of rage and pain, she hurled the brush at Draco, who instinctively ducked to avoid it. "You two are foul, repugnant children!"
Theo stumbled backward, tripping over a bucket of water, as Hermione's words and actions hit him. Unable to bear the weight of her emotions any longer, she turned and ran, tears streaming down her face.
In her frantic escape, Hermione turned a corner and collided with Filch, who loomed ahead. Startled and disoriented, she tried to gather her thoughts. "And where do you think you're going?" Filch demanded, his tone filled with authority.
Hermione took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure. "I was going for a little air—" she began, but Filch cut her off, his grip on her arm tightening.
"Unhand me! How dare you put your hands on a student!" Unwilling to tolerate the aggression and pain inflicted upon her, Hermione jerked back, her voice laced with defiance.
Filch, fueled by his resentment, tugged at her, his grip growing even tighter as she squirmed. "You dirty, filthy bitch! Think you're so much better than everyone. Just 'cause I can't do your fancy magic doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. You hear me, girl?" He hissed, his face contorted with a feral intensity.
Hermione's eyes widened in shock at the venomous words that spilled from Filch's mouth. It was as if he had transformed into a hissing cat, his words laced with bitterness and malice. And in that moment, something unexpected happened. Sharp, feline-like fangs protruded from Filch's teeth as he hissed, revealing his true nature.
Reacting on instinct, fueled by adrenaline, Hermione struck out, her hand connecting with Filch's face. Her fingers left deep scratches etched on his now inhuman features. Without a moment's hesitation, she turned and ran, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration.
As Hermione sprinted through the halls, her chest burning with exertion, she crashed into McGonagall. Startled by the unexpected encounter, she struggled to find her words. "Miss Granger, is everything alright? I was just going to check on you," McGonagall asked, concern etched on her face.
Hermione shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stood up, unable to contain her overwhelming emotions. "Filch... he... I... I can't... I can't do this," she stammered, her voice choked with tears and panic. And without another word, she took off, fleeing from the scene, desperately seeking solace and sanctuary.
