As Hermione expected, neither Daphne nor Pansy said anything further about how Hermione had looked different, but Hermione didn't care – there was a new respect in how they looked at her, and Pansy's snide remarks had mostly subsided. The others in her house were looking at her as if they'd seen her in a new light, which irritated her even more – they'd noticed her for her looks, but not her grades? Her brains?
Hermione took out a book on great wizards and witches throughout time and examined their portraits, before concluding that objectively, most of them looked very powerful and striking one way or another. Some had very long, dramatic beards, similar to Dumbledore's, some had wild, crazy, kinked hair, and some were just very, very attractive. Hermione looked down at the piercing eyes of one of the wizards in the book, who offered her a smirk, and grimaced. If they were great wizards, they could probably hold a glamour for a long period of time so they could intimidate and impress people. It was an advanced charm, Millicent had said, so Hermione supposed she'd have to work up to it.
Her routine was altered on Thursday when the Slytherin class was directed outside at three-thirty in the afternoon for flying lessons. Hermione was excited to try her hand at flying – only to quickly become apprehensive when she saw the Gryffindors heading over to join them.
Hermione walked a careful tightrope, being friends with the Gryffindors, despite the invisible, unspoken line that divided the houses. On one hand, she was a Slytherin with Slytherin friends and complete house loyalty to Slytherin. On the other, though, her own house ostracized her, and other houses seemed to treat her as an exception to the rule that Slytherins were all snobby and mean. Hermione remained untouched by house rivalries so far, but Hermione was uneasy to see what might happen here. So far, Potions class with the Gryffindors was fine – they were physically separated, so interactions that might turn problematic were limited from the outset within Snape's classroom.
Here, though…
Here, there could be trouble.
Hermione watched as the Gryffindors glanced askance at the leftover broomsticks. Theirs were decidedly less nice than the ones the Slytherins had claimed and traded – Hermione's own broom looked worn but well-kept. The teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short gray hair, and Hermione noticed her yellow eyes. She made a mental note – either the woman was old and had some sort of medical issue, or she wasn't entirely normal. For all Hermione knew, maybe she was part harpy. Magic didn't seem to have many limits.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
The Gryffindors, who had been dilly-dallying, hurried over to the leftover brooms.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch directed, "and say 'UP!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Hermione was pleased to see that her broom made it up into her hand, though it did so in a weary, reluctant kind of way. Many of the others hadn't made it all the way up – Ron's had rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. She was pleased to see Harry had managed to get his into his hand, and she shot him a smile, which he returned with a pleased grin.
Madam Hooch began walking around, showing everyone how to mount their brooms and grip the handle so as not to slip off. Hermione was somewhat alarmed by this – she'd presumed that there was some sort of safety charm built into the broom. Maybe something like training wheels on a bike - they were supposed to be learning how to fly properly, after all.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle- three – two-"
But Neville, nervous and shaking and scared of being left behind, had pushed off hard before Madam Hooch had a chance to bring the whistle to her lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville kept flying up, looking terrified. Hermione watched as Neville looked down, went pale, and slipped off his broom.
With a nasty crack and a thud, Neville crashed into the ground face-first. Madam Hooch bent over Neville, her face white.
"Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on boy – it's all right, up you get."
She helped Neville to his feet and leveled a glare at the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be thrown out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
Hermione bit her lip as Neville hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who was helping him across the grass.
No sooner than they were out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
Hermione exchanged a look of dread with Tracey as the others kept bickering. When Draco grabbed Neville's Remembrall, she almost intervened, but Tracey held her back.
"It's a stupid toy," she hissed. "It's not worth it, Hermione."
Hermione forced herself to bite her tongue and not say a word, though it got harder when somehow, Draco and Harry had escalated to facing off on broomsticks. It was surreal to watch them – Harry chasing Draco, somehow able to fly as if he'd been doing it his entire life – and then, Harry was diving, racing after the Remembrall, faster than gravity itself, and managed to catch the thing—
"HARRY POTTER!"
Hermione turned to see Professor McGonagall racing towards them, her face hard, her glasses flashing furiously.
"Never- in all my time at Hogwarts-"
The Gryffindors began objecting, leaping to Harry's defense, but McGonagall grabbed Harry by the arm, hustling him off.
After they had gone, Draco and the others started sniggering once again, but more subdued. One teacher had already seen and intervened, and Slytherins weren't stupid enough to chance it again.
That evening at dinner, Hermione drifted over to the Gryffindor table to talk to Harry and Neville. The conversation was entirely not what she expected.
"She put you on the Quidditch team?" Hermione repeated. "The Quidditch team?"
"Youngest Seeker in a century," Harry said, grinning. "I start training next week."
Hermione was torn between anger at the blatant rule breaking and relief that her friend had gotten off scot-free. She settled somewhere in the middle.
"Are you at least going to be more careful in the future?" Hermione said with a sigh. "Not antagonize Draco and the others?"
"Malfoy started it!" Ron objected. "He always does!"
"Did I hear my name?"
Hermione turned to see Draco sauntering over, Greg and Vincent in tow.
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" Draco said, sneering.
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Harry said coolly, and Hermione had to repress a smirk at that. Judging from the look on Draco's face, he knew it too.
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," Draco challenged. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no physical contact." He smirked. "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
"Of course he has," Ron snapped, whirling around to glare. "I'm his second. Who's yours?"
Draco looked over his minions carefully, his eyes pausing on Hermione before looking back to Harry and Ron.
"Granger."
Hermione froze at that pronouncement, shock streaking through her mind like lightning. Her?
Harry and Ron looked at Malfoy incredulously, then at each other, before simultaneously protesting. However, the boys' loud objections were interrupted with Hermione's firm, "Absolutely not." She met Draco's eyes steadily.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why not, Granger? Scared?"
"I am not about to participate in this sort of activity," she said firmly, "and I'm especially not going to choose to side against my friends or against my house. I'll come to the duel, but I'll be monitoring – I'll play the referee. That fair?"
Harry nodded, and Draco nodded again after a moment.
"Crabbe can be my second," Draco said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
They walked away, and Harry turned to Ron. "What is a wizard's duel?"
As Ron explained the intricacies, Hermione considered. What spells had they even learned in class, besides Lumos? Hermione knew every spell in her first year spell books, but she doubted Harry knew anything further than what their classes had covered.
"You'll probably just send sparks at each other," Ron concluded, reassuring Harry.
Harry did not look reassured.
Hermione sighed.
"Look," she said. "No matter what happens, we'll both be there to take Draco down a peg if need be. Even if you can't cast any spells, I can hit him with a Leg-Lock Jinx if he looks like he's going to hurt you, and then you can do whatever you want."
Harry visibly cheered at this. He went back to talking about Quidditch, and Hermione left, rolling her eyes.
Still, though. Draco had chosen her, first, even though he wouldn't speak to her voluntarily, or even register her existence unless forced to. But he had chosen her.
If that wasn't recognition that she was the best witch in their class, she didn't know what was.