"How do you guys feel about Lockhart?" Hermione asked Fred and George over lunch.
"He's a bloody git!" George said.
"A looker though," Fred admitted. "Bet that's all he has going for him."
"Did you know," Lee asked in a low voice. "Friday he had us stuck in a lecture about how important appearance was?"
"Seemed to think we all needed to know how he tends to his hair!" George groaned.
"That'll come in handy if we come across a dark wizard!" Fred laughed. "I can't shield myself from your spell, Mr. Dark Wizard, sir, but I can tell you how to achieve the perfect curl!"
Harry, Ron and Hermione howled in laughter. Hermione could definitely picture it, and what she got from Pansy about their first class was not too different. It seemed Lockhart's performance was not unique to them, and he did often quiz all of his students on the subject matter of his books, himself! Hermione only needed testimony from a first year, and she wanted to talk to Colin anyway.
The first week had passed and Hermione never wanted to write I will not aid and abet criminals regardless of their reasoning, again. Her father had her write it one-hundred times every night last week. She wondered if what she was planning would land her another month of detentions...
"I see," she said scribbling it down in a mix of Japanese and Elvish. "Do you think-"
"What's with the sudden interest in Lockhart?" Ron asked. "I thought you were still angry at him about the pixies?"
"Of course I'm still upset about the pixies," she said. "Hagrid told me they were underfed, and the lack of space in the caused them to attack each-"
"Mad pixies would attack anything in their way including themselves," Ron groaned.
"Some of them even had sepsis, Ron! They've been treated, but three of the pixies died."
"Really?" Harry choked. "But-that's-that's horrible."
"Relax, mate," Ron said. "It's bad, but they're not intelligent like humans. They look human, but they're comparable to cats and dogs."
"And if that fucking idiot's neglect-!"Hermione hissed.
"Merlin, Hermione, that git's not worth frothing at the mouth," Ron scoffed. "You do know who you sound like, don't you?"
"I give up!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll meet you in class. I'm going to the library."
"Hermione," Harry said. "What are you planning?"
"Whatever it is," Fred said throwing an arm around her.
"We're in!" George grinned.
"I'm planning on reading some very old documents," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Oh, there's a shocker," Ron grumbled.
She leaned into Fred ear and whispered. "I'll keep you two posted. Just pretend I said something else. Harry and Ron can't afford any more trouble."
"You're right, Hermione," he shrugged. "Ron is a right git."
What the actual hell?! "That's not what I meant!" Hermione hissed.
"Fred!" Ron gaped. "Merlin, Hermione, if you have a problem you could have told me!"
"You'd have to let her finish a sentence for her to do that," Fred said.
Hermione glared at Fred.
"If looks could kill, mate," Lee chuckled.
"Shit!" Hermione slapped her forehead and lowered her voice to a whisper. "We have potions next. He's probably got his eye on us, on the count of three we all burst out into laughter and I leave. I'm not adding to his reasons to antagonize you lot."
"I still can't believe you'll have to do whatever McGonagall's detention on top of Snape's detentions," Ron groaned over his History of Magic essay. "Hardly seems fair."
"Life's not fair," Hermione rolled her eyes before skimming his essay. "You might want to acknowledge the grain mould causing paranoia across Europe. It tells a more complete story."
"Professor Binns won't care about some mold," Ron groaned.
"Mass hysteria caused by mould? I think most historians-" Hermione shrugged.
"Know-it-all," he grumbled.
Hermione rolled her eyes and dried the ink on her own essay. "I have an hour to hit the library before my detention. I'll look at your work after."
"Sure," Harry nodded. "Thanks, Hermione."
"You want to look at the archives again?" Pince mused. "Awfully thorough for your second week, aren't we?"
"Professor Binns assigned us a paper on the English witch trials during the last half of the middle ages and I want to investigate the paranoia among our own. You know, the mouldy-rhye theory?"
"Very well," Pince sighed. "You know the deal."
"One page out of place when I'm done and you'll have me crucified!" she sang.
"Good girl," she smiled.
Not a fucking dog! "Thank you," she nodded.
Hermione wished the papers kept in the archives weren't solely the Prophet. It essentially made it impossible for Hermione to investigate the events in his books. At least not the ones on the continent, and the British news paper gave little space to the Irish city in Cork being terrorized by the Bandon Banshee. All she got was that Aurors would divert attention to Bandon after the apprehension of suspected Death Eaters. The follow-up was nearly half a year later.
Silence At Last in Bandon, Co. Cork:
Famed wizard and hunter of dark creatures, Gilderoy Lockhart, 30, has single-handedly brought peace back to Bandon Co. Cork after a year. The trouble started in August 1987 when a couple of muggles hiking found a dead body bleeding from the ears. Muggle Autopsies of the first victim (minor, name will not be released) and subsequent victims were inconclusive.
Irish Aurors, already using most of their forces to tracking and apprehending Death Eaters, or other wise occupied by unrest in the North sent two to investigate. Angela Manning, 43, and Cirian MacLear, 28, reported back that the bodies of muggles and wizards alike showed evidence of a Banshee cry. With that knowledge they pursued the creature themselves. Reports go dark after December 1987. The were found dead after the new year.
In March 1988, Mrs. Mary Hannigan, 77, an independent hunter, checked in to Roger Murphy's, 49, inn, the Bruidne. Not much is known of the woman's stay, but that she spent months investigating the travels of the Banshee. In April, Lockhart booked a room in the same inn saying he would like to launch his own investigation, to the cries of relief from the Bruidne's patrons!
On May 19 1988 Lockhart entered the Bruidne announcing to a nervous crowd that at last the Bandon Banshee had been dealt with!
"It was a great ordeal," Lockhart tells Magical Cork Times, (Permissions were granted!). "Facing certain death! But I knew that Banshee would not get the best of Gilderoy Lockhart. It's just a shame that that poor old woman had been so traumatised that she lost her memory. Some of us, I'm afraid are just not cut out for the hunter business. That old witch got old and sloppy if you ask me!"
When asked how he handled the Banshee, Lockhart withheld comment stating: "Well, if you want details, you'll have to read it in my next book!"
This reporter is simply dying to learn the stunning wizard's tricks. Be on the look out for Break with a Banshee on the shelves of your local bookshop this coming Winter!
He doesn't sound sad at all about Hannagan, Hermione thought after filing the article back in its place. She had less than fifteen minutes to make her way to her father's office and no excuse to be late. She had what she needed for now. She would see if she could follow Hannagan as a lead, but doubted she could. It just didn't sit right with her.
Hermione touched absently tapped the chalk against her lip, she looked at her calculations on her slate, though Severus could tell her mind was far from what she had written on it.
"Hermione?" he waved his hand in front of her eyes.
"Oh!" Hermione stiffened and brought her attention back to the present. "Sorry, sir. Erm, if I'm right-"
Hermione rattled off a few typically used items in the Student's Supply Cupboard, stating the percentages already used and when she expected each to run out at the current rate of use. Given it was only the second week, it was busy work, with no real meaning, but everything else would be as well, and he never liked the idea of leaving her with Filch.
"Very well," he said recording it into his log. "Though I wonder where you were just a moment ago, because it certainly wasn't here."
"Oh, erm," she bit her lip, scanning the slate once more. "I think I messed up on the-"
He leaned over her shoulder to examine the slate himself, resting a hand on her shoulder. "No, it all looks fine. Now, tell me what you're up to."
Hermione set her slate down after a sigh, and probably an eyeroll, before establishing eye-contact with him. "Why am I always up to something?"
"That's a very good question, love," he said. "And one I'd also like an answer one of these days."
Hermione paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the room before returning to him. She was carefully evaluating the situation, he imagined searching for the most effective words. Unless she was in one of her little moods, or was otherwise pushed by either her conversation partner or circumstances, she did this with everyone. He knew why, he'd really fucked up with her last year, but it did disappoint him that she felt the need to be so on guard with him as well.
"Erm, I guess," she started. "Erm, did the anyone ever figure out what happened to barrier?"
Of course you're still on that, though he had thought her fixation would still be on whatever retribution she might seek on behalf of the damn pixies. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or concerned that it was this instead. Between her homework, lessons, and detentions as well as her enquiring after the pixies he half expected her to forget the boys' claim. He hadn't managed to figure it out either, though he, Dumbledore and McGonagall dropped the investigation after a day, determining it to be a prank, probably a house-elf. He could definitely see Draco Malfoy ordering his elf to do so to prevent Potter from returning school, but with the boys at school and the damage done, he saw nothing more to do.
"A poorly planned prank," he said. "Unsure who the responsible party is, but at this stage we'd be unable to prove anything."
Hermione mused for a moment. "Wouldn't have to be someone over seventeen? Or maybe someone-"
"Hermione Elizabeth, drop it!"
"Yessir," Hermione bowed her head. "Sorry!"
Why was she volunteering that she was looking into it? Maybe this meant she trusted him, but he didn't feel right about it. He had pleaded with her to come to him, perhaps that was all, but would she volunteer information that she thought they'd overlooked? It didn't matter, he didn't see Death Eaters blocking the barrier, with the enchantment on the Dursleys' home, it would actually be easier to get Potter at the school, and no one tried to lure the boys away at the station. Though Hermione uncovering a plot from Malfoy would put him in a very awkward position. He had to pretend to still be in good standing with Lucius Malfoy, expelling his son, or any disciplining of the boy would put that at risk.
"I'm serious," he said. "The damage is done, whatever you unearth will be about as helpful to those boys as a blast-ended skrewt."
"Yessir," she nodded again.
Hermione returned to her task with new focus and fell silent. She made quick work of the rest of the students' public use cupboard giving him her calculations and responding to him when addressed. He'd had her until ten but she finished at nine, both a product of him teaching her how to complete the task at a young age and her natural aptitude with statistics. He thought back to Hermione teaching the Weasley twins to count cards when she was nine. He hoped she'd find a constructive use for that talent when she grew.
"Tell me, Hermione," he said as Hermione was getting ready to leave. "Was it worth it?"
"Sorry?" she hesitated.
"A month lost for your efforts," he said. "And all for a pair of boys who, from what I can tell, won't even let you finish a sentence. Was it worth it?"
"No, sir," she sighed looking at her feet. "Like you said, it didn't exactly accomplish anything, did it?"
"I was hoping your evaluation of the situation would go beyond that," he said. "They clearly don't appreciate anything you've done, nor does it seem like, from what I can tell, that they respect you. Yet you follow them around like an indentured ser-" Fuck, of course! That has to be it. "I understand a life debt more than most," he admitted. "So if this is all about the fiasco at Hallowe'en, trust me, love, you've already paid it back multiple times over."
Hermione clasped her hands together and bit her lip. To his surprise, she tore her gaze from her feet and spoke. "You don't see everything. They aren't always the way they were on the handful of high-stress situations you walked in on. You said you didn't want to hear me defend those two, so I won't. But I am begging you, Dad, please stop trying to convince me that they're evil incarnate?"
Evil incarnate? Having seen, and even committed, real evils, he never accused them of such. Hermione's eyes grew in size imploring him, but there was also an exasperated frustration that he imagined she would never admit to. He couldn't help but wonder if she had had similar conversations with Potter and Weasley. Severus could admit to his biases, but he sure as hell didn't imagine the way they spoke to her. Wanting to open her eyes to it was no crime. But he supposed she had to make her own mistakes...an idea he was not fond of. That was before considering the more dire consequences of their friendship should Voldemort return to full power...He'd just have to intervene if it ever came to that.
"Very well," he said. "I'll hold my tongue. I won't even say 'I told you so' when it all falls apart."
Hermione returned to the common room to find Harry and Ron sitting and chatting over a table with their homework spread over it. She sat between the two of them, and looked over their essays, before musing at some of their phrases and information. "They're both decent, but-" she erased bits of Ron's paper and reordered some words while adding extra points to bolster his thesis. "There you go, Ron."
"Thanks," he read the parchment over. "What're the chances you can do my grades for when I go home?"
"Only slightly lower than me trying out for the quidditch team next year," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"But you hate-oh!" Ron rolled his own eyes. "What if I said 'please?'"
"That'd be a first, wouldn't it?" Hermione lifted her wand to erase bits of Harry's.
"Ouch!" Harry laughed. "I'll take whatever grade Binns will give me if there aren't any big issues."
"You sure?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Reckon we don't have any life or death matters on the line, so we can do our own homework. Thanks for looking over it though."
"Oh, okay," Hermione nodded with a smile. Was she relieved or sad? Did she outlive her usefulness? These are your friends, stop thinking like that. Why do you do this to yourself, stupid piece of shit?!
The three engaged in idle chatter until Hermione found Fred, George and Lee creeping back into the common room, Lee and George carrying a mountain of sweets and Fred tucking a folded bit of parchment into his robes.
"That was bold," Hermione scoffed. "If Percy were awake-"
"Which he isn't!" George beamed. "You three interested in the spoils?"
"I don't do dairy or gelatin," Hermione shrugged. "Which I suppose means I'm immune to your charms."
"I'm not a monk," Harry laughed. "I'll take some if you're offering, thanks."
"Me too!" Ron agreed. "We'll still take whatever Hermione's share was going to be."
Hermione rolled her eyes before rising. "Any chance I can talk to you two in private?"
Fred and George exchanged a look before nodding.
"I'll guard the hoard if you two want to show her to our office," Lee nodded sitting with Harry and Ron.
Their 'office' was the broom cupboard between the stairs to the girls' and boys' dormitories. Hermione felt suddenly grateful that she had her breakdown in a different cupboard last year. She lit her wand after casting muflfliatio and sat across from them, nestled between a shelf and a bucket while the twins sat along the empty wall.
"What are the chances of me getting you two to use your powers for the side of good?"
The two exchanged a look before George mused, his eyes to the ceiling. "Describe 'side of good'?"
Hermione took her note book out of her bag and opened to the page where she wrote about Hannagan and tried to organize her thoughts. "I want to out Lockhart."
"Out him?" Fred coughed.
"What do you mean by out him?" George asked.
Hermione told them about her quiz, the disaster of class, the suspicion, she, Harry and Ron shared and about her recent discovery of Hanagan. "I want to try and follow the Hannagan lead before I compile the story. After that, that's when you come in. Can I get you two to circulate the leaflets? I grew up here, but you two have a much better grasp of the school. I think you could get them in the staff room, the Great Hall and Laundry room without being caught better than I could." then she bit her lip and added. "But you don't have to!"
Fred and George nodded to each other with decidedly mischievous grins. "We're in!"
"Thank you!" Hermione tried to prevent herself from squealing. "This will mean everything. I'll let you know when I've got the leaflets printed. So, just how do you get around the school so smoothly?"
Fred and George exchanged yet another knowing look before sniggering at each other. Hermione bowed her head and assumed they'd tell her when they saw fit. Or she could simply follow them around to be wise to their tricks. Though she had a feeling that if they were so proficient at shaking Filch, they would be with her as well.
"Tell me, Hermione," Fred began.
"Do you solemnly swear you're up to no good?" George finished.
Hermione blinked considering whatever code they were using. She mused pensively for a bit before crossing her heart and holding out her pinky God, I'm such a child! "Yes," she said in a sombre tone.
"So innocent," George sighed.
"Maybe we'll tell you when you're older," Fred said pinching her cheek.
"This is exactly why Ginny doesn't talk to you!" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"She doesn't really talk to anyone," George mused. "Does she?"
Fred and Hermione joined in the musing. Fred spoke "I suppose not," in a more serious voice than before. Hermione launched into reasons she might not. It was Ginny's first year, she might not want to be tied to her big brothers, but Ron had no such issues...she only wanted to tease the twins, but now she worried she uncovered something more serious. There were only six new Gryffindors this year, four boys and two girls, and Ginny barely spoke to any of them, Hermione sympathised with that, remembering that she too was excluded from a lot of social interactions for the first month. But she took the olive branch extended by Fred and George and Ginny did not.
Ginny didn't have the barriers Hermione did, her family didn't make her a pariah (unless you were a Slytherin) and she wasn't ugly, yet she sat bent over her work in the common room staring at Harry and them and only speaking when spoken to. Hermione vowed to extend her the same kindness that Fred, George and Lee extended to her when this was over.
Hermione opened the cupboard door to leave to a voice squeaking "ow!" and Hermione rushed around the door to see Ginny staring up at her, Fred and George with wide eyes. She clutched her pink dressing gown around her and took Hermione's hand to help her up.
"Oh, god, Ginny," she squeaked. "I am so, so sorry, are you okay?"
Ginny nodded, her blue eyes still wide and her freckles flushed the same colour as her dressing gown as she looked past her. "I was, erm, just-"
"What in the blazes, you four?" a voice asked.
Hermione spun around to find a very irritated Percy, blue eyes blazing beneath his horned-rimmed glasses and his badge affixed to his blue dressing gown.
"First I find Harry, Ron and Lee out of bed after hours with scarped sweets, then I find Ginny wandering about and you three in a cupboard."
"You sound like Mum," George scoffed.
"Why are you wandering about, oh great one?" Fred hissed.
"I am a prefect," he said. "And was using the common toilet," he admitted after.
"We're very sorry we were out of bed," Hermione gave a nervous laugh. "We'll fix that right away."
Ginny nodded and the two took off to the stairs to the girls' dormitories.
"Erm, Ginny," Hermione asked in a whisper. "Were you looking for any one of us?"
Ginny shook her head. "Don't tell anyone, but I like to write in my diary in the same cupboard. What were you doing?"
Hermione bit her lip and looked down at her feet. Should she tell Ginny that she was looking to put an end to Lockhart's career? What if she told? But what was she assuming? Was it possibly worse? Hermione was only twelve, so surely she didn't think..."I, erm, wanted their advice on a decision I have to make, but I didn't want anyone overhearing us."
"I know I'm younger," Ginny said. "But I live with those two, so let me give you some advice. Don't take advice from Fred and George...or Percy, and definitely not Ron."
"Note taken," Hermione laughed. "Thanks. Tit for tat, so I'll let you know that when I write in my diary, I do it under the covers once everyone's asleep." Hermione took out her wand. "Do as I do, lumos!"
Ginny mimicked her wand movements and repeated her to the same effect. "Thanks!"
"Let me know if you want me to teach you written Japanese, then you don't have to worry about snoops."
"I don't know if that would work," Ginny mused.
"What do you mean?"
"Erm, nothing!" Ginny laughed. "Thanks for everything, Hermione, g'night!"
Did she think she couldn't learn the language? Hermione had pushed Ginny and her mysterious diary habits out of her head as she turned her thoughts to her cover story for Harry and Ron. She imagined Fred and George would let Lee in on it, and Hermione had others she wanted to rope in. This would be difficult to navigate. She had drifted off to sleep without settling on any course of action.
"We have an hour before classes," Hermione shrugged peeling an oversized orange. "I'm heading to the archives."
"You spent all last year forbidden from the outdoors and you're voluntarily missing out on the last of the decent weather?" Ron scoffed. "I don't understand you."
"It's a project I'm working on."
"The one you needed help from Fred and George on?" Harry teased. "I reckon we've outlived our usefulness, Ron."
"Oh, haha," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I promise its worth the effort."
"You planning on telling us this century?" Ron scoffed again.
"You'll know if it works out," Hermione shrugged. "You two can't afford to get into any more trouble."
"Hark who's talking," Harry rolled his eyes. "We only have one detention. You're toiling away every day but Sunday. What's left if you get into any more trouble?"
"October, November, December, January, F-"
"Never mind," Harry sighed.
Hermione went down to the library to find a very angry Pince fuming behind the desk as she combed over a long peice of parchment. Her face nearly flushed the colour of Ron's hair, and Hermione regretted her decision. She was about to turn back when Pince's brown eyes seared into her very soul.
"Morning, Madam Pince," Hermione hesitated. "Is everything alright?"
"You!" she hissed beckoning her over with a hooked finger.
Hermione obliged feeling her heart beat in her ears. Pince had never been mad at her before and Hermione didn't like it. She should have been used to grown-ups being upset with her, and she had ample experience both with the vein-popping, destructive yelling anger and the cold calculating seething anger. So why did her heart still pound or her stomach still knot up?
"You're friends with the Weasley twins, correct?" she hissed.
"Yes, why?" she asked. Don't back away, you did nothing wrong.
"Did they do this?!"
"Did they do what?" Hermione squeaked.
"Go, find a book, I don't care which one."
Hermione went to the nearest shelf and figured out what the hell she had been talking about. Someone re-organized the whole library, or at least, all the shelves she had ventured to. Not a single book was in place. It would take Madam Pince hours to set things right. No wonder she was so out of sorts. And she wasn't the only one. Hermione grew up in the library, she knew every nook and cranny, where every book was placed. She knew every title, every subject and author or compiler in the main library, and she never felt more certain, more in control than when she was in the library. But now, there was no rhyme or reason, everything completely spun out of control. Nothing was untouched, she felt, somehow, violated by the simple reorganization of the library. Something so consistent, the only consistency was gone.
This is pathetic, she told herself. It's just a harmless prank, and I've been through so much worse. Stupid piece of shit.
"When did this happen?" Hermione squeaked after returning to the desk.
"Last night. I woke up, had breakfast and came here to see this. Oh, my poor library!" Pince wailed.
"It can't have been Fred and George!" Hermione sighed in relief. "I was with them last night!"
"Any better alibis?" Pince spat.
"You don't trust me?" Hermione looked up at her, using her sweetest voice and blinking innocently. You and the twins did nothing wrong, this might not work.
"Prove I should," she said.
"Lee Jordan, Harry Potter, Ron, Ginny and Percy Weasley can all corroborate. And you know Percy wouldn't vouch for their innocence unless it was true!"
Pince mused a bit in silence. She didn't handle students as often as the professors, but everyone knew Percy's MO. She let out a drawn out sigh and waved a hand. "I will find the culprit This will take days! They got to the archives too!"
"The archives?!" Hermione choked. "But that-that's-"
"Depraved!" she seethed. "If I get my hands on the little monsters who did this-"
"I can fix it!" Hermione volunteered. "I spent so much of my childhood hiding out in here, I probably know it better than the back of my hand."
"You're committing to days of work. I'll take it. "
Hermione mused for a moment, between her detentions, Saturday classes, normal work and the take-down on Lockhart, she hadn't much time. However, hadn't McGonagall failed to arrange Harry, Ron and her detention? She could fix the library, save time and get Harry and Ron out of Filch's clutches all with one suggestion. "Talk to the professors, Madam Pince. Ask that they refer all detentions to you until this is fixed. Many hands make light work."
Pince pursed her lips pensively before nodded. "That's a good suggestion. I'll speak to them all at lunch."
"Pay attention, Miss Lovegood," Severus said.
"Oh," the girl shifted her attention. "Just lost in thought, the energy from the mugswort is very off."
The class burst into laughter at Lovegood's assertion and he went from admiring the girl's lack of concern for her classmates' opinions to wishing she cared just enough not to interrupt his class with wild conspiracies.
This girl is completely detached from reality! "Anyone still laughing in the next three seconds will be joining Miss Lovegood Saturday evening in detention!"
That shut the lot of them up. There weren't even derisive "Thanks, Luna"s muttered when he deducted five points for the girls' behaviour. This had to be the easiest class to regain control of, but Lovegood, though not intentionally, was a welcomed distraction to the others, they could rely on her to say something entertaining each class. That was responsible for his constant wavering from sympathy to annoyance. A sentiment he held for a larger number of students than he cared to admit.
The day did not improve in the least as he climbed the stairs to the main floor to the sound of boys swearing at each other and was faced with two of his own students. Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team and Damien O'Malley, a fourth year boy who typically kept to himself after a disastrous first year that nearly earned his expulsion. Though O'Malley was still too easily baited into conflict. He knew by that, and the fact that Flint was two years older and much more built that the gangly red-haired boy, that Flint had to have started it. Though Flint's parents were among those he placated, and O'Malley was being raised by his muggle father after his mother, who did not come from a prominent family, died. And ignoring it with the number of on-lookers wouldn't end well either.
O'Malley, that temper will be the end of you, "Would either of you boys mind telling me what happened here?"
Two accounts came at him in two fast and loud streams of excuses and finger pointing. At least from what he could make out from the noise. He thought of trying to get their accounts in his office one at a time, but he already knew what options were available to him and he wasn't going to drag it out. "Detention, O'Malley. Library at eight Saturday night."
"But he-" O'Malley shook his head thinking twice before nodded. "Yessir."
"So you can censor yourself," Severus remarked. "I would advise you to use that skill more often."
"Yessir," he grumbled.
He ignored Flint's shit-eating grin and made his way to his patrol on the grounds. If he was lucky he wouldn't come across as though he were trying to set a record for detentions given in under an hour. Though Pince would be happy at least.
However when he got to the yard he found Hermione sitting with a first year boy, Creevy, her hands clasped as she looked at him imploringly. The boy was a year younger, and perhaps a couple inches shorter. He wondered what possible sway the boy had to have her plead with him. He looked around the yard and skulked behind another tree.
"You, erm," she sighed. "I don't want you to feel like you have to, but it would simply mean the world to me."
"Erm," the boy fiddled with his camera. "Can I think about it?"
"Of course," she nodded. "Thanks for considering it." She combed over his open book and parchment. "Charms? You're going to want to cross that one out and write-"
Hermione ran through the boy's homework explaining where and why he was wrong, and Creevy corrected his work in a flurry.
"You are a life saver," Creevy beamed. "I completely forgot to do it until now and could barely wrap my head around it all."
"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "It's important to give yourself time to digest what you're reading before tackling homework. Looks good now though."
"Thanks," he smiled.
"Anytime, Colin," she smiled back.
"Hermione!" Longbottom's figure appeared from the distance. He collapsed before her quite pink and out of breath.
"Shit!" Hermione grabbed her wand. "What happened?"
"Oh, no," Longbottom caught his breath. "Nothing like that, erm, sorry!"
"You had me worried is all," she shrugged tucking her wand back into her robes. "Thought Malfoy and his goons ganged up on you again."
"Oh, sorry," Longbottom stared at his feet. "I-erm-you said you'd help me with-"
"Shit!" Hermione slapped her forehead. "I'm so, so fucking sorry! I can't believe I forgot! Do you have it with you?"
Hermione grabbed her ink and quill sitting back down in the grass as Longbottom sat beside her.
"Thanks," Longbottom said sheepishly.
Hermione combed over his work explaining the difference between spirits and ghosts. Longbottom's face flushed a deeper pink. She tried again, the boy whimpered and Hermione took his work and started directly marking on the page. Her handling of Creevy skirted the line, but this was explicitly cheating.
"Erm, sorry," Longbottom nodded.
"It's fine," she shrugged with a smile. "DADA's a joke anyway."
It is most certainly not fine! "Last minute homework?" he asked casually walking out from behind the tree.
Creevy looked to Hermione and Longbottom, perhaps to gauge what he should make of the interaction. Longbottom shifted closer to Hermione, Creevy did the same a moment later.
"I fell asleep while doing it last night," Hermione lied.
Leveraging favours, cheating and lying! what the hell happened to my little girl? "Why do I have trouble believing that? Must be-"
The bell rang signalling the end of break and return to class.
"To the chase then," he said. "I saw you take the homework from Longbottom. Cheating is punishable by expulsion."
The three exchanged nervous glances and Hermione shrank against the tree as if she could disappear into the shadows.
"Right," he said. "That'll be fifty points from Gryffindor and you boys have detention, eight o'clock Saturday at the library. Get to your classes if you can find your way without her."
They did so without a glance Hermione's direction. Hermione was left alone before him, staring at her feet and digging her nails into the back of her hand. What the hell was he supposed to do with her? She should have, and did know better. He couldn't see her as a hapless victim, she had agency and she decided to sneak Potter and Weasley in, to leverage a favour out of Creevy and cheat on Longbottom's behalf. I thought Malfoy and his goons ganged up on you! She was ready to do more than cheat on that boy's behalf. It seemed all he had to do was give a distressed whimper and Hermione leapt to the rescue.
"You have no clue how lucky you are that I'm the one that caught you," he seethed. "Have you any idea how serious this is? How reckless that was?"
Hermione didn't move or speak.
He had to hand it to her, he could go on about how reckless and stupid she was, but if he had not been spying on her, it would have looked like she was simply doing her own homework before class. Which made him wonder how many assignments she forged for her little friends before now. And whatever Hermione wanted from Creevy still bothered him. He had an hour before his next class to attempt to pry it out of her, but he'd gauge her answers to the more serious offences first.
"Tell me you weren't about to attack Draco Malfoy and 'his goons' (he used air quotes) because Longbottom came crying to you?"
Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "Neville normally comes to me for countercurses after he's been attacked. I don't f-erm-I try to avoid direct interactions with Malfoy and his lot when possible."
"I see," he said. "At least I don't have to worry about that. The cheating. I'm going to assume this is the first time you did this. And it is the last time you do it. Am I understood?"
"Yessir," she nodded.
"And you'll start your detentions for the rest of the month at seven instead of eight."
"Yessir," she nodded again.
"Might I ask what you were begging Creevy for?"
Hermione bit her lip and wrung her hands together before digging her nails into them once more. "I wanted, erm, you see, I-"
"Just tell me you're not going to do anything stupid."
"No, sir," she said.
"Very well," he sighed. "Get to your 'joke' class and if you are lying, remember that I hear everything. Am I understood, little girl?"
"Yessir."
Saturday morning came and Hermione woke exceptionally early to do homework in the empty common room before she had to leave for her second extra DADA lesson. That did not go according to plan, Hermione came down to find the whole quidditch team sans-Harry rushing around to get ready, already in their quidditch robes.
"Hi, Hermione," Ron greeted her. "Coming down to see the quidditch practice too?"
"I have two hours before I'm expected for extra lessons," she grumbled. "My daughter isn't missing out on a whole year on one of the most important subjects," she mimicked her father. "Ask your mum to apply next year," she said. "I need someone else to understand this."
"No way," Ron said. "I can imagine it now, 'Ronald Billius Weasley, how dare you skive off classes? Are you even listening? An 'A', that is unacceptable!"
"It'd put an end to our career too," Fred said from behind her.
"And you know she'd keep baby pictures of all of us on her desk!" George agreed.
A very tired Harry in dishevelled quidditch robes appeared at the end of the stairs, his untidy black hair even worse than usual. "7am practice. Still willing to notarize my will, Hermione?"
"Only if I get to write an embarrassing obituary," she said.
"Do that and I'll haunt you," Harry said.
"I think in the event of being haunted I'd certainly be spending a lot of time with my father for advice or comfort," she mused.
"You win," Harry sighed.
"Let's get down to the pitch, team, now!" Oliver called.
The nine of them made their way down to the training yard, and Hermione figured she could spare an hour to hang out with Ron and watch the lot of them practice. She didn't much care for quidditch, but it mattered to them, so she could endure an hour. Plus practice didn't involve crowds. A Gryffindor afraid of heights and crowds that freezes in times of danger... Hermione shook the thought and watched on the ground beside Ron while Oliver made the team practice the same drill over and over. Until a bright flash distracted Harry, sending him careening to the ground.
"Hey, you!" Oliver shouted at the bushes. "Get out of there!"
"Spying on our practice?" Angelina asked as Colin came out of the bushes.
"No," Harry sighed. "He's not a Slytherin spy, they don't need one."
Harry pointed to seven green-robed figures holding uniform black brooms. This is not going to end well.
Hermione and Ron joined the cluster and Hermione saw the faces of the team. Their new Seeker was non-other than Draco Malfoy. Arguments broke out over the rights to the pitch, Oliver claiming they booked it special, but the Slytherin had a note permitting them to use it in order to train Malfoy before as Seeker. Gryffindors had no such note. Then the verbal sparing became personal.
"All nimbus-two-thousand-ones," Malfoy said smugly. "Best broom on the market, Potter. Certainly better than that bundle of twigs you lot share. Did you have to make your own, Weasley?"
Ron opened his mouth to argue but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Ron, please," she whispered. "Don't make it worse."
"Harry could destroy you on a bundle of twigs, even with your top broom!" Colin piped up angrily.
In truth, Hermione was considering saying something about Malfoy having no talent and needing to buy his way in too, but the uneasy truce meant she couldn't.
"Shut your mudblood boyfriend up, Potter!"
"You son of bitch!" Hermione cried along with other similar outraged cries from her housemates.
Everyone was out for a pint of Malfoy's pure blood, at least verbally, though Hermione did cling to Ron's arm preventing him from launching at Malfoy. A method Angelina and Oliver used with the twins, though both continued to shout vitriol at the smug prat. That's when Hermione noticed both Harry and Colin were dead silent. She turned to face a pale, teary-eyed Colin.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
"Wh-what is he talking about," Colin squeaked.
Hermione glared at Malfoy. Truce over, purist bastard! "It's a derogatory term for muggle-borns," she sighed. "There's a belief among some wizards that blood purity is important. The Malfoys are basically like royalty."
Malfoy smirked.
"You know, sharing similar features, prone to hemophilia and a general confusion as to who their parents and cousins are," Hermione continued smoothly.
Colin still looked hurt, but he gave a weak smile and the Gryffindors sniggered, but Malfoy glared at Hermione with a malice normally reserved for Harry.
"I don't have a general confusion as to who my mother is," Malfoy sneered. "Might I ask who yours is? That's right!It's the one question you can't answer because she left you. I bet you weren't even a day old!"
There was nothing Hermione could say to that. She cast her eyes down to the grass and dug her nails into her hands. I refuse to cry in front of this bastard. Had he any clue that was her worst fear? Even after seeing what might potentially be her biological parents in the mirror of Erised for all of two seconds the previous year, she still had dreams of "her mother" letting her know just how unwanted she truly was. Fuck!
"Eat slugs-" Ron shouted.
"Leave it, Ron," she tightened her grip around Ron's wand arm but kept her eyes on the ground. "What he said about me has nothing on what he said earlier."
"But-" Ron started.
Hermione shook her head and turned to leave, addressing the Slytherins before she left. "Best of luck training this one, Flint, I'm not sure he can ride that fancy new broom with his wand shoved so far up his arse. I have to go."
But Hermione did not get the last word in, nor did she stop Ron from making a stupid mistake. She heard his 'eat slugs' demand half way through the corridor and cold cruel laughter that suggested the spell backfired on him.
Damn it, Ron!
"There you are!" McGonagall's voice called as Hermione rushed to her father's office.
McGonagall stood in front of her, arms folded and her nostrils flared. "I simply don't know why you, Potter and Weasley are so hard to locate!"
"Erm, sorry, Professor," Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
"I've set up your detentions for eight o'clock tonight. Madam Pince specifically requested you for re-ordering her library. And if you find Potter and Weasley before I do, tell them Weasley's to meet Filch in the trophy hall, and Potter was requested by Professor Lockhart."
Hermione bit her lip and steadied herself. "I thought Madam Pince requested all detentions be sent her way?"
"She did," McGonagall said. "But other tasks still need to be done, and I'm not sure it's your place to criticise."
"Understood, Professor," Hermione nodded before checking her watch. Shit! "Sorry, I really have to go!"
"Wait!" she called. "Where can I find Potter and Weasley?"
"Try the training grounds!" Hermione suggested before running off.
"No running in the corridors!"
"Did you run here?" her father asked letting her in.
"I'm on time, aren't I?" Hermione gasped.
"Apparently at the cost of your lungs," he sighed. "You should have left earlier. Though you didn't exactly oversleep now, so what kept you?"
How the hell?! Hermione examined his face, and found that for someone with such a volatile temper, he was surprisingly good at hiding his emotions when he wanted. His pale face held no clues, no narrowing of his black eyes, crinkling of his aquiline nose, and no flushing nor draining of colour in his face. All that was betrayed was her father's curiosity from his raised black eyebrows. We really do look nothing a like. Maybe he did find me abandoned in the rubbish...
"What gave it away?" Hermione asked attempting to sound good-humoured.
"You did," he shrugged taking his seat and gesturing for her to do the same. "You don't make a habit of being late, so I made an assumption. You simply confirmed it. And-" he plucked a maple seed, probably dislodged from the drills, from her hair. "-this might have given you away. I don't know what you were doing, but given your social circle, love, I have to ask. Is there anything you would sooner I hear from you than find out? Because I will find out."
Would Malfoy feel safe complaining to him about me? Hermione wondered how much sway the Malfoys had. Calling him inbred and the joke about his wand...her father certainly wouldn't approve. No, she was certain even with the epithet toward Colin and the comment about her mother, he would see her as the party out of line. She could hear it all now. I told you not antagonize that boy! You stupid girl! The real question was, did Malfoy know which side he'd pick?
"I see," he sighed. "Shall I take your silence as a no. Now-"
Fuck it, get it over with! "I might have implied Draco Malfoy was inbred!" she admitted staring at her feet.
"You did what?!"
"And, erm, perhaps made a crude suggestion as to where he keeps his wand."
"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape!" he shouted. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
"You weren't there!" Hermione argued. "He called Colin a 'mud-"
"Language!" he shouted before rubbing his temples and giving an exasperated sigh. "Shit."
An awkward silence filled the room and Hermione began to wonder if she had spared herself anything by telling him first. More importantly, she wondered if he gave a damn that his prized student was a blood-purist. She wanted him to care, but felt more like the position she'd put him in. She stared at her hands as she dug her nails in further into her hands.
"Hermione," he rested his hand on her head. "Look at me, love."
She obliged and his expression was much softer than she had expected.
"You aren't wrong to be upset about, to be quite frank, his disgusting views. Your anger is more than justified, love," he leaned over to be eye-level with her. "And between the two of us; you're not wrong about pureblooded wizards being interrelated to some extent. I imagine we would have died out a long time ago if it weren't for two things, marrying muggles and wizards born to muggles."
"So, you understand?" Hermione asked. Thank god you're not like them!
"I do, love," he sighed. "However-"
I knew this was coming...
"Your anger is justified, but your comments are most certainly not. Not only are they highly inappropriate, but you can't be picking fights with Draco Malfoy. It won't end well for either of us."
"So I'm supposed to just let it happen?" Hermione choked. "That hardly seems fair!"
"Life's not fair, love," her father sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Perhaps next time report the little shit to Professor McGonagall? He'll face the consequences and neither of us will be implicated."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I-erm-I'm confused. I-erm-I thought you liked Draco Malfoy."
He sighed again shaking his head. "Like? No. I pity the boy, to be sure, but I don't care much for the boy beyond that."
"You feel sorry for that prat?" Hermione squeaked, unable to help herself. Shit!
"Language, little girl," he said. "And yes, I feel sorry for the boy. Surely you noticed that outside of the boy's own house he's not treated with much compassion at all? The boy's parents are idiots. Raised him to think he had to get the whole world to fear or admire him. It's a strange mixture of entitlement and insecurity many families like the Malfoys harbour. Between that and the staff and students all assuming he's evil because of his father's actions before he was born and being sorted into a particular house. So, yes, despite his inexcusable behaviour, I still feel sorry for him."
Hermione thought of all the Slytherins she knew. True, interhouse friendships were rare, but they happened. Yet none of them seemed to happen with Slytherins. She thought of Pansy, who she only tolerated. The two hated each other and that was the closest she'd seen a Slytherin come to an aquaintence-ship with a member of another house. She wondered if it fell to her to be nicer to them or for them to take responsibility for their short comings.
"It goes without saying," he added. "That we never had this conversation. Am I understood?"
"Yessir," Hermione nodded.
"Now," he stood and flipped through his copy of Defensive Charms, Hexes and Spells Grade 2. "Tell me, where were we?"
"I want you lot to start in the basement," Pince explained pushing her glasses up her nose.
Hermione stood at attention between Colin and Neville. They were joined by Fred and George (Hermione was unsurprised), a pale first-year Ravenclaw girl with large silver eyes and waist-length dirty-blond hair, and a tall fourth year Slytherin boy with long red hair in a ponytail named O'Malley. I wonder if you still hate my guts. Luckily, he paid no attention to her.
"I normally wouldn't trust you with such delicate documents, but I promise that anything befalls them, all of you will regret it," Pince glared at Fred, George and O'Malley. "Especially you ne'erdowells!"
It seemed she didn't trust any of them, but she expected something from the three fourth years. She took them to a long table piled high with documents to be resorted and Hermione appreciated just how much work the seven of them were looking at. She didn't think they'd clear the archives this evening, let alone the whole library.
"I'll come for you lot at midnight," Pince explained. "And one page out of place-"
"And you'll have us crucified," Hermione sang and immediately started at the highest pile. "We know."
Hermione made a mistake, and she knew it when the Ravenclaw girl burst out in laughter, Neville whimpered and inched Hermione's side, Colin gaped at the librarian, O'Malley glared at the Ravenclaw girl and the twins looked from Hermione to Pince. Maybe Pince only made that joke with Hermione. Her tight, pale face and burning brown eyes boring into her seemed to say that. Shit!
"I'll leave you seven to it!" she hissed before marching up the stairs.
Hermione turned her attention to the documents hoping that she could drown out the chatter. Whoever did it was thorough. Hermione had barely started and already found a copy of the Prophet from 1876, an old incident report from 1943, and disciplinary file from 1892. She set the Prophet aside and opened the incident report to ensure that every aligned.
Warren, Myrtle Elizabeth : Death report
Age: 15
March 7, 1943,
A fourth year girl, Olive Hornby claims she went to check on Myrtle Warren when she didn't come to class. She found Warren's hand out from beneath the stall. Hornby discovered the girl's ghost crying over her own body. Attempts to interview the girl's ghost have not gone well as she is quite inconsolable. At this time Myrtle Warren's death is presumed to be at the hands of the creature of the chamber of Secrets.
Hermione bit her lip. Chamber of Secrets? Where did I read about that before? Wait?! Second floor girls' toilet? This must be Moaning Myrtle! Hermione went to read more when the Ravenclaw girl sat on the table leaning in close.
"Any revelations? You look like you've gotten photographic proof of nargles!" she smiled taking a file.
Everyone but Neville burst into laughter as they took their seats around the table. Hermione quickly checked the dates of the rest of the papers in the folder and plucked the 1976 paper and 1697 leaflet from it before setting it aside. She gently smiled at the girl.
"I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way!" she beamed as if everyone wasn't laughing. "You're the Snape girl, Hermione, right? And you're the Weasley twins, Fred and George! You guys are hilarious! The prank with the flooding Filch's office was amazing! Though I do hope Mizusprites weren't killed when they cleared it out. And you two are?"
"Damien O'Malley," O'Malley answered opposite Hermione. "And I see why they call you 'looney'."
"If she's mad," Fred started.
"Then you must be howling!" George said.
"Everything's a conspiracy, isn't it?" Fred continued.
"Or is there another reason you're always nosing about?"
"Why don't you two fiddle each other in private?" O'Malley hissed.
The three attacked each other verbally and Hermione turned to Luna.
"Are you okay, Luna?" Hermione asked ignoring
"Oh," she smiled lightly. "I'm used to it."
"I'm sorry," Hermione nodded.
"Why?" she asked before turning to Neville. "And you are?"
Neville gulped and looked at those surrounded him. All well known, and he shrank beside Hermione. "I'm no one."
"No, you're not," Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. "Luna, this is Neville Longbottom. He's damn near top of our herbology class," Third is close, right?
Neville blushed more and Hermione wanted to sink into the floor. Who the hell cared about herbology scores? Surely there was something else she could have said to bolster Neville's self-esteem?
"I can't believe Lockhart," George grumbled after sorting through a stack of papers to the 'turn of the century' newspaper pile.
"All we did was ask if he pinched his eyes shut while curling his lashes," George laughed.
"He's a fecking eejit," O'Malley agreed. "I'll grant you that. Doubt he even did half the shite he says he did!"
"Perhaps he's a changeling," Luna suggested with a smile.
Sniggering ensued and to Hermione's own disgust she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes, and lost.
"Luna?" she asked.
"I told you, I'm used to it," she shrugged. "You work really fast."
"Erm, Thanks?" Hermione added another past issue of the Daily Prophet in the pile meant for 1940's news.
"You two should have raided his office and laced his hair and skin care products with Tabasco sauce," O'Malley mused. "It's very muggle, but it'd get the job done."
"That," George said.
"Is genius!" Fred admired. "Dunno why we never thought of it."
An hour ago O'Malley suggested that Fred and George were in an incestuous relationship, and now they were exchanging prank ideas and laughing like they had been friends for years. The hatred of that man must have been something that created a deep bond.
"Erm," Hermione bit her lip before leaning closer to O'Malley. "Is it-erm-okay if I ask you a question?"
"You already did," he sighed. "But I'm in a rare good mood. Shoot."
"I lied," she said. "I have a number of questions. Starting with, on a scale of one-to-ten, how much do you hate Gilderoy Lockhart?"
O'Malley thought for a moment, narrowing his blue eyes and combing the area before a rather nasty grin cut his lips. "Eleven, easy."
"I'm going to admit to something," Hermione stole herself looking around at everyone. "But everyone here has to swear not to tell a soul."
"I won't tell a soul," Luna smiled extending her pinky.
"Aren't little girls hilarious?" O'Malley scoffed as Hermione took it. "But I don't have anyone I can tell. You're safe with me."
Fred and George grinned. "We're already in on it!"
Neville flushed pink. "I don't know what you're up to. B-but I know I'll clam up if the wrong person asks me. I'm going to put away the turn of the century Prophets while you talk."
"Neville," Hermione leaned next to him. "Are you sure?"
"Erm, yeah," he nodded before vanishing.
"Leaves you, camera boy," O'Malley sighed.
"It's Colin," he said before turning to Hermione. "You asked to borrow my camera, I'll let you and swear to secrecy if you tell me."
"One more thing," Hermione said, not used to the undivided attention. Maybe her father and Fred had a point, she had expected someone to cut her off by now. "We could all get in a lot of trouble if we're found out. I'm not too worried about most of you, but I know you (turned to O'Malley) can't afford too much more trouble, but I need your help. In your first year, you circulated flyers. Can you do it again, preferably without getting caught or expelled?"
"Little spot of sunshine, aren't you?" O'Malley hissed. "But yeah, I can do it if it ousts that dodgy bastard."
"Good," Hermione nodded. "Here's the plan..." Hermione explained that she was writing an expose on Lockhart, and wanted it in every common room, the great hall, the staff room, and library. She wanted their help with the circulation (Hermione was debating on using house elves, and was happy not to!). She explained that she also didn't think Lockhart did it, and was looking into a lead on Mary Hannagan before the archives were messed up.
"Me mam used to be a fan of Mary Hannagan," O'Malley mused. "I won't be able to get a hold of the few articles written about her. Hunters operate best in secrecy, but she saved Mum when she was a little girl, and I guess Mum tailed what she could. I'll see what I can dig up."
Can't you just ask her? Hermione then thought on it further. Had she been in his position, she couldn't just ask her father for information on a hunter.
The night ended with everyone in a much lighter mood than when it started. They were making decent headway on the archives, and now helped and spoke to each other. Even surly O'Malley proved helpful. She didn't expect everything to run so smoothly. She wondered when the other shoe would drop, or if she had been right to trust Luna and O'Malley.
"I've been thinking," Luna mused when they all found themselves around the table. "Why stop at Hermione's expose? We could uncover so much more! Like Daddy does with the Quibbler."
Sniggering from Fred, George and O'Malley cut her off and Hermione glared at the three to no avail.
"Honestly!" she seethed before softening. "Go on, Luna."
"There's no school paper!" she said. "And we're O'Malley already has experience circulating, you're a fab little reporter, I can use tips from my dad, and we have a photographer. We should do it!"
"That's actually not a bad idea," O'Malley said.
"Fred and I are always snooping about anyway!"George exclaimed.
"I'm for it if everyone else is," Hermione nodded.
"Then it's settled," Luna beamed. "We should come up with a name."
"Hogwarts Hermes?" Hermione mused. "It's an alliteration and it evokes the Greek God of messaging."
"That's kind of awkward," Fred admitted. "Also publishing anonymously will be useless if you name drop your favourite book series."
"Son of Hermes?!" Luna beamed. "I love those books! The part where Jason-"
"Vereserum?" O'Malley suggested cutting Luna off. "Because we're revealing the truth to the student body."
"I like Hogwarts Herald," Luna suggested. "Alliteration and it's literally what we do."
The detention ended with six out of seven of them agreeing to meet every week on Saturday afternoons. She didn't know if she felt as secure about the Herald as she did about the Mercury. But she also knew she wasn't head-over-heels for any of the members, and instead of being let into an existing group of friends, they were a rag tag group that were bound to get into conflicts.
Hermione decided she would write Hiro immediately as entered the common room. There she found Harry and Ron whispering with somber expressions on their faces. She noted Ron's face was pink and still shone with sweat. He must've only stopped vomiting slugs a little while ago.
"Is everything okay?" she asked in a lowered voice sitting with them.
Harry's eyes darted to Fred and George waving at them.
"Erm, guys," Hermione said. "I told these two I'd help with their DADA homework. It's not exactly going to be fun."
The two shrugged before heading up to the boys' dormitory.
"What happened?" she asked after casting muffliatio.
"I heard a voice in Lockhart's office, Hermione," Harry said in a dead whisper. "But there was no one there, and Lockhart didn't hear it! The voice, it was like-just the sound of it froze the blood in my veins."
"Could it have been magically altered?" Hermione asked thinking of sound charms to make one sound intimidating.
"I dunno," he admitted. "But it kept saying things like 'kill' 'eat' 'let me rend your flesh'."
The voice may have froze the blood in Harry's veins, but the words alone froze hers. "And Lockhart didn't react at all?"
Harry shook his head. "Telepathy maybe?"
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know of any spells that enable telepathy. Just legillimancy which gives you images, not words."
"Tele-who?" Ron asked.
"It's a concept in muggle fiction," Hermione shrugged. "Whoever it was," Hermione mused. "If they had an invisibility cloak, Lockhart should have heard them. Unless he was in on it?"
Harry shook his head. "Ron suggested the same thing, but you don't really think he'd set all that up, do you?"
"No," Hermione admitted. "Polyjuice potion? It'd take months to brew, and they'd need some of Lockhart's precious hair, but maybe someone who doesn't like you took Lockhart's form and pretended to be him while a mate whispered those things to you under a cloak?"
"I can't see anyone going to those lengths for a dumb prank," Ron declared.
"You're related to Fred and George Weasley!" Harry and Hermione both said.
"And I don't see them doing all that for a silly prank. Months to brew and drinking ode du Lockhart," Ron shook his head. "And it's only September, so when would they have time to brew it?"
Damn, he's right. I'm an idiot! Hermione nodded. "Alright. That's off the table then. I'll look into it then, but I'll need you to tell me every time you hear it. Or anything else strange. I can't help but wonder if this is connected to the barrier. You two have to promise me you'll be on your toes."
The boys nodded.
"I'm going to bed before Percy decides to write us up. You should too."
Was someone trying to kill Harry? Hermione resolved to hit the books first thing. If that didn't work she'd ask the house-elves. Libby was both well-informed and comfortable saying no to Hermione. If neither of those worked she'd resort to her nuclear option and report it to someone...her father? That wouldn't go well...Dumbledore? Would he listen? Either way, she didn't want to go there yet.
Is his trust more important to you than his life? Stupid piece of shit...