They moved silently but swiftly along the dimly lit corridors, finally coming to a stop in front of a particularly ugly stone gargoyle. Harry knew, without doubt, where they were, even though he had never been to this part of the castle before.
This just had to be where Dumbledore lived.
The Headmaster gave the password in a clear, crisp voice. "Ten-pin bowling." Then he beckoned Harry and Hermione to enter.
Dumbledore's office was fascinating, and under almost any other circumstance Harry would have been glad to have a look around it. There were spindly instruments that puffed and whirled away, a giant stone basin with intricate runes carved around the outside, and a large cabinet full of vials containing what Harry could only describe as liquid clouds.
He would have loved to know what they were. There was also a curious sculpture hanging on the wall, of a circle inside a triangle with a vertical spike dissecting it right down the middle. For some reason, Harry found the symbol drew his attention like a magnet.
But then something else grabbed their attention. For suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, there was a violent fizzing sound and an eruption of fire, from an ornate perch over near the long window at the back of the office.
"Sir! Your bird! Quick! Have you got a glass of water or something?"
Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Calm yourself, Harry. You are merely witnessing Fawkes on a Burning Day. It is quite unfortunately timed. He will be ever so embarrassed to have been seen at his ugliest."
Harry screwed his face up in confusion. "Fawkes? Burning ... what? What?"
Dumbledore smiled patiently again. "Fawkes is a Phoenix, Harry. When the time comes for them to die, they burst into flames and are reborn from the ashes. Each cycle renews the wizard they chose to become familiar with. In Fawkes' case, that would be me. I might actually have it in me to go for a spritely jog tomorrow morning, now that he's finally gotten a move on and died!"
"Sir?" Harry asked cautiously. He wasn't sure if the Headmaster wasn't going a little mad.
"May I go and see, Headmaster?" Hermione asked in a little voice. "Not many people can say they've seen a Phoenix being born, can they? And I'd so like to be able to."
"Of course," Dumbledore smiled, motioning for her to cross the room.
"Come on, Harry!" Hermione whispered excitedly, taking a handful of his robes and dragging him along in her wake.
When they got there, Harry looked into the pile of ash just in time to see the new born bird poke his head through the uppermost layer. He was quite as ugly as he'd been when he died, just a lot smaller.
"It's a pity you haven't seen him at his best," Dumbledore told them as he came over. "He has splendid plumage, scarlet and gold for the most part. They are exceptionally faithful animal familiars, can carry great loads and have a their own form of Apparitional-style travel, which can be useful if you ever find yourselves in a tight spot."
His eyes twinkled with the light of adventure, as though remembering some great escape from Dark Wizards or something from his youth.
"But, talking of tight spots," Dumbledore began to say. "I think we need to get to the bottom of events this evening -"
But Harry cut him off abruptly. "Sir, you have to listen to me - it wasn't Hermione. It couldn't have been. She barely left my side all night, so I wont let you blame her for anything. If you need a scapegoat, blame me instead. I don't care. She hasn't done anything, so you cant punish her. You just cant."
Hermione smiled weakly at Harry and bowed her head coyly.
Surprisingly, Dumbledore looked fondly at them a moment. "As admirable as your offer is Harry, it rather circumvents the point, don't you think? And as blatant as your care is for Miss Granger, it provides no answers for our little conundrum."
Hermione gave a Harry a very affectionate look just then, and Harry felt his insides ignite as it fell on him. She could look at him like that whenever she liked.
"What are we going to do then?" Harry asked briskly.
"First, let us sit," Dumbledore suggested, beckoning them to take seats at his desk. He folded down into his own high-backed chair, interlocked his spindly fingers and considered them a moment. "Now what we must do, is establish the facts."
"Hermione was with me, all night," Harry stated bluntly. "You can write that down. I'll sign it and everything, if you want."
"I do not want," Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Your word is quite sufficient for me."
Harry reddened slightly for his brassiness. "Sorry, sir."
"On the contrary," Dumbledore replied. "I find your devotion to Miss Granger very pleasing. It is an admirable quality to have, Harry. But we must still construct a chain of events for this evening. Now, Miss Granger - and only Miss Granger - did you, or did you not, threaten to set a basilisk onto Miss Sally-Anne Perks following your disagreement this afternoon?"
"I ... well, what I mean to say is ... I ... how do you know that?" Hermione stumbled.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at them. "I must ask you to allow an old man his secrets. Now, an answer, if you please."
"Well, okay, I did," Hermione confessed bashfully. "But I didn't mean it. Not really."
"Did you not?" Dumbledore quirked. Harry could have sworn he was fighting not to laugh.
"Not really," Hermione replied, folding her arms stubbornly.
"But I must ask - why a basilisk? That is quite a specific form of retribution to pick."
Harry blinked. What was Dumbledore getting at? Did he know about Hermione's unique origins? Harry always assumed he didn't, that it was a secret kept between a select few. But was Dumbledore in on it? Did he know about the attack on Hermione's parents, and was this a test of her honesty?
Or did he really believe she was the Heir of Slytherin and controlling a basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets?
"We had been talking about it," Harry suddenly cut in bluntly. "After you said to my Godfather that only a few creatures could Petrify a person, we did some research into them. And a basilisk seemed the most scary."
"And worthy of setting on a rival girl for trying to steal your date?" Dumbledore quirked, flashing a look at Harry.
Hermione blushed, but held her stare firm with Dumbledore. "Seems a fair reason to me."
The Headmaster let out that light chuckle he'd been holding, but Harry barely heard it. He was still letting the echo of his previous words bounce around his head, and the startling realisation that was dawning with it.
A date ... a proper date? Had that been what the dance was? And was that why Hermione had been so angry with Sally - angry enough to set a fierce magical beast on her if she'd had one? Might it also explain why Hermione had been so upset with him on his birthday? He'd spent the whole evening going on about Maria Edge when Hermione wanted ... him to be going on about her?
Did Hermione like him? You know ... like him, like him?
It didn't make any sort of sense that she would, so Harry dismissed the possibility at once. For she was far too good for him. She'd never like him, not like that. It was a preposterous idea. She'd go for someone like ... like ... but right then, Harry couldn't think of anyone. Actually, he didn't want to think of anyone. It made him feel physically sick, as did the pounding memories of his atrocious behaviour to her on his birthday night. If he was honest, he'd quite like it if she did want to go for him. Not that she would, so he'd best forget that notion fast. It would only lead to disappointment.
But the idea itself wouldn't shift so easily. It had planted a root in his mind, and even if it was never given the encouragement to grow, Harry was pretty sure it wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Friends was good, he was happy with friends. But he had almost lost that, too. He was painfully keen to make amends as soon as he could.
And saving her from punishment tonight would be the first step. So he looked fiercely at Dumbledore.
"Sir, you cant honestly think that Hermione opened the Chamber of Secrets and set a basilisk on Sally-Anne? Or Myrtle, while we're at it?"
"I have as much reason to keep an open mind as I do to dismiss it out of hand," Dumbledore replied. "The main reason in Miss Granger's favour, naturally, is that she comes from a Muggle background. Salazar Slytherin legendarily wanted to purge Hogwarts of all non-Purebloods.
"But I have very little information on Miss Granger's lineage. There could be things in her past that do, indeed, link her to Slytherin."
"But you told Sirius that Voldemort opened the Chamber last time," Harry protested. "There is no way that Hermione is related to him."
"Only the narrow-minded would believe that the world would be so arbitrary so as to have only one potential Heir. In theory, anyone who carries the blood of Slytherin in their veins could potentially access the Chamber and control the beast within."
Harry hadn't thought of that. But there was still the matter of Hermione coming from a different world entirely. That was the guarantee of her innocence in Harry's mind. But then there was this issue of her possession, and he couldn't help but think there might be a link there somewhere.
And Dumbledore tested his loyalty with his very next question.
"So, I really must ask you both ... is there anything you want to tell me? Anything different or suspicious that you have come across? Anything at all?"
Harry looked Dumbledore firmly in the eye and tried to look as innocent as possible. Hermione simply bit her lip anxiously next to him.
"No, Professor," Harry replied in a dull tone. "Nothing I can think of."
Snow came to Hogwarts in mid-November. Harry was exceedingly glad of Hermione - well, even more than he normally was - for her ability to conjure her portable, waterproof fires to keep them warm. As the temperatures plummeted, they could more often than not be found huddled around a jar of her bluebell flames as they mingled between classes, or hurried to and fro from the library, or as Hermione attempted to thaw Harry out following particularly icy Quidditch training sessions.
Harry guiltily found that he liked this new development very much indeed. It meant he could stand very close to Hermione to share her warmth, and this quickly became his absolute favourite place to be. He was used to being near to her frequently throughout their day as it was, but now he was able to get an inch or two closer without it seeming odd and - every now and then - they'd bump shoulders or hands, or find their arms touching as they leant on desks to scribble notes from the blackboard.
What thrilled Harry the most was that Hermione was never the first to pull away in these situations. She didn't tell him off for touching her either, and because she didn't he assumed it was okay to carry on, because she was doing it too and he was letting her touch him, though neither mentioned what they were doing. But he was reasonably sure she was doing it on purpose, just as much as he was.
Hermione seemed to enjoy the increased contact as much as Harry, too. She could be found to blush more often, which Harry thought was a good thing, but then the cautious part of his brain reminded him that it was practically sub-zero degrees around Hogwarts now and she might simply have been tinged pink from the cold.
And that sent his self-confidence skidding right back to square one without passing Go and collecting two-hundred Sickles.
Quidditch was a bone of contention, too. Despite the weather, Oliver Wood was working the team harder than ever. Their match against Slytherin was twice postponed as the stands were frozen, but he simply saw that as an excuse for another session from his playbook.
Harry didn't mind so much for himself, but he was concerned about Hermione. Half the school was now terrified of her, following the attack on Sally-Anne, and the other half were giving her a hard time over it. The Hufflepuffs were, naturally, the worst, seeing the attack as an act of House War against one of their own. They often laid ambushes for Hermione, meaning she had to spend half her time peering around corners with a little vanity mirror she'd borrowed from Lavender.
So she had taken to needing an escort with her at all times, which was usually just Harry. And if he was at Quidditch it meant she had to sit in the chilly stands to watch him. She was kind enough to lend him Papageno, who curled up under Harry's Quidditch robe while he flew around. This not only helped to keep Harry warm, but also provided a sneaky way for Hermione to get even closer to Harry, as her dæmon curled up against his torso in a way Hermione was too afraid to even think about doing, let alone trying for real.
In the first week of December, the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match finally went ahead. It didn't get off to a good start, as Madam Hooch came down with a bout of Owl Flu and couldn't referee. Harry thought the worst would happen - and that Snape might step in - but the very worst beat him to it.
"Never fear teams!" Professor Lockhart beamed as he donned the referee's uniform. "I was an excellent Quidditch player myself - a Seeker - I was even asked to try out for the National Team - decided to dedicate my life to ridding the world of evil instead -"
"Ten Galleons he doesn't get his broom off the floor!" Fred Weasley guffawed.
"That's a dud bet, Weasley!" Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain taunted. "Where would you get ten Galleons? Your whole house wouldn't fetch that much!"
"Maybe he could sell that sister of his to Potter," Draco Malfoy sneered. "I'm sure she'd fetch a Knut or two. And she might throttle Granger when they share a bed! Bonus points!"
Fred and George lunged at Malfoy, while Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell held Harry back with their brooms.
"Save it for the sky," Wood shouted, taking a handful of Fred and George as they tried to surge past him.
"What was that about?" asked Hermione, who had just finished a final polish of Harry's broom handle and handed it to him.
"Oh, just usual Malfoy being Malfoy," Harry snarled. "Daddy bought lil Drakie his way onto the team with all those new brooms, so he thinks he's something special now."
"Well, just go out and show that Pureblood filth who's boss," Hermione told him firmly. Then - before she lost her nerve - she nipped in quick and placed a terribly shy kiss to Harry's cheek. Harry felt it tingle all the way down to his toes. Hermione blushed crazily as she darted away with her hands clamped behind her back and swung on the spot a moment. "Good luck."
Then she hurried away without another word, looking timidly at the ground. Harry touched the spot on his cheek, which felt like it was on fire, and grinned like a loony. Angelina and Katie swooned at him fondly.
"We're gonna win today," Harry beamed happily, still touching his face. "I just have a feeling."
Then Fred touched Harry's face where Hermione had kissed him. Then George did the same.
"For luck," George grinned.
"For luck," the girls chorused, as they and, finally, Wood followed suit.
"For Hermione," Harry whispered when he was sure no-one else could hear him.
Then the match started, but immediately it was clear that something was wrong.
Harry first noticed it as he was circling high above the game. He was hoping to catch the Snitch in record time, and maybe slam it right down Malfoy's throat while it was still fluttering. But then he saw a commotion in the crowd ... right in the Gryffindor stands. Harry flew down to investigate. And what he saw turned his heart cold.
For one of the Bludgers was trying to attack Hermione!
"What's going on?" Harry demanded, flying close to George Weasley. He and Fred were standing guard over Hermione, taking turns to bat the Bludger away from her.
"Dunno!" George called back. "This Bludger's gone crazy ... and it seems to have it in for your missus!"
Harry wanted to point out that he didn't have a 'missus', but now didn't seem the time.
"What could make it do that?" Harry shouted.
"Powerful enchantment?" Fred suggested. "Maybe all the Huffle-Duffers have ganged together to avenge that Perks girl."
Harry felt a corrosive anger rise in his chest. He was on the verge of flying to the Hufflepuff end of the stadium and setting it on fire, when the Bludger suddenly swerved cleverly past Fred's Beater Bat. It took a powerful Shield Charm from Percy Weasley to deflect it away from Hermione. It nearly hit Fay Dunbar in the face as it careered away.
"You have to get Hermione to safety, Harry!" Neville called from the stands. "Fly closer ... me and Ron will help her out to you."
Hermione looked dubious, but as the Bludger circled round for another try at her, she squeaked and grabbed onto Neville and Ron, who eased her towards Harry. He reached out with both hands and pulled her onto his Nimbus.
"Gotcha!" Harry grinned, planting Hermione practically into his lap.
"Ooh!" Hermione squealed with a giggle as she landed onto the cold broom saddle. "Hey you."
"We have to stop meeting like this," Harry teased. "We might actually make a Broomstress out of you yet!"
"Just fly!" Hermione laughed, adjusting herself till she was more comfortable.
"Go off, Harry!" Fred called. "George and I will take up flanking positions and keep the insane Bludger off you. The others will just have to avoid the other one as best they can."
"We cant still be playing, surely?" Harry cried back. "I have a passenger!"
"I'm not entirely sure where the rulebook stands on this one," Hermione frowned, trying to pull the fact from her knowledge of Quidditch Through The Ages. "But, then again, Lockhart is refereeing. I'd say anything goes!"
"Great!" Harry scoffed. "Hold on to me then."
And she did, as he shot off like a bullet (do you have to fly SO fast, Harry?) in search of the Snitch. He had to win this game quickly. In the commotion, Slytherin had scored one hundred points without reply, so Gryffindor could still win if Harry caught the little golden ball soon.
There was also the incentive of beating Malfoy to the punch.
For the debut Seeker seemed more interested in taunting Harry than trying to win the game.
"Having fun there, Scarhead?" Malfoy sneered as he flew up near to Harry and Hermione. "Someone must dislike Granger even more than me. And I didn't think that was possible."
All three of them watched as George Weasley shot past and swung his Beater bat firmly at the rogue Bludger, which span away at some speed.
"I mean," Malfoy drawled on. "I dislike Mudbloods just as much as the next decent wizard. But I wouldn't want bits of Mudbrain and Mudskull all over my brand new robes. What would my father say?"
"And what will your Daddy say when he hears you've been beaten by a Muggle girl?" Hermione spat.
"What?"
But before he had even finished the word, Hermione balled a fist and swung it hard in his direction. Malfoy closed his eyes like a coward and ducked away. When no strike to his head was forthcoming, though, he opened an eye cautiously, then began laughing as Hermione glowered at him.
"Nice aim, Mudblood," Malfoy snarled. "Cant even hit me from a foot away."
Hermione narrowed her eyes nastily at him. "Who said anything about aiming for you? I wouldn't touch you with another girl's hand! Eww!"
Then she looked at him smugly, held out her fist and slowly opened her fingers ... and revealed the freshly caught Golden Snitch, sat snugly and pliant in her palm. Malfoy hadn't even noticed it hovering just above his stupid blonde head.
"THE GRYFFINDOR ... WELL, I'M NOT SURE WHAT SHE IS ... BUT SHE CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS! ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY POINTS TO ONE HUNDRED AND TEN!"
Lee Jordan's commentary rang out from the megaphone as cheers erupted from the Gryffindor end of the stadium. Harry did a lap of honour (a very low one) then glided over to the Gryffindor team, who hoisted Hermione onto their shoulders to toast their victory. Marcus Flint tried to complain furiously to Professor McGonagall, who was having none of it (she's not even on the team!; you were happy enough when you were winning ...) but eventually he had to give up.
One thing that hadn't given up, though, was the Bludger.
It came hurtling at Hermione once more, and Harry had to push her to the ground to get her out of the way.
"Step aside, I will handle this!"
The sing-song voice of Professor Lockhart sailed over the heads of the crowd. Harry looked up as the Bludger came back in for another sortie. He saw Lockhart with his wand held aloft. It was pointing loosely at the Bludger, but Hermione was right in the line of fire ...
"NO! Anyone but you!" Harry cried.
Then he did something that was both instinctive and stupid. He darted in front of the Bludger and actually punched it away. Or tried to. He felt his wrist snap as he connected with the heavy ball as it flew in at some speed.
"Ow!" he whimpered, hot tears rising in his eyes as he went to cradle his shattered bone.
"Harry!" Hermione called out in her horror, but Harry didn't hear that. For Lockhart had boomed out a spell at exactly the same time. It hit Harry in the arm ... and promptly dissolved all the bones in that limb.
It was later said that Harry's shriek of pain was of the like never heard at Hogwarts before. He felt like every bone, every sinew, every shred of marrow was being melted by scorching hot acid. He screeched so loudly that birds took flight from nearby trees.
"Harry! Harry! What has he done to you!"
Hermione's shriek of paralysed terror was the equal of his one of pain. But at least she was by his side, cradling his head in her lap, running her hands worriedly through his hair. There was something to be said for that in Harry's book. As places to die, he could think of worse ones.
"Ah, yes, that can happen, especially if your wand is cold. Step aside, Miss Granger, and allow me to perform the counter spell."
Lockhart loomed over them and took aim again.
"Get away from us!" Hermione screamed. "If you raise that wand I will rip it from your fingers and shove it in your eye! Do you hear me! Professor McGonagall! Stop him."
"Consider him stopped."
But it wasn't Professor McGonagall who spoke, it was Dumbledore. And he sounded coldly furious. Harry knew everything would be alright now.
In one movement Dumbledore lowered Lockhart's wand, and with a lazy flick of his own exploded the Bludger as it circled nearby. Then he knelt down gently at Harry's side. He barely felt him. He could barely feel anything. He was so tired. Maybe just a little nap ...
"Harry!" Hermione whined.
"Miss Granger, let us help Harry to the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore whispered softly.
"No! I'm not leaving him!" Hermione cried passionately.
"I did not that suggest you had to," Dumbledore replied lightly. "But maybe you can fetch his nightclothes and toothbrush for him. I will lift the restrictions on his dorm to allow you to access it. I feel Harry will be in for a long night."
"I ... I can do that," Hermione sniffed, composing herself. "Can I ... I mean, would it be alright if ... if I stayed with him? He might get scared in the night. If he wakes up in a panic, he wont know where he is. He'll need me."
"Very well. I will inform Madam Pomfrey of your residence in the Hospital Wing, too," Dumbledore smiled. "Now, let us get Harry the help he needs, before he loses the muscle memory needed to regrow those lost bones."
Then Harry gave to the pain, and lost consciousness in Hermione's arms.
