Hermione found that she couldn't relax through the start of November. The story of the chamber of secrets had disturbed her. And then even the spiders were acting strange. She had no idea what that would mean, but it sent a chill down her spine every time she thought about it.

They'd run into Myrtle again. As much as Hermione had tried to warn the boys about it, they didn't listen to her. As was, unfortunately, normal.

Once they'd extracted themselves from Myrtle's sobs they'd run into Percy. He'd docked points without listening to her. Again, unfortunately, normal. Hermione was starting to hate how invisible she was becoming. At least outside of class and trouble.

"Malfoy's got to be the heir," Ron concluded one evening.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That would be way too obvious. But also, doesn't his family have every generation here. Like one every twenty or so years?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Nevermind," Hermione said. She knew the answer would be no, but apparently the boys needed to come to that conclusion themselves.

"Could we sneak in?" Ron asked. "What about your cloak?"

Harry shook his head. "You've grown. I don't think all three of us will fit."

"You could try polyjuice," Hermione suggested, hardly looking up from her book.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"It's a potion that makes you look like someone else," Hermione said.

"Is it permanent?" Ron asked.

"No, it wears off. The details and instructions are in Most Potent Potions."

Harry sighed. "That's in the restricted section. We'll never get our hands on it."

"We just need a teacher to sign off on it," Hermione said.

"That teacher would have to be the most thick idiot in the school," Ron said.

Hermione smiled at that. They would just have to wait

Lockhart's classes had devolved from anything useful to dramatic readings of his books. It was more of a theater class than anything practical. And that would have been fine, if it wasn't a much needed class.

As a drama class, it was quite entertaining. Hermione had to admit that Lockhart was a good author, even if she didn't believe that he had done all the things he had claimed to in his books. And his sense of dramatic timing and pacing was amazing.

Eventually class ended and Hermione walked up to Lockhart, paper in hand.

"Sir, I was wondering, if you might help me with a particular problem. I've been wanting to read a book, I was thinking it might help me understand what you were talking about in Gadding with Ghouls…"

"Oh, Gadding with Ghouls, quite possibly my favourite," Lockhart said. "You enjoyed it?"

"Oh yes," Hermione enthused. "But the book I want, it's in the restricted section."

"Of course. Of course." He pulled out an enormous peacock feather quill and scrawled a loopy autograph onto the paper with hardly so much as a glance.

"He didn't so much look at the book we wanted," Harry said once they were safely down the corridor.

"That's because he's a brainless git," Ron said. "Don't know how he got the job."

"He's not a brainless git," Hermione said as she elbowed Ron.

He rolled his eyes. "Just because he said you were the best student of the year."

Hermione shook her head. It wasn't just that. Lockhart might be self centered and obsessed with admiration, but he wasn't brainless. Anyone who could write that many books and that well couldn't be brainless.

They gathered up the book and headed off to find a spot to read and copy the instructions for the potion.