A/N: This chapter marks the beginning of Prisoner of Azkaban proper, with a return to canon events and Hermione returning to school. If you're marathoning this, this is a good place to pause and take a break.

How long has it been since you had some water? Do you need to eat? Do you need to use the bathroom? Do you have a final you should be studying for? Are your eyes burning and you really should get some sleep?

This is the place to take a break and come back once you've refreshed yourself. Hermione and her adventures will still be here waiting for you once you return :)


"Hermione!"

Hermione turned to see Harry bounding up to her as she checked into the Leaky Cauldron, and she couldn't help but return his wide grin. Harry looked a little taller than she remembered, and, to her surprise, a little broader and more muscular in areas.

"Harry!" she said, smiling. "You look well."

Harry ran a hand through his hair sheepishly.

"Well, y'know, been able to walk a lot, just wandering the alley," he said. "Not hard to eat three times a day here when there's food everywhere, too."

Hermione wondered if he was used to being starved at his aunt's.

"You still need to get your schoolbooks?" Harry asked, helping lug her trunks up to her room. "I know the lists came out after you were in France."

"I do," Hermione said. She bit her lip. "I just hope they're not all sold out already. I considered trying to get them in France to get a head start, but they were just all in French—"

Harry laughed.

"It'll be fine. C'mon," he said. "I'll help."

Hermione was surprised to see Harry up so early, especially since he'd already gotten his own school things, but she wasn't about to complain. When she asked, Harry shrugged.

"The Alley's calmer earlier in the day, y'know?" he said. "Plus, I knew you were coming. And you're early everywhere," he teased, and Hermione rolled her eyes but grinned back.

Harry was a bit surprised when she took her sword with her. Hermione found herself explaining on the way to Gringotts, hoping to get that out of the way first so she could put the sword away before the alley got really crowded.

"So the goblins take offense if you don't wear it inside?" Harry whistled. "Seems a bit mad, being upset that you don't take a weapon into a bank."

"That's what I thought," Hermione said, pulling open one of the great glass doors, "until they pointed out that wizards wear their wands in here all the time."

Harry paused. "I never thought of that."

They waited in a short line for a teller, behind a man arguing hotly over the quality of the galleons he had been given. When he finally slinked off, defeated, they approached the counter, and Hermione gave the goblin a brief bow.

"I would get gold from my vault, please," she said.

The goblin's eyes drifted over her then over Harry, before it smirked.

"You would get gold, or you would get gold brought up to you?" it asked.

"Err," Hermione said. "The latter, if it's not a trouble."

"Not a trouble at all," the goblin assured her, flashing sharp, pointy teeth. "If you would fill out this withdrawal slip…"

Hermione filled it out, and she and Harry were escorted across the bank to a bench tucked away against a wall to wait.

"Don't feel like going down the carts today?" Harry asked.

"Doesn't seem like a great idea, so soon after breakfast," Hermione said, deflecting, and Harry laughed.

Bloodthorne came out to greet her as they waited, bowing low in front of her, his eyes glittering in triumph. Harry looked puzzled but curious by this, but he had the smarts to watch quietly and listen.

"Silversmite was given an additional land allotment, and he is well pleased," Bloodthorne told her. "Already there has been some progress with the books you left us. The Council has put out word for scholars, ones who would come, would help us decipher new lore, and would translate it over to us."

"Scholars?" Hermione asked. "Do goblins have academia?"

Bloodthorne scowled.

"Not as such," he said. "This is why we would need to call for them. There are very few, and those that there are, travel from place to place." He smirked. "But of all things we have, we have time. We are a very patient race."

He bid them goodbye as another goblin arrived with a bag of gold for Hermione, and as soon as they were out of the bank, Hermione discreetly hit it with a Feather-Light charm, relaxing at the immediate ease on her arms.

"You got to visit the goblins?" Harry asked her, incredulous. "I didn't think they liked us."

"They don't, really," Hermione admitted. "They like me a bit more because I've been doing business with them since first year."

"I have too, though," Harry pointed out, "and they don't like me."

"You've been transacting through them," Hermione corrected gently. "You've been withdrawing gold. I helped them set up a loan system, and I let them use the gold from my vault to back it, so they've been making money with my help."

Harry's eyebrows rose, and he whistled.

"That's good of you," he said. "I didn't realize they didn't already have that sort of thing."

A quick detour to the Leaky Cauldron saw her sword safely deposited in her trunk once more, and Hermione and Harry took an enjoyable stroll down Diagon Alley, enjoying the slower traffic of the morning. Shopkeeps were flipping signs to 'open' or sweeping their stairs, and there were a few happy bird calls in the air, audible with the lack of crowds.

As they walked, a newsstand with the Daily Prophet on display caught her eye, and Hermione paused.

WHERE IS SIRIUS BLACK?
AND WHY CAN THE MINISTRY NOT FIND HIM?
Allegations and suspicions of a nefarious plot behind Black's escape come to light

"If you'll give me just a moment, Harry," Hermione said. "I'm going to get a paper."

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

A minute later, Hermione returned with her copy, eyes scanning the headline story.

"What's it say?" Harry asked. "They suspect a plot?"

Hermione frowned. "Not really. It's… here. Listen:

WHERE IS SIRIUS BLACK?
AND WHY CAN THE MINISTRY NOT FIND HIM?
Allegations and suspicions of a nefarious plot behind Black's escape come to light

By: Rita Skeeter

The Ministry of Magic reports that there have been no new sightings of Sirius Black, despite alleging to be working with the muggle government to help capture Black.

"If no one's seen him, no one's seen him," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "We can't report that we know where he is when no one has any idea as to his whereabouts."

Despite the best efforts of the Aurors and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Black remains at large and a threat to the magical community. With such gross incompetence on display, some people are beginning to wonder if the lack of progress on the Sirius Black case is purposeful.

"We don't know how Black escaped Azkaban," one anonymous source said. "The Ministry has control over the prison. If someone escaped, it's reasonable to presume that the Ministry had something to do with it, isn't it?"

"That's ridiculous," declared Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "We don't know how Black escaped, but we do know that however he did it, he didn't have help. We've scoured the visitor logs and interrogated everyone who had gone to Azkaban in the month before Black's escape. The Ministry is just as eager to learn how he managed it as everyone else - so we can make sure no one escapes again."

The Ministry of Magic urges people to remain calm but stay alert as they continue their search for Black. People are also being encouraged to be back in their homes before dark.

"The Ministry captured him once, and we'll capture him again," Fudge said. "Be patient, and be careful. And if you see anything suspicious, please report it to the Ministry at once."

Harry looked somewhat confused when Hermione finished reading the story aloud.

"So… the Ministry didn't help him escape?" he asked.

"Of course not," Hermione huffed, rolling up her paper and tucking it into her bag before they resumed walking down the alley. "Why would they? The escape has made them look incompetent. If they wanted Black out, they could have just pardoned him or something."

"So the story is to reassure people, then?" Harry asked. He made a face. "Funny way to reassure them."

Hermione hummed.

"Even though the full story debunks the idea that the Ministry is behind Black escaping, the headline certainly implies otherwise," she said. "The 'anonymous source' didn't provide any actual evidence backing up their assertion, either. It seems to me like the Daily Prophet wanted to stoke fear and paranoia more."

"Why?" Harry snorted. "People are already paranoid enough."

"Maybe to sell more papers," Hermione quipped. "If you keep something alarming in the news, people will want to read the news to know what's new and what's going on."

Harry laughed.

"Honestly," he remarked, "I wouldn't even be surprised."

"Me neither," Hermione sighed. "Well, at least it's not likely we'll run into Black. And I have school supplies to get, still."

Harry grinned. "Lead the way."

Hermione wanted to get her new schoolbooks first, and Harry was sniggering behind his hand all the way there, refusing to say why. When a large iron cage in the bookshop window came into view, full of very aggressive copies of The Monster Book of Monsters, Harry started laughing outright while Hermione gasped at the carnage and scattered pages on the floor.

"They don't have any way of restraining these things either?" she said, astonished. "How did they ship them?"

Harry shrugged, still laughing. "Who knows?"

The store employee who helped them looked very bedraggled as he put on a very thick set of gloves, warning them to stay back, when Hermione had an idea.

"Open the cage just a little bit," she said, withdrawing her wand. "Accio!"

One of the books managed to fit through the brief opening in the door of the cage to fly at her, abruptly Hermione was fighting with a book snapping at her face and hands, and Hermione realized she hadn't exactly thought this through.

"Help me!" she hissed at Harry, who was bent over laughing. "Harry!"

Harry obligingly helped her pin the book to the ground, surrendering the belt from his trousers for a moment for Hermione to duplicate it and firmly bind her book shut.

"It came right at you. You should have seen your face," Harry said, still chuckling. "Your eyes got huge…"

Hermione drew herself up primly.

"I will also need Unfogging the Future and Numerology and Grammatica," Hermione informed the shopkeeper, ignoring the blood dripping from her hand. "Oh, and I need to see your Ancient Runes section too."

The shopkeeper wisely said nothing. "Right this way."

Ancient Runes only had two required textbooks, Ancient Runes Made Easy and the Rune Dictionary, but there were a few others on the table as well that Hermione found herself lingering over. She eventually gave in and bought them all, adding Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms, Spellman's Syllabary, and Advanced Rune Translation to her growing pile of books as well. She also picked up The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, so she could follow along with Cedric in his lessons, as well as Personal Prediction Trees: Using Arithmancy for Protection and Profit, which sounded interesting. Intermediate Transfiguration and The Essential Defense Against the Dark Arts rounded out her books for the day, and Harry helped her carry them all up to the counter as the shopkeep rang them up.

"No new History text this year," Hermione said, frowning. "I'd almost have hoped…"

"Lockhart won't have had time to write his own yet, yeah?" Harry pointed out. "And it's not like he's going to assign us a book he's not going to get royalties from."

Hermione had to admit that Harry had a point.

As they continued down the alley for Hermione to refresh her Potions supplies, Harry's legs began to lag, his pace slowing.

"We're not in any hurry, yeah?" he said. "Let's just… enjoy the stroll."

Hermione wasn't a fool, and though she agreed easily, she kept her eyes sharp. As soon as Quality Quidditch Supplies came into view, a small crowd of boys around the window, she groaned.

"It's that new broom, isn't it?" she said, exasperated.

Harry was surprised. "How do you know about the Firebolt?"

"They were selling them in France too," she said, waving carelessly. "But Harry, honestly – isn't your broom already very good?"

"Yes," Harry said begrudgingly. "I haven't gotten it, you know. I just like to look."

"Your broom was the top of the line first year," Hermione pointed out. "Last year, it was the Nimbus 2001. This year, it's the Firebolt. Next year, it'll probably be the Firebolt 2.0 or something, you realize. If you constantly bought the latest model to keep up, you'd probably go bankrupt."

Harry was startled at that.

"I didn't realize that," he said. "They have had a new fastest broom every year, haven't they?" He looked pensive as they made their way to the Apothecary, and Hermione left him to his thoughts as she bought her supplies. She was glad Harry wasn't paying much attention – the proprietor's jaw dropped when she'd explained what she needed, and the expense of the extra supplies she wanted nearly emptied her gold bag. By the time she was done, very carefully stashing her purchases away, Harry seemed to have dropped his funk as was much cheerier than he had been.

"Want to get lunch before the rest?" Harry asked. "We could—"

"Harry! HARRY!"

Hermione and Harry turned to see Ron Weasley waving wildly at them as he hurried to join them. He skidded to a halt in front of them and grinned, looking very tall and especially freckly.

"I was hoping to run into you," Ron said, grinning at Harry. "I checked the Leaky Cauldron, but they'd said you'd left already—"

Harry blinked. "How did you know I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad," Ron said simply, and Harry nodded. Hermione wasn't quite sure how Mr. Weasley would know Ministry news so fast upon returning from an extended international trip, but who knew how the adult gossip train worked.

"How was Egypt, Ron?" Hermione asked politely, and Ron lit up.

"It was wicked! There were all these cursed tombs and things, and Bill showed us some of the ones they'd already de-cursed so they could clear them out." He grinned. "It was excellent. And there was money left over from the drawing, too, so—"

He withdrew a wand from his bag, wood gleaming.

"—I got a new wand!"

"Oh, excellent!" Harry said, and Hermione abruptly remembered that Ron had broken his wand, which had been second-hand to begin with, at the beginning of the previous school year, when he and Harry had flown a car into a tree.

"Fourteen inches, willow, unicorn tail hair," Ron said, satisfied. "I'm really pleased with it. Mum was a bit put out by the length – the longer your wand, the taller you'll grow – but I reckon I was always going to be tall, y'know?"

"Ron," Hermione asked curiously. "You got your wand second-hand, didn't you? Your first wand, I mean."

Ron turned to look at Hermione quizzically. "Err—yeah?"

"Where?" Hermione asked. She tried to keep her tone nonjudgmental. "I've never seen a second-hand wand shop on the alley, and I was wondering—"

Ron had gone a bit pink.

"Err, no, you wouldn't," he said, flustered. He looked away. "You don't—people don't really 'sell' their wands. You're either buried with them, or they're kept in your family. They're not—" He coughed. "You wouldn't want just anyone touching a wand that you used."

Hermione wondered if this was similar to Neville's embarrassment when she had demanded to see his wand the previous year, before insisting on him getting a new one.

"How do people who can't afford wands get wands, then?" Hermione wanted to know. "How much was yours?"

"Seven galleons," Ron said, shifting. "And I dunno how other people afford them, if they haven't got a big family…" He turned back to Harry. "Did you see the Firebolt?" he asked, eyes lighting up again. "Wicked, isn't it?"

"I can't imagine how fast it goes," Harry said enviously, though he didn't look quite as worked up over it as he had earlier. "The professional Quidditch teams all put in orders for them, did you know…?"

Hermione tuned them out to run some mental math. If a wand was seven galleons (roughly £35), she could imagine multiple wands would add up fast. If she presumed that half the wizarding population was composed of hedgewitches, and there were 40-50 students each year in each class…

To furbish each new hedgewitch eleven-year-old with a new wand would cost her about £1750, or 350 galleons. Which she could afford, really – it was just a matter of perception and how to do it discreetly. As Bloodthorne had well warned her, spending too much gold too quickly was a great way to raise suspicion and cause inflation.

She frowned. Well, she had no plan organized yet, anyway, so it was pointless to stress about it now. She'd have to think it through more deeply – each child would need to be fitted and choose a wand, after all, which would take time and planning…

"Alright, Hermione?"

"What? Oh!" Hermione said, flustered. "Sorry, what was that, Harry?"

"Ron said Scabbers hasn't been looking well since Egypt," Harry repeated. "He needs to go to the Magical Menagerie as well. You don't mind if he comes along, do you?"

The question was more of a courtesy than an actual inquiry, as Hermione well knew Harry was hoping to link up with Ron at some point today, but she appreciated being consulted nonetheless.

"That'd be brilliant," she said. "And I'm sorry to hear your rat hasn't been doing well, Ron."

Ron shrugged, uncomfortable, and they made their way to the pet shop.

The Magical Menagerie was packed. Every inch of wall was hidden by cages of animals, and the entire building was incredible smelly and noisy, with animals squeaking, squawking, hissing, barking, and jabbering away. Hermione was struck by the difference with France's Animalerie, which had been fairly wide-open with plenty of room to explore and had only softly-purring animals creating the ambient noise, not loud yowling and hissing and spitting sounds.

Ron approached the counter to ask about his rat while Hermione looked around. There was a gigantic tortoise near the window with jewels glittering in its shell, which was fascinating to consider. Hermione wondered if it was a magical tortoise, or if someone had done magic to it to embed the jewels in it like that. There was a soundproof box of fwoopers near the ceiling, birds glowering out at her, and there was a cage of sleek black rats on the counter, the rats inside playing jump rope with their tails, while Ron's Scabbers sat on the counter next to them, looking very pitiful indeed.

"—quite old," Ron was saying. "He used to belong to my brother."

"What powers does he have?" the witch asked, examining Scabbers closely.

"Err—" Ron faltered, and Hermione blinked. It had never occurred to her that a magical pet might have powers other than enhanced intelligence, really.

The witch was offering Ron a new rat, which Ron didn't respond well to, before offering him a rat tonic in a small red bottle. As she was offering it to him, Ron fishing through his change to pay, there was a flash and a loud yowl as something enormous and orange landed on Ron's head, making him buckle, before the thing launched itself at Scabbers, spitting madly.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!"

"Scabbers!"

Ron and Harry raced from the shop, chasing after Scabbers, who had shot for the door squeaking madly and managed to squeeze out. She watched them chase the rat down the alleyway before she turned back to the shopkeep, who suddenly looked very tired. There was an enormous orange cat with a squashed face sitting on the desk, now, looking quite pleased with itself.

"'Crookshanks'?" Hermione questioned.

The cat in question looked at her, tilting its head, while the witch sighed.

"He's been here forever," the witch said wearily. "Vicious even as a kitten; no one wanted him, so he just stayed here and grew up. Unusual, for a half-kneazle – usually they take more kindly to people."

"Maybe he was waiting for the right sort of people," Hermione said. She extended her hand towards Crookshanks slowly, and the enormous cat moved closer to sniff at her hand and lick her fingertips skeptically, before he purred, moving underneath her hand and using it to pet himself.

"He likes you," the witch said wonderingly. "He likes you. He doesn't like anyone. Do you want him?" She looked at Hermione. "I'd practically pay you to take him off my hands—"

Crookshanks hissed, and Hermione frowned.

"He's a gorgeous cat," she informed the witch, "and he is worth what every other cat is worth." She withdrew her coin purse. "How much for him and a starter kitty kit?"

The witch's lips pursed, and she named an amount that was much less than what Hermione suspected was accurate, but Hermione wasn't about to challenge her on it. Crookshanks had calmed and was rubbing his head against Hermione again, and Hermione looked down at him, already fond. She paid for the rat tonic for Ron, too, before asking Crookshanks to please get into his new carrier basket, as it would keep him safe in the alley until she could let him out in her room.

The witch looked at her as if she were mad, but Crookshanks primly got up and sauntered into the basket, tail aloft in the air, before settling into it. Hermione grinned and closed it up, thanking the witch promptly before leaving the shop to look for Harry and Ron.

She eventually found them near Quality Quidditch Supplies. Scabbers had apparently taken refuge under a wastepaper bin, and he was trembling as Ron stuffed him back into his pocket.

"I got your rat tonic," Hermione said, offering Ron the small bottle.

"Good," Ron said moodily. "He'll need it more than ever, now, nearly getting killed by that crazy cat…"

Hermione decided not to mention her own acquisition from the Menagerie just yet, and when Harry looked at her questioningly, his green eyes going to her basket, she shook her head silently, touching a finger to her lips. Harry's eyes widened, but he had the good sense not to say a word.

At the Leaky Cauldron, Mr. Weasley was sitting at the bar, reading the Daily Prophet, looking very freckled as well. Harry and Ron went up to him, and Hermione made a quick detour to her room, letting Crookshanks out to explore while depositing all her other bags, before heading back downstairs. Mr. Weasley was talking to Harry and Ron about Sirius Black, she could hear – something about how he wasn't about to be caught by thirteen-year-old wizards, but by the guards at Azkaban, which made Hermione roll her eyes.

Gryffindors. Honestly. Her mother was lucky she'd been in Slytherin; she'd undoubtedly have a heart attack with all the unnecessary adventures she'd be hearing about if she'd had a daughter in Gryffindor.

Mrs. Weasley entered the bar at that moment, laden with shopping bags and followed by Fred, George, Ginny, and Percy, who wore a gleaming Head Boy badge from his robes.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying over to help Mrs. Weasley with her bags, who shot her a grateful look. "You made Head Boy, Percy?"

"I did." Percy drew himself up, proud. "And while some people—"

"Congratulations," Hermione told him, meaning it. "That's quite the accomplishment. Are you excited?"

Percy looked thrown for a moment, then confused.

"Y-you're not going to comment?" he said.

"Err…" Hermione blinked. "I rather thought I just did."

Percy looked at her another long moment, puzzled, before seeming to dismiss whatever issue he was having with aplomb.

"I'm quite proud, but I'm not sure excited is the right word for it," he told her seriously. "It's a lot of responsibility, as you know. And with Sirius Black being loose this year, I'm sure Dumbledore will be leaning on the Head Boy and Girl heavier than ever. While I'm not sure if Miss Rince is up for the challenge, I'm quite ready to—"

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, clapping her hands. "Jade got Head Girl?"

Percy blinked.

"Ah, yes, she did," Percy said. "I forgot, you're in Slytherin, aren't you?"

His tone of voice belied that he was being genuine, though Hermione would never have believed it, coming from any other one of the Weasleys.

"I am," she said. "Jade Rince is one of our prefects."

"I haven't worked with her very much," Percy admitted. "Prefect rotations have usually been careful to separate Gryffindors and Slytherins from collaborating too much – there have been conflict issues in the past, apparently. But I think that Dumbledore is putting both of us up as examples of responsibility to strive to is a good sign. It shows a confidence in us that we'll be able to help unite the school through these trying times—"

It was very, very apparent that Percy did not know Jade, if he was anticipating her going along with being an example of responsibility and acting as a role model to anyone but the most ambitious of students.

"I wish you all the luck in the world," Hermione told him honestly. "And congratulations, again. Really."

"Your girlfriend didn't get Head Girl, Percy?" Fred Weasley came up next to Percy, his face one of mock-horror. "However will you survive being apart from her?"

"You must endure these trying times together," George advised him wisely, appearing over Percy's other shoulder. "And you must comfort her at her sad loss."

Percy's ears turned pink.

"Not that it's any of your business," he said stiffly, "but Penelope's in her sixth year."

He walked away to go say hello to Harry, greeting him with a pompous handshake, while Hermione smirked and shook her head.

"You shouldn't antagonize him so," she admonished, smirking. "If you leave him alone, he's more apt to leave you alone, you know."

Fred and George grinned at her.

"Hermione, you're an only child," George said. "So I don't know if you quite realize—"

"—it is our solemn duty as brothers to torment our siblings," Fred said, nodding wisely. "A very serious responsibility."

"Why, without us, Percy might not realize he has a tragically big head," George sighed, shaking his head in shame.

"Ron might not realize he's a bit dim when it comes to people—"

"Charlie might not have realized he's an absolute idiot as soon as an animal gets involved—"

"Ginny might have no idea she looks like a stick set on fire if she forgets to brush her hair—"

Hermione was laughing.

"I'll have to take your word for it, I suppose," she conceded. She gave them both an evaluating look. "I have a proposition for you later, though, if you're up for talking later?"

Fred and George's eyes gleamed.

"A proposition, you say?" Fred said, rubbing his hands together. "Would this be a business proposition, by any chance?"

Hermione blinked. "What else could it be?"

George sighed dramatically, holding the back of one hand to his forehead as if he were going to faint.

"See how she spurns me, Gred?" he said. "So cold. So cruel."

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"My Dad gave me a book of magical items that muggles have made up," she said. "Some of them are fairly basic and boring, but some of them have great potential to be actual magical items with a variety of mischievous uses, if one were pranking-inclined."

The twins looked curious and interested.

"This is a muggle book?" George said. "They make things up about magic?"

"What would you get out of this, little Miss Slytherin?" Fred said shrewdly. "If you're just kindly loaning us your book so we can make fantastic things…"

Hermione smiled at him sweetly.

"Well, I imagine you'll need someone to give you feedback on your early models," she said. "Someone you might be so grateful to, you let her keep a copy of whatever you make for free."

Fred started laughing.

"Trust a Slytherin to take ruthless advantage," he said, but he didn't seem upset. "Alright. We'll come up later and take a look at your silly book."

"But no promises," George warned her. "If it's full of stupid ideas because muggles know nothing about magic, we reserve the right to mock you relentlessly for it for the rest of the year."

Hermione grinned. "Agreed."