Dinner in the Great Hall that night was... unpleasant. The news about Harry's shouting match with Umbridge had travelled exceptionally fast, even by Hogwarts' standards. The whole student body seemed to be whispering, hoping Harry would start yelling again.
"He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered..."
"He reckons he duelled with You Know Who..."
"Come off it..."
"Who does he think he's kidding?"
"Pur-lease..."
"What I don't get," said Harry in a shaking voice, laying down his knife and fork (Hermione noticed his hands were trembling too much to hold them steady), "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them..."
"The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did," said Hermione grimly. "Oh, let's get out of here." She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked longingly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. People stared at them as they walked out of the Hall.
"What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?" Harry asked Hermione when they reached the first-floor landing. Hermione had known this conversation was inevitable, but it didn't make it any easier, especially with Harry being so moody.
"Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened," said Hermione quietly. "You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body... none of us saw what happened in the maze... we just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you."
"Which is the truth!" said Harry loudly.
"I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?" Hermione said wearily as flashes of the memories came flooding back. "It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!"
Rain pounded on the windowpanes as they strode along the empty corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. She knew better than to continue the conversation for now; Harry needed time to process. Finally, they arrived at the entrance of the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia," said Hermione before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it, and the three friends scrambled through it.
The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly. When Hermione, Ron, and Harry took their three favourite chairs by the fireside, he lightly leapt onto Hermione's lap and curled up like a furry ginger cushion. Hermione absently stroked Crookshanks' fur, her mind wandering back to Defence Against the Dark Arts and that Umbridge woman. If more than half of the student body trusted outside sources like The Daily Prophet to discredit Harry and Dumbledore, the rest of them could now be swayed by someone inside their school... and Dumbledore was doing absolutely nothing about it. The white-hot anger returned in an explosive flash.
"How can Dumbledore have let this happen?" Hermione cried suddenly, making Harry and Ron jump; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. "How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our OWL year, too!"
"Well, we've never had great Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?" said Harry naively. "You know what it's like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job; they say it's jinxed."
"Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! What's Dumbledore playing at?"
"And she's trying to get people to spy for her," said Ron darkly. "Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You Know Who's back?"
"Of course she's here to spy on us all. That's obvious. Why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?" snapped Hermione.
"Don't start arguing again," said Harry wearily as Ron opened his mouth to retaliate. "Can't we just... let's just do that homework, get it out of the way..."
They collected their school bags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were returning from dinner now, and everyone was staring directly at them.
"Shall we do Snape's stuff first?" said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink. "'The properties... of moonstone... and its uses... in potion-making...'" Ron started muttering, but Hermione wasn't listening. She had spotted Fred, George, and Lee Jordan over in the corner of the common room, sitting with a group of innocent-looking first-years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.
"No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far," she said, standing up and looking positively furious. "Come on, Ron."
"I—what?" said Ron, plainly playing for time. "No—come on, Hermione—we can't tell them off for giving out sweets." What happened to trying his best to stand up to them!?
"You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or – or Puking Pastilles or-"
"Fainting Fancies?" Harry suggested quietly as they watched the group of children in horror. One by one, as though hit over the head with an invisible mallet, the first-years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right onto the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing; Hermione squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first-years.
"That's enough!" Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, who looked up in mild surprise.
"Yeah, you're right," said George, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?"
"I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!"
"We're paying them!" said Fred indignantly.
"I don't care. It could be dangerous!"
"Rubbish," said Fred.
"Calm down, Hermione, they're fine!" said Lee reassuringly as he walked from first-year to first-year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.
"Yeah, look, they're coming round now," said George.
A few of the first-years were indeed stirring. Several looked shocked to find themselves lying on the floor or dangling off their chairs.
"Feel all right?" said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet.
"I – I think so," she said shakily.
"Excellent," said Fred happily, but the next second, Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands. She could feel her face flush, and her hands shake. She mentally rifled through the rule book, trying desperately to find something to nail them with.
"It is NOT excellent!"
"Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?" said Fred angrily.
"You can't do this. What if you made one of them really ill?"
"We're not going to make them ill; we've already tested them all on ourselves. This is just to see if everyone reacts the same-"
"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to –"
"Put us in detention?" said Fred, in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.
"Make us write lines?" said George, smirking.
Onlookers all over the room were laughing. It was at that moment that Hermione realised, rule or no rule, that the standard punishment a Prefect could dole out would not teach the twins any sort of lesson... but she knew what would. Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed, and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity.
"No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother."
"You wouldn't," said George, horrified, stepping back from her.
"Oh, yes, I would," said Hermione grimly. "I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not to give them to the first-years."
Fred and George looked thunderstruck. With a last threatening look at them, she thrust Fred's clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms and stalked back to her chair by the fire.
Ron was now so low in his seat that his nose was roughly level with his knees.
"Thank you for your support, Ron," Hermione said acidly.
"You handled it fine by yourself," Ron mumbled.
Hermione stared down at her blank piece of parchment for a few seconds, then said edgily, "Oh, it's no good. I can't concentrate now. I'm going to bed."
But before she went to bed, Hermione needed something to give her a little bit of a smile. She threw open her bag, pulled out the two hats she had made over the summer holidays with Mrs Weasley, and laid them carefully on a table by the fireplace. She covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill and then stood back to admire her work.
"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity.
"They're hats for house-elves," she said briskly, stuffing her books into her bag. "I did them over the summer. I'm a slow knitter without magic, but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more."
"You're leaving out hats for the house elves?" said Ron slowly. "And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"
"Yes," said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back.
"That's not on," said Ron angrily. "You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free."
"Of course, they want to be free!" said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink. "Don't you dare touch those hats, Ron!"
She stormed into her room, fell onto her bed, and screamed into her pillow. Her whole body vibrated with anger and rage. Leaving the hats wasn't as satisfying as she had thought.
"Hermione?"
Hermione turned over and looked towards the voice. It was Parvati. "Oh, sorry," she mumbled, getting up.
"No, it's fine," Parvati said. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just overwhelmed."
"We need to do something about that Umbridge lady," Parvati said. "I can't talk about it with Lavender; she doesn't get it at all. But I know you do. That woman's dangerous."
"I completely agree," Hermione said, somewhat shocked that Parvati was here talking to her.
"I mean, not only is she going to destroy our chances at our OWLs, but she's also a narc for the Ministry."
"No one seems to get that."
"Right? Well, me and Padma do, so if you need any help from the Ravenclaws, just let me know."
"Me?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, I just assumed you'd figure out a plan," Parvati said. "You always know what to do. That's why you're going to make a good Prefect," she said quietly.
Hermione smiled. It wasn't an apology, but it was as good as any.
"I'll let you know," Hermione said. Parvati nodded and smiled. Whatever animosity between them had been destroyed by the pink monster within their school. Hermione could only hope that was the last of the destruction, but her rational side knew otherwise.
The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hermione was pleased to see the hats had been taken from the common room overnight. She hoped the two newly freed elves were celebrating somewhere. She shuffled into the Great Hall for breakfast and noticed immediately that Hagrid was still absent from the staff table.
"But on the plus side, no Snape today," said Ron bracingly.
Hermione poured herself some coffee and tucked in. Ron looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "What're you so happy about?" he asked.
"The hats have gone. Seems the house elves do want freedom after all."
"I wouldn't bet on it," Ron told her cuttingly. "They might not count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders."
Hermione did not speak to him all morning. The nerve of that git. She would love to see him try to knit.
Their first class of the day was Double Charms with Professor Flitwick. Hermione absolutely loved the simplicity of this class and the pure magical nature of it all. It was simply a class to learn magical spells. If you said "magical witch" to a Muggle, the things they learned in Charms would be the first to come to mind. Professor Flitwick was an amazingly patient teacher with a special knack for explaining even the slightest flicks of the wrist. She was so excited for the line-up of spells they'd be covering, even though they were starting with the Summoning Charm, which was one that she and Harry had focused on (and mastered) last year for the Triwizard Tournament.
Like most other professors (except Umbridge), Professor Flitwick echoed the importance of their OWLs. "What you must remember," said little Professor Flitwick squeakily, perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"
Immediately after Charms was double Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, Hermione's favourite professor. She, too, began class with a discussion on their OWLs.
"You cannot pass an OWL," said Professor McGonagall grimly, "without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." Neville made a sad, little disbelieving noise. "Yes, you too, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So ... today, we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until N.E.W.T. level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."
Hermione's heart sped up. Vanishing Spells were on her top ten list of spells she was excited to learn. Imagine the practical uses the Vanishing Spell could provide.
"The Vanishing Spell," Professor McGonagall continued, "is used to vanish both animate and inanimate objects 'into non-being, which is to say, everything.' It becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be vanished; for instance, a snail, as an invertebrate, is rather simple, whereas the mouse, as a mammal, presents a great challenge." She pulled her wand out of her emerald green robes. "The hand movement is such-"
Hermione watched Professor McGonagall flick her wand slightly downward, then a rapid right-left-right-left swishing motion, finishing wider at the bottom than at the top, almost like a Christmas tree. She demonstrated the movements a few more times and then instructed the class to take their wands out and try for themselves.
After walking around and correcting some students' movements, Professor McGonagall continued. "The incantation is 'Evanesco,' with the accent on the 'es,' like this: ev-an-ES-ko. Now, repeat after me: Evanesco."
The class and Professor McGonagall went back and forth until she was satisfied with their pronunciation. "Now, let's put it together. Each syllable must be uttered on each of the swishes. Watch: ev (right) - an (left) - ES (right) - ko (left). Now you try."
Hermione and the rest of the students practised the movements and the incantation for ten minutes. Professor McGonagall was a massive proponent of muscle memory, which Hermione appreciated. Repetition always helped her remember things.
"Now it is time to put it all together," Professor McGonagall announced, and snails appeared on everyone's desks with a flick of her wand. "Your goal is to vanish this snail by the end of class. The key to this spell is visualising the object disappearing. What does the space behind it look like? What would it look like if it were 50% opaque? 75% opaque? Once you can visualise that, start the incantation and wand movements. If you believe you need more assistance, raise your hand, and I will come over. It's much better to ask for help than to try and fail without realising why."
Neville immediately raised his hand, but Professor McGonagall was already heading over to him.
As much as Hermione wanted to try to vanish the snail immediately, she decided to practice a few more times. She opened her copy of Intermediate Transfiguration and studied the wand movement, ensuring her movements were the correct length of swishes for each side-to-side motion.
The first transition from right to left was the most difficult to master because of the short distance of that first swish, but Hermione rigged her books in a stack to help measure. The books stopped the swish at exactly ten centimetres so Hermione could feel the distance more precisely. It took almost twenty tries, but soon Hermione's wand was just barely touching the stack of books instead of hitting into them (even with her eyes shut). She took down the stack and was satisfied with her swishes and that first transition from right to left.
Hermione continued to work on the rest of the swishes until she felt as though they were as precise as she could make them. She briefly flirted with the idea of calling Professor McGonagall over to double-check her work, but the professor was still preoccupied with Neville across the room.
Instead, Hermione focused on imagining the snail disappearing from her desk. She picked up the invertebrate and studied the wood grain underneath it. She was sure she was overdoing it, but she figured it was more important to get the confidence from doing it right the first time with extra prep. Hermione closed her eyes and imagined the snail slowly becoming transparent and finally disappearing into nothingness.
She repeated that exercise seven more times and then took a deep breath. She was ready to try and put it all together. The rest of the class came back into focus, and Hermione realised they had all been trying to do the spell the whole time she had been practising. Her heart sped up—had someone successfully cast the spell before her? She looked around quickly but saw almost immediately that she needn't worry. No one was even close to vanishing their snail.
Hermione returned to focus mode and concentrated on the snail on her desk. She lifted her wand and began.
"Evanesco!"
Nothing happened. The snail seemed to look up at her with disappointment and judgment. Hermione grabbed her textbook to review everything again. She practised the movement a few more times and worked on her pronunciation of the incantation and the timing of the syllables in her swishes. When confident she had it correct, she took a deep breath and tried again.
"Evanesco!"
The snail seemed to disappear briefly but blinked back, as solid as it had started. Hermione's anxiety was rising. She knew if she started having a panic attack, there would be no way she would be able to complete the spell. As horrible as it sounded, she forced herself to look around the room and compare her progress to that of her fellow classmates. Ron's wandwork was sloppy, as usual. Harry was swishing much too quickly and sharply. She had absolutely no idea what Seamus was saying with his accent, but it certainly wasn't 'Evanesco.' Even though she had failed twice, Hermione was much further along than her classmates.
Refilled with confidence, Hermione cycled through practising one more time before attempting the spell again.
"Evanesco!"
And there, before her eyes, she watched as the snail blinked into nothingness.
"I did it!" Hermione couldn't help but squeal.
"Bravo, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said from across the room. "Has anyone else successfully cast the spell?"
There was a chorus of "No's" from the rest of the class.
"Well, then consider it your homework," Professor McGonagall said. "Please practice the spell overnight, and be ready for a fresh attempt next class. Miss Granger, you are obviously exempt. Class dismissed."
After class, the boys both panicked about the amount of homework they had already been assigned and wanted to go to the library for their lunch hour. Hermione decided not to join them; she was still angry at Ron about his slur about her woolly hats and also didn't want to be asked to let them copy her work. She had a great lunch with Neville, catching up on his summer holidays and learning more about his grandmother. He did not want to talk about whatever had happened with Malfoy, and Hermione didn't press, but she resolved to keep an eye on the situation, especially knowing they shared the next class with the Slytherins.
They finished their lunch and headed out of the castle onto the grounds to Care of Magical Creatures. The day had become cool and breezy, and as they walked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs.
"Everyone here?" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. "Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?"
She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione's hand shot into the air. She couldn't help but feel excited to see Bowtruckles, even though she knew she was expected to be upset that Professor Grubbly-Plank was teaching instead of Hagrid. Bowtruckles were incredibly fascinating but probably would not have been on Hagrid's list of lesson plans. Behind her, Pansy Parkinson laughed for whatever reason and then started to scream as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand, and a funny flat, bark-like face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.
"Oooooh!" said Parvati and Lavender.
"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. "So – anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"
"Bowtruckles," said Hermione. "They're tree guardians, usually live in wand-trees."
"Five points for Gryffindor," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"
"Woodlice," said Hermione promptly. "But fairy eggs if they can get them."
"Good girl, take another five points. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered, they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So, if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle. I have enough here for one between three, so you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labelled by the end of the lesson."
The class surged forward around the trestle table. Hermione grabbed one of the larger Bowtruckles and took it over to an unoccupied patch of grass. Ron was right behind her. Harry appeared to be talking with Professor Grubbly-Plank, but she wasn't about to wait for him to start.
Unfortunately, the Bowtruckle wouldn't stay still long enough for her to draw even a single antenna. "Maybe if we pin it down with our textbooks?" Ron suggested without thinking it through. Just then, Harry slid to the ground next to them.
"I was asking Grubbly-Plank about Hagrid, and Malfoy heard me," Harry whispered worriedly. "And he said, 'Maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too big for him if you get my drift.' Do you think Hagrid is all right? I mean, Malfoy obviously knows something or else he wouldn't have said it that way."
"Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid," said Hermione at once. "It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried; it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry. Here, hold the Bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face."
"Yes," came Malfoy's unmistakable drawl from the group nearest them, "Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on sub-standard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straightaway."
"OUCH!"
Harry had gripped the Bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped, and it had just taken a great retaliatory swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two long, deep cuts there. Harry dropped it. Crabbe and Goyle, who had already been guffawing at the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed harder as the Bowtruckle set off at full tilt towards the Forest, a little moving stick-man soon swallowed up among the tree roots. Hermione passed Harry her handkerchief to staunch the bleeding and then took a look at her sketch. It was only three-quarters of the way finished. Perhaps she could grab another Bowtruckle from the table…
When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds, they rolled up their parchments and started across the grounds to Herbology.
"If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time," snarled Harry.
"Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy. Don't forget, he's a prefect now; he could make life difficult for you," Hermione said.
"Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?" said Harry sarcastically. Ron laughed, but Hermione frowned. It wasn't the time nor the place to play the martyr. Together, they trekked across the vegetable patch. The sky still appeared, unable to make up its mind whether it wanted to rain or not.
"I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that's all," said Harry in a low voice as they reached the greenhouses. "And don't say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher!" he added threateningly.
"I wasn't going to," said Hermione calmly.
"Because she'll never be as good as Hagrid," said Harry. Hermione pretended to nod along with him, but she saw a little doubt even in his eyes.
The door of the nearest greenhouse opened, and some fourth-years spilt out of it, including Ginny.
"Hi," she said brightly as she passed. A few seconds later, Luna Lovegood emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. She made an immediate beeline to Harry, nearly knocking Hermione down in the process. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello, "I believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him."
"Er – right," said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed as they giggled and pointed at her earlobes.
"You can laugh," Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing, "but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"
"Well, they were right, weren't they?" said Hermione impatiently. "There weren't any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack." She didn't want Parvati to think she had forgotten their truce.
Luna gave her a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly. Parvati and Lavender were not the only ones hooting with laughter now.
"D'you mind not offending the only people who believe me?" Harry asked Hermione as they made their way into class.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, you can do better than her," said Hermione. "Ginny's told me all about her; apparently, she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler."
Before Harry could respond, Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to him.
"I want you to know, Potter," he said in a loud, carrying voice, "that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred per cent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I."
"Er – thanks very much, Ernie," said Harry, taken aback but pleased. Ernie's words wiped the smile from Lavender's face, which was quite enlightening.
To nobody's surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of OWLs and then concluded the class with an essay for homework.
When they returned to the common room, she and Ron went up to the dorms to change for dinner and drop off their bags. Harry went straight to dinner since his detention was going to begin soon. They walked back down together and met Harry at their usual spot in the Great Hall.
"You know what?" Harry said. "I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session because Angelina seems to be channelling his spirit." Hermione surmised Angelina had finally found out about Harry's detention and was angry that he wouldn't be at practice all week.
"What d'you reckon are the odds of Umbridge letting you off on Friday?" said Ron sceptically.
"Less than zero," said Harry glumly. "Better try, though, hadn't I? I'll offer to do two more detentions or something, I dunno." He swallowed a mouthful of potato and added, "I hope she doesn't keep me too long this evening. You realise we've got to write three essays, practise Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a counter-charm for Flitwick, finish the Bowtruckle drawing, and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?"
Ron moaned and, for some reason, glanced up at the ceiling.
"And it looks like it's going to rain."
"What's that got to do with our homework?" said Hermione, her eyebrows raised.
"Nothing," said Ron at once, his ears reddening—a tell-tale sign he was lying.
A few minutes later, Harry bid them all farewell and made his way to Umbridge's office for his first detention. Hermione finished her supper and turned to Ron. "Shall we go to the library then? I'll help you with your homework if you'd like."
"Erm - I, uh, I can't," Ron said, looking at the ceiling again. "Have some things I have to do. Thanks, though."
And without another word, Ron jogged out of the Great Hall.
Hermione watched him go, puzzled. Was Ron secretly helping the twins with their silly jokes? She couldn't imagine what it would look like for a Prefect to partake in such shenanigans.
Regardless of whatever Ron was up to, Hermione was slightly glad he had left her alone for dinner. She wanted to get a head start on her homework so she would have extra time to make a few more hats for the house elves. Hermione pulled out her quill and got to work between bites of a hearty stew.
The Great Hall buzzed around her, but Hermione remained focused, methodically working through her assignments. She tackled Snape's essay first, summarising the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making with precise, detailed notes. Next, she turned to the Bowtruckle drawing, finishing the sketch she had started in class and labeling each part carefully.
Hermione then moved on to practising the Vanishing Spell, using a small, inconspicuous pebble she had found on the grounds. She muttered "Evanesco" under her breath, flicking her wand with practised precision. The pebble shimmered and disappeared, leaving her feeling a slight sense of accomplishment.
With the bulk of her homework completed, Hermione packed her things and left the Great Hall, heading towards the library. The corridors were dimly lit and eerily quiet, but she found comfort in the solitude. Upon reaching the library, she settled into her usual corner, spreading out her notes and quills.
As she worked, her mind occasionally drifted to Ron and his mysterious errands. She hoped he wasn't getting himself into trouble. Despite their disagreements, she cared deeply for him and valued their friendship.
After a couple of hours, Hermione's eyes grew heavy. She closed her books and gathered her things, calling it a night. As she returned to the Gryffindor common room, she felt a mix of satisfaction from her productive evening and a nagging curiosity about Ron's activities.
Entering the common room, she was greeted by the fire's warmth and her housemates' familiar faces. She spotted Ron sitting with Fred and George, all three huddled together, whispering and laughing. Hermione sighed, shaking her head slightly, and went to her dormitory.
Before bed, she spent a few minutes knitting, her fingers deftly working the needles. The repetitive motion was soothing, and she found herself unwinding from the day's events. As she finished another hat, she smiled, imagining a house elf finding it and experiencing a moment of joy.
Hermione placed the hat on top of the others she had made, then climbed into bed and pulled the curtains around her.
The following day of classes was just as fulfilling as the last two, but the morning's highlight was Arithmancy with Sophie. Like Ancient Runes, Arithmancy's attendance was significantly lower than the previous year. The lack of students was mind-blowing to Hermione; Arithmancy was her absolute favourite class. She had no idea how others didn't share her same passion for the subject. Sophie, likewise, was utterly fascinated with the class and shook her head when Hermione brought up the attendance issue before class.
"They're all bloody idiots, they are," Sophie said. "Best class at Hogwarts, and they're missing out."
"Agreed," Hermione said, pulling out her parchment and quill.
"Good summer?" Sophie asked.
Hermione immediately felt guilty. She couldn't, in good conscience, even hint to a Slytherin that she spent the entire summer in the headquarters of a secret group to take on He Who Must Not Be Named. Granted, she wouldn't even tell a Gryffindor unless she knew they were "on their side," but she had to be very careful. She knew Sophie was more of a friend of their cause than even some Gryffindors, but the threat was real.
"Yeah, it was alright," she said vaguely. "Had a row with my parents and spent a lot of the summer with the Weasleys," she added, feeling that level of truthfulness was safe.
"Oh? What's up with your parents then?"
Hermione smiled. She knew what would get a rise out of Sophie. "They wanted to make sure I was well educated in Sex Education, and I—I just couldn't."
Sophie grinned. "Didja tell them you were already an expert from your escapades last year with Krum?"
"We just snogged!"
"A lot," Sophie pointed out.
"Well, yes," Hermione blushed. "Quite a lot."
"Oi, I can't imagine me mum and dad talkin' to me about all that stuff," Sophie said. "Plus, there'd probably be some very awkward questions and conversations on top of the usual stuff."
Hermione shook her head in agreement. "I almost would rather learn those things from Professor Snape than my parents, if you can believe it."
"Bloody hell, can you imagine?"
"Actually, yes, I can," Hermione laughed. "I've had nightmares."
"I'll probably have one tonight," Sophie said, trying to shake the mental image out of her head.
"How about your summer? Good?"
"Eh, it was," Sophie paused, searching for the right word, "stressful. A lot of my parents' friends are worried You Know Who's back and what that means for them."
"Yeah, same with the Weasleys," Hermione said.
"Why can't everyone just agree that You Know Who is a stupid git and work together to get rid of him for all of our sakes?"
"Good luck with that," Hermione said sarcastically. "And now, on top of You Know Who returning, we have to put up with Umbridge."
"Oh! That woman is horrible," Sophie agreed. "A bloody toad, that one is. Have you been to her office yet?"
"No, thank goodness."
"You need to go just to see it. Cats. Cats everywhere. It's wild."
"Cats? What do you—"
"Good morning, class," Professor Vector entered the classroom and shut the door behind her. "I'm sure this will not come as a surprise to you after three days of classes, but your OWLs in Arithmancy will be a) difficult and b) enormously consequential to your future plans. Therefore, this year's curriculum will focus on providing the skills you need to pass. The OWL is designed to assess students' understanding of the magical properties of numbers and their ability to apply Arithmancy principles to various magical scenarios. The test consists of theoretical and practical components to evaluate students' knowledge and skills in this complex magical field.
"That said, I will give you a mock OWL exam today. You will be able to work on it in class today, tomorrow, and Friday, and then will be expected to finish everything except the practical spellwork before class next week. We will then review it together, as well as attempt the spellwork. Then, throughout the year, we will systematically go through each section in order to master it. I take pride in the fact that all of my students have received an Acceptable or above grade, with more than half of my students receiving an Outstanding score. Those who choose to take Arithmancy tend to be some of the smartest in the school, and, therefore, I will push you extremely hard, but I can guarantee your hard work will be rewarded. Just look at the numbers, and you will see."
Professor Vector concluded her speech and passed out the OWL exam. Hermione dove in and started reading.
1. Theoretical Knowledge:
a. Define the fundamental principles of Arithmancy, including the significance of magical numbers.
b. Explain how Arithmancy is used to predict the future and its applications in magical practices.
c. Discuss the historical development of Arithmancy and its notable figures.
2. Practical Application:
a. Solve complex magical equations using Arithmancy techniques, demonstrating a solid understanding of numerical patterns and their magical implications.
b. Analyze a set of magical data, such as birthdates and names, and provide interpretations based on Arithmancy principles.
c. Given a scenario involving magical phenomena, use Arithmancy to predict potential outcomes and propose solutions.
3. Numerical Magic:
a. Perform magical calculations related to spellcasting, potion-making, or other magical processes, showcasing the practical application of Arithmancy in daily wizarding life.
b. Define and give practical examples of the following:
Raw magical energy input (MEI)
Desired output for practical spellcasting (DOPS)
Functional spell units (FSU).
Magical conversion efficiency coefficient (MCEC).
c. Break down the numerical patterns inscribed on the scrolls pictured below. Identify and explain any recurring numbers, sequences, or patterns you observe.
4. Critical Thinking:
a. Evaluate a magical problem and propose an Arithmancy-based solution, demonstrating critical thinking skills and the ability to apply theoretical knowledge to real-world situations.
b. Imagine you have encountered an ancient magical artefact with inscriptions that seem to involve complex numerical patterns. The artefact is believed to have significant historical and magical importance. Your task is to analyse the artefact using your knowledge of Arithmancy and provide a comprehensive assessment.
5. Essay Question:
a. Write an essay on a chosen topic within Arithmancy, exploring its current applications, potential future developments, and its role in the magical community.
b. How could wizards and witches harness the power of Arithmancy in their everyday lives, and what precautions might be necessary?
c. Discuss any ethical considerations related to the use of Arithmancy. Are there potential risks or consequences associated with unlocking its magical properties? How might Arithmancy be employed to mitigate these risks?
6. Practical Spellwork:
a. Perform a spell that incorporates Arithmancy principles, demonstrating the integration of numerical magic into practical magical skills.
b. Develop a spell for magical communication that incorporates Arithmancy to enhance the security and encryption of messages. The numerical patterns should play a crucial role in ensuring the confidentiality of the communication.
c. Calibrate a Portkey using Arithmancy to ensure precise destination coordinates. The spell should involve complex numerical calculations to account for the magical fluctuations and provide safe and accurate transportation.
She appreciated Professor Vector's preparation method for their OWLs, especially seeing an example of one for herself. She would have to ask some of the older students whether all OWL exams were similar in style or if they were different based on the class.
The bell signalling the end of class came much too quickly, and Hermione, Sophie, and the rest of the class had to rush to put away their things.
"Arithmancy Club back on this year?" Sophie asked. "This shite is barmy."
"Sure, that would be brilliant," Hermione smiled, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect.
"You should ask your friend Ginny to come," Sophie said with a wink. "I saw she was in the fourth-year class this year."
"Oh?" Hermione felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't known or noticed. "Of course! I'll ask her tonight!"
"Brilliant! Later, Granger!"
"Bye, Sophie!"
With her bag slung over her shoulder, Hermione hurried through the corridors, her thoughts darting between the upcoming club meeting and how best to approach Ginny. She couldn't wait to share the news.
The rest of the day's classes were just as fulfilling as Arithmancy. In Transfiguration, Hermione continued honing her vanishing charm on various invertebrates while the rest of the class struggled with their snails. Each successful attempt boosted her confidence, reinforcing her belief in the importance of diligent practice.
Care of Magical Creatures was another stellar class. Professor Grubbly-Plank took them to the small Bowtruckle Island in the middle of the lake, where the creatures lived among the Wiggentrees. She passed out woodlice and fairy leaves to entice the Bowtruckles to interact with them. To everyone's amusement, Neville seemed to have a natural affinity with the creatures, ending the lesson with at least a dozen Bowtruckles clinging to him.
Astronomy, though Hermione's least favourite subject (probably because it was very similar to a class she'd find in the Muggle world), proved to be unexpectedly captivating. They witnessed an exploding star through their telescopes, a rare sight that momentarily awestruck Hermione. However, this meant there wasn't enough time to complete their star charts in class, resulting in yet another assignment added to her growing pile of homework.
The sheer volume of work was overwhelming. Balancing ten classes in their OWL year was proving to be a Herculean task. The constant barrage of homework severely limited her time to knit more hats for SPEW. Hermione had taken to practising using magic to help her knit while walking, hoping to finish some hats during her Prefect duties. She also knitted during the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep due to recurring nightmares. It was exhausting, but she was determined to manage her time better to avoid burning out like she had in her third year.
Despite the scepticism from her friends, SPEW was more than just a club to Hermione. The mistreatment of house-elves symbolised a broader issue—the abuse of power and the suppression of those deemed inferior. In SPEW, Hermione saw an avenue to fight against the injustice she felt both as a Muggle-born witch and as someone witnessing the oppression of magical creatures. She feared the oppression would only grow with the Ministry's increasing interference at Hogwarts.
She just wished the others would understand.
During dinner, Angelina came over to tell Harry off for missing Quidditch tryouts.
"I'm in detention!" Harry yelled after her as she stalked away. "D'you think I'd rather be stuck in a room with that old toad or playing Quidditch?"
"At least it's only lines," said Hermione consolingly. "It's not as if it's a dreadful punishment, really."
"I can't believe how much homework we've got," said Ron miserably.
"Well, why didn't you do any last night?" Hermione asked him. "Where were you, anyway?"
"I was... I fancied a walk," said Ron shiftily.
Ron must have fancied another walk that evening while Harry went to detention. Their absence gave Hermione an opportunity to discuss Sophie's invitation to Arithmancy Club with Ginny.
"Oh," Ginny said with a hint of disappointment. "I'm dating Michael Corner."
"Congratulations, but what does that have to do with Arithmancy?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing, I guess," Ginny said. "Yeah, I'll join you! Sounds great!"
"Classes going well for you then?"
"Yeah, not too bad. Snogging Michael in between them makes them even better. It's like a reward."
Hermione giggled. She remembered her rewards with Viktor. They were definitely great motivators.
Hermione decided to take her homework to the library because, truth be told, her fellow fifth-year Gryffindors were stressing her out. They were all over the common room, shouting questions and answers to each other. Hermione needed a nice, quiet area to finish her work, and the library was perfect.
She found the alcove she used to share with Viktor and set out her books on the solid wooden table. Before she got to work, however, she thought it was the perfect place to work on her reply to Viktor's most recent letter that she received at Headquarters. She caught him up on becoming Prefect and the mock OWL exam in Arithmancy. When she finished, she folded it and put it in her bag to send later.
Three hours later, she felt as though she was at a good stopping point. She had a free period in the morning after Potions, and she'd be able to finish up her essay for History of Magic then (she already had three feet, which far exceeded the assigned length, but she still had to conclude and edit it).
She went to her room and found Alice, Kay, and Lavender fast asleep. Parvati's curtains were drawn, but Hermione could see light escaping through the cracks. She was probably working as well.
Hermione went down the hall to shower (she was waiting until the weekend to try out the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor) and settled into bed with Crookshanks. She used her wand to light the lamp hanging in the centre of the bed and pulled out her yarn and knitting needles. Her goal was to complete two hats a night for a week and then move up to three and so on. Starting the hats was the hardest part, so Hermione worked on that first. She started both hats (with different sets of needles) so that when she inevitably woke up in the middle of the night, she wouldn't have to have the wherewithal to focus on that. She was usually in the midst of a panic attack when she was forced awake, so casting on proved to be an even more arduous task.
Once satisfied with each hat's start, she picked one up and knitted until her eyes got too heavy to continue. She was exhausted, and that, combined with the mindless task of knitting and Crookshank's purrs, made it easy for her to drift off into sleep.
Right on schedule, Hermione awoke with a strangled gasp at three in the morning. She was holding her knitting needle like a wand, clearly trying to defend herself from a very grumpy and confused Crookshanks. It took her a few moments to control her breathing enough to sit up in bed and gather her wits about her. Her hands were shaking too much even to attempt to knit yet.
This nightmare strayed from the norm. You Know Who was still involved, but he had teamed up with Professor Umbridge to force all of the House Elves to kill their masters against their will. Dobby was made to murder Harry and then was so distraught that he took his own life as well. It was ghastly and one of the most upsetting nightmares yet. There was much more to the dream, but Hermione was trying to focus on anything but the unconscious terror she just experienced.
When her hands stopped shaking enough to knit, she got to work. Hermione tried to block out the horrible images still in her head and, instead, focused on each individual stitch. Insert. Loop. Pull. Insert. Loop. Pull. Insert. Loop. Pull. The light tapping of the needles clicking together was like a steady click, ticking down the seconds until the calm came.
Hermione finished the first hat relatively quickly and started on the second. Even in the last three nights, she could see a difference in her stitches. She just needed to work on her muscle memory and get a feel for the tension of each stitch. Consistency was key.
She was about three-quarters of the way done with the second hat when she felt her eyes get heavy enough to try to go back to sleep. She pushed through, and, on her last stitch, Hermione put the hat aside and snuggled back down under the covers. Soon, she was fast asleep; thankfully, it was dreamless.
Having Potions first thing in the morning was utterly miserable. Professor Snape was clearly not a morning person and was even more detestable than usual. Both Harry and Ron were barely staying awake. Hermione kept nudging them to keep them alert so they wouldn't get screamed at. She knew Harry had been at his detention with Umbridge but wasn't sure why Ron was so tired.
Surprisingly, they survived Potions without too much of an issue, and Hermione had her free period to finish her History of Magic essay. She easily completed it before heading to Professor Binns' classroom for her double period. As always, it was utterly fascinating, yet the boys decided to take a nap during most of it.
During lunch, Hermione took her food to the library to look up a few questions she had about the Arithmancy mock test. She wasn't surprised to see Sophie there as well.
"Took you long enough, Granger," Sophie said.
"Do you know how hard it is to grab food in Gryffindor?" Hermione said. "Ron Weasley would happily tackle anyone on his way to food."
"Speaking of Weasleys, when's Arithmancy Club?"
"Let's set up something for next week. Ginny's in, by the way."
"Brilliant," Sophie said.
The two friends continued in silence, working through different books and passing some between each other. A few minutes before the bell, they headed to the Arithmancy classroom. Professor Vector allowed them to use their notes, which made Hermione happy she had gone to the library before class.
The double period went by in a flash, and Hermione had to rush out to make it to Charms on time. She promised Sophie she'd see her later and ran down the hall. After Charms, the evening went much the same; Harry was in detention, Ron was nowhere to be found, and Hermione was in the library working on homework. Before she went to bed, she placed the two hats in the common room and went up to bed, starting two more hats for her inevitable nightmare.
Friday's classes were an odd mix of Herbology, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, with a break in the late morning. Hermione and Neville spent the whole afternoon together in Ancient Runes again, which was a delight. They walked to dinner together and were met with a very green Ron.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, concerned.
"Nothin'," Ron muttered.
"Are you sick?"
"No," he whispered.
"He's probably nervous 'cause of Quidditch tryouts," Neville said.
"You're trying out?" Hermione asked, surprised (though looking back in hindsight, that was probably what Ron was doing when he disappeared after dinner each night). "Brilliant! Cheers! I'm sure you'll do well."
"I dunno if I should go through with it," Ron said.
"What?!" Hermione exclaimed. "Of course you should!"
"Nah."
"Ronald Weasley," she said sternly. "You absolutely will try out. Come on, then. I'll walk you down to the pitch."
"No, you don't have to-"
"I do have to, and so do you," Hermione said, grabbing his hand. She yanked him from the table and nearly dragged him through the castle and out on the grounds towards the Quidditch Pitch. There, they found a large group of Gryffindors standing awkwardly in a group, waiting their turn to try out. Jillian waved to Hermione and ran over to hug her.
"Alright, Hermione?" she asked. "Are you trying out?"
"No, but Ron is!" Hermione said, pushing Ron closer to the group.
"Angelina said they'd be starting in a few minutes," Jillian explained. "I doubt I'll make it with all of these older students, but I figured it didn't hurt to try!"
"Aren't you afraid your cochlear implants will fall off while you're flying?" Hermione asked. Jillian was profoundly deaf but had access to sound through cochlear implants. Last year, Hermione helped her make sure her devices' electronic components worked at Hogwarts.
"Nah, I have these really cool headbands I can wear, see?" she pointed to a red and gold headband with unique holes for her implants. "They keep them pretty secure. I just forgot to mention what, exactly, Quidditch was when I told my mom to get them for me." Jillian came from a Muggle family who, apparently, had no idea that the school "sport" included flying hundreds of feet in the air.
"Just be careful," Hermione warned.
"Oh, I will! See ya later!" Jillian said.
"I've introduced you to Jillian, right?" she said to Ron, watching Jillian return to her friends. "She was the student I had to help in order to-"
Hermione glanced at where Ron was standing, but the Weasley was not there. She glanced back the way they had come and saw Ron walking back up the hill to the castle with his broom. "Ronald Weasley!" she screamed in her best Mrs Weasley voice, causing him to freeze in his tracks. "Get down here right now."
Ron slowly turned around and walked back down to Hermione.
"What is your problem?" Hermione asked. "Don't you want to be on the team?"
"Of course I do," he said. "But what if I don't make it? No one'll let me live it down. Or, worse yet, what if Ginny gets picked over me."
Hermione looked in the same direction Ron was looking and saw her other best friend among the contenders.
"Well, if that happens, then we congratulate her and go to each game and cheer them all on."
"Easy for you to say," Ron kicked the dirt.
"Everything will be fine, regardless of the outcome, Ron. But you have to try out, or else you're going to hate yourself and always wonder, 'What if?'"
"Fair point," Ron said with a sigh. "Ok, I'll do it."
"I'll be right here cheering you on! You can do this, Ron. You know everything there is to know about Quidditch. You are the most qualified Quidditch strategist out there. Show 'em how to do it!"
Hermione settled into the stands and took a seat with Neville. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the Quidditch pitch. The air was charged with anticipation as students and fellow Gryffindors gathered to witness the selection of the new team members.
In the distance, she spotted Ron nervously fidgeting with his broom, looking determined and anxious. Hermione couldn't help but smile, knowing how much Quidditch meant to him. She whispered to herself, "You've got this, Ron."
The Gryffindor captain, Angelina Johnson, stood at the centre of the pitch, clipboard in hand, ready to evaluate the hopefuls. "Alright, everyone! Let's get started. Show us what you've got!"
Ron soared into the air as the tryouts began, displaying surprising agility and confidence on his broom. Hermione's eyes widened as he executed manoeuvres and chased after the Quaffle with determination. It was as if a different Ron had taken the pitch — one focused, driven, and surprisingly skilled.
"Look at him go," Hermione murmured to Neville, pride swelling in her chest. She watched as Ron intercepted a pass, dodged a Bludger, and scored an impressive goal. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Hermione clapped with the others.
Angelina, too, seemed impressed. "Excellent play, Weasley! That was a brilliant move. Keep it up!"
Hermione couldn't help but beam with pride at Ron's newfound Quidditch prowess. Ron was certainly proving that he had more to offer than just being Harry's loyal sidekick or the boy who his talented siblings often overshadowed.
As the tryouts continued, Ron showcased various skills, from precision in passing to nimble dodges. However, two other potential hopefuls, Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper, were flying quite well too. Hermione hoped that Angelina would take more than pure skill into account to make her decision; Vicky was in almost as many classes as Hermione was and all kinds of clubs to boot. She would probably miss a handful of games if she were selected. Geoffrey was a notorious whiner, and no one really liked to be around him.
Ron soared close to the stands, almost so close that Hermione could touch him. She marvelled at how he seamlessly integrated into the team, working well with the other players. She could see the camaraderie forming, and it was evident that Ron's performance was not only impressing the captain but also earning him the respect of his peers, even his brothers.
When the tryouts concluded, Angelina addressed the assembled players. "We've got a solid team here. Congratulations to everyone who made it, especially our newest addition, Ron Weasley! Welcome to the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"
The cheers echoed through the stadium, and Hermione joined in, clapping enthusiastically for Ron's well-deserved success. As the team made their way off the pitch, Ron looked up into the stands, catching Hermione's eye. His grin widened, and he gave her a triumphant wave.
Back at the Gryffindor common room, Fred and George made sure everyone knew their baby brother had made the team! A seemingly endless supply of Butterbeer flowed in every corner of the room, and "Lions! Lions!" chants would erupt every few minutes.
And yet, somehow, Hermione started to doze off through it all, her late-night knitting sessions taking their toll on her. She only woke up when Harry, back from detention, sat down next to her.
"Oh, Harry, it's you... good about Ron, isn't it?" she said blearily. "I'm just so-so – so tired," she yawned. "I was up late making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!"
"Great," said Harry distractedly. "Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge's office, and she touched my arm, and my scar hurt like it does with Voldemort. It was bad. Really bad. Probably as bad as it was when I was in the graveyard."
When Harry had finished, she said slowly, "You're worried You Know Who's controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?"
"Well," said Harry, dropping his voice, "it's a possibility, isn't it?"
"I suppose so," said Hermione, trying to think it through rationally. "But I don't think he can be possessing her the way he possessed Quirrell. I mean, he's properly alive again now, isn't he? He's got his own body; he wouldn't need to share someone else's. He could have her under the Imperius Curse, I suppose… but that would be risky in a school full of incredible witches and wizards. Someone, especially Dumbledore, would figure it out pretty quickly…" She paused to remember. "But last year, your scar hurt when nobody was touching you, and didn't Dumbledore say it had to do with what You Know Who was feeling at the time? I mean, maybe this hasn't got anything to do with Umbridge at all; maybe it's just coincidence it happened while you were with her?"
"She's evil," said Harry flatly. "Twisted."
Hermione agreed. Understatement of the year, she thought. "She's horrible, yes, but... Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt."
"I'm not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it's not a big deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer – it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all-"
"Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this-"
"Yeah," spat Harry angrily. "That's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it, my scar?"
"Don't say that, it's not true!"
"I think I'll write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks-"
"Harry, you can't put something like that in a letter!" said Hermione, alarmed. "Don't you remember? Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing! We just can't guarantee owls aren't being intercepted anymore!"
"All right, all right, I won't tell him, then!" said Harry irritably. He got to his feet. "I'm going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?"
"Oh no," said Hermione, looking relieved, "if you're going, that means I can go too, without being rude. I'm absolutely exhausted, and I want to make some more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like, it's quite fun. I'm getting better; I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now."
"Er ... no, I don't think I will, thanks," he said. "Er – not tomorrow. I've got loads of homework to do…"
And he shuffled off to the boys' stairs, leaving her looking slightly disappointed.