Brain tumors encompass a wide range of tumor types that either develop in the brain or have spread there from another location. Brain tumors come in a wide variety of forms. While some are benign (noncancerous), others are cancerous (malignant). Cancer can start in other regions of the body and move to your brain as secondary (metastatic) brain tumors, or it can start in the brain (primary brain tumors).

It may be beneficial to have a general understanding of the anatomy of the brain because the symptoms frequently experienced by patients are a result of the tumor's location. A patient can prepare themselves for what kind(s) of symptoms they might experience by understanding where the tumor is located. A schematic of the human brain with a list of its main regions and functions can be found below.

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Brain tumors are curable if they occur naturally, but there is currently no cure for magically induced forms of them. In the UK, hospitals have reported four hundred cases of magically caused tumors to date. While no concrete evidence of the root cause has been discovered, medical experts suspect prolonged exposure to the Dark Arts.

Of the four hundred reported cases, two hundred were subjected to magical torture. Fifty were found to have inherited a blood curse, and the other half were cursed in such a fashion directly.

In general, the most common symptoms of a brain tumor may include:

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Headaches (see pg. 300)

Seizures or convulsions (see pg. 310)

Difficulty thinking, speaking or finding words (see pg. 320)

Personality or behavior changes (see pg. 330)

Weakness, numbness or paralysis in one part or one side of the body (see pg. 345)

Loss of balance, dizziness or unsteadiness (see pg. 352)

Loss of hearing (see pg. 362)

Vision changes (see pg. 374)

Confusion and disorientation (see pg. 385)

Memory loss (see pg. 394)

Trembling, muscle jerking (see pg. 404)

Accidental or uncontrolled bursts of magic (after age eleven) (see pg. 414)

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There are times when brain tumors go undetected. In fact, the most common variety frequently grows so slowly that it goes unnoticed in adults. Tumors may not exhibit symptoms until they are large enough to obstruct

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"Granger! Since my class seems to be boring you so much, why don't you tell us three known characteristics of vampires?"

Hermione felt it when every eye in the class turned on her. Her hand clenched the cover of the book tightly; her finger stilled on the page. Malfoy had chosen the worst possible moment to call on her. Her gaze dragged upward. She ignored the curious stares of all twenty students seated in front of her in favor of focusing on one thing: completing step one of her plan. Unfortunately, that meant further irritating the ferret-turned-professor at the front of the classroom.

Hermione straightened in her seat, taking care not to touch the cobwebs on the wall behind her. With as much dust as she had to vanish before class began, she seriously doubted that this desk had been claimed by a student within the last decade.

Malfoy's robes were barely clinging to his shoulders as he lazily propped himself on the front of his desk. The course text lay open on his palm nearly level with his chin. Like everyone else, his sights were fixated on her. The difference? She felt as if he saw right through her.

"They can't be photographed or filmed. They are also known to be extremely pale and inhumanly beautiful."

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Hermione then had to physically bite her tongue to keep from saying anything more. She already studied the lesson, of course. The subject would have been nothing to elaborate on - she could even give a full lecture on it.

For example, even though knowledge of them didn't spread until the 18th century, the first recorded sighting dates back to 500 B.C. Their inability to appear in film or have a reflection lends credence to the widely held belief that they are soulless. Vampires follow a strict blood-based diet due to their digestive system's inability to process anything else. Their nocturnal behavior is caused by an allergy to sunlight.

The sun's effect on the two vampire subspecies is where things get interesting. The Elders, who are said to have a direct bloodline to the legendary Dracula, spontaneously combust when exposed to sunlight. Under the same conditions, their "cousins," most commonly known as the Neovol for its use of combining Neo and a shortened version of the word evolve, simply break out in painful blisters.

Garlic does not, contrary to popular belief, contain properties that magically ward off vampires. Because of its unpleasant odor and natural blood-thinning properties, they simply look for another meal because they feel their food has been contaminated.

Religious places and items such as churches, holy water, and crucifixes do absolutely nothing against a vampire attack. Moreover, they are impossible to kill unless beheaded and burned immediately due to their ability to reattach severed limbs.

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But saying all of this wasn't part of the plan. Creating a seamless transition for her passing would require her to minimize her presence. Maintaining her reputation as the Brightest Witch would only achieve the opposite.

Hermione didn't like it one bit when Malfoy went completely still. "Care to repeat something that can't be found in a toddler's bedtime story?"

Two rows in front of her and to the left, a brunette Slytherin girl was nearly out of her seat as she leaned forward with her hand raised. Her chin might as well have been molded into her other palm. No doubt trying to bring attention to her breasts, if the rest of the class was any indication.

Part of her questioned whether she truly needed her peripheral vision. The wizard up front did not warrant the ogling and eyelash-batting he was getting from several of her classmates. When a girl in the middle row sighed longingly, Hermione decided to owl the boys the most heartfelt apology of her life for her misguided crush on Lockhart in second year.

Honestly! What was wrong with them? It was just Malfoy.

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"I wasn't aware that it was common practice to expect small children to sleep after being told a horror story. Perhaps Walker could better answer the question? She seems rather… engaged in the lesson."

The book in Malfoy's hand snapped closed as he smoothly pushed himself off the desk. She was jarred out of her thoughts when the fingers of her right hand started shaking. Her hand darted under the desk when he said, "I didn't ask Walker. I asked you, Granger."

Malfoy didn't look away. Neither did she. A full minute passed before Hermione was forced to lie to him for the first time. "I don't know, professor."

Silver irises hardened into steel. "Pity. I expected more from you. Maybe losing Gryffindor ten points will encourage you to study Defense Against the Dark Arts in this room instead of doing another class's homework."

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The magic on her medical text made her skin tingle. When she closed the book, it showed a green cover that read, Magical Herbs, Their Uses, And Where to Find Them, Year 7. "It won't happen again."

"Walker!" Malfoy snapped. "Pick up Granger's slack and tell me three characteristics of a damn vampire."

Hermione wanted the tile beneath her feet to swallow her whole. For the rest of the class, Malfoy moodily paced in front of his desk. She followed his drastic mood change with unexplainable guilt that grew with each clipped demand for a different student to read from the coursework.

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When class ended, Hermione was the first one at the door.

"Stop right there, Granger."

She was frozen in place while everyone else walked around her. A few people snickered as they passed. She ignored various whispers of, "nice knowing you," "your funeral," and even a few variations of, "keep your hands to yourself; he's mine!"

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Those made Hermione want to roll her eyes.

Still, her movements were slow when she turned to face him.

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A statue was more open with their feelings than Malfoy was at the moment. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he once more leaned against the front of his desk. It felt as though there were a million kilometers between them. Hermione didn't quite know what to say or do. The last time she'd seen him this closed off, they had been at a funeral.

"Shut the door." Curiosity won out. She did as she was told. When the latch clicked, only then did she hear anything resembling emotion. Malfoy sighed. "Would you stop acting like McGonagall just told you to play quidditch?"

Hermione turned on the spot.

Malfoy's outer robes had already been discarded, tossed to the side carelessly. As he toyed with his wand, he sat atop his desk, his tie undone around his collar.

"What is this, Malfoy? What do you want?"

He pointed his wand at the desk directly in front of him. "Sit down."

"Not until you tell me what you want."

"We need to talk."

Hermione huffed the entire way to the front of the room. Her bag unceremoniously dropped to the floor as she perched on top of the student desk. She crossed her legs, taking care to keep her skirt pulled over her knees. Her arms folded themselves over the top of them and she leaned forward to meet his gaze.

If she so much as wiggled her foot, she'd kick his thigh. She quickly filed that information away in case she needed it later. "Again, what do you want, Malfoy?"

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Wiping that condescending look off his face shot straight to the top of her list of fantasies.

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He pointed his wand straight at the center of her chest. "I want to know what the fuck you're doing."

Hermione clamped her mouth shut.

Malfoy didn't give up. "We both know that you'll have a twenty-four-inch essay on my desk by tomorrow morning that will wipe the floor with everybody else's. Especially because I only asked for twelve."

Hermione had to physically tip her head back when Malfoy stood. "If you must know, since I will finally be graduating this year, I thought it best to give someone else a chance to showcase their brilliance. Pass down the torch, so to speak. Somebody's got to carry the title of Hogwarts' biggest swot after I'm gone."

Hermione shrugged at Malfoy's visible surprise. "After Percy graduated, I assumed the mantle, so it's only fitting that someone else takes my place. Don't you think?"

Her jaw stiffened when the tip of his wand came to rest on the bottom of her chin. "You're lying." The action somehow wasn't threatening or menacing. Rather, she felt as if he was searching for something.

"Prove it."

His wand slowly dropped, though the intensity of his gaze hadn't changed at all. "Stubborn as always," he muttered. "I will find out what you're up to, Granger."

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When Hermione inched forward and stood, the pair found themselves chest-to-chest. It was the first time she noticed something akin to freshly mown grass. Had Malfoy been down to the quidditch pitch? When would he have found time?

She forcefully shoved the thought away and commanded herself to focus. The witch then told him as much of the truth as she could. "The best thing you can do is focus on your own happiness. From my experience, prying in concerns that are not yours will only result in the exact opposite."

With that, she reached down to pick up her bag. "Now. May I be excused, Professor? Or do you need some help grading that monstrous stack of assignments you've been putting off?"

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Hermione directed his attention to the stack of parchment that stood at least five medical textbooks high in the center of his workspace.

"Well, since you asked, Miss Granger…"

Hermione dropped her bag again with a snort. "Hand over half and we'll say you gave me detention."

Malfoy simply shook his head. "Thanks."

"That's what friends are for."

Idly, Hermione wondered if Malfoy kept a coffee maker around. If they were going to get through all this—and she still had her homework to do after—any notion of sleep was out the window.

Their fingers brushed as he passed her enough assignments to keep her busy for half the night. "Don't think this is going to earn you extra credit."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

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Hermione could honestly say that it was both a blessing and a curse that the rest of her professors hadn't been nearly so difficult to convince. The excuse she gave Malfoy was the same one she'd given to all of them, even the Headmistress. They'd been a bit flabbergasted, of course, but all it had taken was a bit of logic centered around her expected graduation and they conceded easily.

It stung a bit, but Hermione knew that it was honestly better this way. She could already hear Ron in her head saying, "Leave it to Hermione to go as far as planning out her own death. She's mental, that one! Bloody mental!"

Though, given their conversation tonight, a small part of her wondered if Malfoy was truly going to let this go. There couldn't be just one relatively smooth school year, could there? The thought was almost enough to make her smile. It wouldn't be Hogwarts if there were.

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By the time midnight rolled around, their quills were basically holding up themselves.

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"Hey, Malfoy?" Hermione groaned.

"Hmm?"

The witch could hardly find the will to lift her head. "There are still five more papers to grade on my desk."

"Hmm."

"I still have my own homework."

"Fuck. I forgot."

"You forgot."

"Hmm."

"I'm one of your bloody students." The words sounded like a garbled mess, even to her.

"Don't remind me."

Hermione let out a breath that was a weak attempt at a snort. "I'm…" She let out a yawn. "Not going to be able to stay awake much longer without some sort of caffeine."

"Kitchenette…" Malfoy yawned. "Door to the right. My room. Don't tell anyone."

Hermione did manage to lift the fifty-pound weight that was her head then. "I thought professors had a separate wing?"

"Hmm."

"You," she yawned again, "would let me anywhere near your room?"

"Shut it, Granger… before I have a chance…to… think that one through."

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Hermione heaved herself out of her seat. Her feet dragged as she approached Malfoy's half-asleep form. She leaned over and, with hooded eyelids, poked his arm. "Come on, you," she murmured. He groaned in protest.

"Malfoy."

Her only answer was another wordless groan.

She poked his arm again, but this time she blinked in surprise. For someone who never did any sort of manual labor, he was surprisingly well-toned. "Malfoy."

Now that she thought about it, he was likely still playing quidditch in whatever downtime he managed to find. It was likely the reason he was so far behind on grading papers.

Her name came out as a nonsensical whine. "Granger…"

She rolled her eyes with a quiet scoff. Boys. "Malfoy!"

"Granger," he huffed.

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Hermione stopped and pondered for a moment over the potential repercussions of physically shaking his shoulder. She glanced between his face, which was surprisingly peaceful looking in sleep, and the door behind her a few times. She decided against it.

This time she poked his shoulder a little harder. "Alright. Time to stand."

His face scrunched up.

"Idunwanna."

The corner of Hermione's lips quirked up into a smile. "You can do it. I'm not wandering around in your room without you present."

"But…!"

"Who's to say I won't knick one of your books?"

"Hmm."

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Hermione thought about it for a few more moments. Something had to be enough motivation for him to…

"I might steal your hair gel."

Draco's eye cracked open. "You wouldn't dare."

"You have been saying my hair needs help for years. It's not as if you really need it—"

The small grin that spread across his face made her want to smile back at him. "Wait until a bloke is fully conscious before you compliment him, Granger."

Hermione pulled up on his arm. "Now I know you need to sleep. Get up. It's time for bed."

"Okay, now you're just making things weird—ow, bloody hell, witch!"

"I swear to God, I will leave you here for your students to find in the morning."

"You are one of my students."

"I thought you didn't want the reminder."

"You know, maybe we ought to make sure you're really a girl. My other students aren't nearly this violent toward me."

Hermione dropped his arm. "On that note, I'm out of here. See you later, Malfoy."

"Wait!"

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She hadn't made it past the edge of the desk.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she slowly turned her head. Even in the dim glow of the torchlight, it was easy to see how disheveled he was. His hair was in shambles. A bit of red colored his cheeks and forehead from where his head had been resting on the desk. His black tie was missing; his white dress shirt wrinkled and untucked.

Dark circles under his eyes reminded her so much of their sixth year—and his trial—that she questioned whether he used glamour charms. They told of a lot more sleepless nights than this one.

Malfoy flicked his wand to his right. A door Hermione had never seen before gently opened. "Do you take tea or coffee?"

Hermione instantly relaxed. "Coffee. Please. I was prepared to sneak into the kitchens if I had to."

A wry, tired smile spread across his face. "You know, I still don't know where they are."

"Not many people do."

Hermione trailed behind the blond wizard as he stepped toward his room. "What? We finally make up and you're still not going to share?"

"Maybe. Eventually. If you promise not to tell anyone else."

"I'm letting you in my bloody room!"

"Only because I agreed to help you with that monstrosity of a workload."

Malfoy paused for a few moments. "Alright. Fair."

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Hermione stopped in the center of the room, not daring to touch anything. Malfoy stood over a small coffee maker in a sparse kitchenette. Though she could hardly see anything, as the only light in the room came from a little window over the sink, she spotted two tall mugs sitting on the counter.

"So how do you take your brew?" He asked quietly.

Hermione suddenly felt the need to stretch. So she did. She stood on her tiptoes, popping her neck and stretching her arms high above her head. It was approximately a good fifteen seconds before she finally said, "Do you happen to have vanilla creamer?"

He pulled open a tall cabinet door and produced a glass pitcher. "Sugar or no?"

"Yes, please. And a teaspoon of cinnamon if you have it."

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Malfoy pulled a rather large sugar container from the same cabinet and a measuring scoop from a nearby drawer. When he proceeded to dip the scoop into the sugar, Hermione automatically rushed forward. "Malfoy!"

The blonde in front of her froze. His head snapped toward her quizzically, and the sight was so comical that she had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. "Maybe you should let me make it."

He glanced down at the scoop and then back at her before he quietly nodded. Hermione let out a quiet sigh of relief. When she stepped across what felt like plush carpeting and entered the kitchen, she gently grabbed his shoulders and moved him to the side. "Alright. Where are your teaspoons?"

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Something about an exhausted Malfoy with a messy bedhead in the moonlight was sort of endearing. Not that she'd ever tell him that. His ego was large enough.

Well… maybe she ought to mention it just once. At some point. Eventually. For now, they had work to do. What was one more secret?

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Hermione didn't place the final punctuation mark on her homework until the sun peeked up into the sky. For as frazzled as she felt, Malfoy looked just as rough. Simply because she was tired of looking at Defense coursework, she saved his assignment for last. She wearily stood and placed the roll on his desk. Just out of spite, she did, in fact, hand over a full twenty-four-inch essay.

It only took a few seconds for him to look up from it with a smirk. "I told you."

"If I don't see an O on that, I'll file a complaint with the Headmistress personally."

His smirk grew. "Maybe I'll give it a T just to see if you do it."

That smile of his was infectious. "In that case, consider your hair gel missing."

"You wouldn't dare," he laughed.

"No, especially given that there wasn't any in your bathroom. I would go as far as to say that maybe you finally outgrew it."

His eyebrows rose, humored. "You really went looking for it?"

"What? I was curious. And I thought it to be good blackmail," Hermione said sweetly, "since my Defense professor thought it prudent to give me overnight detention."

"Granger," Malfoy groaned, shifting for the umpteenth time in his seat, "we talked about the 'Professor' thing."

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Hermione had just hitched her bag over her shoulder when she called back, "And we need to talk about your time management skills!"

"Do you remember that torch and mantle metaphor you used yesterday?"

Her hand paused on the doorknob.

"Yes. Why?"

"I hate to break it to you, but I don't think you're going to be able to pass down the title of Swot of the Decade."

"You know, I suppose I can live with that. I don't know anybody else who knows firsthand what it's like to be a ferret. It seems we both get to keep our titles."

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When Hermione stepped out into the corridor, she thought that maybe Malfoy had been right to a certain extent. It just so happened that the essay on his desk had given her the perfect idea. It would have to wait until after a shower and about a truckload more caffeine, though.

As expected, Ginny and Neville took the empty seats on either side of her at the breakfast table. Hermione automatically handed over her copy of the Prophet, trying not to be rude as she practically inhaled more coffee.

Ginny was the first to speak up. "Long night?"

Neville leaned in in an obvious show of wanting to whisper. "Jones was saying on the way here that you didn't head back to your dorm last night. And he didn't see you this morning, either."

"So, who was it?"

Hermione carefully sat her mug down on the table and gauged her friend carefully. "There was nobody, Gin."

She wanted to groan out loud when the pair of them gave her matching looks of disapproval. "I swear! I was… in detention."

"With who?" Neville said loudly. Too loudly. Several heads at the Gryffindor table turned at once.

"Shh!" Hermione scolded. She then dropped her voice to a whisper. "It was with Malfoy, alright?"

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Her hand immediately clamped down on Ginny's shoulder to keep her in her seat. "It was my fault. I didn't want to answer his question in class. He docked ten points, and when he held me back after class—I may have been a bit rude."

Neville's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Hermione's face turned red at Ginny's silent but glowing mixture of pride and fury. It became clearer by the second that she would have to force the fiery girl to stay in her seat. "But I managed to gain some insightful information."

"Well?" Neville asked, plating his first pieces of cantaloupe. "What did you find out?"

"Something I wish I would have known during the war, for starters," Hermione sighed. "During the seventeenth century, vampires were hunted just as thoroughly as witches in the muggle world."

Ginny waved a forkful of fruit precariously close to Hermione's cheek. "How does that help us at all?"

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Hermione casually picked her mug up and eyed each of her friends. "Because real witches—Aurors, specifically—were helping with the vampire hunts. You see, many deaths and destroyed crop fields were blamed on witchcraft, so we had no choice but to step in. The persecutions were what led to the Statute of Secrecy, but here is the interesting part."

Neville temporarily stopped chewing. Ginny's cantaloupe hovered at her lips.

"More often than not, something of the true attacker would be left behind at the scene. Nobody knows who the original inventor of the spell was, but we do know that Aurors started using a Tracking charm to find the true perpetrator."

Eventually, it was Ginny who said, "Well, knock me off my broom and call me Tessie. Don't actually do that, though." She popped the cantaloupe in her mouth. "Maybe I should start paying attention in Defense."

Neville nodded in agreement. "So, we just need to find something of Lavender's. Shouldn't be too hard. Ginny, you're still in the Gryffindor dorm. We could start there."

"Sorry, Nev. It won't do any good. The whole place was cleaned out before the start of term."

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All three of them fell into a contemplative silence. Where would abandoned or missing items have gone off to? Hermione's mug stilled when her mind's eye showed her a storm of fiendfyre swallowing mountains of items that fit the bill exactly.

"Do either of you know what happened to the Room of Hidden Things when the castle was being restored? Or the Room of Requirement?"

"Now that you mention it," Ginny said, "I don't know. Nobody's talked about it at all."

"Hannah and I have gone that way a few times patrolling," Neville continued. He propped one elbow on the table and grabbed a piece of toast. "But the only person who ever seems to be on the seventh floor is Malfoy."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Maybe we ought to find out who was here during reconstruction. They might know what happened to any personal items that might have been left behind. I can't imagine that anyone just threw them away."

"Um, Hermione—"

"Yes, Neville?"

"Malfoy was here during that time."

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All three heads turned toward the blond at the Heads' table, who watched them with thinly veiled suspicion.

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"Whatever you do," Hermione whispered.

"We are not talking to Malfoy," Ginny finished.

"I'm good with that," Neville said. "That git still gives me the creeps."

With not a hair out of place, dark circles she knew to be there vanished, and his robes perfectly straightened, he sat there taking a bite out of a green apple. Two pools of silver were slightly narrowed at the Gryffindor table, but he otherwise showed nothing at all.

Hermione patted the top of Neville's hand, but she wondered how it was possible to switch emotions on and off as Malfoy did. The pouty and good-natured wizard she left in the classroom was nowhere to be found. In his place sat an emotionless and stoic version of him.

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"It's alright. You don't have to talk to Malfoy for the rest of the year if you don't want to."

"What if he asks me something in Defense?"

"Of course you'd have to answer, but you don't have to say anything else."

"Don't worry, Neville," Ginny said firmly, "I'll tell that prat off good enough for—"

"If you get detention, Gin," Hermione sighed, "you will only have to deal with him more."

"What? I sit right next to him in that class. Who's to say I don't just answer the questions for him? In my own way. Somebody ought to give him a right good telling off for keeping you all bloody night."

"Let's just focus on finding out if there's another Room. Please."

Hermione did not like the look of mischief she found on Ginny's face when she turned back toward her. "Who's to say we can't do both?"