"Erm, Hermione? Hermione, you have to get up."
Hermione cracked an eye open and was treated to the sight of Parvati Patil fidgeting beside her bed. "Professor McGonagall's calling for you and your lot," Parvati told her. "She's angry, too. What did you do yesterday? Does it have to do with those ugly glasses you have on?"
Glasses? Hermione slapped at her face. Her fingers met the bumpy contours of a thick, spiked metal frame and she groaned. She'd forgotten to take the silly things off before she'd gone to bed.
"I'm up, Parvati. Thank you for waking me," she said with groggy politeness. While her dorm-mate wandered back to her bed, Hermione vanished the glasses from her face and rubbed at her eyes. Her sore arms protested the slight exertion. In fact, her entire body complained at being made to move at all.
'Malfoy was right when he said those temples were meant for athletes,' she thought as she gingerly went about her morning routine. She was normally able to get up at the crack of dawn to read or pull all-nighters to get extra work done, but now her thoughts felt like they had to swim through molasses to get anywhere. Ugh, was this what nighttime people usually felt like in the morning? She was suddenly beginning to understand why Ron was so slow to do anything at this time of day.
Though tempted to use her Time Turner to get some extra sleep, Hermione resisted the urge and got ready as quickly as her sore body would allow. She'd been granted a time-machine for the use of extra class and study time, not to sleep off unsanctioned adventures. She had committed the crime, so she would pay her dues like everyone else.
Blue, Red, Harry, and Ron were making their way down the boys' staircase at the same time she was on her way to the common room, and they shared commiserating looks. Today was not going to be a good day, they all knew.
Fred, George, and Yellow were already downstairs. They had assembled in front of Professor McGonagall, who stood with her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin white line. Hermione joined the line in front of her with her head hung low. She knew she deserved every second of the tongue-lashing to come.
The professor opened her mouth, but before she could make a sound, George spoke up. "I know you're angry at us for being reckless and stupid, but could we tell you something first?" he said in a rush.
"It'll be quick, we swear, and then you can put us through the wringer," Fred was quick to promise.
The woman took a deep breath through her nose and then shut her eyes for a moment. "What is it that you absolutely must interrupt me to say, Mister Weasley?" she asked tightly.
"Yellow got attacked by his fellow Gryffindors yesterday because they can't tell the difference between gray skin and brown," Fred said.
"Or human and not-human, apparently, because the bloke throwing bombs was half-made out of smoke," George added. "Yellow's definitely solid, Professor. Solid enough to get a black eye from a Lion's fist, even."
The room went quiet. Everyone who had gathered to watch the show had frozen in place, the sneaky smiles dropping from their faces.
Professor McGonagall's face had gone stony. "Is that so, Mister Weasley?" she asked, her voice more clipped and wintry than before.
The twins nodded. "Absolutely, Professor," George said.
"Ron and I can back them up," Red declared, raising his hand. "We were with Yellow when it happened."
"I didn't get a view of what happened, but I can tell you everything I saw, Professor," Hermione added. "I have a good memory for faces."
"We will discuss this further in my office," Professor McGonagall said, "during your first detentions."
Hermione cringed. She could only hope that their impromptu report had garnered enough of Professor McGonagall's sympathy that they wouldn't all be banished to the dungeons to work under Professor Snape's gimlet glare.
"You vanished from Hogwarts for eight hours yesterday," Professor McGonagall went on. "None of the professors could track you, let alone locate you. It was as though you had stepped off the face of the earth! Then, after a third of the day had gone by, you all reappeared in your beds." Her eyes narrowed as they raked across the students arranged in front of her. "I am well aware of the antics that have made you…" her frown swept across the four Potters and then landed on Fred and George, "—all of you rather infamous. Do you care to tell me where you went?"
"We got lost!" Yellow blurted. He twitched like an anxious rabbit. "W-We were, erm, walking around, and then we…er, we found a cave! We found a cave a-and got lost. It just appeared out of nowhere!"
Harry put his arm around Yellow's shoulders. "We were on our way to the Hospital Wing when it happened," he said. "Yellow had gotten a black eye, so we were walking him there. We didn't want him to get attacked again." He scowled at a group of upper-years standing at the edge of the common room.
Hermione's exhaustion-clogged brain took a couple of seconds to figure out where this story was coming from, and then she contributed, "The rest of us were on our way to the Hospital Wing to visit the people who had gotten hurt. We got pulled in by some sort of Hylian spell before we could get there. It had led us to an ancient cave before we even realized we'd gotten turned around."
"We totally didn't do it on purpose, Professor," the twins said with much innocent blinking. "Cross our hearts."
Professor McGonagall maintained her stern scowl for a bit longer, then sighed and relented, "I suppose that explains why so many Slytherin students vanished at the same time you did. Lions and Snakes have never gotten along, yet so many of the traps within this school seem determined to force them together." She stood straighter. "However, that does not mean you're off the hook. You should have reported this to me or another teacher as soon as you returned. It was Professor Dumbledore who informed us you had reappeared, an hour after the fact."
"We apologize, Professor, but we conked out in our beds as soon as we found them," Blue told her, rubbing at his half-shut eyes. He was leaning so heavily on Red that the other boy seemed to be the only thing keeping him on his feet. "I, for one, still feel like my legs are going to fall off, so could you just hand out our detentions so I can sleep? Please, Professor?"
His plea softened some of the harshness lingering in the professor's eyes. "Two detentions each, and thirty points from Gryffindor," she declared. "All of you will have your first detention with me at six PM this evening. Misters Weasley, you will work with Professor Hagrid for your second detention on Monday at six-thirty. Miss Granger, you will assist Professor Snape on Tuesday at seven. Misters Potter, you will serve both detentions under me—tonight and on Tuesday." She held out her hand to Red, who blinked at it in confusion. "Surely whatever possessed you to wear a Transfiguration as haphazard as that can be ironed out in a couple of long remedial sessions. Please hand over the glasses, Mister Potter."
Red took the glasses off, his eyes darting to the rest of his fellow adventurers as he did. Hermione gave him a helpless look, while the twins grinned and nodded. The boy shrugged and dropped the magical spectacles into Professor McGonagall's waiting palm.
Professor McGonagall inspected the glasses with narrowed eyes before tapping them with her wand. Predictably, the product of Hylian magic didn't react to the spell. She frowned and tapped them again, then spoke an unfamiliar spell that caused the spectacles to vibrate a bit. Two more unsuccessful spells turned her frown to a frustrated scowl. Three more had her snapping, "Mister Potter, how long have you been wearing this Hylian artifact, and why?"
Squinting at her face, Red replied, "I've been had 'em since yesterday, since that's when I got them from the temple, and I've been wearing them to see because they're the first glasses I've ever had that actually work for me." He waved his hand, vanishing the spectacles from the professor's hand and causing them to reappear on his nose. "Once Quidditch is back on, I'll be able to catch the Snitch better than ever!" he said gleefully, oblivious to his Head of House's expression of shock.
"Th-That shouldn't be possible," Professor McGonagall stammered. The stately woman had never looked so taken aback. "Wandless and wordless conjuring? That isn't even part of the curriculum! And to do it with a magical object…"
Hermione saw where this was going and stepped in. "The temple gave us a magical scroll, Professor," she said to forestall the impending interrogation. "It gave us all of the spell-crafting knowledge needed to do this." She conjured her magic glasses and held them up. "This artifact cuts through illusions, though we don't know whether it will work on glamours not created by Hylian magic. It also, as Red said, functions as prescription lenses."
"May I borrow this, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked. Her eyes were bright with an eagerness to study that Hermione understood all too well.
"You can borrow ours, Professor," George said, handing his over. "We only need one set for now."
"Thank you, Mister Weasley." The professor tucked the spectacles into her pocket. "Well, then, I believe I'll be taking this news to Dumbledore. I'll expect you at six-o'-clock sharp in my classroom. Good day." She turned and left with a sense of urgency in her long strides.
A tense silence descended on the common room in the wake of Professor McGonagall's departure. The Gryffindors congregated there seemed reluctant to resume their conversations, or even to pretend their attention wasn't intensely focused on the eight students gathered in the middle of the room. Hermione caught several sideways looks and half-hidden scowls, though not without also seeing a handful of guilty glances and expressions of surprise.
Percy Weasley, who had been watching quietly from an armchair by the hearth, stood up and came over to clap his twin brothers on the shoulders. "Good job, telling Professor McGonagall what happened," he said with a stiff and restrained, but genuine smile. "I planned to speak to her later this morning, myself. I'm proud of you for doing the right thing and reporting this to the proper authority." He nodded firmly and then returned to his homework-laden armchair.
Fred hesitantly touched his shoulder like it had just suffered a burn. George wore a wide-eyed look of horror. "Perfect Percy approves?" they whispered.
Hermione rolled her eyes at their dramatics. "God forbid you act right for once," she sniffed.
"You've got that straight!" Fred said indignantly, though at a low enough volume that the Head Boy wouldn't hear. "George, you know that thing?"
George nodded. "I ran tests during your sleep shift. It's staying stable, so we can move onto the next phase soon."
"Excellent. He won't know what hit him!"
"And Percy won't approve."
The twins shared a hushed evil laugh and then scuttled off to their dormitory.
Hermione watched them go, uneasy. "Ron, do you know what they—?"
"No idea, but it's best not to get involved," the redhead said. "You'll know what it is as soon as they want you to." He turned to Blue. "Do you need carrying, mate, or are you going to walk?"
"I'll crawl," Blue moaned as he trudged toward the stairs.
Hermione sighed fondly—it wasn't just the twins who had a flair for drama—and then climbed the stairs to her own dormitory. Her legs burned fiercely by the time she reached the top. As much as Blue had played up his exhaustion, he at least had a more athletic background than Hermione; it took more leg-power to grip a broom than to lift a book bag.
'Can I lift books with my legs?' Hermione wondered sleepily, opening the dormitory door. 'I need more exercise, but I'd much rather read.' She went to rub her eyes and then realized she'd never banished her magic glasses.
'I wonder if Spirit knows anything about these,' she thought as she held them up to the light. Their lenses were curiously dull, lacking the reflections and glare that most eyeglasses plagued their wearers with. Peering through the crystal, she took a moment to admire its color. What a nice shade of—
A flash of light caught the corner of her eye, shining at the very edge of the spectacles' right lens. Hermione slid them on, her hand going warily to the wand in her pocket. If she had learned anything from spending eight hours in an illusion-filled nightmare, it was that anything that normally went unseen was probably hostile.
As it turned out, the shiny thing that had caught her attention was the Hylian Bestiary. From within the book's many pages, a slat of bright light spilled out. It looked curiously akin to a bookmark, so Hermione went to her nightstand and flipped to the indicated page.
She was faced with an article she'd never seen in the book before—one written entirely in plain English! The girl's face lit up in happy recognition as she ferried the book to her bed. She gave the entry a precursory scan before she reached for her pen and parchment, her eyes lingering on the large amount of empty space taking up the two pages. It looked like the entry was half-done, but the ink was fresh enough that she could smell it. Unlike the rest of the book, it was written in a casual hand, not the stiff and careful print of a scribe. It was particularly noticeable in the title, done in plain lettering instead of illuminated script: "The Triforce and its Bearers".
"Spirit?" she murmured, lightly running her fingertips over the familiar handwriting. Though the ink still shone, it didn't smear at her touch. "Is this you?"
The book shivered, making her draw her fingers back. Its pages flipped as if being thumbed through by invisible hands before stopping at the lined section in the back. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, then noticed the new entry was still marked; Spirit knew her well.
"Good morning, my dear," Spirit wrote. "It appears the Lens of Truth can cut through the illusions of a shy editor as easily as any other."
"I didn't know you could add to the Bestiary!" Hermione exclaimed. "Does this mean you can translate the other articles so anyone can read them? Can you change the other Houses' books to match?" The more people who were informed about the dangers of Hylian monsters, the safer the population of Hogwarts would be.
"My edits will affect this book and any of its copies, but unfortunately I cannot change the parts of the book that were already written at the time I bound my soul to it, only add new articles on top. As far as my magic is concerned, changing the original wording is as impossible as destroying the tome itself. I'm not sure how your Headmaster managed to half-translate it, but it's more than anything I could do."
A chill went through Hermione. Soul-binding did not sound like a friendly branch of magic. It sounded like the very thing that had led to her fighting a trio of mad Hylian ghosts in a temple devoted to the dead.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," Spirit wrote with a pouting air. "I only took advantage of a dark curse that was cast on me during my childhood. Necromancy is certainly not among my talents. Such magic was expressly forbidden in all of Hyrule."
"That doesn't mean it wasn't practiced," Hermione said skeptically. "There are Poes and ReDeads, after all. And how could a dark curse lead to you binding your soul to a book?" That wasn't even getting into defining what a soul was, both in terms of magical usage and real-world meaning. Hermione was tempted to ask, but she wanted to know the basics of things first before she got into a philosophical debate with a book ghost.
"Ah, the curse…that's a bit of a story." The writing paused, the unseen woman seeming to gather her thoughts together. "I suppose I could tell you about who I am, as it's related to what happened and there isn't any harm in telling you my real name at this point," she said. "I am Zelda Marinus Harkinian Hyrule, fifth ruler of New Hyrule and a former bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom. I'm not entirely certain, but I believe this castle may be the same one my great-great grandmother oversaw the construction of."
Hermione stared at the book with wide eyes, her mind now running over every previous interaction she'd had with Spirit—Queen Zelda. A hot flush rose in her cheeks. Had she been too informal? Had she ever insulted the ancient monarch? Oh, what if she'd said something stupid to make the queen doubt her intelligence? Why wouldn't her memory work, darn it? Hermione chewed on her lower lip, suddenly self-conscious.
"I was a queen to my people, but now I am only someone with knowledge to share, dear," Queen Zelda soothed. "There is no need to be embarrassed for asking questions of someone who has answers. Besides, I learned to get over my royal sensibilities when I was around your age; casual conversation hardly offends me."
"But you're a queen," Hermione hissed at the book in a strained whisper. She looked around to see if her roommates were nearby, though she wasn't sure why. It just felt like a forbidden thing, her speaking to a monarch. She was the daughter of two dentists, for Pete's sake!
"I was a queen, ages ago. Now I am just Zelda, an old woman with stories to tell." Her writing emanated a sense of someone shrugging. "I had an adventure of my own, you know, when I was around your age. I was going to add it to this book after I finished writing a few other articles, but I could tell you right now if you'd really like to hear about that curse."
"Oh, absolutely!" Hermione hopped off of her bed to fish some writing supplies out of her school bag. She sat back down with an excited fire in her eyes, leaning intently over the Bestiary. "Tell me everything."
"Well, when I was twelve, my chancellor, who was apparently a demon in disguise, ripped my soul from my body. Luckily, there was a young train engineer there to help me…"
"Mister Malfoy, I'd like to speak to you in my office."
Draco's shoulders hunched. Damn it, Professor Snape knew he'd lied! No matter how convincing Draco thought he sounded, his godfather always saw through his falsehoods.
"I'll see you later," he sighed to Crabbe and Goyle. His servants nodded and then wandered off. "And you, stay," Draco told Dog. "I'll be fine, I promise."
Dog whined at him and growled in Professor Snape's direction.
"He's nicer to me than he is to you," Draco reminded him. "Go on and keep an eye on Crabbe and Goyle, will you? I don't want them getting into trouble."
Dog sighed and gave his hand a worried lick before trotting after Draco's bodyguards.
"What did you want to talk to me about, Professor?" Draco asked as he followed Professor Snape into the man's office. "I can't tell you how we wound up in that cave, I swear. We were just walking around and got los—"
"You need to find better hiding places for your brainless plans, Draco," Professor Snape interrupted. He picked up a piece of parchment on his desk and flipped it over, revealing the team roster he and Granger had put together.
"You went through my things!" Draco accused. "That was in my trunk! You can't just rifle through a student's private property!"
"I can if I believe the student is putting himself at risk," Professor Snape said with a cold frown. "Tell me, Draco, what truly happened yesterday? If you lie, the letter I intend to send to your parents will become that much more scaremongering."
Draco's heart nearly stopped. His father had wanted to send him to Durmstrang, and had only been talked out of it by his mother. Draco didn't want to go to a frigid hellhole hundreds of miles from his friends and family, even if it would have allowed him to study subjects outlawed by the British Ministry of Magic. If Father got wind of all that had been happening here, Draco would never see Hogwarts again.
"We went into the temple intentionally," he admitted through gritted teeth. Blaise, Millicent, and Blue were going to kill him for being so spineless. "The first time we encountered such a place, it was genuinely by accident. When we found another, we decided to deal with it ourselves before anyone else got lost in it."
"Describe these places to me." Professor Snape sat down at his desk and steepled his fingers. "I would like to know exactly what dunderheaded antics Potter has goaded you into."
"They were just tests of strength, Professor," he said vaguely. "The labyrinths were much like Hogwarts is now, only at a higher level. Traps and monsters, and all that."
Professor Snape's eyes narrowed. "The more detailed you are, the less detailed my letter will be."
'Damn it.' Draco sucked in a breath and bounced on the balls of his feet. He wished Dog were here to calm his fidgeting. Draco's godfather had always been able to make the boy squirm far more effectively than Draco's father with a mere look.
The truth came out of Draco in reluctant bursts. He told Professor Snape about the dark cave, with its infestation of Keese and its simple puzzles. Mentioning the ghostly knight with the ball-and-chain and the flaming bat-dragon at the cave's end had garnered sharp glares that made him flinch and stutter, but he reported everything faithfully.
It was far more difficult to speak of the temple of death he'd spent yesterday trawling. Just describing its aesthetic was enough to have Professor Snape's eyes widening in horror. Draco had nearly stopped there, terrified that he'd be effectively yanked from Hogwarts the moment his godfather touched pen to paper. The fear that he was more likely to be withdrawn if he didn't continue gave him the motivation to go on and explain the many invisible traps, the Poes and ReDeads, and the ghostly monster at the end.
"After Potter broke the eyes, the curse on the castle weakened again. That's why we can get mail now," Draco concluded. "If all of those eyes are shattered, the barrier will most likely be done away with and we'll be able to leave again. Potter's the only one who can end the curse, though, since the sword chose him."
Professor Snape was silent for a while, his hands clasped tightly and a hint of red showing in his forehead and cheeks. "Clearly, you have lost your mind," the man finally pronounced. "You must have, to show such blatant disregard for your own safety."
Draco shivered at that cool hiss. Professor Snape was furious.
Standing up, Professor Snape walked around his desk to stand in front of Malfoy. His intimidating height made the boy feel that much smaller. "I will report this to the Headmaster, and the Hogwarts staff will deal with these 'temples'," he said, hatred and disgust dripping from the last word. "The moment this curse has been lifted, you will be withdrawn from Hogwarts. Someone with as little common sense as you will surely benefit from the more structured environment at Durmstrang. Karkaroff, as incompetent as he is, should be able to knock this Gryffindor foolishness from your head."
A part of that last statement sparked Draco's temper. Did Professor Snape truly believe he was unable to think for himself? He might have been young and impulsive, but he was also a Malfoy, and Malfoys considered their decisions before making them.
"It wasn't Gryffindor foolishness, sir," he said sharply. "I can make my own choices, and I did in this case. Potter is the only one who can solve this curse, so I wanted to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't die in the doing of it. Furthermore, the temples have more to offer than death and traumatic experiences." He summoned his fire-lamp, then his magic glasses. "A lantern full of magical flames and a set of glasses that can cut through any glamour and reveal things otherwise unseen. We also gained a spell that works as a more effective, consistently powerful Patronus. The youngest Weasley boy found a legendary shield that can withstand any attack without a scratch. Salazar Slytherin himself spent much of his life seeking out rare and powerful magics. If seeking them myself isn't Slytherin, then I don't know what is, Professor."
With an air of great personal restraint, Professor Snape took a deep breath through his nose and slowly exhaled. "Twenty points from Slytherin," he bit out.
Draco was stunned. Professor Snape never took points from his own House—not when every other teacher made a point of docking his Snakes for minor transgressions.
"You will serve detention with me every other evening at six o'clock for the next two weeks, starting tomorrow," Professor Snape said with dangerous calm. Barely-controlled rage simmered in his quiet voice. "In between preparing ingredients for my class, you will be writing lines for every lesson in self-preservation that you seem to have forgotten. Every one of your Slytherin conspirators will face similar punishments, unless their parents have more fitting ones in mind. I'll be sending a letter to every family with a student involved, of course."
Tears burned in Draco's eyes. He'd really messed up. Had he been less selfish—more like Potter—he'd have kept his mouth shut and accepted his punishment instead of dragging his friends into it and making things worse. Now he was going to be taken out of Hogwarts and his friends would never want to talk to him again.
"You are dismissed," Professor Snape spat, jerking his chin toward the door. "You should hear from your parents within the next few days."
Draco scurried out before his godfather could say any more. He could feel tears beginning to fall and he didn't want to let Professor Snape see him cry.
Dog was right outside the door, and Draco ploughed into him. The boy didn't pull away, instead curling his hands in the beast's soft fur. "I messed up," he said in a quavering voice. "I'm a bloody coward, and I messed up!"
A cold, wet nose poked him in the cheek, followed by a gentle lick. Dog leaned over him, keeping him hidden from the rest of the Slytherins until Draco regained his composure.
The brutal beatdown of Draco's emotional well-being begins. He must be crushed before he may be reformed~