This chapter would have been when Harry finds out about Hagrid in the series, and when Ron talks to Ginny about the Valentine in TKC. Since Hermione wasn't around for any of that, Imma try to work on some of her other friendships.

Chapter 41: Valentines Day

I left the hospital wing at the start of February, finally free of fur, whiskers, and the tail that had made my life a nightmare since the Polyjuice Potion fiasco. While I was relieved to be back in Gryffindor Tower, I couldn't shake the embarrassment of what had happened. I promised myself to be more careful moving forward. That evening, as I settled into my favorite chair near the fire, Harry approached me with something that immediately piqued my curiosity: a battered diary inscribed with the name T. M. Riddle.

"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," I said eagerly, leaning in to inspect it. The potential secrets in an old diary filled me with an undeniable excitement.

"If it has, it's hiding them very well," Ron said, clearly unimpressed. "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."

"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," Harry replied, his expression contemplative. "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts, either."

Ron, ever the joker, smirked. "Could've been anything. Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle. That would've done everyone a favor..."

"Ronald!" I exclaimed, appalled by his flippant remark. He looked at me, bewildered, as though he couldn't understand what he'd done wrong.

Harry, deep in thought, interrupted. "Hmmm. I wonder."

"Wonder what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Well," Harry said, voice measured, "the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it? That's what Malfoy said."

"Yeah," Ron said slowly, still not catching on.

"And this diary is fifty years old," I added, a flicker of excitement building in my chest.

Ron's brow furrowed. "So?"

"Oh, Ron, wake up!" I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything! Where the Chamber is, how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it. The person behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"

Ron scoffed. "That's a brilliant theory, Hermione, only there's just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary."

I wasn't about to give up that easily. Pulling out my wand, I tapped the diary three times. "Aparecium!" I said confidently.

Nothing. Hmm. Undeterred, I rummaged through my bag for my trusty Revealer, a bright red eraser I'd picked up at Flourish and Blotts. "It's a Revealer," I explained to the boys as I rubbed it hard over the page dated January first. Still nothing. The blank pages stared back at me, mocking my efforts. Frustration gnawed at me; mysteries like this weren't supposed to stay unsolved.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," Ron grumbled. "Riddle probably got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."

Harry wasn't convinced and insisted we investigate Riddle further. The next day at break, we made our way to the trophy room. Ron, who'd served detention there before, grumbled the entire way.

"I really don't care to be here again," he muttered, hands stuffed into his pockets. "I've seen enough of this bloody room to last me a lifetime." I couldn't help but smirk, remembering how he'd spent his detention burping up slugs.

In a corner cabinet, we found Riddle's gold shield, gleaming faintly behind the glass. It didn't explain why he'd earned it ("Good thing, too, or it'd be even bigger, and I'd still be polishing it," Ron added dryly). His name also appeared on an old Medal for Magical Merit and a list of former Head Boys.

"Sounds like Percy," Ron said, wrinkling his nose. "Prefect, Head Boy... probably top of every class."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I said, slightly hurt. The idea of being Head Girl someday was a secret dream of mine.

"It is if you're anything like Percy. Which you're not, Hermione, so stop acting like I just insulted you," Ron snapped.

"I didn't say you said I was like Percy—"

"Would you two PLEASE!" Harry shouted, spinning around to glare at us. Clearly, he'd had enough of our bickering. I clamped my mouth shut, but not without throwing Ron a pointed look. Honestly, boys could be so exhausting.

The sun had started shining weakly again over Hogwarts, and for the first time in weeks, there was a sense of cautious hopefulness in the air. The lack of new attacks since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had lifted spirits, and even I found myself less tense as I walked through the corridors. Madam Pomfrey had shared some good news as well, which Harry overheard while passing Filch in the hallway.

"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," she had said kindly. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."

It wasn't the most pleasant of images—cutting up Mandrakes—but it meant that the Petrified victims would be restored soon, and that thought gave me comfort. Still, not everyone was as optimistic. Ernie Macmillan was still convinced Harry was the culprit, and Peeves, being his usual infuriating self, kept popping up in crowded corridors singing, "Oh, Potter, you rotter," with an elaborate, ridiculous dance to match.

Then there was Lockhart. He had somehow convinced himself, and anyone willing to listen, that his mere presence at Hogwarts had made the attacks stop. Harry and Ron had overheard him telling Professor McGonagall this as we lined up for Transfiguration. And that apparently the school needed a morale-booster.

But Lockhart's so-called "morale booster" truly revealed itself on Valentine's Day, and it was… unforgettable.

The Great Hall was almost unrecognizable that morning. Gigantic, lurid pink flowers covered every inch of the walls, and heart-shaped confetti floated gently down from the enchanted ceiling. It reminded me of Valentine's Day back home, only far more exaggerated. I actually loved Valentine's Day; it was such a cheerful day full of love and kindness. Even though I rarely received genuine cards back home—just obligatory ones from classmates—I still enjoyed the festive spirit. Hogwarts, however, took things to an entirely new level.

Ron, predictably, looked absolutely horrified. His face twisted as he surveyed the decorations. I couldn't help but giggle at his expression; he looked as though he was about to be ill.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, sitting down beside us and brushing pink confetti off his bacon.

Ron didn't bother to answer; he simply jabbed a finger toward the staff table, where Lockhart was seated, resplendent in robes of eye-searing pink that matched the decor. To me, he looked festive—almost like Cupid himself. But judging by the looks from the other professors, they didn't share my appreciation. Professor Snape, in particular, looked as though he were silently plotting revenge.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart bellowed, standing up and beaming at the room. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all, and it doesn't end here!"

At his signal, a group of dwarfs stomped into the Great Hall, each wearing golden wings and carrying tiny harps. They looked thoroughly miserable, and I couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Even I could tell this wasn't their idea of fun.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" Lockhart announced, gesturing dramatically. "They'll be roaming the school all day, delivering valentines! And the fun doesn't stop there! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion? Or perhaps get some tips from Professor Flitwick, who knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met—the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands, looking mortified. Snape, meanwhile, glared at Lockhart with such fury that I was surprised he didn't hex him on the spot. It was all utterly absurd, but I couldn't help feeling slightly charmed by the effort.

As we left the Great Hall for our first lesson, Ron turned to me with a look of suspicion. "Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six."

I froze, pretending to be engrossed in my bag as if searching for something. I had sent Lockhart a card—a lovely one, pink and purple, with heart-shaped bubbles that floated out whenever it was opened. But I wasn't about to admit that to Ron.

"Really, Hermione?" he pressed, sounding genuinely appalled. "You sent that tosser a card?"

I shrugged, avoiding his gaze, and focused on the corridor ahead. Maybe next year, I'd make cards for Ron, Harry, and others too. But for now, I decided it was best not to say anything. Let Ron think what he liked—I'd never hear the end of it otherwise.

The day had been chaotic from the moment it started. All day, dwarfs stomped through Hogwarts delivering Valentine messages. By the afternoon, they were still at it, much to the irritation of the professors and some of the students. As Ron, Harry, and I were making our way upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs spotted Harry.

"Oy, you! Arry Potter!" the dwarf shouted, elbowing his way through the crowded corridor.

I felt a pang of secondhand embarrassment for Harry as he tried to escape, his face already turning red.

The dwarf was relentless, kicking people's shins and clearing a path as he pursued Harry. "I've got a musical message to deliver to Arry Potter in person!" the dwarf declared, tuning his harp in a manner that felt more like a threat than a serenade.

"Not here," Harry hissed, looking like he wanted to disappear.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing Harry's bag with surprising force.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled, yanking back.

The struggle ended with Harry's bag splitting open, sending books, parchment, quills, and ink scattering across the floor. The smashed ink bottle made a horrible mess as Harry scrambled to gather his things. The corridor became congested with students stopping to gawk.

"What's going on here?" came Malfoy's smug voice as he approached with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

Harry, now frantically shoving his belongings into his ruined bag, was clearly desperate to get away before Malfoy could hear whatever humiliating message the dwarf had for him.

"What's all this commotion?" Percy demanded, striding up. Ginny trailed behind him, her face pale as she took in the scene.

The dwarf, seemingly unbothered by the chaos, plopped himself onto Harry's ankles and began singing loudly:

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard,

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

I was stunned, my mouth hanging open as the dwarf finished. Ron looked equally shocked, and poor Harry seemed as though he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Meanwhile, Ginny's face turned an alarming shade of crimson as she tried to shrink into the wall. My heart ached for her. It was a sweet gesture that had turned into a public spectacle.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class now," Percy barked, shooing the younger students away. He turned to Malfoy. "And you, Malfoy—"

But Malfoy had already snatched up Riddle's diary from the floor. "Wonder what Potter's written in this?" he sneered, waving it tauntingly.

"Give that back," Harry demanded, his voice low and furious.

Malfoy ignored him, flipping the diary in his hand. "When I've had a look—"

"Hand it over, Malfoy," Percy ordered, puffing out his chest like a proper prefect.

But Harry had had enough. He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" The diary shot out of Malfoy's hand and into the air, where Ron deftly caught it.

"Nice catch," I whispered to Ron, impressed despite the situation.

"Harry!" Percy thundered. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"

Harry shrugged, clearly past caring. Malfoy looked livid, but Ginny's reaction worried me more. As she hurried past Malfoy toward her classroom, he called after her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

Ginny froze for a split second, her shoulders stiff, before running into her classroom. My chest tightened with anger. How dare Malfoy humiliate her like that? Ron's wand was out in an instant, but Harry grabbed his arm, muttering something about not wanting him to spend Charms burping up slugs again. Ron reluctantly lowered his wand, as it was shooting out ghastly purple clouds.

After Charms ended, Harry and Ron had gone ahead, leaving me to linger behind. I wanted to discuss my floating bubbles charm with Professor Flitwick. He'd caught me charming another card after finishing my lesson work early, and I couldn't help but smile when he called my charm "quite inventive." His encouragement always felt like a warm glow, especially on days like this when the castle felt so heavy with tension.

As I left the classroom, I spotted Ginny exiting the one adjacent. My heart sank instantly. Her face was pale, her eyes watery, and she looked seconds away from bursting into tears.

"Ginny?" I called softly, walking up to her. My chest ached seeing her like this. "Oh, Ginny, it's okay. It was a rather lovely poem."

She barely glanced at me, her gaze fixed on the floor. "Oh, save it, Hermione. I embarrassed him." Her voice was barely above a whisper."I embarrassed myself. And Malfoy didn't help, the great prat."

"He didn't have to say that," I told her, rubbing her back.

Ginny shook her head. "No, that's not what I… never mind." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"What? Not what?" I pressed gently, trying to understand what she wasn't saying.

She hesitated, her hands twisting nervously. "I… well… no. I can't. I have to go. I… need to study in the library." Her words were rushed, as if she needed to escape before she said too much. She turned quickly, walking away, but not before I caught the shimmer of a tear sliding down her cheek.

I stayed rooted in place for a moment, my stomach twisting with worry. I could see that she wanted to be alone, and while I wanted to help, I knew better than to push. Sighing softly, I headed toward the Great Hall for dinner, my mind still on Ginny.

After dinner, Harry excused himself, muttering something about needing to do something. That left Ron and me sitting alone, and I decided I couldn't just let Ginny stew in her sadness. I grabbed Ron's robes and tugged him to his feet.

"Come on, Ronald," I said, dragging him toward the library.

"Why in Merlin's name would I willingly go to the library when I don't have to?" he grumbled, dragging his feet like a sulking child.

I turned to face him, letting go of his robes. "Because your sister is in there, hiding and crying. She needs you."

That was all it took. Ron straightened immediately, his usual laziness replaced by a seriousness that made me blink. "I'll go talk to her. You head back to the common room," he said firmly.

I nodded, watching as he marched off toward the library. I couldn't help but admire his protectiveness over Ginny. It made me think about how it must feel to have a sibling like that. Someone who would drop everything to make sure you were okay.

Being an only child sometimes felt lonely. I had no brothers or sisters to fuss over me or argue with me. I was the only grandchild and niece on my mother's side, and my father's family lived overseas, so I only saw them during our reunions every few years. Watching Ron take such pride in looking out for Ginny always made me wonder what it might feel like to have that kind of bond.

I smiled softly as I walked back toward Gryffindor Tower, comforted by the thought that Ginny had such a caring brother. Whatever was troubling her, I knew Ron would do his best to help.

Later that evening, I borrowed an envelope from Parvati for the card I had made during Charms. Her envelopes were pink, which I thought would add a nice touch to the card.

"Ooooooh, Hermione, who's this card for?" she asked teasingly as she handed me the envelope, her tone light and playful.

"Just a friend," I replied, sliding the card into the envelope.

"Friend, or boyfriend?" Parvati asked in a sing-song voice, clearly enjoying herself. My cheeks warmed unexpectedly. Why was I blushing?

"Parvati, don't be daft," said Lavender with a smirk. "Hermione's too stuffy to want a boyfriend."

That comment hit me like a slap. Stuffy? I turned to face her, annoyed.

"Stuffy?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice calm but failing. "I am not stuffy!"

Lavender gave me an exaggerated once-over, her amused expression barely concealed. "Okay...is uptight a better word?"

"I am not uptight!" I said firmly, placing my put on my hips and planting my feet. How could she think that?

"Okay, let's not," Parvati interrupted, stepping between us. She turned to me with a softer tone. "Hermione, I think what Lavender means is that you seem like you're just not interested in boys, you know? You're more into your studies. And that's okay, isn't it?"

Her words were softer, but they still stung. She wasn't wrong, I was focused on my studies. But the way they said it made it feel like a flaw. I swallowed my irritation, stuffed the card into the envelope, thanked Parvati curtly, and left.

I made my way to Ginny's dorm. When I entered, she was sitting on her bed, brushing her hair. She looked better than she had in weeks, but there was still a shadow of worry in her expression.

I walked over and handed her the envelope.

"What's this, then?" she asked, her face lighting up with curiosity. A small smile crept across her lips.

"Open it," I urged, sitting on the edge of her bed.

She opened the envelope and pulled out the card. As she opened it, tiny heart-shaped bubbles floated out, popping gently in the air with soft, firework-like sounds. She giggled, her smile widening as she read the card:

To my dear friend Ginny so bright,

You're a spark in the darkest of night.

With bravery and cheer,

You've made it quite clear,

Our friendship is pure delight!

Ginny's smile grew even wider as she looked up at me. Without warning, she jumped up and hugged me tightly.

"Thank you, Hermione," she said, her voice warm and full of gratitude. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," I replied, hugging her back just as tightly. A soft warmth filled my chest. For a moment, I realized that maybe, just maybe, this is what having a sibling might feel like.