I lied. This whole thing ended up being four chapters long smh
Chapter 18: Never So Much Trouble
Things couldn't have been worse.
Filch marched Harry, Neville, and me to Professor McGonagall's study, and we sat in tense silence, waiting for what felt like an eternity. My heart was pounding so loudly it drowned out the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the room. My palms were clammy, my knees bouncing nervously under my robes.
I had never been in trouble like this before. Not once. My stomach twisted at the thought of what Professor McGonagall might say—or worse, do. Would she expel us? Would she write to my parents? The idea made me feel sick. I thought about the magic I'd miss, the incredible things I'd learned, and most of all, my friends. I had never felt like I truly belonged anywhere before Hogwarts. I couldn't lose this.
When the door creaked open, Professor McGonagall appeared—and she wasn't alone. Neville was with her, looking absolutely mortified.
"Harry!" Neville burst out, eyes wide with panic. "I was trying to find you to warn you! I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag—"
Harry furiously shook his head, but it was too late. Professor McGonagall had heard.
Her stern expression made my heart sink. She towered over us like a storm cloud ready to burst. "I would never have believed it of any of you," she said coldly. "Mr. Filch says you were up in the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."
I stared at the floor, my hands gripping the edge of my robes. I couldn't form words. What was there to say?
"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," Professor McGonagall continued. Her voice was sharp enough to cut through steel. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry trying to signal Neville to keep quiet, but poor Neville looked like he wanted to vanish into thin air.
"I'm disgusted," Professor McGonagall said, her voice trembling with disappointment. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense."
The words stung. My face burned with shame, and I couldn't bring myself to look up.
"As for you, Mr. Potter," she continued, "I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions. Yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom. Nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days. It's very dangerous! And fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."
"Fifty?" Harry gasped, his voice filled with disbelief.
My jaw dropped. Fifty points each? My heart sank even further as I did the math in my head. We had just undone all the hard work I'd put into earning points for Gryffindor in class.
"Fifty points each," Professor McGonagall repeated, her nostrils flaring.
"Professor—please," I begged, my voice cracking.
"You can't—" Harry started to protest.
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter!" she snapped. "Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."
As we trudged back to the dormitory, I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. We had lost one hundred and fifty points in one night, dragging Gryffindor into last place. I climbed into bed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest. How would I ever make this up?
At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses thought it had to be a mistake. How could we suddenly have 150 fewer points than the day before? Surely, someone had miscounted. But by mid morning, the truth had spread like wildfire: Harry Potter—the hero of two Quidditch matches—and a couple of "stupid first years" had lost them all those points.
The glares started almost immediately. Everywhere I went, people whispered and pointed. The weight of the house's disappointment felt like a boulder crushing my chest. I couldn't meet anyone's eyes, especially not the other Gryffindors who had worked so hard to earn those points.
I had hurried down to the Great Hall to grab some toast but refused to even glance at the hourglasses. I couldn't bear to see the rubies glinting mockingly at me, a visual reminder of my failure.
Back in the common room, I sat slumped in a chair, picking at my toast and feeling utterly defeated. My appetite had vanished, and I couldn't stop replaying Professor McGonagall's sharp words in my head. Ron joined me, looking curious and concerned.
"What happened?" he asked, giving my arm a gentle poke as he sat down beside me.
I sighed heavily, staring down at the crumbled remains of my toast. I didn't know how to explain it all.
"That bad?" he ventured, raising an eyebrow.
"Worse," Harry said, sitting down on the other side of Ron with a grim expression.
"Must be. Hermione looks like she got a B," Ron joked, his attempt at humor completely missing the mark.
"Not in the mood for your jokes, Ronald," I snapped, shooting him a glare.
Harry cut in, probably trying to prevent an argument. "We got caught," he said bluntly.
Ron's eyes widened in alarm. "Got caught? What happened with Norbert? And Hagrid? Is he still here?" he asked, his voice rising with panic.
"Calm down, you're loud," Harry muttered. "And no, we didn't get caught with Norbert. We got caught afterward. Me, Hermione, Neville... and fucking Malfoy, the bloody snitch."
"Harry, don't curse," I scolded automatically, though I didn't have the energy to put much force behind it.
"I don't care about that right now, Hermione," Harry retorted, his frustration bubbling over. "He's a bloody foul git, and I hate him. He tried to rat us out and got caught. Neville tried to warn us, but we all ended up caught. We've all got detention, and McGonagall took fifty points each from us."
"Bloody hell! That's 150 points!" Ron exclaimed, his voice cracking with shock.
"Ring. And all of Gryffindor is pissed at us," Harry said, resting his head on his fist.
"They'll all forget this in a few weeks," Ron said, trying to sound optimistic. "Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."
"They've never lost 150 points in one go, though, have they?" Harry said miserably, slumping further in his seat.
"Well... no. I don't think so," Ron admitted, his attempt to cheer us up falling flat.
Harry sighed deeply, pushing his toast around that I had passed him on his plate. "From now on, I'm just going to mind my own bloody business."
Ron and I exchanged knowing looks. That was a promise we both doubted he could keep..
A few weeks passed, and exams loomed closer, offering a welcome distraction from the glaring hourglasses in the Great Hall. Gryffindor's points had been drastically low since that night, and we bore the brunt of everyone's disappointment. Even I couldn't bring myself to answer questions in class anymore. I just kept my head down and focused on my work, which, after some weeks, caused people to not be on my back so much.
One afternoon, while Harry was at Quidditch practice, Ron and I decided to study Astronomy in the library.
"How many moons does Mars have, and can you name them?" I asked, quizzing Ron.
"Deimos and Phobos. Only two," he said confidently.
"Good," I said, breaking off a piece of chocolate frog and handing it to him as a reward.
We'd devised a system: for every correct answer, Ron got a bit of chocolate. It was surprisingly effective.
"Okay, what about Pluto?" I asked.
"Five. Charon, Styx, Nix, Kerberos, and Hydra," he said with a grin.
"Very good," I said, giving him another piece. "You're doing great, Ron!"
"Give me something harder," Ron said, his grin widening.
I smirked. "Are you sure?"
"Go on, ask me anything."
"Alright. How many moons does Jupiter have?"
"That's easy! Sixty-seven!" he replied smugly.
"Can you name them all?"
"Hell no."
I burst out laughing. "Thought you wanted something hard!"
"Cheeky, aren't we? Well, since you're so smart, why don't you name them?" he challenged, crossing his arms.
I began to recite. "Europa, Dia, Chaldene, Io, Isonoe, Himalia, Euro—"
"Alright, alright, I get it," Ron interrupted, throwing his hands up in surrender.
"Don't underestimate me," I teased, grinning.
"I never do," he said, popping the piece of chocolate into his mouth.
"Next question: How many groups of rings does Saturn have?" I asked.
"Four."
"And what are they made of?"
"Dust, rock, ice, and matter."
"I think you're ready." I said, giving him the rest of the frog. I was proud of him. There was nothing left on the subject that he could learn from me.
"Mmmmmm." Ron said through a mouthful of chocolate. ""Nothing like chocolate to motivate me to study. Why don't you use chocolate on me all the time?"
"Because I shouldn't have to bribe you to get a good grade." I replied, rolling my eyes.
"When you become a professor, you should have your kids answer questions for candy. I guarantee you that your class will be on top." He said, smiling a chocolatey smile.
"Ew, gross!" I said, laughing as I pushed his face away.
A few minutes later, Harry came rushing into the library, looking breathless and frazzled. He practically dropped into the seat across from me, his hair even more of a mess than usual. Something had clearly rattled him, and I barely had time to ask what was wrong before he launched into a hurried explanation of what he'd overheard Quirrell saying.
Ron's eyes widened as Harry finished. "Snape's done it, then!" Ron said, leaning forward like he was ready to spring into action. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell—"
"There's still Fluffy, though," I said quickly, my voice unsteady. The thought of that beast being bested made my stomach churn.
"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," Ron suggested, his tone grim. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"
I didn't even give Harry a chance to answer. "Go to Dumbledore," I said firmly. "That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves, we'll be thrown out for sure."
"But we've got no proof!" Harry argued, his voice rising with frustration. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor. Who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret that we hate him. Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it—he's too friendly with Snape. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."
Harry made a good point, but it still felt like the walls were closing in around us. Everything seemed so precarious. I glanced at Ron, hoping he'd come up with something more reassuring.
"If we just do a bit of poking around—" Ron began.
"No," Harry interrupted sharply. "We've done enough poking around."
Ron and I exchanged a worried glance. Harry's tone wasn't angry, but it carried a weight that unsettled me. I wondered just how much he was taking on alone, how heavy this burden felt to him. He was holding himself responsible for far too much.
The next morning at breakfast, a shadow fell over our table as owls swooped in, dropping notes in front of Harry, Neville, and me. My stomach twisted as I unfolded mine.
Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.
Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.
Professor McGonagall.
"I totally forgot about these damn things," Harry groaned, slumping in his chair.
"I didn't," I muttered, feeling glum. The words seemed heavier in my mouth than I expected. "After all, we do deserve them."
Harry's head snapped up, and he stared at me like I'd just said something completely absurd. "What? Why the bloody hell do we deserve a night with Filch?!"
"Because," I said as evenly as I could, trying not to get drawn into his frustration, "we still broke the rules. We were out past curfew, and we aren't supposed to do that. Yes, it was for a noble cause, but it was still against the rules."
"Only you would accept a detention," Ron muttered, shaking his head at me as he shoveled eggs into his mouth.
I shrugged and took a long sip of my pumpkin juice. It wasn't that I wanted detention, but what was the point of fighting it? The rules were clear, and we'd knowingly broken them. My hope now was that Mama and Papa wouldn't somehow find out about this mess. The last thing I needed was their disappointment added to my already overwhelming guilt.