Hello, hello! How's it going? 😊 Here I come with a very special chapter... I'm nervous ha ha ha hope you like it 🙈 Thank you so much to all of you who are reading this, and thank you for your wonderful words! Big hugs to you all! See you in the next 😊.
P.S. I can't wait to bring you the next one because it's one of my favourites, and also the one I had the hardest time writing, by far ha ha ha 😍.
CHAPTER 39
Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test. N.E.W.T. Magical tests that anyone who wants to graduate from Hogwarts must pass, and which, along with the O.W.L.s, become one of the most difficult periods of their time at school. Classes were over, at last, and now all that was left to do was to buckle down day after day, hour after hour, cutting down on sleep or ingesting any kind of potion that would allow them to stay awake and moderately focused, if possible all night... The black market for substances of this kind had increased even more in the last few days, so the Prefects had to, in addition to studying for their own exams, spend some of their valuable time tracking down and punishing such contraband. There had already been the case of a young Ravenclaw girl in seventh year who had ingested what she believed to be Felix Felicis, but which turned out to be Scurvy grass, a plant that caused inflammation of the brain, and which landed her straight in the Hospital.
Despite these isolated cases, for most Hogwarts students it was an exam time like any other, fraught with constant stress and nerves. For Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, however, it was easily the most difficult time of their lives.
Draco didn't look like him. Or rather, as Nott thought over and over again, he seemed too much like him. An exaggerated and dangerous version of the old Draco. Ever since he'd been banned from classes because of the attack on Ron Weasley, he'd been missing all the time. No one ever knew where to find him; no one saw him in the corridors, the dormitory, the Library or the grounds... During the night it was relatively simple: he spent his time wandering all over the castle. And Nott was the only one who knew about it. Zabini had never noticed his roommate's mysterious nocturnal disappearances, but Theodore had, and he didn't find them amusing. Draco would leave their dormitory in the middle of the night and return in the early hours of the morning, sweaty, exhausted and out of breath. Nott always waited until he was back in the room before he left for breakfast. They didn't exchange a word, sometimes not even a glance, but Nott didn't dare leave without seeing him. It was the only time of the day they saw each other. When Theodore returned to the dormitory mid-morning, Draco was gone, and there was no way to locate him again during the day, sometimes not even at mealtimes.
There were days when Nott might not even exchange a word with anyone. Draco was usually his main source of conversation, his only friend, and, now that he was gone, there were days when, despite feeling used to the loneliness, it overwhelmed him. Daphne was being a great support, but the young woman was also studying hard most of the day, and he didn't want to bother her with his own problems in the few intimate moments they shared. Least of all did he want to waste what, he knew, would be his last days at her side, talking about Draco's state of mind. So even Daphne's company was tainted with darkness. He was barely coming to terms with the fact that he would have to give her up, imminently; the term was coming to an end. There were days when his chest would ache so much from that fact that he'd run out of breath and need to hide in a cupboard, or a stall, to breathe heavily until he could catch his breath. And he couldn't talk to anyone about it. Draco wasn't there for him. He was in a hole of his own. He hadn't wanted Nott to help him, and he didn't seem to feel capable of helping him.
Despite his few friendships, Theodore had heard terrible rumours about Draco's daytime wanderings. But they were just that, gossip. Rumours of lurid hexes being cast behind someone's back, thefts and vandalism in different rooms of the castle. But there was no way to determine one hundred per cent that Draco had been involved in the misdeeds he was accused of. His name always came up, but the teachers had no way of punishing him for lack of reliable evidence. No one accused him directly. No one saw him. He seemed to be getting into a thousand and one scrapes, but he always got out of them. His cunning and his malice had multiplied.
Nott could see that the situation was getting out of hand. Draco was out of control, and he was terribly worried. Worried that it really was Granger who was the reason for Draco's recent behaviour. Or rather, her absence. Worried about what that meant.
Hermione, for her part, wasn't much better. She had found another way to cope with everything that had happened: she had thrown herself body and soul into her studies. She had sat at a table in the Common Room for days on end and nights on end, reading, underlining and memorising book after book relentlessly. Sometimes she wouldn't even come down to eat simply because she didn't realise what time it was. She had already gone through the syllabus of every subject three times when the rest of her classmates and friends were only halfway through. She needed to keep her head full of magic and knowledge. Not to think about anything that hurt.
Most days she studied in the Common Room, surrounded by her friends, but sometimes she ended up twice as tired because of the worried and puzzled looks they gave her for her frazzled appearance, and her hysterical behaviour, and she had ended up forcing herself to sneak off to the Library with any excuse in order to be able to study in peace. But the Library had one terrible drawback: the silence. The crushing silence that only made the voices in her head louder, making her relive over and over again memories that she wanted to bury at any cost... So she dulled the sensations that the quiet and solitude of the Library gave her by studying even harder. Throwing herself completely into her subjects, not allowing herself to think about anything else. Absorbing every explanation, every spell, every piece of information she could memorise without bursting.
There was another obstacle that had disrupted the sanctuary that the Library had always been for her: the fear of running into Draco. She hadn't seen him since that unintended encounter in the Ancient Runes aisle. They hadn't met again even once, she hadn't even seen him from afar. She wondered if he was deliberately avoiding going to the Library to not see her... But she ended up telling herself that he wouldn't do something like that for her, that he wouldn't change his habits for her. No way. Before she remembered that he'd already done it. Weeks ago, he had agreed to go to the classes they shared together after the bell rang, so that he wouldn't have to humiliate her in front of his friends again. At the risk of some teacher not allowing him in. But that seemed to have been a different Draco. One who loved her. And not in spite of what she was.
Besides, Hermione needed to go to the Library. And she had to put her duty before any possible discomfort Draco Malfoy might cause her. She needed to continue her research on the creature that was secretly inhabiting that castle and communicating mentally with Harry. It was vitally important. As well as studying for her exams, she was consulting a thousand and one books on magical creatures, pursuing an idea that had come to her mind relatively recently. A small hint, with no real substance or basis, but a theory nonetheless. It kept her mind busy and active, and that was all she needed. The day she finished her exams, she wasn't quite sure what she was going to do with all that she was accumulating in the corners of her being.
"I don't think she's here, she'll still be in the exam," Ron muttered, as he and Harry slipped through the Library door. It was quite crowded with weary, tormented people, studying for their last exams. The last push. It was the last day. That night, they could all sleep in peace. And they would worry when they got their marks.
"Probably," Harry mumbled ruefully. "I can't remember at what time she had it. But, well, we'll just sit around here and wait for her..."
They walked down different aisles, silently greeting a few acquaintances. They had finished their exams that morning, and, after a well-deserved lunch, had gone to check the sixth and seventh floors of the castle. Searching for the presence of such a mysterious creature. To no avail. Hermione still had the Ancient Runes exam, and had no choice but to study for most of the day, leaving it up to her friends to continue with their mission. They had agreed to meet there after Hermione finished her exam.
They finally found, in a corner, a table crammed to the brim with books, on which only a sign with their friend's name in neon letters was missing. But she was nowhere around. Instead, Neville was sitting in one of the chairs, reading a book. He smiled hesitantly at the sight of them.
"Are you — ?" Ron began, pointing at the table in disbelief. Neville shook his head.
"It's Hermione's things. She was late and she was rushed off to her exam. Runes, I think. I told her I'd keep an eye on her things," he shrugged. "She's not back yet. I offered to pick it up for her, but she told me not to touch anything, that she needed it later. I don't know if she has any more exams..."
Harry and Ron exchanged a look. No, she didn't have any exams left.
"Thanks, Neville," said Ron, patting him on the back. "You're free to go if you want. You'll have better things to do, like sleep," he smiled. "We'll keep an eye on her things for you until she gets back."
"Yes? Well, thank you," the boy said, rising to his feet and stretching out his plump arms. "I'm exhausted. I can't believe this nightmare is over already," he smiled lazily. "I swear I'm going to take a nap right now. I want to enjoy my last few days alive before my grandmother sees my 'Dreadful' in the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam."
Harry and Ron laughed as quietly as they could and said goodbye to the boy. Then they looked at the table carefully. It was in disarray. Open books and parchment everywhere. There were several tables that, they were sure, were Ancient Runes. But other books had nothing to do with it. They were about Magizoology. The Bestiarium Magicum, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them...
"She's researching the creature," Harry muttered. He sighed and dropped into the chair Neville had occupied. "No wonder she's so exhausted. She's working too hard."
Ron scanned the table with his gaze. His blue eyes glittered with concern.
"She's a mess. She needs to finish her exams now," he muttered, running his fingers over one of the written parchments. "Don't you think she looks as if — ?"
He faltered, regretful. Not daring to speak. Harry looked at him intently, encouraging him to continue.
"As if — ?"
"As if she's on the verge of tears all the time," he mumbled, not looking up. "I've never seen her like this before. It's another level of stress, it's like — "
"Like it's something else," Harry corroborated. Ron looked at him, exchanging a knowing glance. "I've thought about it too. She's been acting really weird, and I couldn't help but wonder if there's something else going on with her besides her need to get O's in everything."
Ron nodded silently, still looking at him.
"I've been thinking the same thing," he admitted, looking down again. He sat down in one of the other chairs. "And I wonder what it could be and why she won't tell us. Do you think — ?" He hesitated for a moment and resumed fiddling with the parchments. "Do you think she doesn't trust us anymore after what happened with that Nott?"
Harry scrutinised him closely. And it was clear to him that Ron had been thinking something like that for a while. Mulling over it. Feeling guilty. He understood better why he'd offered Hermione to invite Nott to spend time with them. He wanted to sort it all out. Fearing that her friend had stopped trusting him.
"No, I don't think so," he ended saying, truthfully, looking away down the aisle. Scanning the distant shelves. "Whatever it is, she'll have a good reason. Maybe we can talk to her later and assure her that she can tell us anything that concerns her —"
"Harry!" Ron burst out then, interrupting him. In a louder tone than he should use in a Library. Harry looked at him, startled. His friend was staring at one of the parchments with wide eyes, leaning over the table.
"What's the matter?" Harry mumbled, his heart racing.
"What the hell...?" Ron replied, putting his finger on the parchment, and pointing at something. Harry got up and stood behind his friend.
"What does it say...?"
He looked at what Ron was pointing at. There was something written, in Hermione's unmistakable handwriting. He read it, but his brain didn't have time to register it before Ron spoke it aloud to him.
"'Draco'," Ron read, in disbelief and patent disgust. "What the fuck? Why is Hermione writing the name of that piece of... of...? Did he do something to her...? Does he have something to do with...?"
But Harry wasn't listening to him. Unlike Ron, he was reading the whole thing. There were quite a few more things written, disjointed sentences that made no apparent sense, but they managed to paralyse his heart. He understood it all. "How can you be so clever, Hermione?"
Draco. Constellation. Beast
Magical mythological animal of great power
Classification, XXXXX
Magical properties
Blood: twelve uses (potions...)
Claws: brain stimulant
Hide: impervious to spells, protection
Heartstrings: core of wands (magic?)
Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
Derived from Ancient Greek "viper" or "serpent"
Serpent, badger, eagle, lion...
Derived from Latin...
"Ron," Harry whispered, interrupting his friend's spiel. "It's not Draco. It's not Malfoy. Hermione's figured out what creature is getting into my mind. And, it's — it's a —"
He pointed to a specific word on the parchment. Ron stood very still. Paralysed. With dread.
Derived from Latin, "Draco"...
Dragon.
The swinging of the pendulum in the Great Hall was all that could be heard. It was only a few minutes before the hour and a half-long Ancient Runes theory exam was over, and all but one of the students had left.
Hermione Granger, sitting in one of the back rows, was the only one still going over her answers. The teachers watching her, special envoys from the Ministry of Magic, looked at her curiously, discreetly trying to guess whether she was sitting there because she didn't know the answers or because she knew too much.
The girl was unable to go through the exam in one sitting. Halfway through it, her mind would switch off, flying off to other questions that her brain harboured and that she had locked away for weeks. She gritted her teeth, losing herself in the pattern of the wood of the desk she occupied. Allowing herself to rest for two seconds.
Malfoy hadn't come to the exam. She'd seen him sitting in the distance at the Transfiguration exam, and in the Entrance Hall waiting for the Potions one, and in one form or another at all the others. But in this one there had been no sign of him. She had scanned all the students with her eyes, both at the door, as they waited in a disorderly crowd, and once they were seated. And he was not there.
Her heart was pounding — how could he miss such an important exam? These were the N.E.W.T.s, and not even someone as rebellious and carefree as Malfoy could miss something like this.
She felt an irrational and absurd resentment. She couldn't help but be especially hurt that it was that subject that he refused. It was special to both of them. It was where it had all begun. Thanks to his cruel wanderings at the beginning of the school year, thanks to her having tried to stop him, they had begun to relate to each other differently than they had always done. And it felt almost like a personal attack that he didn't show up for the exam.
She sighed. Aware that it was all ridiculous. Emotionally driven nonsense. But the reality was that he wasn't there, for whatever reason.
Something had happened. That was the thought running through her head. Malfoy wouldn't have missed such an exam if something hadn't happened, she refused to believe it. Something was wrong. And the feeling was ice in her chest.
And Theodore Nott's behaviour had only confirmed the girl's feelings. She had seen him during the exam, sitting several seats ahead of her. He wore his usual armour of serenity and apathy. But his hands, trembling, had dropped the quill several times. And, to top it all off, he had left just a few minutes into the exam; leaving it, of course, almost blank. And that was the last straw for Hermione's anxiety. That was not at all like someone as diligent as Theodore Nott.
Something had happened. She was sure of it. And she couldn't get the feeling out of her head. But she didn't know what to do with that hypothesis either.
"Miss, you must hand in the exam now."
Hermione looked up, startled. An old professor had stood in front of her and was looking down at her with resignation from his short stature. The girl stared at her exam paper, filled out in its entirety but not properly revised. And she realised she wasn't going to make it.
"I'm sorry, here it is," she muttered, a little embarrassed, handing it over without even looking at it again. The professor hesitated and looked at her in a fatherly way.
"Would you like another minute to finish going over it?"
"No, that's not necessary," she managed a wan smile. "Thank you very much."
"Have a good day..."
Hermione gathered her utensils as the professor walked away, and hurried through the Great Hall towards the exit. Her footsteps echoed in the silence. Her heart was still racing. She didn't even know why she was so anxious. She wasn't sure if anything was going on, and yet... She knew that outside those doors an answer might be waiting for her.
When she reached the Entrance Hall, she was met by a small, expected crowd, which paid no particular attention to her. They all had their noses buried in books and various scrolls. She stopped and looked around. She knew who they were. She had looked it up, unable to help herself, on the exam timetable. It was the Alchemy N.E.W.T. And Draco wasn't there either.
She stepped to the side, to one of the walls. Waiting. With a veil of hope. The teachers came to get the students and called them in one by one. No one came in when Draco Malfoy's name was called out, twice. When all the students disappeared inside the Great Hall, the doors closed and never opened again. And no one came running in at the last minute.
Hermione was shaking. Draco hadn't gone to the Alchemy N.E.W.T. either. Why? He liked Alchemy, very much, he wanted to become an alchemist... It was his favourite subject.
She realised that she was petrified. She didn't know where to go. What to do. She felt terribly distressed, but there was nothing she could do. She was in no position to go and talk to Malfoy, not anymore. They had nothing to do with each other anymore...
She closed her eyes tightly. Forcing herself to regain her composure. He was no longer a part of her life.
She had to go to the Library, to look for Neville and her personal belongings. And she had to find Harry and Ron. They too had finished their exams. They had to continue with their research, she had to explain to them what she had discovered. Tell them about the dragon. That was the right thing to do, the urgent thing, the thing that should really concern her and occupy her thoughts.
That was the right thing to do. And yet...
Nothing she had done that year was right.
Draco hadn't gone to the Alchemy exam.
She averted her gaze to the dungeons. Talking to Malfoy was out of the question, she didn't even know where he was, but was there any chance of finding Nott anywhere? He was long gone from the exam. And he would have finished all his exams by now; surely he wouldn't be in the Library. Maybe he'd gone to his Common Room, or his dormitory... Or anywhere else in the bloody castle, really.
It was ridiculous. The likelihood of finding him was ridiculous. And even if she did, what would she say to him? What did she want to ask him?
"Is Malfoy all right?"
She bit her lip. It really was just that. She just needed to know that. She wasn't in a position to demand any sort of information about him, but she couldn't care less at the moment. She needed to know. Then she would cut him out of her life again. She would.
She started walking quickly in the direction of the corridor leading to the dungeons and began to descend the narrow spiral staircase.
"A dragon," Harry mumbled, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as he continued walking. "The creature that gets into my mind, talks to me, and asks for my help, it's a fucking dragon," he groaned incredulously. "How could we have imagined it...?"
He and Ron skidded around a corner and jogged down a flight of stairs together. They were panting. Ron, in addition to his belongings, was carrying Hermione's bag. They had gathered up all of her personal belongings, leaving the books that belonged to the Library on the table, and had rushed off in the direction of the Great Hall in search of her, where the Ancient Runes exam was being held.
"My brother Charlie has always told me about how incredibly powerful they are," Ron corroborated, gasping like his friend. "Now I regret not listening more carefully to all his anecdotes. I mean, I know about the blood, and the powdered claw, and all that stuff. But a talking dragon? I find that hard to believe... And... the whole communicating in our language thing is just too weird for me."
"At some point," Harry lamented, pushing aside a tapestry to take a short cut, "nothing seems odd to me."
"You should have tried making conversation with the Hungarian Horntail from the Triwizard Tournament," Ron joked weakly, "and asked her nicely for the golden egg. It would have been easier."
Harry let out a languid smile, but he didn't have the strength to play along. He felt like he was about to burst with worry. He didn't quite understand what was going on, but he was scared to death. And his head was hurting more and more.
"According to Hermione's deductions, in the absence of her explaining it to us personally, we conclude that there is a dragon that communicates mentally with me. That means, in short, that there is a dragon at Hogwarts," Harry determined, in a slightly lower voice.
"But that's... impossible!" Ron protested incredulously. "How could there be a dragon hiding here? Granted, the castle's big, but, blimey, someone must have seen it... Besides, we've searched it from the foundations to the towers — where could something that size hide?"
"I'd agree with you if I hadn't been confronted five years ago with a twenty metre Basilisk, hidden in a secret chamber for fifty years," Harry protested with a mock smile. Ron laughed through his nose with a snort.
"Right, I see. You're right, you're right. But we know exactly who put the Basilisk in there; the legend of Salazar Slytherin is famous. What do we know about this dragon? How did he get in there? How long has he been here? There are no legends about dragons at Hogwarts."
"I don't know," his friend admitted, staring at the floor. He spoke more quietly, feeling his headache getting worse. "And I don't know why he's communicating with me, either. Why he's asking for my help. And why now, this year..."
"If I were a dragon, and I was in trouble, I wouldn't come to you," Ron corroborated, his tone slightly hysterical. "Dumbledore's here, and plenty of other capable teachers. Why not go to them?"
"Exactly. And we have no idea where he might be, either. Even if we wanted to help him, we still wouldn't know where to start. Hermione must not know either, or she would have written it down on the parchment," he mused, almost to himself. He felt as if something was missing... Something absolutely obvious that had always been there, something he should have seen by now...
"Indeed," Ron murmured. They went out into a corridor on the first floor, and, through the windows, they saw that, outside, the afternoon was sunny and summery, as you might expect for the month of June. There was no one in the corridors. Almost all the students had taken the opportunity to go out and enjoy the grounds and the lake, once their exams were over. They were able to hear their cheerful voices through the closed windows. But a new, closer voice distracted them.
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts..." someone suddenly sang out loudly. "Teach us something please..."
"What on earth...?" Harry groaned, feeling his headache stabbing him. He put his hands to his temples, in a vain attempt to relax the throbbing.
"Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees..."
"Oh, stop it, Sir Cadogan!" protested Ron, with audible ill-humour, eyeing Harry uneasily.
The plump knight, who was walking along a painting with his little grey pony, stopped singing as they passed him. He glared angrily at them.
"For goodness' sake! How can you silence me when I am singing the song of our noble castle and school? This is an infamy! A total lack of spirit for what this school stands for!" He began to follow them from painting to painting, so that he could insult them as they walked along.
"We wouldn't have to tell you anything if you didn't sing so badly," Ron replied bluntly. "You can't even sing in tune! We're not complaining about the song, we're complaining about you singing it."
The knight rose to his full height, still trotting along.
"That offends me, my dear sir! Prepare to duel with me, for you have offended me, and I demand redress! In the name of Hogwarts, with its great and wise motto, I invite you to — !"
"Ron!" cried Harry suddenly, startling both his friend and Sir Cadogan. He had stopped dead in his tracks. Ron almost stumbled, trying not to bump into him.
"What's wrong?" he gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. Harry was holding his head in both hands, his eyes closed as if the pain was insufferable. "What's going on — is he talking to you...?"
"The Hogwarts motto!" Harry almost shouted. "The motto... it speaks of a dragon... Draco Dormiens —"
"— Nunquam Titillandus," his friend finished in a stunned whisper. "Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon. But — but how is that going to — ?"
A new cry from Harry silenced him. The dark-haired boy had fallen to his knees, pressing his hands to his temples.
"Harry! What — ?" Ron was alarmed, kneeling beside him. He raised his hands, not knowing where to touch him.
"He's talking to me, Ron... He's talking to me..." Harry managed to say between groans.
"Harry Potter... Help me... Now..."
"He knows we're close," was all Ron managed to say in panic. He held his friend's shoulders tightly. "He knows we're about to find out. I don't know how, but he knows?"
"There is a legend about a dragon at Hogwarts," Harry insisted, interrupting himself to grit his teeth for a moment. "And it's the school motto itself. The motto must be real."
"But... it's just a metaphor!" Ron protested, puzzled. "It's not a legend, it doesn't refer to any real dragon — !"
"That's where you're wrong, my dear sir."
Harry and Ron looked up. Sir Cadogan had lifted the visor of his helmet and was looking down at them with haughtiness and great self-assurance.
"What?" Ron spluttered.
"The Hogwarts motto is not a metaphor. 'Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon' is a reference to a dragon as real as you and me. I know that because... I helped bring that motto into being."
Harry and Ron exchanged a stunned glance. Harry was breaking out in a cold sweat from his headache, but he was determined to listen carefully to the oil-painted knight.
"You? Are you joking?" Ron replied, flabbergasted.
Sir Cadogan stood even taller, proudly, making his armour creak.
"Certainly not, sir," he rasped pompously. "When I was still alive, due to my extraordinary gallantry, I made the mistake of rousing from his slumber the dragon Wyvern of Wye, whose very existence had threatened the security of southwest England for centuries. Finally, after years of struggle, and also due to my great valour, I managed to defeat him, on the back of this very old steed," he patted his plump grey pony listlessly. "For the villain devoured my former mount, and almost myself. Because of my service to the wizarding world, they placed my painting here in the castle, and used the phrase 'Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon' as the school motto. The four founders thought it was a very useful piece of advice and integrated it into the school's Coat of Arms."
"I've heard that story!" Ron interrupted, frowning in disbelief. "The one about Wyvern of Wye... My father used to tell it to me at night before bed. I thought it was just a story. I didn't know it had anything to do with Hogwarts, or that it was your doing, Sir Cadogan. I didn't even believe it was real," he looked at Harry, still looking puzzled.
"You call me a liar, dear sir? You're going to have to do more than duel with me to make up for such rudeness!"
"All right, yes, yes, whatever you say," Harry blurted, gasping for breath. "But what about the dragon?"
"I defeated him, of course," he repeated, vainly.
"Did you kill him?"
The knight cleared his throat sharply and lifted his chin. He blinked rapidly.
"A victory should not always be achieved by the death of one's opponent."
Harry and Ron looked at each other again. A wave of cold air rushed through them, despite the pleasant summer temperature.
"So he's still alive?" Harry whispered, feebly. He looked back at Sir Cadogan. "You didn't manage to kill him?"
"Legend has it that he died!" Ron protested, in a high-pitched voice.
"Legends say many things," complained Sir Cadogan hurriedly. "No one ever bothered to ask me if I actually killed him. Because of my extraordinary daring, and the long list of victories that had preceded me, everyone believed —"
"So you lied," Ron interrupted, giving him no time to protest, then let out a groan. "How long does a dragon live?"
"It can't be a coincidence," Harry replied more forcefully. Again his head threatened to explode. "Harry Potter, come to me..." "Wyvern of Wye is the dragon we're looking for. And he wants us to find him... Have you any idea where he might be, Sir Cadogan?"
"Not anywhere near here, I assure you," the knight replied, feigning offence. "When I defeated him I made sure he never came here again..."
"We think he's in the castle," Harry cut him off, unwilling to listen. "You must help us, Sir Cadogan."
"You must be joking, sir," the little man complained. "Wyvern of Wye can't have stayed in this castle for thousands of years without my knowledge. He may not even be alive... There is no place for —"
"There must be," Ron protested firmly. "Think, Sir Cadogan, what places are there at Hogwarts where a dragon could hide?"
"Big places, very big places," Harry helped him, exalted. "Something like the Chamber of Secrets, hidden underground for generations. Are there more such places here?"
The little knight stared at them wide-eyed. His thick grey moustache trembled. He seemed to be extremely bewildered and affected. The dragon story, his greatest story, was coming back to life, and it was not as he had hoped it would. Guilt was writ large on his face.
"There are caverns beneath the castle," he whispered. "Ancient, very ancient. On which Hogwarts was built. But... but he couldn't have hidden there. I... I would have known. Someone would have —"
"How do you get to those caverns?" Harry asked, his tone softening. Holding back his apprehension.
"Passages," the knight mumbled, looking down, still puzzled. "Some passages lead down to them, but they must be blocked. It's been centuries..."
"Where are they?" Ron insisted, but Sir Cadogan shook his head.
"I don't know them, comrades, I've never been down them. I have only heard of their existence?"
Ron looked frustrated, but recovered almost instantly, his eyes widening.
"The Marauder's Map!" he turned to his friend. "Harry, pull it out! You can see all the passages in the castle there! Maybe one of them..."
"I don't have it," Harry denied, in a choked voice. "I haven't seen it since I lent it to Hermione, she still has it..."
"We have to go and find her," Ron resumed, breathing heavily. "We have to talk to her, tell her all this, and —"
"No. I can't," Harry sobbed then, clutching his head in both hands again. "Harry Potter!" "We've got to find him now, I can't take it anymore... He's killing me..."
Ron was so pale that his freckles stood out strongly on his face. He could see the tears sliding behind his best friend's glasses.
"But where do we start?" he whispered. His fingers dug into his shoulders. "Without the map, we won't find — we don't know of any passageways that —"
"Blocked!"
Harry jerked as if he'd been electrocuted. He gasped for air. The deep voice had rumbled urgently inside his head, almost like a roar.
"Blocked," he whispered, repeating the word aloud. Ron scrutinised him intently, unmoving. Confused. "He said 'blocked'. The voice... The dragon is helping us... It must be a blocked passage down into the caverns."
His friend blinked. Trying to process it. He looked at Harry as if he expected to see him transform into a dragon in front of his eyes. He tried to pull himself together and get his hysterical mind working.
"A blocked passageway?" he repeated hesitantly. "It could be... anywhere. And it may not be possible to unblock it. It's no use, Harry, he's not helping us at all..."
"On the fourth floor," Harry hissed suddenly. Ron opened and closed his mouth.
"What?"
"Fred and George told me about a passage on the fourth floor, behind a mirror, which they used to go to Hogsmeade. But it got blocked and they stopped using it. I never used it. Maybe it has a detour, or something similar, that leads to the caverns. Believe me, I've checked the map hundreds of times, and I can remember most of it by heart," his voice became inaudible. The sobs were suffocating him. "Let's start with it. Let's try it. Please..."
Ron was breathing shallowly, staring at his friend wide-eyed. Harry was groaning and panting, kneeling on the floor, his hands over his flushed face. They had to act now, or the dragon would kill Harry with pain. Communication with him seemed too aggressive. Sir Cadogan was unusually quiet.
"All right, let's go," Ron finally pronounced, confidently. He stood up and took his friend by the arms. "Lean on me, let's go up to the fourth floor. It's not far..."
Hermione stuck to the wall of the corridor to let a large group of students, from a lower year of Ravenclaw House, pass by. She pushed through the tide of students and took a random corridor, the least crowded she saw. The dungeons were somewhat labyrinthine, but not overly large. She could get through them in a few minutes. She came to an intersection where the Potions classroom was on the left. She peered into the doorway from a few feet away, and saw that Snape was teaching inside, to what looked like first or second-year students. She continued walking, passing another group of students, those of Slytherin House, who looked at her with a slightly quizzical, almost spiteful look at the Gryffindor lion that decorated her robes. As she left them behind, and turned the corner, she came to the corridor in which stood the dungeon where Nearly Headless Nick had held his Deathday Party in her second year. She felt a pang of nostalgia at the memory. So many things had happened since then...
Harry and Ron. She should be looking for Harry and Ron...
Clenching her fists to keep from thinking, she finished descending a flight of stairs, panting slightly at the quickened pace, and then stopped abruptly.
A few feet away was a figure she knew. Two, more like. Blaise Zabini was standing in the corridor, barely two metres away. Accompanied by Daphne Greengrass. And she could see, at a glance, that something was wrong. The young woman was shaking from head to toe, as she tried futilely to articulate words that Hermione neither heard nor understood. Between anguished sobs. She was wiping her tears over and over again, still crying her eyes out bitterly. Zabini was standing in front of her, his hands in his pockets. Listening to her. Staring at her with his haughty features twisted in discomfort. Helplessness.
Hermione gasped. What was wrong with Greengrass? Why was she crying like that? What had happened?
She realised too late that she had stopped too close. Zabini seemed to notice her out of the corner of his eye and turned his face to look at her. The corners of his mouth instantly tightened into a sneer. And the girl's peaceful expression did not seem to appease him.
"What are you staring at, Granger?" he spat, between his teeth. Daphne then became aware of her presence. She barely met her eyes for a brief moment before she turned her face away, wiping away her tears once more. Still struggling for breath.
"I'm sorry..." Hermione began, in a whisper, calmly. "I was looking for Theodore Nott. I didn't intend to intrude..."
Daphne let out a slight gasp and turned around, her back to Hermione. Hermione's brow twitched. Strange reaction from his girlfriend...
"Well, continue without intending to," Zabini snarled, giving Daphne a sidelong glance, and turning his keen black gaze back to pierce Hermione. "Better back where you came..."
"What do you want from Theodore?" asked the trembling voice of Greengrass, still with her back turned. Blaise gave her a resentful look, but seemed to decide that her mood might justify talking to a Mudblood. Hermione assessed her chances.
"To talk about a Prefect thing," she lied, in a stroke of genius, in a low voice. "We're on patrol, together, soon. I wanted to... know if he'd heard. I don't know how much of his duties have been explained to him. Nonsense... Do you know where he is?"
Zabini snorted with contempt. He took a provocative step closer to Hermione. She didn't step back. She held his gaze, defensive, with the same aversion he was showing.
"Does 'bugger off' mean anything to you — ?" Zabini began, in a whisper.
"At the end of the corridor."
Blaise fell silent in mid-sentence. His brow furrowed in annoyance. He glanced over his shoulder. Daphne had turned to look at Hermione out of the corner of her eye. Her face was still flushed, but she could breathe now.
"He's at the end of that corridor," Daphne repeated, at her silence, pointing to the corridor to her right. Hermione blinked, grateful. Sorry for the state the girl was in, even if she didn't know her very well. She opened her mouth to thank her, but Greengrass was soon walking in the direction of a bare wall. Hermione heard her mutter something and the wall let her in. It must be the Slytherin Common Room.
Zabini clicked his tongue impatiently. He had followed Daphne with his eyes, as had Hermione. Once the young blonde was out of sight, Blaise walked slowly down the path Hermione had come, but not before nudging her with his shoulder as he passed her.
"Ask Nott for me what the fuck is wrong with him," he muttered coldly, before walking away up the stairs.
Hermione held her balance with composure. She said nothing. But she felt her heart beating rapidly. Even more confused than she had been earlier, she bolted in the direction that a heartbroken Greengrass had pointed out to her.
The corridor mentioned by the girl was almost empty, except for a couple of students who were walking along it in silence. Theodore was sitting on the plinth of one of the columns jutting out from the stone wall. Motionless. He was covering his face with both hands, clasped in a firm fist in front of his eyes. They were shaking, but he managed to support the weight of his face with them.
Hermione felt able to understand the situation, even without context. She knew that he and Greengrass were a couple. And, apparently, they had just ended their relationship. But, seeing the boy's discomposed attitude, she couldn't help but wonder why. He seemed to have been the initiator of the break-up, judging by Daphne's attitude and Zabini's words, and yet he seemed to find the situation terribly painful. Why had he done it, then?
Hermione clenched her fist against her stomach, gathering her courage. Trying to contain the anguish in her throat at the pain of the young man before her. A person she had long considered a friend. She moved forward slowly, and it was when she was close that Nott became aware of her presence. Possibly he heard her footsteps, and so he looked up. It took him two seconds to recognise her. He was not crying, but his expression hurt more than any tears.
His face sought to calm down, trying to conceal his state, but his eyes failed. The torment that shone in them moved the girl. She just stared at him, trying to fill her gaze with understanding, with all the courage she could muster. The boy's eyes, on the other hand, regarded her almost warily. Allowing her to speak if that was what she wanted. He didn't seem to have the intention.
Unable to contain herself, Hermione swallowed and broke the silence:
"Are you all right?" she asked, quietly. Nott didn't flinch. They were alone now.
"Yes," he said, simply. Hermione just blinked. She forced herself to breathe.
"I just ran into Greengrass rather... upset," the girl muttered. Nott seemed to sink deeper into himself, if that was even possible. He looked away. "Why did you — ?" she asked without thinking, not being able to stop herself.
"For none of your business," Nott said, his voice suddenly cracking. He rose to his feet. In a dignified stance. And that was the first time Hermione saw Theodore Nott stare at her with an unconcealable hatred.
Despair gripped her throat. But she pursed her lips for a moment and continued:
"I want to talk to you," she said in a clear voice. She felt a little insensitive at the change of subject, because of how the boy evidently felt, but she did not allow herself to hesitate. He said nothing. "You ran away from the Ancient Runes exam. And he didn't even come. Malfoy," she specified, more quietly, barely managing to pronounce his name correctly. "He hasn't been to the Alchemy one either."
Nott looked at her carefully. His eyes glittering with something Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on. Something akin to disbelief. With a spark of understanding.
"So what?" he merely questioned, still, almost voicelessly. No mockery. Hermione swallowed, but stood up a little straighter, looking determined. Immune to his coldness. She had come to him looking for answers, and she would get them.
"Alchemy is his favourite subject," she determined, without hesitation. "And he hasn't been to the exam."
"And that's relevant because...?"
"I know something has happened to him."
He sized her up for a brief moment. Barely the space of time between heartbeats.
"Maybe he just doesn't care as much about exams as others," he hissed, mockingly. With believable disinterest. Hermione didn't alter her cold expression.
"Don't take me for an idiot, Nott," Hermione warned, glaring at him. "Malfoy wouldn't miss such an exam if there wasn't a compelling reason. He wants to be an alchemist. He's been expelled, he's only stayed in the castle to do the N.E.W.T.s. And he's missed two of them. What happened?"
Nott didn't move. He regained a serious expression. He continued to stare at the girl as if he barely understood the conversation they were having. As if he didn't expect her to know all that. Hermione heard him let out his breath through his nose.
"Why are you asking me?" he finally answered. And his voice was as cold as frost. Hermione's lips pursed. She closed her eyes for a moment. Unsure if she could do this.
"Because I don't think I can ask him," she admitted, blinking. Looking down at the floor. "Is he all right?" she questioned then, in a breath, unable to contain herself. Feeling an inexplicable onset of weeping shake her chest. Nott let out a sudden, almost scathing snort.
"You shouldn't care," he scoffed, looking at her apathetically. As if the whole thing was ridiculous. Now it was Hermione's turn to let out her breath in disbelief.
"You know perfectly well how much I care."
Nott relaxed the disdain on his features. But he kept looking at her suspiciously. As if he didn't understand her.
"No, I don't. You're not together anymore," he replied, shrugging slightly. His voice became more serene, though equally distant. "He told me. And it's obvious, after the whole Weasley thing..."
"No, of course we're not," Hermione replied coldly.
"Then why do you care...?"
"Have you stopped caring about Greengrass?" Hermione interrupted, her tone harsh. Her eyes glittered with anger. Nott snapped his mouth shut. And his masseter muscles tightened. "Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean that everything we've been through is gone. It doesn't mean I don't care about him at all. It doesn't... work like that."
"He attacked Weasley," he reminded her, his voice rising in tone. Almost annoyed. "You can't —"
"I can't?" Hermione exclaimed. Her tone trembled, but not the force in her voice. She stamped her foot vigorously on the floor, trying to vent her anger that way. "I'm not asking you to question my actions, my morals, or my feelings. That is my business. I'm just asking you if a person, who I care about more than many others, needs help. So spare me your comments on how I should handle my heart and just tell me if Malfoy is all right."
Theodore allowed himself to look at her for a few seconds. Sizing her up. He gave the impression that he was speechless. Without resources. As if that wasn't what he'd expected.
"No," Nott admitted, barely moving his lips. "He's not."
Hermione forced herself to breathe almost abruptly. Her breath came in shakily.
"What's wrong with him?"
Nott ran his tongue over his teeth, looking away for the first time. He looked out of place. As if nothing made sense. As if the script had been taken out of his hands.
"Nothing you can sort out."
"I'll be the judge of that," she replied curtly. Nott glared at her angrily.
"I'm not going to tell you," he said, almost lazily. "I can't. He specifically asked me not to tell you. He knows me well and he knows I would have done it. But, for once in my life, I'm going to listen to him."
Hermione swallowed. Her brain whirled around the ambiguous information.
"Why? Why can't I know?" Hermione insisted in a whisper. "Is it something to do with me? Is he in trouble because of me?"
She saw his jaw twitch. And then shake his head almost lazily. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes.
"I told you I'm not talking. Draco's got a lot at stake. He's got everything at stake. And it won't be my fault if all his efforts go to shit."
Hermione frowned. Blinking. Feeling her arms go limp. She didn't understand what exactly he meant, but she felt a tingle run down her spine. Something didn't feel right. His words didn't make sense. She looked down, feeling her hands shaking.
"What efforts? What's at stake?" she muttered. All she got was silence. She looked back up at Nott. His eyes were locked on her. Mute. She felt her back burn. She didn't look away from him. But she felt the pavement beneath her feet shift. "Nott," she insisted in a stammer, "if you won't tell me, I'll ask him myself."
"You just said you can't talk to him," Nott reminded her in an almost scathing whisper.
"Well, I've changed my mind," Hermione spat, raising her tone. "I'm not going to look the other way on this. If I've endangered him in any way, I need to know."
Nott closed his eyes. As if her stubbornness was wearing him down. Two people came around the corner, two Hufflepuff students. Both Nott and Hermione fell silent, and just looked at each other. Grimacing in a falsely relaxed manner. As if they were just chatting. The two youths walked away without giving them so much as a sidelong glance.
"Everything has been dangerous since the first word you two exchanged without insulting each other. He's in no more danger now than when you were together," Nott hissed, cautiously, when they were alone again. Staring at her carefully again. "Granger, I can assure you that the best thing you can do is stay out of this."
Hermione gasped. Dumbfounded.
"How on earth is that the best way to help him?"
"You'd be surprised."
"Why? Why should the best thing I can do for him be to step aside?" she insisted, doggedly, taking a step towards him. Her voice cracked, "I don't understand. Whatever he's going through, I can help him. I'm sure of it. One way or another."
Nott clenched his fists and for an instant seemed capable of shouting at her. Hermione had never heard him shout before. But she saw the tendons in his neck mark, like a wolf about to pounce.
"Why would you do such a thing?" he spat, louder. "What do you owe Draco? You're not together, you don't have to do any of this anymore. How can you lower yourself to care about him like this? Draco made it very clear to you what he thought of you, what he wasn't willing to give. He wouldn't fight for you like that," his voice was cracking. And he seemed to be having trouble holding her gaze. "You told him you'd break up with him if he did, and he still attacked Weasley. He's made it clear to you what he's like."
Hermione felt a momentary daze. Her eyes stopped seeing Nott clearly. Something suddenly hit her. A hundred and eighty degree turn. A light that wasn't there before. That she hadn't been able to see. A new perspective.
"He did it," she whispered, her voice trembling. Nott blinked. "He attacked Ron."
"Exactly," Theodore mumbled, loosening his shoulders. Relaxing as he saw that she was coming to her senses.
"Even though I told him it would be over between us. He remembered... and yet he did," she repeated, breathless. Almost to herself.
Nott hesitated. Confused. Not liking her words too much. Not sure he understood her abstracted expression. He didn't seem to understand how he'd screwed up, but he conceived that he had.
"I don't know what you're talking about..." Nott mumbled, still looking firm. Keeping up his role. But he was scrutinising her warily. Not knowing what to expect.
But Hermione wasn't listening to him anymore.
'What mark did you get in that exam a couple of weeks ago?'
Draco had a good memory. He paid attention to the things she told him. Petty details. How could he not remember her ultimatum?
'If you hurt Ron again, or any of my friends, this, what's between us, will end. I won't stand for it.'... 'Understood.'
'Why have you kept your word all this time if you meant to break it without any remorse?'(…) 'I don't know. The occasion didn't arise, I suppose. I had better things to do.'(…) 'You gave me a pretty clear ultimatum...'
How had she been such an idiot? How had she not realised this before?
Draco knew that whatever was between them would end if he attacked his friends. He remembered her telling him that. And yet he had done it. He had attacked Ron.
'Anyway, Weasley, I've said too long a sentence. I'll give you time to assimilate it. Go on about your business...'
That time, in Astronomy class, he stopped. He looked at her, and stopped. He didn't keep insulting Ron. Because he knew what would happen. He had taken her threat seriously. But not now. Now he'd attacked Ron, without a second thought. Why? What had changed?
"He attacked Ron," Hermione heard her own voice tremble. Almost in a trance. Nott didn't move a muscle. He didn't even blink. "I told him that if he attacked my friends, what was between us would be over. And he attacked him. He knew I was serious. And you just said that what he needs from me is for me to step aside." Nott looked like a statue. He didn't seem to dare breathe. "He did it on purpose. And I didn't notice," she was out of breath. She was talking, but out of breath. She needed to hold on to something. She looked at Nott's pale face. Livid. "Why, what's going on?"
Nott remained effectively motionless. Impassive. But Hermione saw that he was rubbing his fingers against his palms. Twisting them. Nervous. Scared.
"I don't understand anything you're saying," he finally articulated, and the coldness in his voice didn't fool her. "Why you're picking holes. Draco attacked your friend for fun, and I don't think there's any justification for that. And the reason he didn't show up for exams is none of your business just because you two have nothing to do with each other. Not anymore. And —"
"Where is he?" Hermione demanded, almost voicelessly. Without even thinking. Without thinking at all.
Nott's face broke down. As if he'd lost the battle and was suddenly aware of it.
"Granger —"
"Where — is — he?" Hermione articulated, undeterred. Nott snorted through his nose. Turning his face to the side. His mask of feigned bewilderment turned to one of rage. But his eyes glittered.
"That I can tell you: I don't know. Lately, it's almost impossible to see him during the day. We talked this morning, but now I'm looking for him and I can't... I can't find him," his voice trembled. Hermione's chest synchronised with the trembling.
"What?" she let out, feeling her heart in her throat. "How is that possible? What did you — what did you talk about this morning?"
"I'm not going to tell you," he repeated, almost resignedly, though he didn't look her in the eye. He moved away from the column, as if to leave. "You don't need to know."
"Maybe it will be useful in finding him."
"You're not going to look for him," Nott protested, as if it were an irrefutable fact.
"Of course I'm going to look for him," Hermione muttered. "I need to clear up a few things..."
"I'm not going to help you," Nott replied firmly, shrugging his shoulders. As if that put an end to her plans.
"I don't need you to."
Hermione spun around gracefully to leave the way she'd come. With no intention of saying goodbye. But Nott caught up with her in two quick strides. His face twitched.
"Granger," he hissed, grabbing her arm. He tugged at her, holding her still in place. His eyes were desperate. "Don't even think about it. Don't look for him. Don't face him. Don't do this to him."
Hermione stood very still. Moving her gaze from one of the boy's eyes to the other. They were a beautiful light blue.
"Why?" she whispered. She tugged at her own arm to get him to let go, but Nott held her still. "What do you think I can do to him? I would never hurt him..."
Nott's hand trembled in his grip. The boy's eyes glazed over. He tightened his fingers around her flesh. Urging her to pay attention to him. An indication that he meant what he said.
"You can hurt him more than you can imagine. Stay away from him, Granger, I beg you..."
"Tell me why," Hermione hissed, more fiercely. She was getting very nervous. She needed answers. "Because, right now, I have no reason to obey you."
"Because you're going to put him in mortal danger."
Hermione's chest caved in, creating a hole. She found herself gasping for breath. She gasped for a moment, her jaw quivering. She felt her throat thicken. Tears pressed behind her eyes.
"I will not... allow that," she whispered at last. With the remnants of breath left inside her. "It won't happen. I don't know what's going on but... I'm going to help him, Nott. And you can't stop me. Don't even try."
Nott pierced her with his sad eyes. He blinked, and looked confused. As if he didn't know what to say to that.
"Remember when you told me in Arithmancy class that you were starting to have feelings for him?" he whispered. Hermione, breathing shallowly, nodded her head once. "I asked you if there was nothing going on between you because you didn't want to or because you couldn't. Well, Draco's reason is that he can't. So please, please, please don't look for him."
Hermione felt the weight of his words crush her to the floor. Too broken down to take them in. Nott's every word made new sense to her, but she still felt like she didn't understand the whole picture.
"I must," she heard herself whisper. Nott's lip trembled. Realising he had lost the battle. But his eyes locked on hers one last time. Determined. One last card to play.
"Then wait until tomorrow. Please. Talk to him tomorrow."
Hermione hadn't expected that. She couldn't ask anything either. Footsteps sounded down the corridor. More people were coming. Nott let go of her arm in time to see a large group of Slytherins from some lower year appear on the stairs. They glanced at them as they passed, but with little attention. Hermione looked at Nott once more and nodded. Pretending to give in to his last request. But then she turned and walked off down the corridor. Taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't stop her in front of strangers.
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't stop shaking. She couldn't think.
'Draco's reason is that he can't.'
He had attacked Ron. He had wanted her to confront him. He had wanted her to be the one to walk away from him. Why? If he had decided that their relationship was so dangerous that he had to end it, or if he had regretted what had happened between them, why not tell her clearly? Why had he acted this way? Why lie to her? Why was he in mortal danger? Because of her?
The sudden certainty that she had something to do, an occupation, seized her to the bone. Quickening her pace. She had to talk to him. She definitely had to. Nott's warnings felt empty compared to that.
'Because you're going to put him in mortal danger.'
That was impossible. It wouldn't happen. She would never allow something like that to happen.
She'd been fighting to the point of no end to get over it. To put her heart back together. To bear the thought that he was no longer a part of her life. And she had succeeded. She could live without him. Of course she could. But she had no intention of giving him up if he was in such circumstances. And she didn't give a damn what Nott thought of her. She had to do something. She had to help him. She had to save him.
She finished walking up a flight of stairs until she reached the Entrance Hall. She forgot about Harry and Ron. She forgot about the dragon. About the N.E.W.T.s. All her purpose. Her morals.
'Talk to him tomorrow.'
Tomorrow? Out of the question. She couldn't wait for tomorrow. She was going to look for him right then and there.
And she was going to find him.
"Here we are... It's the fourth floor, Harry..." Ron managed to say between gasps, letting go of his friend's arm and letting him lean against the wall. Checking if he could stand up. Harry staggered, but held onto the wall with one hand. He was pale and sweaty.
The corridor on the fourth floor was deserted. Hardly anyone needed to go to the Library, the most important place in that corridor. Most of the students were still in the grounds. Ron could hardly believe their good fortune in that regard. They barely passed anyone on their way there, and managed to successfully disguise Harry's weakened state so as not to draw attention to themselves. They looked around. The walls overlooking the grounds were lined with windows, and the inner wall of the castle with huge paintings. Sir Cadogan came to their side at that moment, and gazed silently at them from one of the paintings. One depicted a room filled with books, into which seawater was pouring from a doorway overlooking the ocean. The little knight and his pony had followed them from painting to painting there.
Sir Cadogan still seemed to be somewhat shaken by the latest revelations about Wyvern of Wye, and had not opened his mouth for some time.
"Where is the passage?" Ron questioned aloud, looking around.
"Fred and George told me it was behind a mirror," Harry revealed, his voice weak. His head was still throbbing painfully.
"Harry Potter!"
The deep voice screamed inside his head again. The boy stifled a pitiful groan and clenched his temples in his hands. Ron put a hand on his shoulder, helplessly.
"That's it," Sir Cadogan confirmed quietly, pointing to his right. Towards a full-length mirror that decorated part of the central wall of the corridor. Ron took Harry by the arm to help him and they walked over. It looked like a large, completely ordinary mirror, with a gilded frame that was carefully crafted but not very extravagant. They had passed it a thousand times. There were many mirrors in various corridors of the castle.
"How do we get in?" Ron muttered, feeling the polished surface hesitantly. As if he thought it might attack them.
Harry managed to support his weight without leaning on Ron and walked over to the mirror. He saw his reflection in it, he looked pitiful. Pale and glistening with sweat. He looked like he might throw up at any moment, or might be carrying a highly contagious disease. He banged his fist on the surface a couple of times. He looked at Ron.
"Sounds hollow," his friend corroborated. Harry pulled out his wand.
"Alohomora," he muttered, pointing at it. Nothing happened. He tried other spells he could think of, also to no avail. "Help me move it," he finally asked, grabbing the frame from one side. Ron was quick to oblige and grab it from the other side. "On the count of three..."
They tried moving it sideways, backwards, upwards, and every other way they could think of, to no avail. After several minutes, Harry stood in front of it and pointed his wand at it again. With a feverish gleam in his eye.
"Seven years," Ron muttered with a sigh. Harry stood still and looked at him, confused. "Seven years of bad luck," he said, smiling sadly. Harry smiled back lazily. Almost listless. Ron raised his own wand. "Protego."
A glowing shield was created in front of them, protecting them both. Harry raised his wand again.
"Reducto!"
Thousands of shards of glass shot out at them. Blocked by Ron's effective Shield Charm. Sir Cadogan's pony whinnied, startled by the noise. As the shimmering blanket covered the ground, they saw the entrance. A narrow, dark tunnel opened before them, plunging into the wall. A cold draught of air laden with dust and the smell of closed air came out of it, ruffling their hair and making them pucker their lips. It was pitch black, they could barely see the first few feet of it. The stone walls were bare and rocky, rough and dirty, unpolished. As if they were the foundations of the castle.
"It looks like it's possible to get in. Maybe it's blocked further down. Let's hope it's the right passage," Ron muttered, waving his wand again. "Lumos."
The faint light from the tip barely managed to illuminate a few more metres. The passage descended a slight slope to where they could no longer see.
"There are no paintings in there. I cannot accompany you, faithful comrades," said Sir Cadogan suddenly. In a strangely serious tone. "May my help in there not be needed, and may you succeed in your adventure. I wish you all the best of luck."
"Thank you, Sir Cadogan. For everything," Harry replied, looking at him with respect. He exchanged a brief glance with Ron. Then he turned back to the mysterious tunnel and waved his wand, as did his friend. "Lumos."
Hermione had to sit on the pedestal of a suit of armour on the first floor to catch her breath. She was sweating. She hadn't even known how long she'd been walking around the castle, maybe more than an hour, tirelessly walking down every corridor, checking every person she saw, entering every empty classroom along the way. But there was no sign of Draco Malfoy.
When she had come across a student from Slytherin House, friends of his, even, she had been sorely tempted to ask them outright if they had seen the boy, such was her desperation. But her common sense had won the battle at the last moment and she had walked on. It would not be appropriate. She wasn't supposed to be looking for him. Perhaps she would not be able to pretend, and her tormented expression would be revealing. Maybe someone would get suspicious. She had to control herself and find him on her own.
Dusk would soon begin to fall behind the wide windows of the castle.
A couple of first years from different Houses passed before her, talking loudly. They did not look at her. They didn't seem to find it suspicious that she was sitting there. She forced herself to relax, sitting at the pedestal of that armour, and urged her mind to think. To think coherently. She couldn't go all the way around the castle. It was impossible. She wasn't using her time efficiently. She needed to put herself in Malfoy's shoes.
She took in the fact that she didn't know what was wrong with him. She had no clue. So she didn't know where he could be remedying it. He could be doing something somewhere. Talking to someone. Or maybe he'd been given some unexpected bad news. According to Nott, he had spoken to him that morning and now he was nowhere to be found. Hermione was sure that he would have looked everywhere for his best friend. If Nott hadn't found him, he couldn't be in a public place.
She decided to work on the hypothesis that he simply wanted to be alone. He was suffering, and he didn't want anyone to find him.
She silenced the pang in her heart at the possibility and forced herself to think coldly and objectively. Blinking rapidly to keep the unwelcome tears away.
If she were him, and she were in trouble, if she were not well, where would she go? Where could she seek refuge, solace? It would have to be somewhere remote, someplace unfrequented. A place that would keep him away from prying eyes. She bit her lip. There were many options that fulfilled those characteristics. His dormitory was out of the question, Nott would have found him there. An empty classroom was a plausible enough option, but which of the dozens of classrooms that filled the castle would he be in? There were so many, on every floor, many of them abandoned and infrequently visited, especially now that classes were over...
Two people passed before her. The blue of the Ravenclaw robes caught her eye. She looked up. Smooth brown hair. A gentle laugh.
She stood up, without a second thought, and accosted the two people.
"MacDougal!" she called, and regretted how desperate her voice sounded. The girl turned around in surprise. She was with a rather tall blonde girl Hermione didn't know, who looked her up and down quizzically.
"Hello... Granger, isn't it?" MacDougal greeted, smiling sheepishly. Hermione nodded, smiling back. Trying to look as friendly and relaxed as possible. Taking a deep breath to make her voice steady.
"Sorry to bother you, but you haven't seen Draco Malfoy anywhere, have you? I'm looking for him."
She tried to speak as calmly as she could muster. She was thankful that she had been sitting on the pedestal for a few minutes, as she was no longer panting. The young woman's pretty face tilted to one side. Not with suspicion. With hesitation.
"Malfoy?" she repeated slowly, reflectively.
"You know him. You've played Quidditch against him, the Slytherin Seeker?"
"Yes, yes, I know Malfoy," she hastened to corroborate. Her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to think. "He was in the Transfiguration exam yesterday. But I swear I haven't seen him since. I couldn't tell you right now..."
"That blond bloke from our year? Lucius Malfoy's son?" MacDougal's friend interjected, half-heartedly. "The one who was always strutting around with two bouncers?"
"Yes, that one," Hermione corroborated instantly, with a shiver of hope. "Have you seen him?"
"Jason Samuels has bumped into him before. Several hours ago. Malfoy was supposed to be attending the Alchemy exam, but he didn't turn up," she shrugged unhappily. She looked at MacDougal. "Jason mentioned it, don't you remember? He said he passed him in the Entrance Hall, that Malfoy was in a hurry, and gave him a good whack as he passed..."
"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right," MacDougal said, nodding his head enthusiastically. She looked at Hermione again. "He's seen him go out into the grounds. I don't know if he'll still be there..."
"I'll check. Thank you so much," Hermione gave a forced smile, waving goodbye politely and watching them walk away. But she stayed still, in her place, a little longer.
The grounds. That narrowed the search, but not too much. The castle grounds were immense. It wouldn't be long before nightfall, and curfew was at eleven. If they locked the gates while she was outside, she'd be in trouble. Where in the grounds would he find the solitude he needed? By the Great Lake? No, too many people now that exams were over. In the greenhouses? It was possible... In the Stone Circle? No, too exposed... The Forbidden Forest? Draco had shown no predilection for it in the past. The Quidditch pitch...?
'Acceptable, Granger. Undistinguished for my liking, but it will do. Certainly, no one will be looking for us here. Mind you, if I see a spider, I'm out of here.'
The memory rumbled through every cell in her body. Hermione's heart pounded against her ears. She didn't even hesitate. She ran.
She knew where he was.