Hermione returned home triumphant, satisfied at having retrieved her sword, only to jump in surprise after she climbed out of the Floo. She hadn't been expecting her parents to be sitting on the couch, tea tray before them, both of them evidently waiting for her return.
"Mum! Dad!" Hermione looked at them oddly. "Didn't you have work today?"
"Good Friday seemed like as good a reason as any to lock up early," her mother said, setting her cup onto its saucer. "No patients were scheduled for the latter half of the day, and paperwork can wait until Monday."
"And there are more important things." Her dad grinned. "Let's see it, then – I want to see this legendary weapon my wizard daughter has."
"Witch," her mother corrected him, but her father waved her off.
"Witch, wizard, whatever," he said. "Let's see it."
Amused, Hermione withdrew her sword from the sheath, and her father's jaw dropped.
"You got a sword made of Damascus steel?!" her father exclaimed, coming over to see it. "This is incredible! I didn't know wizards knew how to make Damascus steel."
"Goblins, not wizards," Hermione corrected. "The goblins place a high value on the creation of pieces like this. Swords are works of art to them. They're a way for the swordsmith to be immortalized."
"Can I see it?" her father asked, and Hermione hesitated.
"Yes, but be careful," she warned him. "The goblins put venom in the blade somehow. People of my House are supposed to be unaffected, but I don't know if my House starts with just me or if you'd be safe too."
Her dad laughed. "I won't cut myself, Hermione."
Hermione reluctantly handed the sword over, being careful as she passed him the handle. Her father held it and examined it, his eyes shining with glee as he turned it over in his hands.
"It's beautiful," her mother admitted, watching her husband examine the sword. "I can see the individual scales on the snakes, with their emerald eyes." She looked to Hermione, smiling. "I'm still not thrilled about you having a sword, but this one suits you very well."
"Thanks," Hermione said, flushing.
"So this is a short sword, I'd think," her dad said, examining. "That'd be 1d6 per hit, plus poison. That's not bad, per hit…"
Her muttered to himself, and Hermione wondered if he quite realized that in the real world, monsters didn't actually have hit points to subtract from.
"What's the monster you've got again?" he asked, holding up the sword to eye level and peering down its length. "Did you ever figure it out?"
"A basilisk," Hermione admitted.
"A basilisk?"
Both her parents sounded incredulous, before they looked at each other, surprised the other one had spoken.
"How do you know what a basilisk is?" her father demanded, and her mother laughed.
"I read," she said. "It's in Richard III."
"Basilisks are in Shakespeare?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening. "What's it say about them?"
"A basilisk's eyes are deadly, I believe," her mother said, recalling. "One character made comments that she wishes she had the eyes of a basilisk so she could kill her husband."
"That's not much different than what I've got," her father said. "They're terrifying reptiles with the ability to poison or petrify their prey." He paused to look at Hermione. "I thought you said it was a serpent of some sort."
Hermione blinked. "It is. It's a massive snake, some twenty feet long with giant fangs and deadly eyes."
"Deadly eyes?" Her mother's own eyes pierced her. "I thought you said all your classmates would be okay."
"They will be," Hermione argued. "They only got petrified – none of them saw the basilisk's eyes directly. Hogwarts has powerful protective magic on it to protect the students."
"Mmmm." Her mother hummed, skeptical. It was clear she was displeased with this turn of events.
"I thought basilisks were large, eight-legged lizards that could poison people or turn them into statues," her father informed her. "If I knew basilisks in reality were really snakes, I could have helped you figure it out."
He sounded indignant at not being able to help, and Hermione held back a giggle. "Okay, Dad."
"If your basilisks are anything like the kind I know, the eye is the main weapon," he told her. "It's magically empowered and fueled by their soul, so if you kill the basilisk, the eyes should be safe."
That made some sense to Hermione. How else would wizards have learned that the eyes were yellow to put into their books? Not that she'd ever chance looking at the eyes, even dead, but it was good to know.
Her father gave her the sword back, both of them very careful not to touch the blade.
"My daughter, heroic wizard and monster slayer," he said fondly, ruffling her hair. "I'm so proud."
"We agreed this sword was for protection," her mother snapped. "Not for chasing after monsters."
"Yes, Jean," her father said, his voice a groan. "I know."
"Then Hermione certainly will not be a heroic adventurer going after a deadly creature," Her voice was sharp, her eyes narrowed. "She will only use her sword to protect herself and her friends, right?"
Hermione's mind ran over her plan, analyzing it.
"Yes, mum," she agreed, completely truthfully. "Only to protect myself and my friends."
She was very careful not to commit to not going after the deadly creature, falling silent as her parents began bickering over whether or not they should get her a shield, watching with a fond, amused smile on her face.
Hermione returned to school Saturday afternoon, after touring an old church with her parents. After assuring them she saw no ghosts (to their disappointment), she Floo'd a public Floo in Hogsmeade, the nearby village to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall came up to escort her back to the school, giving her a skeptical eye but carefully not asking how she'd gotten back to Hogsmeade without the Hogwarts Express running, and walked Hermione back to the Slytherin dormitory.
It was a very careful walk for Hermione. She'd worn her sword and sheath under her robes and belted the sword to her thigh, not ready to show people her sword yet or have to answer pointed questions, and she had massively underestimated how difficult it was to walk with a sword hindering her movement. It was with great relief that she reached her dormitory, unbuckling it and finally hiding it in her trunk.
Though Hermione had only been gone for two days, it seemed part of the school had changed while she was gone. There was an undercurrent of terror in the school that hadn't seemed to have been there before. She wondered if it was the fact Dumbledore was gone, or if it was that without classes, there was more time to sit and worry. Maybe the teachers had had the right of that, occupying them with extra work.
Not everyone was handling it with worry, however. At dinner, Hermione located a prime example of two who were not.
"What are the Weasley Twins wearing?" Hermione asked, aghast, and Blaise laughed.
"Tunics and cloaks," he told her. "Wizards haven't worn such things for hundreds of years."
"Why didn't they put leggings on under the tunics? Or a proper shirt?" Hermione wanted to know. "No one wants to see their pale legs and knobbly knees!"
"They probably don't know how they're supposed to wear them," Blaise said, shrugging. He grinned. "Not everyone knows medieval fashion history."
"This is ridiculous," Hermione huffed, but she was amused.
"I keep hoping there'll be a breeze," Tracey said, snickering. "I've put two galleons on their bits dangling freely under there, where Blaise thinks they're wearing some sort of shorts underneath."
After she'd eaten at least some of her dinner, Hermione went over to the Gryffindor table to learn what was going on. The Weasley Twins saw her coming.
"I know your face," George said gravely.
Hermione paused.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked.
"I know your face," Fred repeated, grinning. "We have broken bread together."
"They've been like this all break," Ron groaned. "You've no idea what you've unleashed, Hermione."
"What I've unleashed?" Hermione repeated, perturbed. "How is this oddness my fault?"
"You told them that we were allowed to wear swords," Harry said, grinning at her. "Fred and George got a muggle book off Dean Thomas that had adventure and swords in it. He pointed out his favorite bits in it, and they've been talking like this ever since."
Hermione examined the twins. Sure enough, strapped to their hips were sword belts, complete with sheaths and swords.
"Has anyone told them they're supposed to wear something under the tunic?" Hermione said.
"Alas that these evil days should be mine!" Fred cried, clutching his heart as if wounded.
George shook his head in despair. "What can men do against such reckless hate?"
"Are they really?" Neville asked, surprised. "None of us really knew. The tunics looked kind of like fancy robes, except short, and you don't traditionally wear anything underneath your robes."
"They wore an undershirt and leggings underneath a tunic," Hermione said firmly. "It helped protect you from the elements and keep you warm." She fixed her eyes on the twins. "You look ridiculous like this, your legs and arms so exposed."
The Twins shrugged, grinning.
"How did it come to this?" George said dramatically.
"My body is broken," Fred said, clutching his chest. "My heart is cracked."
George gave Fred a sharp look.
"That wasn't in the book," he said, his formal tone suddenly dropping. He sounded annoyed instead.
"Well, there's only so many lines in the book," Fred defended. "I was trying to imitate the style of speech."
"That's fine, but I thought we were going to be authentic with this," George retorted, and the twins huddled their heads together, rapidly whispering and murmuring.
Hermione turned back to her friends.
"Are they really going to go to class like that?" she asked.
"They'll put back on their school robes, but they're going to wear the swords," Ron told her. "They don't want points off for violating the uniform policy."
"I think it's brilliant," Neville said, grinning. "Everyone else is all stressed and upset. But we have our own noble knights here, defending Gryffindor house."
"Filch is trying to figure out where they got the swords from," Harry said. "But none of the suits of armor seem to be missing a sword."
"Fred swears they found a room full of swords and armor on the seventh floor," Ron said, "but I think he's taking the mickey out of me. I've never seen anything like that."
"They could be telling the truth," Harry said, shrugging. "Hogwarts has tons of secrets no one knows."
Hermione was looking around the hall at the others, though, Neville's words echoing in her mind.
"Everyone is so upset," she murmured. "Is this all from the Heir?"
Harry quickly sobered.
"Dumbledore's gone," he reminded her quietly. "A teacher was attacked. Without classes to occupy everyone, there have been a lot of scary rumors going around."
"Someone in Ravenclaw said they figured out how to tell when the monster will attack next," Ron said. "Something to do with the position of the moon and Mars."
Hermione snorted. "That's ridiculous."
"Hey, we don't get Divination until next year," Ron defended. "It might make sense. We don't know yet."
"Other rumors have gone around about who's the Heir," Neville said. "Mostly old, pureblood names from your house, Hermione. No offense."
"It's the Heir of Slytherin," Ron scoffed. "Of course it's going to be someone in Slytherin."
Hermione bit her lip, worrying at it with her teeth. Though no one was in immediate danger (as she held the diary), she couldn't just tell people that. She needed to fix this basilisk situation as quickly as possible, lest her classmates and professors stress themselves into heart attacks.
"I would see you smile again," George Weasley told her formally, touching her arm to get her attention. "What would you have me do?"
Hermione looked at him blankly. "What?"
"He's telling you he wants to help you cheer up," Neville translated helpfully.
"Let this be the hour when our swords draw together!" Fred proclaimed. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"And that means they want to hang out with you," Neville added, grinning.
"Not now," Hermione dismissed. "I have some things I need to do."
The twins clutched their chests overdramatically again.
"How did it come to this?" they said, voices stepping over each other. They grinned and exchanged a high five, and Hermione tried to scoff as she went back to the Slytherin table, but it was hard not to laugh.
"So?" Blaise prompted, once she was reseated. "What are they up to?"
"They're being ridiculous, but they're intending on wearing swords to class," she told him, and Blaise snickered.
"Wish I could be there when Snape sees that," he said.
Hermione smirked. "So do I."
She wondered if the Weasley Twins didn't have the right idea of it, though. Something about the idea of wearing her sword around openly and being able to protect Blaise appealed to Hermione, resonating with her in some deep, wordless way, and the thought lingered in her brain the rest of the day.