Had to split this into two chapters.

You care lol

Chapter 36: Getting Started

The castle felt heavier than usual that morning, a strange, oppressive silence hanging in the air as Ron and I walked toward the Great Hall. Whispers were everywhere and small huddles of students exchanging anxious glances and hushed words. I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened.

It was on our way out of breakfast that we overheard the voices of Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick in the corridor. I instinctively pulled Ron toward the corner, gesturing for him to stay quiet.

"Poor boy," Flitwick said, his voice unusually solemn. "Only eleven years old."

"Another attack," McGonagall replied grimly. "Found last night. Colin Creevey."

Ron stiffened beside me, his ace horrified.

McGonagall's voice dropped, but the weight of her words pressed down on me. "This has gone too far, Filius. We must find out who is responsible for these attacks."

Ron's face was red with anger. "Malfoy," he muttered as we hurried away.

The weight of everything felt like it was pressing down on me as Ron and I hurried toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. My thoughts were racing with fear and frustration for Colin. Eleven years old. Just a child. How could someone, how could Malfoy, be so cruel? My heart ached for Colin and his family, and my mind churned with worry about what could happen next.

"I can't believe this happened! Oh, poor Colin!" I said, my voice trembling as we moved quickly down the hallway, my bag of ingredients from the potions store swinging at my side.

"I know the kid's a right little bugger," Ron said, his tone oddly gentle for him, though he was walking quickly and making it hard for me to keep up. "But I must say, he didn't deserve that."

I appreciated Ron's attempt to soften his words, but it didn't do much to ease the anxiety curling in my chest. The corridors felt endless as we made our way, every shadow and creak putting me on edge.

Finally, we slipped into Myrtle's bathroom, the door creaking eerily behind us. The dank and miserable atmosphere of the bathroom matched my mood. Ron glanced around warily as we entered. After some pleading with Myrtle (who seemed all too happy to remind us how easily she could tattle) we managed to secure her silence, for now. Her sobbing echoes faded into the background as we got to work.

"Right," I said, setting my bag down and pulling out the cauldron. "Let's get started."

Ron helped me set up the cauldron over one of the toilets. I carefully lit one of my bluebell flames beneath it, its magical fire flickering bright and strong despite the damp surroundings. I adjusted the flame, ensuring it was just right. The flickering blue reflected off the chipped tiles and cracked mirrors, casting an otherworldly glow around us.

"So this is really going to take a month?" Ron asked, peering into the empty cauldron. "Not to rush, but is there any way to cut the time?"

I shook my head firmly. "No. As I said, some of the ingredients will be hard to get. And the potion making will be very tedious. There are certain—"

"What's that?" Ron suddenly interrupted, his voice low and tense. He froze, and I followed his gaze toward the door, where the faint sound of it creaking open made my stomach lurch. My breath caught as I instinctively pulled Ron into the nearest stall with me, slamming the door shut as quietly as I could.

We held our breath. The silence felt thick and suffocating.

"It's me," came a voice.

I exhaled sharply, my shoulders relaxing as I recognized it. "Harry!" I hissed, pushing the stall door open. Relief mixed with frustration. "You gave us such a fright. Come in. How's your arm?"

"Fine," said Harry, slipping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. He was pale but seemed determined. "What's that there?"

"We would've come to meet you," Ron said as Harry joined us, "but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion." He gestured to the bubbling cauldron. "We've decided this is the safest place to hide it."

"You'd never guess what happened," Harry said, his tone dropping, and I paused, watching him closely.

"Colin—" Harry began.

"We already know," I interrupted, throwing in some knotgrass with a decisive flick of my wrist.

"We heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we decided we'd better get going."

Ron's jaw tightened. "The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," he muttered. "Do you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin."

"There's something else," Harry said, and I could tell by his tone that it was serious. I stopped what I was doing, giving him my full attention as he explained Dobby's late-night visit.

I listened, stunned, as Harry recounted Dobby sealing the platform, enchanting the Bludger, and the cryptic warning about history repeating itself.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" I gasped, the words chilling me to my core. My fingers tightened around the bundle of leeches I was holding.

"This settles it," Ron said triumphantly, his face lighting up with anger. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here, and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby would've told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," I said, my voice tight with tension as I shoved the leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself. Pretend to be a suit of armor or something. I've read about Chameleon Ghouls."

"You read too much, Hermione," Ron said with a weak grin, pouring dead lacewings onto the leeches. "So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm. You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life, he's going to kill you."

Harry chuckled, but I didn't. My mind was too preoccupied with the dangers ahead, the risks of brewing the potion, and the terrible mystery unraveling around us.

The news about Colin Creevey spread through the school faster than a magical fire igniting dry parchment. By Monday morning, everyone knew he'd been petrified, and the atmosphere at Hogwarts had turned icy with fear and tension. Whispers filled every corridor, and the rumor mill was spinning wildly, each story more exaggerated than the last. It seemed like every corner you turned, students were huddled together, speaking in hushed tones as if afraid the culprit might overhear.

The first years, especially, were terrified. They moved through the hallways in tightly packed groups, their wide, anxious eyes darting at every shadow. Some clutched their wands in sweaty hands, as if they could duel the attacker despite not knowing more than a basic Levitation Charm. It made my heart ache to see them like that, especially knowing the terror must be magnified for the Muggle-borns.

I noticed Ginny during breakfast, sitting quietly at the Gryffindor table, barely touching her porridge. She looked pale and completely distraught. Colin had sat next to her in Charms, and I imagined the shock of his attack had hit her particularly hard. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she stared at the table, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

Fred and George, ever the self-appointed Gryffindor morale officers, seemed determined to cheer her up. But in true Weasley twin fashion, their efforts were as misguided as they were enthusiastic. They spent most of the morning hiding behind statues and jumping out at her, their faces transfigured with fur or boils.

"Look at me, Ginny!" Fred called after one particularly dramatic leap. His face was covered in bright green scales, and he flapped his arms like wings. "I've turned into a terrifying monster! Boo!"

Ginny jumped, clutching her bag to her chest. Her lips trembled, but instead of laughing, she bolted down the corridor.

"Fred, George," I snapped, marching up to them with my arms crossed. "Do you really think this is helping?"

"Just trying to lighten the mood, Hermione," George said defensively, scratching at his fur-covered chin.

"Yeah," Fred added, waggling his scaly eyebrows. "She's been so down lately. We're doing her a favor."

"Well, you're not," I said sharply. "You're scaring her half to death. Can't you see how upset she is?"

Fred and George exchanged guilty glances, but before they could respond, Percy appeared. He looked absolutely furious, his prefect badge gleaming in the morning light.

"If you two don't knock it off," he barked, "I will write to Mum. And you know what she'll do when she finds out you've been terrorizing Ginny while she's already upset."

Fred's scales vanished in an instant. George muttered something under his breath and stuffed his wand back into his pocket.

"Fine," Fred grumbled, crossing his arms. "But she could use a laugh, you know."

"Not like that," Percy said firmly, glaring at both of them before striding away.

I sighed, watching Ginny retreat toward the common room with her head down. There was so much fear and sadness in the castle now, and I felt helpless. It wasn't just Colin or Ginny—it was everyone. The joy and excitement that usually filled Hogwarts felt like it had been sucked out of the air, replaced with a sense of dread that seemed to grow heavier with every passing day.

In the second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. All three of us signed up to stay. I knew that it would more than likely hurt my parents feelings, so I wrote to them a letter, trying to explain how I needed to stay to keep up with my classes.

The response I got was as expected.

My Dearest Jeanie,

It still feels so strange writing to you when I'd much rather be talking to you face to face. The house feels so quiet without you. Your dad and I miss you terribly, but we're both so proud of you, sweetheart. Every day we think about how much courage it took for you to pursue something so unique and challenging. Not everyone would choose a path so different from what they've always known, but that's what makes you so special.

Your dad wasn't too thrilled when you told us you wanted to stay at school for the holidays to catch up on your schoolwork. He said something about how you needed a proper break. I told him you've always been determined, even as a little girl. Remember when you insisted on learning the entire periodic table at eight years old because "it's useful to know"? He says you've got your stubborn streak from me, but don't believe him. You've always had this quiet determination all on your own.

You'll laugh at this: your dad tried to fix the shower this weekend, and let's just say he might have needed a little magic. He turned the entire bathroom into a water park, and it took us hours to mop up the mess. We had to call a plumber in the end, and the poor man couldn't stop chuckling at the "ingenious improvisation" your father attempted. I wish you'd been here to see it. Your dad tried to act all serious afterward, but he kept slipping on the wet floor and couldn't stop laughing himself.

On a more serious note, Hermione, I know how much you value your education and how driven you are to succeed. It's something we both admire so much about you. But don't forget to take care of yourself too. I know Hogwarts is incredible, and you're learning things most people could only dream of, but remember it's okay to step back and rest sometimes. Even the most brilliant minds need a breather now and then.

We're so proud of the young lady you're becoming. Your kindness, your determination, your curiosity, they're what make you so special. You're achieving so much, but even more importantly, you're staying true to yourself. I hope you know how much we believe in you and how much we love you.

Take care of yourself, Hermione, and don't hesitate to write if you ever need us. We'll always be here for you.

All our love,

Mama and Papa

Malfoy was staying over Christmas and well, and though it was strange, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was another piece of this puzzle we were trying to solve. Why would he stay at the castle instead of heading off to his grand house with his family? I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him, and it seemed like Harry and Ron felt the same. If he was staying, though, it meant we had the perfect opportunity to corner him while under the guise of Slytherins.

But first, we needed the potion ingredients.

"We need a diversion," I said decisively as we neared the Potions classroom, my voice quiet but firm. The flickering torchlight cast strange shadows on the walls, making the whole thing feel even more nerve-wracking. "Then one of us can sneak into Snape's office and take what we need. I think I'd better do the actual stealing. You two will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and I've got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so."

Ron looked at me like I'd just suggested jumping into a pit of fire. "That, and you know more about what to get than we do," he said, his voice low and cautious. He shot a glance around the hallway to make sure no one was listening. "Still, with it being Snape and all, it's a huge risk you're taking."

"I'll be alright," I said, trying to sound confident. The truth was, my heart was pounding so hard I was sure they could hear it. Snape terrified me more than I cared to admit, but I couldn't let them see that.

Ron didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't argue. Harry, on the other hand, gave me a weak attempt at a smile, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. I knew he was trying to be encouraging, but there was something in his eyes—worry, maybe—that only made my stomach twist further.

Potions lessons were held in the damp, shadowy dungeons, where twenty cauldrons bubbled and steamed between the rows of wooden desks, their surfaces cluttered with brass scales and jars of odd ingredients. Thursday's lesson was no different, with Snape prowling through the haze, his sharp tongue ready to critique every Gryffindor effort while lavishing praise on the Slytherins, particularly Malfoy. Malfoy, of course, took full advantage of this favoritism, smirking as he flicked puffer-fish eyes at Harry and Ron, who managed to keep their tempers in check, knowing all too well that Snape would hand them detention in a heartbeat if they retaliated.

We were making swelling solutions, which was easy enough. After I finished mine, I gave the boys a slight nod, and Harry ducked swiftly down behind his cauldron, pulled one of Fred's Filibuster fireworks out of his pocket, and gave it a poke with his wand. The firework began to fizz and sputter. Harry then stood up, took aim, and lobbed it into the air, where it landed right where he wanted it, in Goyle's cauldron.

The classroom was a perfect storm of chaos, and I had to give Harry credit—it was brilliantly executed. From my position at the back of the room, I could barely hear myself think over the shrieks and yells as Goyle's potion exploded, sending thick green sludge flying in every direction. Malfoy's nose was growing larger by the second, looking comically balloon-like, and Goyle's hands now resembled oversized dinner plates.

Snape, his face twisted in barely controlled rage, was barking orders, his voice cutting through the pandemonium. "Silence! Everyone calm down! What is the meaning of this?"

This was my moment. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure someone would hear it, but I forced myself to focus. I gripped the small pouch hidden in my robe pocket and slipped out of my seat. Snape's back was turned, his attention firmly on Goyle, who was flailing his massive hands like a distressed windmill.

I moved quickly but quietly, keeping low as I edged toward the storeroom door. Every creak of the wooden floor beneath my feet felt like an alarm bell, but the din of the classroom provided cover. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw Harry standing beside his cauldron, looking like he was barely holding in his laughter while pretending to help clean up. Ron was standing awkwardly, clearly trying not to draw attention to himself.

I reached the door to Snape's private stores and froze, my fingers trembling as I worked to slide it open. It made a faint scraping sound, but I stopped myself from wincing. I slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind me as quietly as I could.

The storeroom was dimly lit and smelled strongly of herbs and something faintly metallic. Shelves lined the walls, packed with jars, vials, and containers labeled in Snape's cramped, spiky handwriting. My stomach churned as I realized how little time I had. I scanned the labels frantically: Powdered Root of Asphodel, Pickled Rat Tails, Dried Billywig Stings. None of these were what I needed.

Finally, on the second shelf from the bottom, I spotted the small, carefully labeled jar: Powdered Horn of Bicorn. My fingers brushed the cool glass as I grabbed it and slipped it into the pouch. One down.

Now for the Boomslang skin. It wasn't in the same section, and I felt a cold trickle of sweat run down my back as I searched the shelves above. My hands trembled as I shifted a jar of Jobberknoll Feathers to the side. There it was, just within reach— Shredded Skin of Boomslang. I stretched onto my toes and carefully pulled the jar from the shelf. It was heavier than I expected, but I managed to lower it into my pouch without dropping it.

Suddenly, I heard Snape's voice booming from the classroom, closer this time. "Everyone stay where you are! No one leaves until I get to the bottom of this!"

Panic flared in my chest. I had to get out now. I shoved the storeroom door open just a crack and peered out. The classroom was still in chaos, Snape at the center of it, trying to subdue the panic. Harry caught my eye from across the room, and for a split second, he gave the faintest nod.

I slipped out, keeping low as I edged back toward my seat. My legs felt like jelly, and my pulse was roaring in my ears. Just as I sank back into my chair, Snape turned sharply, his dark eyes sweeping over the room.

"This is unacceptable!" he hissed, his gaze settling on Harry, who was still at his cauldron. "Potter! What is the meaning of this?"

"I—I don't know, sir," Harry stammered, doing his best to look innocent.

Snape's eyes narrowed, but before he could press further, another shout erupted from Goyle, whose swollen hands had accidentally knocked over someone else's cauldron, sending another potion spilling onto the floor. The distraction gave me enough time to steady my breathing and glance down at my pouch, ensuring the jars were safely tucked away.

""Silence! SILENCE!" Snape's voice cut through the chaos like a whip, echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon. His face was a mask of fury, his black eyes sweeping over the room. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft! When I find out who did this..." His voice was a dangerous growl, promising retribution.

I glanced at Harry and Ron, who were desperately trying to stifle their laughter as Malfoy shuffled to the front, his swollen nose drooping comically under its own weight, resembling an overripe watermelon. Harry's shoulders shook with silent laughter, and even I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. I gave them a quick nod as I slipped back to my seat, the stolen ingredients safely hidden in my bag. My heart was racing, but a surge of triumph bubbled in my chest. We'd done it.

After class, we hurried back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the tension of the mission replaced by giddy excitement. I immediately set to work, carefully adding the powdered bicorn horn and shredded boomslang skin to the potion, the fumes rising thick and acrid around us.

"It'll be ready in two weeks," I said, a note of satisfaction in my voice as I stirred the cauldron. The potion was progressing perfectly.

Ron leaned against the stall, grinning. "Snape can't prove it was you, Harry. He's got nothing. What can he do?"

"Knowing Snape," Harry muttered darkly, his face clouded with a mix of amusement and unease, "something foul."

The boys exchanged a look, but I barely noticed. My mind was already running through the next steps. For now, though, we had made it through another hurdle, and I allowed myself to feel a flicker of pride.