Slytherin was known to have House Parties on occasion. After Quidditch victories, certainly, and after winning the House Cup. Occasionally a party was held for the birthday of a particularly high-status student from an upper year, and there was generally a party after exams. Parties generally consisted of food and drink, telling stories, a few scattered games, and more lights in the common room than usual. Decoration was light and tasteful, if at all. They were not particularly raucous affairs – nobody wanted Snape's anger bearing down on them – and they weren't stupid enough to get overly intoxicated while on school grounds.

Gryffindor, it seemed, had no such boundaries.

First of all, it was loud. People were drinking butterbeer and loudly toasting each other, carousing and having a grand old time. The Wizarding Wireless was playing, not that anyone could hear it, and all conversations were loud in order to be heard over the music. Games of magical darts, Exploding Snap, and Gobstones had people cheering and laughing as others watched on, and Fred and George Weasley were performing an epic retelling of the Quidditch game in the center of the room, reenacting Draco falling off of Goyle's shoulders as Harry grasped the Snitch.

The party was also just tacky. It was as if a cannon of party decorations had gone off in the common room; there were streamers everywhere, conjured by a dozen different people with a dozen different styles in mind, all of it red and gold, from solid to striped to scalloped, and they seemed to hang from every surface available. Someone had managed a fancy bit of spellwork with large scarlet banner hung over the fireplace, which displayed a photo of a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, with a player's name and position below a giant image of their face, before transitioning to another player, slowly rotating through to display the whole team. Each time Harry's face came up, there were loud cheers and more toasts, adding to the noise even more.

People were flitting around from conversation to conversation happily, steadily getting looser and looser, some approaching sloppy or drunk. Hermione mostly kept to herself in a corner, holding her one butterbeer and wondering at the culture differences between the two houses.

In Slytherin, you'd never see such a thing.

Harry wove his way over to her through the people and plopped down into a chair next to her. He shot her a tentative grin, and he laughed when Hermione just raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes.

"It's been going like this for hours," he told her wryly. "It's as if we've already won the Cup. Probably half the house forgot to go to dinner entirely."

"That explains the level of intoxication," Hermione said mildly. "Butterbeer's mild, but drinking it for hours with nothing else in your stomach probably does something."

"That, and Lee Jorden spiked the punch with Firewhiskey," Harry told her, grinning.

"Are you serious?" Hermione demanded. "That's strictly against the rules!"

Harry smirked.

"No one knows unless we get caught," he told her. "And the bowl's enchanted to empty itself if a professor comes through the portrait hole."

Hermione was mildly impressed despite herself at their foresight, even if it was over something so silly.

"Want to play Exploding Snap?" Harry offered. "I'm kind of over the replays of the game over and over."

He looked tired and worn out, honestly, but he looked happy to see her. Hermione gave him a gentle smile – she knew how he didn't like being the center of attention much.

"Sure," she agreed. "We'll need four, though."

Neville and Ron were happy to come over and play. Neville in particular looked grateful to have been pulled from a group of boys trying to get him to play magical darts with him, which Hermione suspected was a bad idea. Neville was still growing and going through puberty, and he was still rather awkward and clumsy because of it. Having him throw magical pointed darts while tipsy seemed a very poorly-advised activity to pursue.

"Oliver's crying," Ron told them as he came over and joined the game. "Actually crying, he's so happy. Keeps going on about how this is his year, how this time we'll win the Cup."

Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable at this, and Hermione wondered if he felt unduly pressured by his Captain's remarks.

The common room was very loud from the party, so the conversation over Exploding Snap was somewhat limited. Hermione managed to gather that the Weasley Twins had snuck into Hogsmeade and returned with sweets from Honeydukes, that Neville was helping Professor Sprout outside of classes with a special Herbology project, and that Ron was in the later stages of grief over his rat.

"I can't blame him too much for running off, y'know?" Ron said with a sigh. "Didn't exactly play with him much. I know Percy talked to Scabbers all the time and tried to teach him tricks. If Scabbers ran off to go be his own rat, I need to respect that decision and his independence."

Hermione had to stifle her laughter at Ron's very serious speech about the maturity of his rat. Neville was nodding along, commiserating, while Harry was very carefully not looking in Ron's direction, suddenly incredibly focused on his cards.

"You can get a new pet now, though, right?" Hermione asked. "Maybe one you'll bond with a bit better than Scabbers?"

Ron brightened for a moment, before his smile dimmed.

"Maybe," he said. "Not likely we'll be able to afford a new pet, though. If we could, Mum and Dad would have replaced Errol ages ago."

"Just leave Scabbers' cage open next to your bed with food," Neville suggested. "Even if Scabbers doesn't decide to come back, maybe someone else will, and you can bond with them."

"What, another rat?" Ron said, scoffing. "Scabbers was the only one, really. He was smart enough to avoid all the cats in the castle. I don't think any other rats around could survive."

That was a good point, now that Hermione thought about it. Ron was the only person she knew who had had a rat. They weren't approved pets, and now that she considered it, that was apparently for a really good reason.

"You just let him out?" she asked. "Freely?"

"Well, I didn't want him all locked up all the time," Ron said defensively. "What kind of life is that? He liked exploring the common room, I think. I found him nibbling treats fallen on the ground more than once."

Hermione was absolutely positive that there were at least two girls in Gryffindor Tower who had cats as pets. That meant Ron's rat had managed to avoid at least two cats within the tower, let alone the mass of cats he'd encounter if he'd ever ventured into the wider castle at large.

"He must be a very smart rat," Hermione praised, "to be able to avoid all the cats in the castle so well."

Ron brightened.

"Yeah. He was a bit of a lump, but he was alright, y'know?" he said. He sighed. "I hope he's doing well, wherever he is."

Guilt twinged at Hermione's heart, which she firmly pushed aside and ignored.

"Neville," she said, turning to him as she played her card. "Tell us more about this special project with Professor Sprout?"

Neville brightened, even as the stack exploded in front of him as he played his card.

"It's nothing much," he said modestly. "But I was talking to her after class about cross-pollination of different strains of some plants, and she was excited about it. We're going to try and breed Chomping Cabbages without any teeth."

The party went on long into the night, and eventually Professor McGonagall showed up in a tartan dressing gown and hair net, insisting they all get to bed. Hermione was surprised to see the time – she'd stayed long past when she meant to have left. Harry looked at Hermione and winced.

"You'll get in trouble if you leave now," he said.

"I might get in trouble regardless," she said, sighing. "If someone sees a Slytherin sleeping on a couch in the Gryffindor Common Room…"

Harry tilted his head, considering.

"Hang on," he said. "I've got an idea."

He ran up the stairs to his dormitory as the rest of the common room gradually emptied, filing up the stairs to go to bed. Harry made his way back down soon after, pushing past the crowds.

"Here," he said, breathless, handling her a bundle.

Hermione pulled at the bundle, revealing a knitted blanket and Harry's invisibility cloak. She looked at him, and he gestured at her body.

"The fire's pretty warm, but I got the blanket just in case," he told her. "But sleep under the cloak tonight – that way no one will be any the wiser. Or if you want and you get a chance, you can use it to sneak back to dungeons – just know Filch will be on the prowl tonight. He's always around more after Quidditch games."

Hermione smiled.

"Thanks," she said. "You're brilliant, you know?"

Harry flushed slightly, but he looked pleased.

"It was nothing," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "It's my fault you're here, anyway."

Hermione smiled and hugged him anyway. "Goodnight, Harry. Sleep well."

Harry hugged her back hesitantly, then more firmly, and he was smiling when he pulled away.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said. "I'll get the cloak back from you tomorrow sometime, yeah?"

He went up to his dormitory, and Hermione settled in on one of the couches. It was a little odd trying to sleep with a garment over her head, and it made the air inside the cloak oddly warm, but after some careful tossing and turning, she managed to get comfortable on her side, exhaling out from under the cloak, though it still draped over most of her face.

Hermione fell asleep to the warm crackles of the fireplace at her feet, dreaming of bouncing cabbages and roguish rats.


"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Hermione woke as suddenly as though she'd been hit in the face. The scream had come from one of the dormitories, echoing loudly all the way down the stairs. Alarmed, she looked about in the glow of the dying fire, bleary-eyed, and a tall figure in tattered black robes came running down the stairs, sprinting across the room and vaulting out of the portrait hole.

She blinked.

That… wasn't normal.

Hermione didn't have long to wait to find out what was going on; Ron and Harry sprinted down the stairs to the common room shortly thereafter, Ron's eyes wild. Doors were opening, people calling after them, and the other third year boys spilled out into the common room after Ron, who was panting.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?" Neville asked.

"I'm telling you, I saw him!" Ron insisted.

"What's all the noise?"

"Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!"

A few girls were coming down their staircase now, pulling on dressing gowns and yawning. Boys, too, were reappearing.

"Excellent! Are we carrying on?" Fred Weasley asked brightly.

"Everyone back upstairs!" The Head Boy hurried into the common room, pinning his badge to his pajamas as he spoke.

"Perce – Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The common room went very still.

Hermione sat up very carefully, keeping herself covered with the invisibility cloak.

"Nonsense!" said Percy, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron – had a nightmare—"

"I'm telling you—"

"Now, really, enough's enough!"

Professor McGonagall was back, slamming the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared around furiously.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" Percy protested. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare—"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley – how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw—"

Glaring at Ron suspiciously, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath.

"Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You – you did?" said Professor McGonagall. "But – but the password!"

"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Professor McGonagall came back through the portrait hole to face the sunned crowd. She was as white as chalk.

"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, and Hermione felt her heart clench as Neville Longbottom slowly raised his hand, trembling from head to toe.