To Hermione's surprise, Neville intercepted her on her way down to the dungeons on the way back from Hogsmeade.
"Hermione," he said, his voice worried. "Can—can you come with me?"
"Is everything okay?" Hermione asked, concerned.
"Err—" Neville faltered. "Kind of—? But… not really…"
Hermione glanced at Blaise, who shrugged.
"See you at dinner," he said, saluting her, and he and Tracey and Millie went off down the stairs to the dungeons. Hermione turned to Neville, giving him her full attention.
"What's up?" Hermione asked. "What's going on?"
"It's—it's Harry," Neville said, leading her up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. "It's—well—you'll see—"
To Hermione's surprise, Neville led her not just into the common room, but through it, and up the stairs to the 3rd year boys' dormitory.
"Oi!" Ron protested, upon seeing Hermione. "Don't bring her in here!"
But Hermione ignored Ron, going directly to Harry, who was lying flat on his back, his elbow over his forehead, green eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
"He killed them," he said, his voice scratchy. "Sirius Black killed them. He may as well have killed them himself…"
Hermione glanced at Neville, who winced.
"Harry—he came with us to Hogsmeade this time," he admitted. "He had a signed form, and Filch didn't know he wasn't supposed to go. He wore his invisibility cloak while we were there most of the time, so the teachers wouldn't see, but—"
"We overheard Professor McGonagall and some of the others talking about Sirius Black in the Three Broomsticks," Ron volunteered. "And—well—"
He glanced over at Harry, who was still flat on the bed. Hermione gave him a long look, then sighed.
"Come on," she said, taking Harry's hand. "Up. Now."
Harry's eyes refocused to give her an incredulous look.
"Why?" he said. "I've just learned—"
"Whatever you've just learned, it's probably the kind of thing you need to talk about to get it out of your system," Hermione said patiently. "And need I remind you that out of all your friends, I am the most likely to understand your pain and anger, as well as support your need for revenge?"
"Revenge? Against Black?" Ron goggled at her. "Are you mad? You haven't even heard the story—!"
Hermione gave Harry a pointed look. "See?"
Harry seem darkly amused. With a groan, he dragged himself up to his feet.
"Fine," he said shortly. "Let's go."
Hermione wasn't sure what would be a good place to go, so she had Harry put his cloak and boots back on. She led him down the staircases along the hallway to the kitchens to a plain expanse of wall before she whispered a password and the wall opened up. Harry blinked.
"Wait, where did this come from?" he asked, startled. "Where does this go?"
"The Hogwarts Gardens," Hermione said, opening the door. "Come on."
She led him out into a still garden, bushes and leaves covered in snow. The snow had finally stopped, and torchlight around the area made the snow glimmer and glitter. There was a quiet stillness all around, an undisturbed silence.
They walked for a bit until Hermione found a bench. She brushed it off before sitting down, and Harry sat next to her. They sat in silence for a moment, just absorbing the stillness and the cold.
"Harry," Hermione said, turning to face him and looking at him directly. "What happened?"
Harry met her eyes, pained.
Slowly, the whole story came pouring out.
Sirius Black, Harry said, had been his parents' friend. His father's best friend, as a matter of fact. James and Sirius had gone through Hogwarts together. They were together all the time, the best of mates that people could possibly be. He'd been the best man at his parents' wedding, they were so inseparable, and that didn't change after James had married Lily.
"They named him as my godfather," Harry said numbly. "My godfather."
When the war started, the Potters learned that Voldemort was after them, and Dumbledore had advised them to go into hiding under the Fidelius Charm – an immensely complex spell that involved the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The Fidelius Charm worked by keeping the information hidden inside of one chosen person, the Secret-Keeper, where it would be impossible to find – unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper choose to divulge it.
James Potter had told Dumbledore that Sirius Black would be their Secret-Keeper, that Black would rather die than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself…
…and barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed, Voldemort went to the Potters' house, murdered Harry's parents, and met his own downfall.
Hermione bit her lip.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry."
Harry continued dully – apparently, Hagrid had run into Sirius Black at the wreckage of his parents' house that fateful night, and they had had an argument, a brief discussion, where Sirius tried to get Hagrid to give Harry to him, though Hagrid had refused. The Minister had gone on to describe Black's capture, how he had been caught by another friend of the Potters' – Peter Pettigrew, who was maddened by grief and had gone after Black himself, managing to corner him on a muggle street. He confronted Black, crying about James and Lily as he went for his wand, but Black was quicker on the draw, blowing poor Peter and twelve muggles into smithereens with a single curse.
Fudge had been in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and he had been one of the first on the scene. There had been a crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black had been standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him – a heap of bloodstained robes and a single finger, the rest blown apart in an explosion of flesh.
After Harry had talked himself hoarse, retelling his discovery, Hermione watched him, her eyes neutral, while Harry's eyes looked haunted behind his frames.
"So?" she prompted gently. "What do you want to do now?"
Harry laughed dully.
"What can I do? I'm condemned to stay in the blasted castle, aren't I?" he said cynically. "Ron and Neville are worried that I'm going to do something stupid, that I'm going to go after Black, but they just don't understand—Hermione, he killed my parents—"
His frustrated voice broke, hiccupping on a sob, and, very gently, Hermione took his glasses off of him and tucked them into her pocket before pulling Harry closer. He gave another hiccupping sob before finally giving in, quietly crying into her shoulder, Hermione rubbing his back and holding him close.
Harry didn't say anything for a long time, just quietly crying into her cloak. Hermione wondered if he ever cried about the loss of his parents, if he ever let himself admit that it was sad and allowed himself to properly grieve. He couldn't in front of his dormmates, she suspected – guys were kind of jerks about other guys crying – but she found herself hoping he'd found some place where it was safe to go and cry from time to time.
When his tears finally stopped, Harry sniffed, rubbing at his nose.
"Thanks," he said thickly. "Can I—"
Hermione wordlessly passed him his glasses, which Harry took and put back on.
"Thanks," he said again.
Hermione's gaze on him was soft. "Of course, Harry."
Harry took a deep breath and straightened himself up, seeming to try and collect himself.
"I don't know what to do now," he told her. "I'm not stupid, I can't just go after him, but I can't just sit here and do nothing—"
"It's fine, Harry," Hermione assured him. "We'll take care of it with you."
"It's not fine, though," Harry argued. "Hermione, he killed my parents—"
"Which is enough of a cause for him to have a sufficient blood debt to you," Hermione interrupted. Her eyes held his, piercing. "We'll do a ritual to call in the blood debt, to drag him through time and space to be captured in our ritual circle to account for his crimes. And once we do that, you can decide what to do with him from there."
Harry stared at her.
"We'll what?" he said hoarsely.
"We'll summon him here," Hermione said patiently. "There's no need for you to go off and search for him alone, Harry. Your coven is here. We'll use your connection to him to drag him here, so he can be held accountable for what he's done."
Harry was looking at her with wide eyes as she talked, a slow glint starting to return to the glassy green orbs.
"You know, anyone else would have told me that it happened a long time ago, to honor my parents' legacy by living a full life, and to ignore it and move on from the past," Harry said conversationally.
Hermione scoffed. "Oh, because that's likely."
"Right?" He shot her a grin. "Only you, Hermione, would have already figured out a plan for revenge."
"It's hardly much of a plan," Hermione sniffed. "It's just a ritual I know of that already exists. It's not dissimilar from the Fallen Foe – a call on Magic to help restore the balance and even out a blood debt that exists—"
"Hermione," Harry said, laughing. "I'm trying to tell you that you're the best."
"…oh." Hermione faltered. She looked up at him, biting her lip. "Thanks, then, I guess?"
Harry chuckled, pulling Hermione into a sideways hug. Hermione hugged him back with a grin.
"Bet you're glad at times like these to have a Slytherin friend," she teased him.
"Believe me, I am." Harry hummed. "Did you know the Sorting Hat seriously considered putting me in Slytherin?"
"Did it really?" Hermione pulled back to look at Harry consideringly, taking in his bright green eyes and dark hair. "Yeah, I can see that."
"You can?" Harry said, surprised. "I didn't want to go to Slytherin – I thought it was where all the Dark wizards went – I insisted on Gryffindor, and the Hat put me there…"
"Being a Slytherin isn't all about being evil or ambitious," Hermione chided. "We're known for our ambition, sure, but also our cunning, our leadership, and our resourcefulness – things that you are very good at, no matter how much you might try to deny it."
Harry's eyes widened. "You think…?"
"I think you're a natural leader," Hermione said, shrugging. "You're very charismatic when you try, and you're good at motivating people to join your causes. You're also incredibly resourceful, from what I've seen. Slytherin probably would have made you miserable at the start, but you would have found your place, Harry. You would have been okay."
Harry seemed to think about it, before giving her a slow smile.
"Yeah," he said. "I think I would have, too."
