In the previous timeline, Hermione had often made a massive effort to drag herself (and Ronald) to every single one of Harry's quidditch practices - no they wouldn't be on the pitch before the sun was up, but considering how long Oliver's strategy meetings could be, she still managed to get to the pitch before the team. This time, however, she found herself much preferring to sleep in for a few hours on the weekend, as opposed to sitting in the stands at the cold, misty pitch outside. She'd been lying in bed, in and out of sleep for an hour or two when she finally decided to pull herself out of bed and head down for breakfast.

As she walked down towards the Great Hall, she caught a glimpse of the students outside, some in red, others in green, likely arguing about who had the pitch for the day. She remembered the argument from last time; Snape had given the pitch to the Slytherins, she'd learnt the meaning of the word mudblood, and Ron threw up buckets worth of slugs. She thought about Professor Snape a lot. After the Battle of Hogwarts, he'd been praised and revered as a hero, an insider for Dumbledore infiltrating the ranks of the Death Eaters and ultimately dying for the Greater Good. Harry had respected his effort so much, he'd named his own son after both him and Dumbledore; when she thought of anything weird she or Harry had done like that, she often put it down to some potion or another, they really couldn't trust any of their actions from the previous timeline were truly their own. All the same, coming back she thought it would be easier to understand his perspective, maybe when they thought he was mean and evil, he was just being firm but fair. Turns out, she was wrong. Seeing him again, the way he treated the non-slytherin students, the extreme favouritism and at times outright bullying, she couldn't validate any of his behaviour. Acting as a spy for Voldemort didn't require being an awful teacher to a bunch of innocent kids, especially when the Dark Lord had been presumably dead for over a decade. What, if anything, had he been trying to prove?

She sat on the window ledge, continuing to watch as Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint went head to head over the pitch. Sure, this wasn't that bad, permitting his Quidditch team to use the pitch to train a new seeker wasn't a crime. But all his other behaviour really was unforgivable; she thought back to the original timeline - Neville's worst fear being a teacher at the school, her major insecurities being mocked by that same teacher, his constant need to punish Harry just for existing. It was all a bit ridiculous to her.

It seemed his authority had won out this time, the Gryffindor team trundling off the pitch, some faces of relief at the idea of returning to food and beds, alongside a very irate Wood, clearly ranting, arms swinging around, face bright red. She started again for the Great Hall, sure Harry's hunger would take him there. As she did, she passed by Professor Snape, his nose upturned, he looked down at her with a sneer and a scoff and continued on his way. Really, Hermione thought, how pathetic.

"Can anyone tell me the incantation for a Slowing Charm?" Professor Flitwick looked around his classroom of Slytherins and Gryffindors for an answer. No-one raised their hand. Of course, two students knew the answer, but with the aim of actually letting other students make an effort, they'd raised their hands less and less in classes this year; though teachers often knew they could turn to Hermione for an answer whenever needed. "Neville, any ideas?" he said, trying to call on a random student. The young Gryffindor shook his head shyly and a small scoffing laugh was heard across the room.

"Ah," the professor turned to the sound, "I see Mr Malfoy knows the answer." The embarrassing silence that followed felt like an eternity.

"Miss Granger?" Flitwick sounded exhausted at this point.

"Arresto Momentum," she smiled.

"Yes, thank you, 10 points," he sighed with relief, at least one student did the assigned readings.

As the class continued, Hermione didn't notice the glares she was receiving from the other side of the room.

Finally, the lesson came to an end. The Gryffindors began heading to their next class in a small herd. Hermione was slightly towards the back of the group as she chatted away with Lavender when she was interrupted by a certain Slytherin barging past her muttering "Stupid mud blood know-it-all." The entire Gryffindor group turned to glare at him. Harry pushed his way towards him and grabbed him by the collar, "Say it again Malfoy, I dare you."

"Say what, Potter?" The boy spat, trying to maintain a strong look despite the grip Harry had on him.

"He's just a coward, Harry," Hermione said with a smile, "Leave him." She couldn't really care about what some 12-year-old thought of her and she'd rather not have Harry start a fight in the middle of the hallway. Harry released his grip.

"Yeah," Draco said straightening his collar, "listen to your mud blood girlfriend, Potter." A flash of green and Draco was on the floor.

Gasps.

Silence.

"What is going on here?" Snape's voice echoed down the corridor.

"Granger's killed Draco!" Crabbe cried out. Snape ran towards the centre of the group.

Draco convulsed and then began throwing up slimy slug after slimy slug.

"He called me a mud blood professor," Hermione asserted. Of course, she wasn't about to shoot a killing curse at a child, especially not with so many witnesses. But she was getting tired of Draco's pompous arrogance.

"I heard no such thing," the professor said as he began lifting Draco up, "that's detention and 50 points away from you." The Gryffindors shouted in defence of her, the sound of Draco's retching only slightly louder than them.

"He started it, she wouldn't just attack him for no reason," Harry shouted out.

"That's detention and 50 points from you as well, Potter," Snape snarled and looked around at the students, "any other objections." The Gryffindors grumbled but knew they could do nothing here. Snape dragged Draco away to the infirmary, tailed by Crabbe and Goyle, the sound of retching slowly fading as the Gryffindors came around to check on their friend.

"Can't believe we just lost a hundred points," came Ron's voice. A few other lions muttered in agreement, sharing indignation for Snape's punishment, not noticing Ron's lack of care for how one of their peers was being mistreated.

"It's fine," Parvati said smiling softly as she took Hermione's hand, "Hermione's smarter than any of us, she'll earn those points back like it's nothing." Hermione blushed slightly, still not quite so good at taking compliments.

Dumbledore sat in his office, finishing up another report, ready for his final task of the day. As soon as he had heard about an incident regarding "perfect Miss Granger" that had resulted in her receiving a detention a few days ago, he jumped on the opportunity to make sure that detention was held with him. He needed one-on-one time with this girl, a way to figure out who she was and why she was so constantly in the way of his plans. Of course, he'd be kind and gentle. He knew Miss Granger was something of a teacher's pet, easily pliable, very obedient; maybe it was time to stop trying to get rid of her, and consider using her as a way to get closer to the-boy-who-lived. If the Weasley boy was failing where she wasn't, clearly she was more useful to his plans. He'd need to arrange a meeting with the boy to try improving his relationship with the girl perhaps; he made a note of this and placed it into a drawer as a knock was heard at the door.

The other teachers hadn't argued when he suggested he take her for detention, this was a usually perfect student who likely didn't require an evening cleaning out a trophy cabinet or trudging through the Forbidden Forest. Lockhart had been very eager to take on Harry; for now, Dumbledore would allow it, he still couldn't decide what kind of influence Lockhart could have, but he was sure it wouldn't detriment his own relationship with the boy.

Hermione entered the office and looked around as if in awe. Of course, Dumbledore thought to himself, she likely reveres such a great wizard as I, it isn't as though she has intentionally been a problem this past year. "Come, sit Miss Granger." He began a fairly long speech about expectations and behaviour at Hogwarts and who she was trying to be, noticing that she couldn't look him in the eyes at all, her gaze always downcast. This must be destroying her, he thought to himself, the headteacher's disproval, what punishment could be worse for a teacher's pet?

As she headed back to her dorm, Hermione sighed in relief; her neck hurt a little from avoiding Dumbledore's stare the whole time. She couldn't be sure he wouldn't try and use his occulmency on her, and who knew what would happen if he found out anything about her or Harry? Thankfully, she seemed to project regretful student fairly easily and he'd let her out after just half an hour of lecturing. She was sure Draco had suffered much more for his words than she had for her actions.

"I don't get why I couldn't just say no." It was Halloween and Harry's stomach was grumbling as he walked by the delectable smells of the feast beginning in the Great Hall. He and Hermione however, were not to partake in this meal; once again he'd been roped into attending Nearly Headless Nick's 500th Death Day party. He supposed he did owe the ghost that favour, after all, he'd distracted Filch from the mess Harry had dragged inside from Quidditch practice allowing Harry to avoid any potential detentions Filch could've prescribed. As much as he mainly liked Quidditch for the flying, he couldn't deny it brought out his competitive side, and it really would be nice to see the Slytherins taken down a peg or two. "I don't get why you said I'd come with you," Hermione sighed, remembering the rotting food buffet the ghosts had left out last time.

"Because Hermione, we're in this together, if I suffer, so do you," he linked his arm with hers with a massive grin. She sighed and laughed as they continued towards the cold, dank basement, a party of the dead awaiting below.

As they made their way around the room, greeting the various ghosts and poltergeists who'd come to celebrate, they caught sight of Myrtle in a secluded corner of the room. As they went to approach her however, she wailed and flew away. "Poor girl," Hermione frowned. Myrtle's life was truly tragic, bullied through her school years and then murdered before she had a chance to escape them, it was no wonder she was so awful around people now.

During hour four of his detention writing fan mail with Lockhart, Harry had begun hearing the Basilisk making its way through the plumbing of Hogwarts once again. They weren't completely sure how to go about defeating it this time; previously they'd had Dumbledore's help in getting Godrick Gryffindor's Sword and Fawkes had been sent with the Sorting Hat specifically by Dumbledore. They were on a time crunch, they really couldn't trust that everyone struck down by the snake would only be paralysed and not killed all over again.

Harry sighed as they left the party, once again their strategising had hit a dead end, "Who knows, maybe you just need to hit it with some slugs?" Harry had not hidden his glee at how sickly Draco had looked for the next few days after Hermione had hit him; yes it had resulted in a detention, but at least someone was starting to learn not to mess with Hermione. "Hmm maybe," she smiled.

"But don't think I didn't notice you only attacked him when he called you my girlfriend, I mean really Hermione am I that awful?" His laughter was cut short by the hissing voice in the walls, the smell of blood and writing on the wall:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR

BEWARE

Draco was struggling to eat anything that wasn't completely dry. He felt as though he'd never be able to get the texture of slugs out of his mouth ever again. He lay in bed cursing out that stupid girl for daring to even raise her wand to a pureblood like him.

This past summer had been interesting. He had regularly overheard his father referring to the Heir of Slytherin and some plan to purge and purify Hogwarts of the less desirables that sullied its halls. He was never sure who his father was talking to but he had been certain his father was referring to him, after all, who else at Hogwarts was an heir to anything? As September began drawing nearer, and he'd heard nothing, he finally plucked up the courage to ask his father about it, only to be told to keep his mouth shut and pretend he knew nothing. He was furious. Clearly, his father had chosen someone other than his own son for this task. Fine. Whatever. Draco had better things to do anyways.

There had been times when he'd thought about trying to befriend Harry Potter in his first year, but Harry came with Hermione and she was a mud blood. For a while, he'd tried to push that thought away, she was a witch, and even he had to admit she was good at what she did. But returning home had reminded him: she was beneath him and she should know it. He didn't know exactly what his father had planned, but every Slytherin worth their salt had heard the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. He was sure, this year, everyone would learn their place.

So that's chapter 3! Please leave a review letting me know what you think :) Any constructive criticism is always appreciated!