During Herbology the next day, Hermione was contemptuously reminded by her Slytherin partner, Malory Foghorn, to put on her dragon-hide gloves as they were handling a particularly poisonous species of Leaping Toadstool, known to cause painful cysts and disfiguring warts. The colour of the large domed cap was striking, a deep luminous purple with an almost velvet-like sheen. It was one of the more alluring and exotic species they had worked with that year. It also leapt quite high and one had to catch it by the stem and hold on tightly while it wriggled.
They were working in greenhouse number five, one of the larger greenhouses reserved for fifth and sixth years and situated closest to the Forbidden Forest. Weak early morning sunlight slipped through the dirty panes and gently touched the endless assorted plants and tubers. The greenhouse was large enough that there were several sizeable trees that reached the ceiling. Amidst them were shrubs with white star-shaped flowers, giant swaying fly traps, ancient twisted roots rising like claws out of pots and long rustling curtains of ivy. The far end of the greenhouse was dark and shadowy, no one liked to venture too close to that part. Vines and branches were known to wrap around limbs or lash out, leaving red welts that would last all day.
Hermione was being a little absentminded today, if she was honest. It was rare that Malory of all people would have to remind her about something so trivial as wearing gloves. At breakfast Hermione may have even tried to pour pumpkin juice directly onto the table (luckily, Remus had stopped her in time).
She watched Malory attempting to catch a toadstool as it leapt wickedly out of a bucket. Seizing it with some difficulty and blowing strands of dark hair away from her face, she handed it to Hermione who took it carefully, admiring its colour once again.
The Room of Requirement. What could Riddle possibly be doing there on Friday evenings? And what did he know about it that she didn't? She wondered if she could surreptitiously figure out these things but recalled Riddle's implicit threat about staying away. Of yesterday, she remembered most the look of his eyes. Hard, almost black, unblinking.
Eavesdropping on the Room would be impossible, she would actually have to be in it. However, that would mean entering the Room before Riddle. Which was impossible, since she wouldn't know what he would request.
Malory screamed as the toadstool Hermione had been holding suddenly flew up into the air, missing the Slytherin's nose by a hair. It bounced away exuberantly before being caught by a disapproving Professor Whittle. Hermione received the five point deduction from Gryffindor with only a little bit of regret, the look on Malory's face had been almost worth it.
Before dinner was served in the Great Hall, there was an announcement. Professor Dumbledore would be leaving Hogwarts for an extended period of travel. Rumours and whispers scuttled over the tables until Professor Mortlake, a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, cleared his throat loudly, casting a glare that stifled most of the whispering amongst the assembled students. Headmaster Dippet's mild attempts to hush the Hall had been mostly ignored.
"Off to fight Grindelwald, I expect," whispered Sirius to James.
"Students, please. Professor Flitwick will be taking over Charms for the sixth and seventh years. Classes are to resume as normal." Dippet paused. "I understand that this may be a difficult time for a few of you who have relatives in Germany. The international wizarding community is united in condemning the massacre at Lubeck and the Ministry has sent additional Aurors to aid the Germans on the eastern front. I ask that those of you who are distressed speak to their Heads of House and I ask also that all of you remain supportive of each other. You are all safe here in Hogwarts, do not be afraid."
"My father says Dumbledore is the only wizard who could defeat Grindelwald. The Ministry has been calling upon him for months now," Amelia whispered from across the table.
James looked worried. "Grindelwald has been gaining a lot of power in the last few months. He has already taken half of Germany and Austria. I read in the Daily Prophet this morning that his spies already have a foothold in France."
Sirius whispered back eagerly, "Did you hear about what he did to the muggles in Nurmengard? Imperius'd the lot of them and made them slaughter one another with their bare hands. Awful. I heard also that-"
The goblets on the table jumped, slopping juice everywhere, as someone quite evidently had kicked Sirius under the table. Hermione felt their eyes on her.
James glared at Sirius and cleared his throat. "You're safe here, Hermione. You're the brightest witch of our generation, quite frankly I think you'd be safer than all of us let alone ol' Numb Nuts over here," he said, nudging his head towards Sirius who bit his lip, looking contrite.
The atmosphere of hushed whispers continued the next day. Amongst the Slytherins, it was less an atmosphere of worry than intrigue, Hermione quickly found. Abraxas Malfoy was reprimanded harshly in History of Magic by Professor Binns after he was overheard saying, "Look it's the method rather than the motive, to be honest. Why take so long to capture Nurmengard and announce your plans to the whole world?"
It had been quite shocking to witness, Professor Binns' reprimand that is. Normally so monotone, the Professor who never ever seemed to notice the chatter or the flying pieces of paper or the loud snoring of bored students (James and Sirius were frequent culprits), that very same Professor looked up sharply from his notes as soon as those words left Malfoy's mouth. The sudden absence of his droning voice made the room go silent and a few students had sat up from their slumped positions in alarm.
"Fifty points from Slytherin for sheer ignorance," said Binns, looking sternly at Malfoy who paled.
Hermione also did not miss Malfoy's glance at Riddle who did not return the look.
"If you were a true student of magical history, as you should be if you are to be an even moderately competent wizard, Mr Malfoy, you would understand the depravity of Grindelwald's crimes and how deeply they undermine the wizarding cause."
After a few more moments of shocked silence, Binns resumed his lecture as usual. However, his eyes were no longer so bleary-looking and his usually mild voice was slightly louder in Hermione's imagination. No one dared to fall asleep for the rest of the lesson.
In the days following, Hermione could not even walk to class by herself without James or one of his friends offering to accompany her. Apparently, Greta Balley, the other muggle-born witch in Gryffindor, had been jinxed horribly by someone in the Charms corridor recently. No one had been caught but Gryffindors swore up and down that it had been Slytherin fourth year, Bella Nox. As a result, the Room of Requirement was her only time to be truly alone.
As Hermione walked to the seventh floor after dinner, carrying her books on her hip, she remembered suddenly that it was a Friday. She halted mid-stride. Indecision gripped her. She had not talked to Riddle since that day, aside from some polite exchanges in class and collaboration in Potions, where they were frequently put together as partners. Surely he didn't mean every Friday evenings? Nothing of note had occurred since their last conversation outside the Room, except that his cronies, Malfoy, Lestrange and the rest, were frequently appearing in class quite tired. Lestrange had yawned so much in Herbology the other day that Professor Whittle had been displeased, remarking that yawning openly was rude, had his parents not taught him so?
A slight rumbling sound as a door materialised made her jump. She hurriedly cast a Disillusionment spell and slid into the shadows behind the bust of Nemor the Great. Two boys climbed out. They were seventh years. Shortly after, two more, this time fifth years. More and more, perhaps seven more in total, came out of the Room of Requirement, in twos and threes. One of them, who had the unmistakable blonde hair of Abraxas Malfoy, seemed to be walking awkwardly as if his shoes didn't fit quite properly, or as if he had stretched a calf muscle. Finally, the tall figure of Riddle stepped out and the door disappeared. He looked around him once, then quietly disappeared down the end of the corridor.
Hermione silently let out the breath she had been holding.
So there were more people who knew about the Room. Was it a club of some sort? It was unlikely to be a reading club, as Lestrange had been one of them and he was about as likely to read a book as she was to join the Quidditch team.
What were those Slytherin boys up to?
Hermione felt herself becoming more interested against her better judgment.
"Would you like a peach?" Sirius offered.
"No, no thank you Sirius."
"What are you offering her a peach for?"
"Just thought she might fancy a snack, alright? She hasn't eaten all day."
James turned to Hermione, raising an eyebrow. "You haven't eaten all day?"
Sirius answered instead. "Yeah, James. She wasn't at breakfast, remember?"
"Why not?" James asked. They were walking to Hogsmeade together, Remus and Nuben trailing behind, slogging through the mud and snow. Nuben made some joke about Quaffles and geese, and Remus could be heard chuckling loudly.
"Oh I was in the library, I had to do some research before class." Hermione had actually spent the night at the library, searching for any references to a Room of Requirement in all the books about Hogwarts and its history. She had fallen asleep between the bookshelves sometime around four o'clock and had missed breakfast as a result. But she wasn't about to admit that. A few pillows under her bedcovers the day before and a spell to cloak her footsteps had been sufficient to not arouse any suspicion. Argus Filch, the caretaker, usually only patrolled until midnight and seldom went into the library. Although, Hermione hadn't actually meant to spend so much time there. Sheer frustration had made her keep looking and looking. No books, not one, mentioned any room on the seventh floor. It was confounding.
"Honestly," Sirius was saying. "You call yourself her boyfriend, do you. Honestly."
"Shut up," said James, his cheeks reddening.
"Don't worry James, I'm fine. We can have lunch in Hogsmeade. And no, Sirius. He is not my boyfriend."
"Well, James may not be your boyfriend but you are definitely his girlfriend from the way he goes on about you."
"Shut up, you arse!"
Sirius burst into laughter as James launched his bag at him.
"What's this about James' girlfriend?" Remus piped up from behind.
"You mean Hermione?" said Nuben, chortling.
The sound of their laughter intensified as James picked up a ball of snow and threw it squarely in Sirius' face. Hermione laughed too, she couldn't help it.
By the time they reached Hogsmeade, they were about ready for a nice hot mug of butterbeer and Madame Roberta's famous egg sandwiches at the Three Broomsticks.
Hogsmeade always looked like a postcard, especially in the winter. The thatched cottages and shops were dusted with snow and wreaths hung from each door. The sky was cold and grey, the air crisp, but the warm yellow light of candles from behind the merry window panes invitingly lit up the cobbled streets outside. Unsurprisingly, the Three Broomsticks was full of people. Squeezing their way past a woman with a bent hat, who was cackling merrily, they found a table next to the stairs.
While Sirius went off to get drinks (and chat up Madame Roberta, as they all suspected), James pulled out a chair for Hermione and they sat down, tugging off their gloves, grateful for the warmth of the fireplace nearby.
Remus pulled something out of his pocket. "Look what I found," he said, grinning.
Out of James' group of friends, Remus was the odd one out. He did not play Quidditch like the rest and did not even seem to like it. Usually quiet in class, he was a slight boy with light brown hair; he looked thoughtful most of the time and also often looked quite tired, with deep bags under his eyes. Hermione often found him sleeping with a book in his hand in the Gryffindor common room surrounded by the rest of the gang. The boys frequently disappeared together after classes, although where to Hermione did not know.
A cough from James brought her attention to the object on the wooden table before them.
"What is it?" James asked.
"It's Zabini's ring, of course." Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin in their year, a dark haired boy who had inherited his looks from his rather infamously beautiful mother.
Bemused, Hermione picked it up. It was pretty for a ring. Finely wrought gold, with an intricate scale-like pattern on the band. Looking closer, she saw that the band was the body of a snake, its head curled round to rest near a glittering black jewel, as if it was guarding it jealously. She had never seen Zabini wear this ring before.
"Are you sure it's Zabini's? I don't see his family crest on it anywhere."
"Well he dropped it on his way out of the bathroom. It's strange isn't it?"
"What's strange?" asked Sirius, who had reached their table with five enormous mugs floating behind him.
"Moony here stole Zabini's ring," Nuben said, reaching out a large hand to seize the handle of the closest mug. He took a long drink and then spluttered, roaring, "Sirius! This isn't butterbeer you fool." Sirius thumped him on the back, grinning ear to ear.
"I know. I managed to get us something stronger."
"I didn't steal it, he dropped it."
"Uh-huh," said Sirius, throwing back his head and downing his mug in one.
"I didn't. But anyway, you're all missing the point. Look on the inside of the band."
Indeed there was something there, an inscription. Looking closer, Hermione discovered a series of complex runes.
"That is interesting," she remarked, unable to contain her fascination.
Remus smiled. "Can you translate it, Hermione?"
"I could try. They aren't runes we've studied before. They seem different."
"Let me have a look," said Sirius, his face suddenly grave.
Hermione handed him the ring and watched as he started to frown. Sirius took out his wand and muttered for a while under his breath. Nothing happened.
"Well?" asked Remus, expectantly.
"It's a Dark ring, no doubt. Black diamonds are commonly used in Dark magic but it doesn't seem cursed, I checked." Hermione remembered that the Blacks were a family oft associated with the Dark Arts and rumoured to have a large repository of Dark artefacts. They were one of the biggest patrons of Borgin and Burkes in Diagon Alley. It also explained why Sirius seemed to know an uncanny amount of dangerous hexes and spells.
"You shouldn't have picked it up, Remus," Sirius was saying.
Remus shrugged.
"Well, no harm done, I guess," said James.
Hermione tried to give Remus back the ring but he seemed to have lost all interest in it. "Nah, hold on to it. Figure out what the runes say and tell us."
"Won't Zabini be looking for it?" asked Hermione.
The boys shrugged. "He's a prick, let him fret," said Sirius, ordering some sandwiches from a passing barmaid.
"Probably has a lot more of these rings, the nancy. I bet he has more jewellery than most girls," James added. He watched as Hermione turned the ring over in her hands, admiring the dark glittering diamond.
"Are you going to drink yours?" Nuben interrupted. He gestured to her mug.
"Depends. Is it Firewhiskey?"
"Maybe."
She hesitated. "Ah well," she said. She picked it up and downed it in one go. It went down her throat like liquid flames but had a pleasant aftertaste of honey and spice.
Nuben clapped.
"That's my girl," said Sirius, beaming.
James looked at her, his mouth had fallen open. Then he smiled and leaning back, let out a loud chuckle. "You surprise me more and more, Hermione," he said fondly.
Hermione blushed. She could feel the heat of the Firewhiskey in her stomach. She had no idea why she had decided to drink it all in one go. For the rest of the afternoon, as Sirius kept ordering more 'butterbeers', the last of her reservations started to slip away. For the first time in a long while, she found herself smiling more often and enjoying their company. For too long she had been a recluse in the library, she decided. Perhaps this is what people meant when they told her to "lighten up". She did indeed feel lighter, less weighed down by her own preoccupying thoughts. The boys also no longer seemed like rough-and-tumble idiots. Their laughter and merry-making was quite contagious.
Nuben, she realised, was a very gentle character despite his six foot three frame, boulder-like shoulders and brutishly large hands. There was some brain behind all that brawn and it was apparent in his frequent witticisms as he bantered with Sirius. James was clearly just as cheeky and mischievous as Sirius but he seemed to try and restrain himself at times. He looked frequently at her as they talked, the edges of his lips turned up in a small smile. He had a frequent habit of running his hand through his hair, even as he and Sirius teased her about the embroidered badge on her uniform that proclaimed: S.P.E.W. ("Spew? Spew? What kind of name is that for a club?"). Previously she had found that hair tousling habit of his irritating, but now she liked the almost self-conscious way that he did it.
Perhaps that was why when James all too casually slung his arm around her waist a while later as they were chatting, she let it stay.