Hermione Granger and the Heir of Slytherin

Chapter Summary: More summer adventures for Hermione. I’m really just passing the time until the school year starts. In this chapter Hermione goes to a slumber party with her favorite roommates. Will she be able to survive 18 hours with a bunch of giggling girls? Read closely and you’ll see I’ve introduced a few things that will be important in the story later.

--- Begin Fic Here ---

“Hermione,

Have you heard from Harry at all this summer? I haven’t gotten an owl from him yet and Erroll’s come back empty clawed. I don’t know if he even got my letter at all. Erroll’s already lost two letters this summer. I was thinking that you might have better luck getting in contact with Harry seeing as how my owl’s a bit old. Or maybe there is some muggle way you could contact him? In any case let me know what you find out and don’t forget to tell Harry about coming to my house for his birthday.

Ron”

Hermione glanced down at the decrepit owl, Erroll, now sprawled out beside her on the sitting room couch. It was true that the Weasley’s owl was definitely old and almost out of the post business, but she strongly suspected that this wasn’t the entire problem. It was likely that Harry’s aunt and uncle might be preventing him from using his owl, Hedwig, as well. She remembered all the stories Harry used to tell her about his guardians locking him in a cupboard under the staircase and how they feared his magical heritage. Maybe they had done the same thing this summer as soon as he had gotten back home. If Harry couldn’t use his owl and Erroll missed a delivery, it would explain the lack of contact.

Hermione gave one last look to the feeble owl beside her and then headed back up to her room. She pulled a quill, ink bottle, and some parchment from the open school bag by her desk. Ever since she had started school, she’d stopped using regular pens and paper and now writing with long feather quills was second nature to her and surprisingly faster. She thought for a moment before dipping her quill in the ink and starting a letter to Harry.

“Dear Harry;

Ron and I were wondering if you were okay. Neither of us has heard from you this summer and we’re both worried. Ron wrote you a little over a week ago to ask you if you wanted to visit him this summer for your birthday. Did you get that letter? His owl is old so if you haven’t gotten it I wouldn’t be surprised or if you did and tried to write Ron back, he didn’t get a response.

I’m guessing that you can’t use Hedwig for one reason or another. I hope your aunt and uncle haven’t done anything terrible to her. In any case if you can’t use her to write to us, I’m enclosing some wizard’s stamps. All you have to do is write a letter like normal, put it in an envelope and place one of these stamps on it. An owl will come to you and pick it up within a few hours. I hope to hear from you soon.

Love from,

Hermione”

She re-read the letter she had just written, making sure it didn’t sound too panicked or worried. She put four wizard’s stamps in the envelope. That was half the stamps she had left. She then took one of her remaining stamps and placed it on the envelope for her letter to Harry. There was no chance she’d risk sending her letter with Erroll. She then took out another piece of parchment and wrote a quick note to Ron telling him that she’d sent a letter to Harry and that hopefully they’d both get a reply soon.

It took Erroll several hours to recover and by the time he left with her letter to Ron, the post owl that magically responded to the wizard’s stamp had also come and gone. Hermione’s mom appeared from the kitchen and called her to dinner.

“Busy post day?” Mrs. Granger said as the three of them sat down to dinner.

“Yes, I just got a letter from Ron. Harry hasn’t written either of us yet this summer. I think maybe they’re keeping him from using his owl somehow. They might have him locked up again. I hope he’s okay.”

“Barbaric,” Mr. Granger muttered. Ever since Hermione had told her parents about Harry’s home life, her father in particular had been angered at how supposedly civilized people could treat a child in such a way. Hermione had always gotten the impression before that her father thought Harry to be a bad influence at school, but now he seemed to have lightened up on the issue and she was glad for that.

“Well dear,” Mrs. Granger said encouragingly. “From what you’ve told us, Harry is quite capable of taking care of himself. I’m sure he can handle whatever his aunt and uncle throw at him.”

Hermione nodded numbly, imagining Harry in a small locked cupboard, getting very little to eat and having to live with spiders and no light. “I guess; I just worry about him. I just sent him an owl today with some stamps. If he can’t use Hedwig, at least he can use the stamps to write us letters.”

“You know, not to sound ‘anti-wizard’ but perhaps there is a more, shall we say, technological solution to your problem here,” Her father said knowingly.

Hermione gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Granger laughed and waved a fork haphazardly towards the wall. “The phone, Hermione, the phone.”

Hermione raised a hand to her head. “I never thought of that. Harry and I are both from muggle families. We both have phones.”

“What will those muggles think of next,” Mrs. Granger laughed.

“Never forget that there are still some useful things in the non-wizarding world, Hermione.” Mr. Granger said seriously.

“In any case, I’m sure you’ll hear from Harry soon.” Just as Mrs. Granger said this, there was a light tapping on the window. All three turned to see a small brown owl with red highlights at the kitchen window.

“Uh,” Hermione looked around at her parents. Her father looked annoyed at the fact that an owl was disturbing their dinner. It tapped at the window again and seeing as how she had no choice, Hermione went for the window and let it in. The owl had a sparkling blue letter tied to its leg.

Hermione was about to bring it back with her when her father gave her a curt, “No owls at the table while we’re eating.”

“Oh fine,” Hermione took the letter from the owl and let it out the window again.

“Who is it from?” Mrs. Granger asked as Hermione returned to her seat.

“I don’t know,” she said examining the envelope, which only had her name on it. Wizarding letters rarely had return addresses on them. “It can’t be from Harry. I just wrote him a couple of hours ago.”

“Well go ahead and open it, seeing as our dinner’s already been disturbed,” her father said with a bite of impatience.

Hermione tried her best not to roll her eyes as she opened the envelope. What happened when she did was truly unexpected. Music exploded from the envelope and soon there was a voice to match. It sounded like some sort of cheesy commercial.

“Feeling like you have nothing to do over the summer holidays? Can’t use magic, can’t visit Diagon Alley, can’t even go see a quidditch game? Well your boredom days are about to end because Lavender Brown is throwing a party and you’re invited. That’s right! It’s going to be 18 hours of non stop girl fun. Not to be missed! So be there or be hexed!”

Just as quickly as it started, it ended. The music stopped and the envelope fluttered down to the tabletop, dormant.

“Uh…” Hermione glanced from her mother to her father, waiting for some sort of response.

Mr. Granger had a look on his face that clearly indicated he had seen one too many surprising things that day. He stared blankly for a moment and then, as if nothing had happened, turned to his daughter and said, “Would you please pass the butter?”

Hermione didn’t hesitate to comply and then silently returned to her food, eating as fast as she possibly could now. She wanted to avoid the inevitable conversation that would occur when her parents finally got over the initial shock.

She wasn’t fast enough. “Well,” Mrs. Granger started finally. “It’d be nice to get out of the house wouldn’t it? See some of your other friends.”

Hermione shrugged. “Um, I guess.” She started shoveling food into her mouth much faster now. Her mother gave her a quizzical look.

“Well if you ask me, the time could be better spent studying.” Mr. Granger said irritably. “Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean your mind should be on vacation.”

“Oh dear…” her mother sighed.

“Dad’s probably right,” Hermione agreed hastily. “I mean I already had Anne over, and I’m planning to go to Ron’s for Harry’s birthday. Don’t want to overdo it.” She threw her napkin down on the table. “Can I be excused?” She grabbed the letter and headed out the kitchen without another word.

------

Hermione lay on her bed, examining the envelope from Lavender. She found that inside there was an actual piece of parchment, giving all the information about the party. It was going to be July 24, a week before Harry’s birthday, at 3 PM. From what she guessed it was some sort of slumber party that would last until 9 AM the following morning and the guest list seemed to include Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff girls; primarily the ones going into second year.

Of course there was no reason why she couldn’t go. Despite what her father had said at the dinner table, she knew she could convince him to let her go. Being top of her class last year had earned her a few perks and she was doing her best to exploit her father’s generous mood as often as possible.

No, it wasn’t that.

Though her school experience was far better than her primary school days, she still wasn’t exactly the most liked person at Hogwarts. Mostly, her classmates just tolerated her; she suspected this was mainly because she was one of Harry Potter’s best friends. She got along with her roommates well enough, but they were far from close. Ever since the beginning of the school year, Parvati had been trying to get in Harry’s good graces with no success. So of course when Hermione and Harry suddenly became best friends, it sent her roommate into a frenzy and Hermione immediately became the most envied and hated first year girl in the entire school. It was a little known fact that you never crossed a Patil twin, unless you wanted wild rumors spread about you all over school.

Ever since then, Hermione’s social status had been a roller coaster of ups and downs. There were times when her roommates wouldn’t even speak to her and other times when they would fawn over her as if she were a celebrity. They were definitely fickle and Hermione couldn’t stand fickle people. She knew the only reason she got this invitation was because they were still glowing over the fact that Hermione helped Gryffindor win the house cup and also because she helped Harry save the Sorcerer’s Stone from Voldemort. Otherwise, even if she and her roommates were on speaking terms, she probably still wouldn’t have gotten invited.

“Why should I go hang out with my flakey roommates and a bunch of girls who’ve barely said two words to me all year?” she thought to herself.

There was a knock on her door. “Hermione?” It was her mother. Mrs. Granger opened the door, not bothering to wait for her daughter’s response.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Hermione said immediately as her mother took a seat beside her on the bed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Hermione, believe it or not, I was a kid once too and I went through the same problems you did when it came down to making friends, you know. Remember, you get part of your ‘challenging’ personality from me.”

Hermione could never understand how her sweet, caring, and extremely patient mother could have ever been anything like her when she was younger. She always imagined that she took after her father in that respect, but her father apparently never had any problems making friends even though he was just as big a know-it-all in his youth as she was now.

She sighed. “It’s just… Lavender, I mean I don’t think she really wants me at her party.”

“Oh then why would she invite you then?” Mrs. Granger asked matter-of-factly.

“Because I’m ‘Hermione Granger’ the girl who saved Harry Potter’s life, and helped save the Sorcerer’s Stone from Voldemort, and helped win the house cup,” she said in exasperation. “She has to invite me. I’m popular now, or at least until everyone forgets what happens in a few months. Then I’ll probably have to save the school from a dragon to get people to like me again.”

“So what you’re saying is, you don’t want to go because they’re only inviting you because you’re popular?” Mrs. Granger summed up. “You know, I remember a year ago you would have died to have this kind of popularity.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” Hermione almost shouted. “I don’t want to just be popular. I mean; most of those girls don’t even know me other than the rumors and stories that’ve been flying around. It’s not like they’re really my friends like Harry is.”

“Well Hermione, if I’m not mistaken, the only way you can get to know someone is by being around them. So these girls aren’t your friends now, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t become your friends after spending a little time with you.” She took the invitation off the bed and perused it quickly. “See, a slumber party is the perfect opportunity for some quality girl bonding. You can show them what the real Hermione is like.”

“Oh you mean the bossy, know-it-all, stuffy Hermione that we all know and love?” Hermione said huffily.

“You must have some good qualities in there somewhere; why else would Harry be your friend?”

“Drat!” she hated it when her mother used logic against her.

“Well, how am I going to get to this party anyway,” She pointed to the address on the invitation. “Lavender doesn’t live close. You and Dad’ll be at work. It’s not like I can use magic to get there, even if I knew a way to do it.”

Mrs. Granger rubbed her daughter’s bushy brown hair lovingly. “Hermione, you’re a clever little witch. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

That was her last objection. “Well, I guess…”

“Hermione, you don’t have to go but…” her mother grinned. “I can’t see why you wouldn’t want to. This is a chance for you to show them what you’re really like, and maybe make a few new friends in the process. I think you could use a few female friends.” With that, her mother stood and left the room.

Hermione sighed and looked down at the invitation again. Could she really survive eighteen hours with Lavender, the Patil twins and a bunch of giggling girls who would probably spend all their time talking about Hogwarts’ boys? Then again, she had to live with Lavender and Parvati for six more school terms. It would be beneficial to be on good terms with them. And maybe her mother was right. Maybe she could make some new female friends. Not every Hogwarts girl was like Lavender and Parvati, right?

She turned the invitation over where there was a form for her to RSVP. She grabbed the quill from her desk and quickly scribbled her reply and a quick note to Lavender saying she would need a ‘lift’ to the party. She placed a wizard’s stamp on the invitation and waited for an owl to come pick it up.

As she lay in bed, Hermione thought about how her holiday had turned out so far. She thought she would be spending the whole summer studying for the following school term, but as it was, she hadn’t even touched the extra research that McGonagall had sent her. She felt like she was being extremely lazy. Well even with Lavender’s party in a few days and visiting Ron the following week for Harry’s birthday, she’d still have the whole month of August to study. That should be enough.

Just as she was about to prepare for bed, she heard the tale-tell tapping on her bedroom window. The post owl had come for her reply to Lavender. It left a few minutes later with the parchment clamped firmly in its beak. Hermione sighed again as she watched the owl glide through the night sky.

-----

That following Friday morning, Hermione was double checking her bag to make sure she had everything. She packed a set of pajamas, a pillow, a set of clothes for the next day, and a swimsuit, because Lavender’s invitation had mentioned something about going in their pool. She made sure not to bring any of her school books. The last thing she wanted them to think was that she was always studying, even if that was fairly true.

Instead she decided to bring some of things she got from the Wizard’s World Fair including her charcoal portrait and the Gilderoy Lockhart book she bought and already read half of during the past few days.

Her mother and father had of course left earlier that morning wishing her well on her trip. Lavender had written back earlier that week to let her know that a Ravenclaw first year girl, Mandy Brocklehurst, lived very close to her and her family agreed to handle transporting Hermione to the party. Mandy herself had written the day before to tell her that they would be arriving at 2:30 on Friday. All the arrangements had been made.

Hermione had never met Mandy before but when the doorbell rang at 2:30 and Hermione opened the door, she immediately recognized the short, long-haired, brunette that stood there.

“Hi Hermione,” she said with a wide grin. “My folks are just out in the car waiting.”

“Car?” Hermione repeated vaguely. She didn’t know that wizard’s drove cars. Wasn’t that strictly a muggle device? But before she could question further, Mandy was already headed back to what was indeed a small, four-door blue car. Hermione grabbed her bag and keys and rushed towards the open car door. She climbed in and slammed the door behind her.

“Hi there,” A woman, who was obviously Mandy’s mother called from the front passenger seat. “It’s nice to meat you, Hermione.”

Mr. Brocklehurst was at the wheel. “It’ll only take us a few minutes to get back to the house. Then you girls can floo to the Brown’s.”

“Thanks for picking me up, Mr. and Mrs. Brocklehurst,” Hermione said politely.

“Not a problem dear,” Mrs. Brocklehurst. “We witches and wizards have to stick together; don’t we now?”

Mandy’s parents were soon engaged in their own conversation giving Hermione the chance to lean over and have a hushed conversation with Mandy.

“You’re parents aren’t muggles are they? I mean they don’t act like it, but… this car?”

Mandy let out a giggle. “Oh no, they’re magic for sure, it’s just my father’s job. He has to work with muggles a lot so he knows a lot about them and he has muggle transportation so he can fit in.”

“Really?” Hermione was intrigued. “What does your dad do?”

“He’s a type of wizard investigator. Basically, he hunts down and retrieves magical items that have fallen into muggle hands. He’s an independent but he does get a lot of jobs from the ministry.”

“And you live near here?”

“Well, sort of. We live on Turnkey Lane,” Mandy told her.

“Turnkey Lane? I’ve never heard of it. How far is it from here?”

“Well it’s kind of hard to explain. Pretty much all streets around here connect to Turnkey Lane. It’s one of the more accessible wizarding neighborhoods in the area. It’s really nice, we just moved there three years ago. We lived in Godric’s Hollow before that but I definitely have more friends here.” Mandy was interrupted by a jarring bump and a brief flash. “Oh we’re here.”

Hermione stared out the window, upset that she had missed whatever the Brocklehursts had done to make the transition to Turnkey Lane. All of the houses looked fairly normal to her, like standard suburban muggle architecture. It was hard to believe that this was a wizarding neighborhood until she saw some small children playing outside on what looked like miniature broomsticks. Hermione strongly suspected that even though the outside of the houses looked normal, the interiors were a different story.

She would soon be able to test this theory because a few seconds later the Brocklehursts pulled into the driveway of a small one story house with lime colored aluminum siding.

Mandy led Hermione inside the house, but at first sight, there wasn’t anything particularly odd about the décor. The sitting room could definitely pass for muggle if it weren’t for the green fire that was blazing in the fireplace and the owl sleeping on a tall perch in a corner.

There was also the clock on the wall, or what looked like a clock except it seemed to do everything except tell time. It had three rings of what would normally be numbers and three hands to go with each ring. The outermost ring seemed to be the closest to actually telling time as it had small phrases on it like “time for dinner,” “don’t forget the promise you made,” and “you’re almost late.” The middle ring had small pictures on it that were used to indicate the current weather. The innermost ring had short phrases as well and from what Hermione could tell, it was some sort of home security system because they said things like “All Secure,” “Uninvited Stranger in House,” and “Emergency!” Currently the clock’s hands were set to “You’re Almost Late,” a picture of the sun, indicating nice weather, and “Family and Guests in Home.”

Mrs. Brocklehurst glanced at the clock Hermione had been staring at. “Oh dear,” she looked at her own watch. “You girls are almost late for the party. Mandy, dear, go on and grab your bag. Hermione do you want to call your parents before you go? I doubt the Browns will have a muggle telephone.”

Hermione nodded but was confused when Mrs. Brocklehurst handed her the phone off the coffee table. “There’s no phone line connected to this.” She picked up the receiver and there was indeed a dial tone “How is it working?”

“Muggle phone companies don’t know about this place, of course,” Mr. Brocklehurst explained. “So we make it work with magic. Beats paying the bloody phone bills.” He gave a hearty chuckle.

Hermione dialed her parent’s office and got the receptionist. After a few minutes on hold, her mother picked up. “Hi mum, just wanted you to know that I’m about to floo to Lavender’s so I probably won’t talk to you again until tomorrow morning.”

Her mother answered with a “Have fun, dear” just as Mandy was coming down the stairs.

Hermione said a quick goodbye and then proceeded to the fireplace with Mandy.

Mrs. Brocklehurst came from the kitchen with a small container. “Now Hermione, do you know how floo powder works?”

“Oh yes ma’am, I read all about it in ‘Magical Transportation in the 20th Century,’” Hermione said before she could stop herself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she chastised mentally. “I’ve got to stop doing that!” She was of course nervous seeing as how this was the first time she’d actually used floo powder.

“Well then,” Mrs. Brocklehurst said. “All you need to know is that when you use the powder say ‘The Browns’ because that’s where you’re going.”

Hermione nodded as Mandy, who had already taken some of the powder, stepped up to the fireplace and threw it in. The green flames seemed to jump with new life and now had a hint of blue and yellow in them.

She stepped boldly into the fire and shouted “The Browns.” and disappeared in a mixture of fire and smoke.

Hermione hesitantly took a pinch of floo powder and proceeded towards the fireplace. She threw it in and once again, the flames seemed to jump with new life. She really hated the idea of walking directly into a roaring fire but not wanting to seem like she didn’t know what she was doing, she stepped into the fireplace. She was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t feel even the heat of the flames lapping up around her. Careful not to get any smoke in her mouth, Hermione shouted “The Browns.”

What happened was both completely shocking and completely unexpected. Suddenly Hermione was spinning faster than she’d ever spun before. She couldn’t see anything except brick and mortar and she was so dizzy, she felt like she was going to be sick. Trying to remember everything she had read, she tucked her arms in to keep from being bruised by the enclosed space she was traveling it. Everything was a blur now. Her head was pounding, her heart was beating hard in her chest and she shut her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to see the spinning scene anymore.

Just when she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, she felt herself slowing down and then, she came abruptly to a halt. It happened so fast that Hermione tumbled out the fireplace and landed flat on her face in the crowded sitting room of Lavender Brown’s house.

-----

“Hermione… Hermione are you okay?” Hermione would have recognized the voice anywhere. It was Parvati Patil. She felt herself being pulled to her feet.

“Why oh why did I have to fall on my face in front of everyone!” Hermione thought as she looked around at the sea of faces in front of her. There had to be a dozen girls in the room. It looked like everyone had arrived before her so they all had the opportunity to see what a complete and utter idiot she was.

“I’m fine,” Hermione said shaking the helping hands away. “Just one more occasion this summer that I wish I could use my wand.” She was covered with soot from head to toe.

“Covered,” said a girl who was pushing her way through the crowd. She was much older than the rest and was wielding her wand, which meant she was obviously a fully qualified witch. She waved her wand at Hermione and immediately she was clean again.

Lavender was next to her. “This is my cousin Amber; she just graduated from Hogwarts this past year. She was in Ravenclaw.”

Hermione eyed her curiously. “You were head girl weren’t you?”

Amber nodded. “My aunt and uncle commissioned me to keep track of you lot.” Another girl stepped up beside her and she looked slightly younger than Amber. “This is my friend Penny. She’s in Hogwarts too, going into sixth year. She’s going to help me.”

“You’re Hermione Granger aren’t you?” Penny said immediately.

Hermione gave her a stunned look. “Uh, yes.”

“Oh yeah, you’re the one who solved Snape’s riddle and helped Harry Potter beat ‘you know who,’” Amber said. “I knew I recognized you. You’re pretty famous you know.”

Hermione’s confusion grew as both Amber and Penny shook her hand. “I am?”

“Oh yeah, they’re saying there’s no spell you can’t master. You’re going to be head girl for sure you know.”

Hermione could barely keep herself from blushing as Amber praised her. “Finally, someone who doesn’t think being smart is a bad thing.” Amber definitely seemed like a cool person.

“Well everyone’s here now,” Lavender announced, “So how about you all throw your bags in the rec room and we can change and go out to the pool.”

Everyone grabbed their bags and followed Lavender out of the sitting room.

-----

Lavender’s pool was huge, larger than an Olympic size pool and it had slides and other attachments that reminded Hermione of some of the rides from the Wizard’s World Fair. No one else seemed particularly impressed by the size of the pool and Hermione wondered if it was because wizarding families could have pools this size because of magic or because Lavender’s family was just well-to-do. In either case, it was the biggest pool Hermione had ever been in. She decided to lie on an air mattress and talk to a Hufflepuff girl named Hannah. The two older girls, Amber and Penny were making lunch on a magical grill beside the pool. Amber was doing most of the work since she was the only one who could use her wand.

Hermione watched as some of the girls took turns jumping down a long tube into the pool and she wondered vaguely if it was anything like the “Giant Drop” at the Wizard’s World Fair. Just as she was thinking this, Lavender, Padma, and a few other girls swam over to them.

“How come you aren’t swimming, Hermione?” Padma asked playfully. “Don’t like the water.” She started to splash the two girls.

Parvati swam up to them. “You should try the tube. It’s fun.”

Hermione shook her head vehemently. “Oh no! That thing reminds me too much of a ride at the Wizard’s World Fair. One that I’d like to forget, thank you very much.” Everyone’s mouths dropped. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“You went to the Wizard’s World Fair?” one of the girls asked in shock. “In Florida?”

“That’s so awesome. My parents never let me go. They say it’s too dangerous.”

“I heard the tickets were a fortune, almost as much as the Quidditch World Cup.”

“You’ve got to tell us all about it.”

All of the girls were gathering around her float now, eager for Hermione to tell her story.

Lavender was looking over at her cousin. “I think the food is ready; anybody hungry?”

Mandy’s stomach seemed to growl on cue. “Yeah I am. Come on, Hermione can tell us all about the fair while we eat; right Hermione?”

“Uh sure, I guess.” Hermione said as she slid off the raft into the pool to swim back with the rest of the girls. Her eyes were fixed on Lavender who had an extremely strained look on her face.

-----

The girls insisted on hearing all about the fair. Even Penny was intrigued as she’d never been to a fair either. Hermione went back inside and brought out the portrait that the Chinese wizard had made of her. Everyone agreed it was an excellent likeness. She then told them about her stolen wand.

“So that kid took your wand just because you wouldn’t hang out with him?” A girl named Megan asked Hermione as she told her story. “How rude!”

“How did you know it was him?” Hannah asked.

“I don’t know.” Hermione shrugged. “I just sort of remembered him bumping into me.”

“That was really amazing how you got it back,” Hannah said.

“Well when you hang around Harry Potter you learn a thing or two about flying, I’m sure,” Parvati added and Hermione could hear a hint of resentment in her voice. She could only guess that she was still upset at how close she was to Harry.

Hermione was glad to see that the other girls didn’t seem too upset about this though. Still, she hated always being associated with Harry. I mean of course he was her best friend, but she was her own person. It wasn’t like they did everything together; did they? She thought about this for a moment.

“I do spend almost all my time with Harry and Ron, but that’s because they’re my only friends. Then again, it’s not like I tried to make any other friends. But it’s not like anyone wanted to be friends with me anyway; not Hermione Grange, the brain. But still…” she looked around at all the girls sitting on the patio laughing and joking, retelling stories about the previous school year. They were all friends but Hermione really wasn’t part of this group. She was just an outsider. That was probably why Lavender was glaring at her earlier. She didn’t want Hermione there because she wasn’t part of the group. “I knew it; she only invited me because she had to, because I’d be the only one left out. Poor little muggle born Hermione; she’s barely got any friends so we better invite her or she’ll miss out on all the fun.”

“Do you remember that, Hermione?” one of the girls, Lisa, asked her.

“Huh, remember what?”

“That Slytherin girl, Millicent, what she did at Halloween dinner; it was hilarious.”

“Oh I wasn’t around for the Halloween feast. I was uh... busy… with a troll,’ she said vaguely. She was still watching Lavender watch her.

“The troll? What do you mean?” Penny seemed to have had her interest peaked again. “Why weren’t you in your common room with the rest of your housemates?”

Something familiar in Penny’s voice made Hermione ask. “Are you a prefect?”

Amber let out a harsh laugh. “Oy, ‘Perfect Prefect Penny.’”

“Well anyway, I didn’t know the troll was around until it stormed into the girl’s bathroom where I was at.”

“She’d been in there all afternoon, crying,” Padma added matter-of-factly.

Hermione shot her a “why did you have to tell them that?” look but Mandy, who didn’t seem to have heard the comment said. “So you saw the troll?” as if she had seen the Pope.

“Yeah, something I never want to see again. They’re ugly, and smelly, and they have gray boogers,” she said in disgust.

“Ewwww!” all the girls chimed.

“Okay, no more talk about trolls,” Padma said, pretending to gag, “I just finished eating.”

“Speaking of such, now what should we do?” Lisa asked. “We’ve got a long time before bed?”

“We’ll we’ve got some games,” Amber told them.

“I think some of the girls brought stuff too,” Lavender added.

“Did you bring anything, Hermione?” Mandy asked, much to Hermione’s chagrin.

“Uh…” Hermione looked down at her bag which she had brought out earlier to retrieve her wizard’s portrait. The only thing she had other than clothes was the Gilderoy Lockhart book.

Mandy followed Hermione’s eyes downward and saw the book as well. “Ooo, what’s this?” She snatched the book up.

“Who goes around snatching other people’s things? Didn’t her mum teach her manners?”

“Hermione,” Parvati huffed. “Can’t you go anywhere without a bo...” she came to stand behind them. “Gilderoy Lockhart? You’ve got ‘Magical Me?” But it’s only just come out.”

There was an immediate rush of all the girls to where Mandy and Hermione were sitting. Even Amber and Penny couldn’t contain their excitement.

“Oh he’s so handsome.”

“And brave.”

“And charming”

“I wish I could meet him.”

“What’s the book like Hermione?”

-----

They rest of the evening was spent playing various wizarding games while the girls discussed school, Hogwarts boys, and Gilderoy Lockhart. As dusk turned to night, Amber appeared in the room holding a small mirror and announced that she had a good game for them to play.

“It’s really best done at nighttime because it’s a freaky game,” she said as ominously as she could with the grin on her face.

All of the girls stared at her with blank looks. Amber quickly arranged them in a circle and put the small mirror in the center. “Now, do you girls know what this is?”

“It’s a mirror,” Lavender said blandly, and she was right. It was a small round mirror with a gold plated back. There seemed to be nothing extraordinary about it.

Amber sighed. “Hermione?”

“It’s an Ouija Mirror,” Hermione answered immediately. “But, they don’t really work, do they? It’s just a party trick.”

“Or is it?” Amber said with a twinkle in her eyes. “This is a special Ouija Mirror that I bought when I vacationed in Egypt. They say it works better than the regular ones. We’ll find out tonight. Okay listen up girls; this is how you play. Everyone hold up your wand arms and put your concentration solely on the mirror.” They all did as she said and to their surprise the mirror began to levitate. “The magic is in the mirror itself. You’re just using your own raw magical power to give the mirror a bit of direction. Now here are the rules. You make the mirror turn so that the looking glass is facing one of you. Then that person asks a question, any question you want to ask it. The mirror shows you the answer.”

“But does it really work?” Mandy asked rubbing her arm, which was already growing tired.

“Well that depends,” Amber said with a gleam in her eyes. “The mirror is supposed to give a true answer or what it believes to be the truth, but of course it has all the thoughts and ideas of the people around, feeding it, so the answer it gives could be real or just someone’s stray thoughts. The only way to be sure is to make sure that all of you clear your minds, don’t try to guide the mirror’s answer in any way, and then it will show the truth.”

“Cool,” the girl beside Hermione, Megan, said. “So who goes first?”

“Concentrate on the mirror, and it will pick the first from your thoughts,” Amber told them again.

They did as she said. The mirror floated idly for a moment and then it began to rotate until the looking glass faced Lavender.

“And appropriately so, seeing as how this is her party and all, she should probably go first.” Hermione thought to herself. She knew she had been thinking of Lavender and guessed that the others were doing the same.

“What will my life be like in ten years,” Lavender asked the mirror. Immediately there was a flash of light from the looking glass. Lavender’s eyes widened as she took in whatever the mirror was showing her.

After five minutes of waiting, the mirror flashed again and Lavender’s eyes returned to normal. The mirror continued to hover idly.

“What did you see?” Parvati pressed.

“Loads,” Lavender panted. “I saw me and I was working at this store, I think I owned it. I had a little baby, but I didn’t see who I was married to. It all went so fast, but… whoa what a rush. You’ve got to try this.”

Everyone began concentrating on the mirror again and this time it turned to face Parvati. Her question came out immediately. “Will Harry Potter ever ask me out?”
“Not on your life, girlie.” Hermione thought to herself. There was a flash and Parvati beamed.

“What did it say?” Padma asked.

“Only one word: Yes.” All the girls began giggling, except Hermione who was convinced someone was feeding that particular answer.

The mirror continued around the circle. One girl asked if she’d ever meet Gilderoy Lockhart, the answer that came back was a yes. Another asked the mirror to show her what she’d look like in six years. She seemed pleased with the results. As the mirror turned to the two girls on either side of her, Hermione noticed that even though she was staring right at the looking glass, she couldn’t see what was shown to her neighbors. Amber explained that only the one asking the question could see the answer.

Finally, the mirror turned to face her. By this time everyone else had gone. It was very dark now and for some strange reason the mirror looked somewhat ominous.

“Go ahead Hermione,” Mandy prompted. “Ask the mirror something.”

Hermione’s mind drew a blank. She had had almost an hour to think of a question but nothing appropriate came to mind. She could ask it if she would become head girl or be a prefect, but she didn’t want to ask that kind of question in front of these girls. She could ask the mirror what her distant future would be like, but several of the other girls had asked that, and she wasn’t sure if she’d trust the results anyway. She didn’t really believe the mirror showed anything beyond the hopes and aspirations of the questioner. Still she figured she should at least play along.

“Okay then; what will my second year be like? Will it be anything like my first? What’s going to happen?” She figured that was a generic enough question.

The mirror didn’t respond. Its looking glass was cloudy and didn’t even reflect her face. Then a pair of dark yellow eyes appeared. They seemed to be looking into her very soul. Hermione gasped. She was transfixed, almost frozen as the eyes continued to boar into her. Then suddenly it was as if the mirror had grown so big that the looking glass blocked her entire field of vision. The room around her had faded away and was replaced with a new scene.

Then, she saw Harry right in front of her. He was bruised and bleeding and in one hand he held a sword. He was screaming in pain. Had he been in some sort of fight? Then as quickly as it happened, it was over. She was back in the room with the other girls; the mirror clattered to the floor. Everyone was staring at her, and she realized she was breathing heavily.

“Hermione, did you see anything. The mirror didn’t flash or anything. Did it show you something?” Mandy was asking.

“What in the world was it that I just saw? Did the mirror really work? It can’t have. That was just my paranoia about Harry being in danger. It’s not real.”

“Well?” Mandy prompted her again.

There was no way she was going to tell the girls what she really saw. “I uh… it didn’t work. I didn’t see anything,” she lied. “I guess I confused it, or maybe it’s because I don’t really believe it works.”

“Oh too bad,” Lisa said as the girls began to stretch. They’d spent over an hour holding they’re wand arms up. “Want to try again?”

“No,” Hermione said immediately. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really.” She noticed Amber was staring at her. She could tell the look instantly. Amber knew she was lying.

After a few seconds, she broke off her stare and collected her Ouija Mirror. “Well, hope you girls had fun. I’ll let you get back to your own games.”

-----

Later that evening, the girls told ghost stories. Hermione had never heard anything like these wizarding tales of horror. It was far worse than anything that could be thought of in the muggle world.

“And he was cursed to read the same page in the book forever!” Padma finished dramatically.

“Wicked,” some of the girls gasped.

“Proving that sometimes reading can be dangerous,” Lavender said poignantly. “You should remember that Hermione.”

“Speaking of such,” Megan said suddenly. “Hermione, you should tell your story?”

“My story?” Hermione repeated, wondering if she wanted to hear a ghost story. “I don’t know any.”

“Not that kind of story,” Megan said shaking her head. “Your story. The story of how you and Harry Potter saved the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

“Oh that story,” Hermione sighed. She knew this would be coming sooner or later. If it were Ron, he’d be more than willing to recount with great detail the events of that fateful night to anyone who showed the slightest interest. She’d witnessed this for herself many times in the common room in the days that followed the end of year feast. Of course when people found out that he’d been unconscious for part of the adventure they quickly lost interest, much to Ron’s chagrin. They usually harassed Hermione for the details because they knew she’d been there for almost the entire time, and that she knew everything that happened, even the parts where Harry was alone. No one wanted to ask Harry for the story because the whole ordeal had raised him to the heights of an untouchable celebrity and people were afraid to approach him on the subject.

After what seemed like a thousand times, Hermione was sick of hearing herself tell the story. Plus she hated reliving Harry’s brush with death over and over again. But as she looked around at the expectant faces in the room, she knew that she’d never get out of it now. To them it wasn’t really real; it was all just a grand fairy tale with a happy ending. They didn’t have to live through the pain and anguish that she did. They were only seeing things vicariously through her story.

“Well Hermione, are you going to tell the story or not?” Lavender asked impatiently and Hermione could tell she was biting back her growing anger at the girl. It was obvious what she was thinking. She thought Hermione got some great joy out of being the center of attention because of her adventures last year. “It’s probably the only reason she invited me. So everyone could hear my story just one more time because that’s all I’m good for; telling the adventures of Harry Potter, because after all that’s who they’re interested in. They don’t really want to know about me, they want to know about Harry.”

She sighed again. Well if she was going to tell it, she might as well start from the beginning, drag the whole thing out and make a real show of it. That would either make Lavender happy or make her think twice about asking Hermione to tell a story. “Well, it really all started with the troll at Halloween. Did I mention they have gray boogers?” she added just to get the girls’ reaction of “ewwwww.”

She talked straight through for an hour and a half not missing the slightest detail. The group of girls hung on her every word, not daring to move as Hermione’s tale unfolded. Occasionally there would be gasps or screams as Hermione told of the dark creature that attacked Harry in the forbidden forest or the chessmen that nearly decapitated the trio. People shuddered so much when she said Voldemort’s name that she quickly reverted to saying “you know who” throughout her story.

When she finished, ending at the part of Harry waking up in the hospital and Sorcerer’s Stone finally being destroyed, it was well past midnight and some of the girls were already beginning to nod. A few lay on pillows whispering quietly to one another while others found a quiet corner in the rec room to curl up with their blankets and go to sleep.

Hermione stood and headed for the kitchen. After all the talking she did, she needed a glass of water. When she opened the door, she saw Amber sitting at the counter.

“Well hello. You girls still up?”

“Just about to crash myself,” Hermione told her. “Most of the others are doing the same. I just came in here for a glass of water.”

Amber stood. “I’ll get it for you. Just sit down for a bit. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

Hermione eyed her quizzically as she pulled up a chair and sat down. Amber busied herself with finding a glass and pouring water as she said. “Hermione, what did you really see in the Ouija Mirror this evening. I know you saw something.”

Hermione accepted the glass Amber offered her and gulped down half the water before responding. “I don’t really want to talk about it. It was a little frightening. Besides it probably wasn’t real.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m willing to bet that whatever you saw was far more real than anything the other girls saw. I can tell.”

“Tell what?”

“You’re a very powerful witch, Hermione. All the signs are there. You’ve got real potential, and I think your mind is capable of a lot more than just remembering spells and facts. Whatever it is, the mirror picked up on that power and magnified it.”

“Do you think I have some sort of rare magical gift? Like perhaps I can ‘see’ things or something?” Hermione asked, disbelieving it even as she said it.

Amber laughed. “You’re a muggle born right, Hermione?” Hermione nodded at this and Amber continued. “My strongest subject was muggle studies, and I know all about their pursuit of science. Science is to muggles what magic is to us witches and wizards. Whenever there is something that can’t be explained, muggles use science to try to explain it. We do the same thing with magic, believe it or not. Whenever there is something we can’t explain, we try to explain it with magic. Well sometimes no matter how hard muggles try, they can’t explain away certain things with science and sometimes no matter how hard wizards try, we can’t explain certain things with magic. No, I don’t think you can ‘see’ things or that you are doing some sort of fortune telling or anything like that. That’s not the vibe I’m picking up from you. I just think you have a special insight that you need to understand and accept. There is such a thing as fate, Hermione, and it has a funny way of giving us things we don’t know how to use. This is something that you’ll have to figure out for yourself, but here, maybe this will help.” She pulled the Ouija Mirror out of her pocket again. “I want you to have this.”

Hermione took the mirror, which now looked just like an ordinary hand mirror, reflecting only her confused expression. “I don’t understand. How can this help me? I mean it only works when multiple wizards activate it, right and even then, you can’t be sure what kind of answers it’ll give.”

Amber shrugged. “I don’t know really. I just know that it reacted to you. It’s not really just an Ouija mirror, you know. I mean it is and it isn’t. The Egyptian who sold to me said it was an Ouijigona Mirror, far more powerful. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but still I think you should have it. Maybe you’ll find another use for it.”

Hermione stared down at the mirror, remembering the image it had shown her earlier. Maybe Amber was right and this was fate. The image could have been a warning. If Harry was in some sort of trouble, she might be able to help. A sudden thought struck her as she began to pocket the mirror. “You don’t think Lavender will be mad, do you? You know because you gave me your mirror and all.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Amber winked.

Hermione smiled. “Good, because I don’t think I could stand for her to be any angrier with me than she already is. You know I came to this party because I wanted to show that there was more to me than just ‘Hermione the Brain’ and maybe really make friends with my roommates and the other girls. But I’m beginning to think Lavender feels that no matter what I’ll never fit in because I’m not really part of their group.”

Amber laughed again. “Hermione, I think you have that completely backwards. Lavender isn’t mad because you’re not part of the group, she’s mad because you are part of the group.”

“Huh?” Hermione was genuinely confused.

“Hermione haven’t you noticed? All the girls love you. They think you’re the most interesting person here. They all want to know your opinions and hear what you have to say. I think little Lavi is just mad that you’re the life of her party; if you know what I mean. She’s, to put it mildly, jealous that you’re so popular with the other girls.”

“Well I’m only popular because I’m friends with Harry Potter,” Hermione sighed.

“That’s not true. These girls like you for you. I’ve barely heard Harry’s name mentioned, but what I have heard is ‘Hermione this’ and ‘Hermione that’ and ‘Hermione tell us about this.’ They all think you’re the wickedest girl at this party.”

“You think so?” Hermione smiled at the thought.

“I’m positive. These girls have definitely seen a whole new side of you. Don’t worry about Lavi, she’ll get over it soon enough. She can just be a little spoiled sometimes.”

Hermione suppressed a giggle as she slid out of her chair. “Thanks for… everything.”

Amber smiled. “No problem. I have to look out for the future head girl, don’t I?” They shared a laugh at that comment.

Hermione crept back into the rec room and found that almost everyone was sound asleep or dozing off. She grabbed her pillow and a spare blanket and curled up in a corner near Mandy.

-----

The next morning, Amber woke them all up surprisingly early. “Come on now girlies, I’ve got to shove breakfast down your throats before you shove off,” she said with a corny grin. No one found the joke amusing.

Hermione hated her hair in the morning, it always looked even bushier than normal but when she looked around at the other girls, she realized she wasn’t alone when it came down to looking bad in the morning. Everyone made self-degrading comments about how they looked as they gathered in the sitting room to eat breakfast. Hermione was content to remain quiet during this but then suddenly remembered something. She glanced at Amber, recalling their conversation from the previous night and decided to see if she could do something to ease Lavender’s jealousy.

“Well if you think this is bad, you should have seen me end of last term,” she started loudly, cutting across Lisa. “I mean I was a wreak for a few days there while Harry was in the hospital wing. I definitely wasn’t looking or acting my best, that’s for sure. It’s a good thing I had Lavender and Parvati for roommates,” she said pointedly. “They were ever so patient with me, no matter what kind of foul mood I was in, they stuck by me. They didn’t hold my terrible attitude against me, not once. I was horrible to them for those few days and they still tried to help me.” Alright, so maybe she was exaggerating just a little but she felt they did deserve this much.

Her plan worked well. “Oh Lavender, you’re so kind and caring,” Megan told her and the others joined in with praise for both Lavender and Parvati. They were both blushing unashamedly and Hermione could tell this had definitely softened Lavender’s attitude, which in all respects was a good thing considering they did have many more years together.

Within an hour their bags were packed and it was 9:00 AM, time to go. One by one, each girl used floo powder to transport themselves back home.

“Remember to say ‘the Brocklehurst’s’ when you step into the fire,” Mandy reminded her as she took a pinch of floo powder to prepare for her turn.

Hermione groaned. She definitely did not like traveling by floo powder and it was bad enough getting to Lavender’s, she just hopped she’d be able to pronounce her destination correctly and not get sent to the wrong grate.

Just before she took her turn, Hermione was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. It was Amber. “Good luck at school next year. Call me crazy, but I have a feeling that last term wasn’t the end of your adventures.”

“Well I honestly hope you are crazy if that’s your prediction. Nothing could top that, and I hope nothing ever does. But thanks for everything still.” Hermione tossed her floo powder into the already green fire. She stepped tentatively into the grate and shouted “The Brocklehurst’s” and was gone in a flash of emerald smoke.

Amber stared at the fire for a moment longer. “No Hermione, you are far from having your last adventure. That much I’m sure of.” She turned and strolled towards the rec room to help Lavender and Penny finish cleaning.

Author’s Note: Oh Hey, look what’s back. Now I bet you’re asking “Zimmeron, what made you bring your fan fic back after all the plagiarism and stuff” and my answer is. MY BOOK IS BEING PUBLISHED! I’m in such an incredibly good mood now, that I don’t care if some idiot is stealing my work, because soon my novel will be available. So since I’m in such an incredibly good mood, I decided to share my euphoric feeling with all of you and continue my fan fiction.

If none of this makes any sense or you just don’t care, then just read the chapter.

Chapter Summary: Hermione is becoming increasingly nervous. No sign of Harry, bad news from Ron. Desperate times call for resourceful Grangers.

--- Begin Fic Here ---

Hermione lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was the Monday after Harry’s birthday and she still hadn’t heard anything from him. She was reading another letter that she’d just gotten from Ron. He’d written it on Saturday. The decrepit owl, Erroll, had already left.

“Hermione,

We’re getting really worried over here. No one’s heard from Harry but yesterday Dad said that Harry got an official warning from the Ministry of Magic for improper use of magic by a minor. I think something’s happened to him but we can’t be sure of course. Still after what happened last year with you know who, there’s no telling what could be going on. My brothers and I want to go get him. We’ve already got a way to do it but we’re not sure where he is.

If you know a way to find him or can figure one out, let us know so we can get to him. I figure if anyone can find Harry, you can. Let us know what you find out, and soon.

Ron”

Now she was really worried. What if Harry was in some kind of trouble? What if what she saw in the mirror was true?

The Ouijigona Mirror…

Amber had said she thought it could help her, but Hermione didn’t see how. At best it was the wizarding version of a muggle “magic 8 ball” and it only worked when three or more witches or wizards used it. What possible good could it do? Still, she couldn’t help shaking the feeling that Amber may have been right. Maybe she had seen something important. But if she did, what did it mean?

“Bloody hell,” she muttered to herself as she rolled off the bed. “This is ridiculous.”

Here she was, Hermione Granger, lying in bed like a lost little lamb because of some supposed “vision” she got from a 2 galleon party favor. She was a Granger. Grangers don’t mope, they take action and she knew exactly what she had to do.

She snatched the bag from beside her desk and the wand off her dresser. Then she opened her desk drawer and started tearing through the pile of papers. Finally she found what she was looking for, a pamphlet she’d gotten last year from the Ministry of Magic seminar. Inside, among other things, was a wizarding map of London. She flipped to it quickly and scanned the page.

There it was; the National Wizarding library. A small bubble appeared over the dot that indicated the library and it read, “The National Wizarding Library is the largest repository of wizarding knowledge in all of Europe. It is seven stories tall and contains more than 400,000 books and 100,000 periodicals and there are at least thirty librarians on staff at any given time. Membership is free to underage and fully qualified wizards with restricted membership available to muggles with a witch or wizard sponsors. Dark Arts sections only available to fully qualified wizards. Open 7 AM to 1 AM everyday, except holidays. Easily accessible by floo or apparition during normal business hours.”

That was exactly what she needed. If there was a way to help Harry, she’d find it in the largest wizarding library on the continent. Now all she had to do was get there. But how would she get into London without her parents, who were of course already at work.

She thought for a moment and then flipped frantically through the pamphlet again until she found a section marked “Wizarding Communities.” Just as she suspected there were a few paragraphs on the local wizarding neighborhood Turnkey Lane, including instructions on how to reach it from any muggle street in her area.

She read them aloud. “Start at any street corner and turn left, then right, then right, then left, then left, then right, then left. So long as you have your wand with you, you’ll reach Turnkey Lane. If you hit a dead end, you’ve made a wrong turn. Start again.”

Well that sounded easy enough. If she could get to Turnkey Lane, she could find the Brocklehurst’s house and ask Mandy to let her floo to the library. Hermione threw the pamphlet in her bag and headed downstairs, grabbing her house keys off the wall before heading determinedly out the front door, slamming it behind her.

She headed quickly towards the nearest street sign and turned left down the adjacent street. As she started towards the next sign she glanced up at the sky; it was becoming cloudy, like it was going to rain. She hoped she’d make it to Mandy’s house before that happened.

She turned right.

“What happens if the Brocklehursts aren’t home? Then what do I do?” she thought. She could always try another wizarding family. Was it safe to trust witches and wizards she didn’t know? She had a feeling that even though the wizarding community was close knit, that didn’t mean she could trust every one she met.

Another right.

“Where do I start at the wizarding library?” she mussed. “I guess first I need to find out where exactly Harry lives. What’s the name of the street where his aunt and uncle live? He talks about it all the time, I should remember this. I think it’s Privet Drive.”

Left.

The clouds seemed to be getting thicker and more menacing. Even though it was only noon, the sky was already very dark. She was beginning to wish she had bought a coat with her. She picked up her pace.

Right.

“Of course, I’m going to have to find a non-magical way to help Harry if he’s in any sort of danger. Then again, I don’t know what could have happened to him.”

Left.

The first drops of rain were already starting to hit her head. She broke out into a brisk jog. She only had a few more turns to go.

Left.

“Wait a minute!” Hermione skidded to a halt as she saw that she was approaching a dead end. “Just great!” she sighed in exasperation. It was raining harder now. She must have taken a wrong turn. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t even realize it.

She turned around and headed for the street sign. She’d just have to start over. She made a left and started down the street again, trying not to lose her footing in the rain. She was getting drenched.

Right.

It occurred to her that she had no idea where she was. She knew her neighborhood fairly well in theory but had never really been any place other than the local library and her school. After all, she didn’t have any friends nearby. She wondered if she’d be able to get back home after taking so many twists and turns.

Right.

Now that she thought about it, even if she found out where Harry lived, how were Ron and his brothers going to get there?

Left.

“So all I need is a non-magical way of finding Harry and a non-magical way of getting him out of whatever trouble he might be in. Simple enough,” she thought to herself with a grimace. Ron must have thought she was a miracle worker.

Left.

Would she even have enough time? She wanted to get back home before her parents. There was no way she was going to tell them that she went off to London on a whim, even if it was by floo. “This is the second time this summer I’ve snick away without my parents knowing. This is all Ron’s fault… his rotten influence.”

Right.

“Then again, this is Ron’s idea. If it wasn’t for him and his brothers, I wouldn’t even have a way to help Harry. All I have to do is get the information to him and then…”

Left.

“Ahhh!” Hermione went tumbling forward. It was if the earth moved underneath her. She quickly picked herself up. It wasn’t raining. In fact the sun was shinning brightly and there were no clouds in sight. She looked around and realized she was no longer in her subdivision. It was definitely Turnkey Lane; she made it.

It didn’t take her long to reach the familiar lime green house. Mr. Brocklehurst’s car wasn’t in the driveway but she hoped Mandy or her mother were still home. She knocked on the door. A few minutes later, Mandy answered.

“Hermione?” she had a confused look on her face. “Uh, hello.”

“Sorry to drop in on you like this,” Hermione apologized quickly. “But I really need a favor. Can I come in?”

“Oh, of course,” Mandy stepped aside to let her in. “You’re soaked, what happened?”

“It was raining where I came from; I guess that doesn’t affect this place.”

“Do you want a towel or something?”

“No, I don’t have a lot of time. Can I use your fireplace?”

Many gave her another confused look. “You want to warm up?”

“No I need to floo to the National Wizarding Library.”

“The library? I don’t understand.”

“It’s complicated,” Hermione said in frustration.

Mandy seemed to realize the urgency of the situation. “Okay, no problem.” She pulled a jar from atop the fireplace. “Here you go.” She held it out to Hermione.

Hermione took a pinch of floo powder and threw it in the dead fireplace. Instantly a fire sprung to life. “Thank you so much! I’ll be back in a few hours; is that okay?”

“Yes,” Mandy nodded immediately. “It’s fine. Take your time. Anything to help.”

Hermione stepped quickly into the fire.

She waved goodbye, shouted, “National Wizarding Library!” and was gone.

Mrs. Brocklehurst appeared from the kitchen. “Mandy, did I just hear Hermione in here?”

“Yes, but she had to leave real quick. I think she’s going to save the world or something.”

“That’s nice dear.” Mandy’s mother said, returning to the kitchen without another word.

-----

The National Wizarding Library was, in Hermione’s opinion, the nirvana of libraries. There were books as far as the eye could see on every imaginable topic. It was massive, and yet extremely organized. It was as if the books were enchanted to magically move to the location of the person that was looking for them. The Dewey Decimal System had nothing on this wizarding form of cataloging.

But there was more to the giant library then just the books. On the first floor, there were a large assortment of merchants selling a variety of food and a bookstore that not only had thousands of books but also was capable of ordering almost any book that was in the library itself. Part of the seventh floor had sleeping quarters reserved for VIP witches and wizards who couldn’t be bothered with leaving the library when it was closed. On the fifth floor, there was a coffee shop and dozens of plush couches and chairs, which was a welcome change from the hard wood chairs and tables that populated the rest of the library.

Hermione knew that she would have thoroughly enjoy spending all day at the library if it had been under different circumstances. As it was, she sat at a large table with at least 3 dozen books in front her with names like “Muggle tricks for Magical Sorts,” and “Everyday Magic for the Wand Challenge” and “What to do When You Can’t Find Your Wand.”

She barely had to move from the section she was in, because no matter what topic she was looking for, it all seemed to be right in front of her. Unfortunately, she still hadn’t found any of the answers she needed.

Then suddenly, a librarian walked by her and placed a book on top of the one she was reading. “Here dear, I think you’ll want this.”

Hermione looked up in shock and confusion but before she could say anything, the librarian was gone. The book she’d given her was “The Underage Wizard’s Guide to Acceptable Magic: A Complete Breakdown of the Ministry of Magic’s Underage Wizarding Statutes and Guidelines” by Angelina Regularum. She began flipping through the book and realized this had been exactly what she was looking for. Hermione looked all around for the librarian who had helped her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Well… thanks,” she muttered.

“The Underage Wizard’s Guide to Acceptable Magic” turned out to be a very interesting and informative.

“The assumption that underage wizards are not allowed to use any magic when away from their wizarding institutions is somewhat of a misconception. The Ministry of Magic is more concerned with underage wizards using their wands or brewing potions while not under the supervision of fully qualified wizards who are licensed professors. There have been many situations over the past century alone that have proven why this is necessary; many of which are outlined in chapter 17.

However there are many exceptions to this rule. First of all, the prohibition of using wands does not extend to the use of magical objects, pets, and transportation, except for apparition. As long as use of such magic is not in view of muggles, it is completely acceptable for underage wizards to use.

In addition, underage wizards are allowed to use their wands when they are 1) under the supervision of a qualified professor, or high ranking ministry official 2) in ministry sanctioned “safe” places such as Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade and 3) in extreme circumstances such as when they are in danger of being exposed by muggles, are lost, or in mortal peril.

The Ministry of Magic closely monitors underage wizards during holidays and if an infraction of the wand restriction regulation is detected, an investigation is launched immediately. Although each infraction is handled on a case by case basis, it is not uncommon for underage wizards to be expelled the first time they use their wand in an unauthorized manner.”

“What I need,” she muttered to herself after reading this section, “is some sort of magical object that can tell me where Harry is. That wouldn’t be against the rules.”

“Hermione?”

Hermione spun around to address the familiar voice. It was Amber. “Uh, hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Amber asked as she put down the stack of books she was carrying.

“I’m, um, doing some research,” Hermione said vaguely. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Amber admitted. “Sort of a temporary thing until I start my real job. What are you researching; maybe I can help?”

Hermione hesitated. “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Hey, I wasn’t head girl for nothing. Trust me, I can help.”

“Oh alright,” Hermione sighed. “Well it’s like this…”

-----

Hermione explained everything to Amber about why she and Ron were worried about Harry except the part about her brief vision at Pansy’s slumber party.

“So your friend Ron wants to find Harry?” Amber summarized when Hermione was done with her story. “I guess I don’t blame you. Well it sounds like you need a locator map.”

“A what?”

“I need the Encyclopedia of Magical Objects,” Amber said more to herself than to Hermione.

A huge book, twice the size of “Hogwarts: A History,” dropped on the table in front of Hermione.

“I love this place,” Amber grinned.

“I could certainly get used to this.” Hermione agreed as Amber flipped through the Encyclopedia of Magical Objects to the page she was looking for.

“Here, read this,” Amber said pushing the book under Hermione’s nose.

“The Locator Map is extremely common among magical maps. It’s enchanted to be able to plot the location of any person, magical or not. Very few spells can stop a locator map from plotting a person because of the way it’s designed.

To use a locator map requires a personal artifact of the person you’re looking for, a piece of clothing or something they often carry with them. It also requires the willingness of the person you’re looking for to want to be found by you. If they don’t want you to find them, then the locator map won’t be able to plot them.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. “It sounds right. Where can I buy one? Are they expensive?” Hermione suddenly remember that she didn’t have any money with her.

But Amber only laughed as she pulled out her wand. “Buy one? Hermione don’t think like a muggle. We’re going to make one.”

“We are?” Hermione asked as she followed Amber away from the table full of books. She checked her watch. It was already 4:00 PM. She only had a couple hours to make it back home. “Does it take long to make?”

“For us? Naw!” Amber said confidently.

Something about Amber’s cocky attitude made Hermione slightly nervous but she followed her nonetheless.

-----

Making a locator map required a potion, one that Amber seemed to have stored in her memory. They used a vacant potions lab in the back of the library that had various sized cauldrons and dozens of different potions ingredients. The duo was able to prepare the potion without any complications.

“I just hope this works,” Hermione said as she stirred the concoction.

“No reason to think it won’t,” Amber said with a shrug. “You’re not loosing faith in your potion making skills are you? Not may people can score top marks in Snape’s class, you know.”

“Yeah but last time I tried to help Harry with a potion… well let’s just say it didn’t go to well.”

“Well, I haven’t messed up one yet, and I don’t intend to make this my first, so don’t worry.”

The liquid in the cauldron was turning a pale blue. “I think it’s almost ready.”

Amber looked down. “You’re right. Hang on a bit. I’ll be right back, just keep stirring.”

Amber disappeared through the double doors leading back to the main library.

A few minutes later she returned with a large, folded map. “Here we go; a map of Britain. All we need to do is dunk this in the potion and it will become a locator map.”

Without preamble, Amber plunged the map into the cauldron and quickly brought it back up. Hermione expected it to be drenched, but to her surprise, it was still completely dry and glowing bright blue.

“Well that seemed to be a little too easy. How do we know it worked?”

“Give me your house key and I’ll show you,” Amber instructed.

Hermione handed over her key as Amber unfolded the map onto the floor.

“Remember, you have to want to be found,” Amber reminded her. She placed the key on top of the map and said, “Seekium Hermione Granger.”

Suddenly the map sprung to life. All the text and landmarks were moving and expanding until suddenly the map of Britain was now just a map of London. It looked similar to the map in the Ministry of Magic pamphlet. A yellow dot appeared on the map.

“See that’s you.” Amber said with a smile.

“Wicked,” Hermione said as Amber folded up the map. “I just hope… I hope it works with Harry. I’m not sure if Ron has anything personal of his and what if it still doesn’t work. Like you said, Harry has to want to be found.”

“If he is in some sort of trouble, I’m sure he’ll want to be found by his two best friends.”

Hermione checked her watch again. “I’ve got to hurry back before my parents get home.”

Amber gave her a knowing look. “I see.” She handed the map to Hermione. “Well good luck.”

“Thanks for everything.” Hermione shoved the map in her backpack and hurried out the door.

-----

Mr. Brocklehurst was already home when Hermione reappeared in the fireplace and he insisted on driving Hermione home.

“Getting out of Turnkey Lane is a little tricky. I’d hate to see you get lost.”

Hermione happily agreed to the lift home and made it back in plenty of time to beat her parents. She ran up to her room and rummaged through her desk to find her last wizarding stamp. She had already gone through all of them and there was still almost a month of summer left. Still there was no other choice if she was going to get the map to Ron. She wrote him a quick note.

“Ron,

This is a locator map. You can use it to find out exactly where Harry is as long as you have something personal of his. To use it, just place Harry’s item on the map and say the magic words ‘Seekium Harry Potter.’

I know you’re just as worried about Harry as I am but I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you and your brothers to go off to get him by yourselves. Knowing Fred and George, this can only mean trouble. But if you’re going to go, good luck, and don’t do anything that will get Harry in any more trouble. Please let me know when you’re going to go try and get him.

Hermione

P. S. - Please don’t tell anyone where you got this map from, not even Harry.”

Hermione looked that last line over. She decided it was best not to try to explain to Ron why she didn’t want Harry to know that she made the map. It was best to let him think that she didn’t want to get in some sort of trouble. In reality, she just didn’t want Harry to know how worried she really was about him. She was sure whatever the reason, Ron wouldn’t object to taking all the credit.

By the time her parents arrived home, the owl responding to her wizard stamp had already come and gone. Now all she could do was wait.

-----

Hermione didn’t have too long to wait. On Friday, the familiar grey owl, Erroll arrived. This time, it looked as if the owl had collapsed along the way because another, unfamiliar owl was actually carrying him. It dropped Erroll on the window sill and flew off without a backwards glance.

“Why Ron keeps using you is a mystery,” Hermione huffed as Erroll fell face first on the sofa. She snatched the letter from his claws and hurriedly opened it. Apparently Ron had written it the day after she wrote him.

“Hermione,

Thanks for the map. Fortunately Scabbers still had an old sock of Harry’s that he’d ruined ages ago. We used that to plot where he is. Fred, George, and I are going to go get him tonight. Wish us luck. I’ll write you again as soon as Erroll gets back with your reply.

Ron”

Hermione took one look at Erroll and knew he wasn’t going to be fit to fly for a day or two. She didn’t have any more stamps so she’d just have to wait to send her reply.

In the meantime, Hermione had other things to keep her occupied. She had started on the large list of research topics that McGonagall had sent her earlier that summer. Studying seemed to take her mind off of Harry, for a while at least, and she figured it was better to be doing that, than worrying. Ron and his brothers had already gone to get Harry and so there was nothing more she could do. Either they were successful and Harry was not sitting at Ron’s, perfectly content, or they’d failed and Harry was still in trouble. In either case, she’d done everything she could to help and it was best to find out what had happened before she started worrying again.

Sunday morning, when Hermione arrived in the kitchen for breakfast, her mother handed her a letter. “This just came for you. I think it’s from Hogwarts.”

Hermione, who had been only half awake until then, suddenly sprung to life, looking wildly around. “Is the post owl still here?” she asked hoping she could persuade it to deliver her note to Ron. Erroll still hadn’t recovered.

“No, it left a few minutes ago. Something wrong?”

“No,” Hermione answered quietly. She hadn’t told her parents what Ron and his brothers were going to do. She knew, no matter how much they disapproved of the Dursleys, they wouldn’t relish the idea of three underaged boys planning a rescue operation, or what she had done to aid them. As she opened the letter from Hogwarts, she wondered vaguely why she didn’t feel more guilty about all of the secrets she was keeping from her parents. A year ago, this sort of thing would be tearing her up inside. But now it seemed as though keeping them in the dark was business as usual. She kept telling herself it was because they were muggles and they wouldn’t understand, but somehow she knew that wasn’t entirely the case.

The letter turned out to be from Professor McGonagall asking her how she was doing with the extra research she had assigned and also informing her that the book list had finally been compiled and she was forwarding this to her as well.

Hermione scanned the list of books and noticed something extremely odd. Aside from “The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2” all of the books on the list were by her new idle, Gilderoy Lockhart. What an odd coincidence. Now she’d be able to get her parents to get all of his books for her without any problems. After all, this was for her education.

“Well there must be something interesting in that letter to make you turn red,” Mr. Granger said interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione tried to compose herself. “Oh… um… Professor McGonagall said she’d be sending an owl later this month to collect all the work I’ve done this summer. She said since I was the only student trying to further my education over the holidays, she’d give me some extra credit and possibly some points to Gryffindor for my commitment to education.” She handed her father the letter.

“Well,” her father said, eyeing the piece of parchment. “You’d better get cracking then. You don’t want to disappoint your professor now do you?”

“I’m about halfway done with the work. It should only take me a couple of weeks to finish. Plenty of time. I know you think I’ve been slack this summer but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Hermione, you’re young,” her mother said soothingly. “You deserve a chance to enjoy your life.”

“So long as you keep up your studies,” Mr. Granger added sharply.

Hermione almost laughed. Listening to her parents was always like being pulled in two different directions.

“Now that we have your school list, we should plan a trip to the market.” Mrs. Granger said. The “market” was what she called Diagon Alley, because she could never remember the name.

“We’d better not go on the weekend, it’ll be crowded just like last time if all the students have gotten they’re school lists,” Mr. Granger pointed out. “I tell you what. It’s been slow this month; we’ll take next Wednesday off and go then.”

“That’s a nice idea,” Hermione’s mother agreed. “Hermione, why don’t you write your friends, Ron and Harry and see if they’d like to meet you at the same time to get their books. That way you’d get to see them at least once before school started. I know you’re disappointed that you didn’t get to see them on Harry’s birthday. What exactly happened anyway?”

“Oh, just some communication problems,” Hermione said vaguely.

She saw that her mother was giving her the “I know you’re not telling me the whole truth” look, so she avoided her glare hoping the subject would just drop.

Fortunately for her, Mr. Granger started going on about what exciting things Hermione would be able to learn her second year and Hermione was able to quietly eat her breakfast as her father continued to ramble on and on.

“And to think how much more you’ll be able to focus on your studies now that you don’t have dark lords and what-have-you to worry about. If you were able to do all that and still be top of your class last year, just imagine the possibilities this year.”

It was at this point that Hermione decided to excuse herself from the breakfast table and return to her room.

If only her father knew what she was going through now. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to concentrate on studies again if she found out something horrible had happened to Harry over the summer and she hadn’t been able to do anything about it. As she pushed open the door to her room, she saw that Erroll was awake and looking ready to fly again. Finally, she’d be able to send her reply to Ron. She had already started the letter but added a few extra things about meeting in Diagon Alley on the following Wednesday. She only hoped that Erroll would make it back before then. The way he flew, there was no telling.

She watched listlessly as Erroll flew off into the morning sky and silently prayed that he would return quickly with good news from Ron.

-----

Unfortunately no news came.

It had been a week and a half and still no owl from Rom. Nothing indicating whether or not Harry was okay or if he was with the Weasleys. Had something gone wrong? She had no way of knowing.

As the Grangers rode the train into London to go to Diagon Alley, Hermione’s mind was racing. What was she going to do now? She knew the first thing she should do was buy some more wizarding stamps. If she was going to keep in contact with Ron, there was no way it could be done with that owl of his. Earlier that week, Hermione had emptied all of the funds out of her muggle bank account. Her parents had agreed that it was a good idea to put her savings in the wizard’s bank, Gringotts. This way she could have more control over her spending money since she spent the majority of her life in the wizarding world now.

Hermione had read all about the wizarding bank after her first visit the previous summer. It was run by goblins and was actually the largest all goblin enterprise in all of Britain. Patrons could manage their accounts using special Gringotts owls. You could send or request money from your account using the enchanted envelops. No stamps needed. Once the envelope was sealed, an owl would arrive to retrieve it, and according to one Gringotts spokes-goblin, “No force in nature or in magic would be able to intercept it.” This way, she wouldn’t have to worry so much if she ran out of wizarding money. She could just send for more.

Just as they had done last summer, the Grangers took the underground to the Tottenham Court Rd. station. Then from there it was a short walk down Charing Cross Road to reach the entrance to Diagon Alley, a pub called Leaky Cauldron.

Mr. Granger never seemed to care much for the Leaky Cauldron but tolerated it as the only way to get to and from the materials needed by his daughter to get a first class wizarding education.

“But I’d never want to have a drink here, that’s for sure,” he said huffily as they passed through the pub to the back alley.

Hermione pulled out her wand. She hadn’t been able to use it all summer and just holding it now seemed to make her entire body tingle. She tapped her wand emphatically on the trashcan and then started counting bricks, three up and two to the right. She tapped her wand against the designated brick and immediately it began to wriggle. Soon, a large archway had opened up in front of them and the three Grangers were walking onto the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley.

“That will never cease to amaze me,” Mrs. Granger said in awe as she watched the archway close behind them.

Hermione twirled her wand expertly in her hand. “No, it doesn’t get old, does it? Well let’s hurry up and get to Gringotts, I want to open up my account and then… I have a couple of things to do before we get my books.”

Mrs. Granger eyed her curiously. “You want to get something before we get your books. It must be really important.”

Hermione pretended she didn’t here the quip.

As they made there way to the bank, Hermione saw what looked like a owl-post stand. She could probably buy stamps there right after she was done in the bank.

They climbed the large marble steps that led to Gringotts and a short but sinister looking goblin guard bowed them in.

“How anything can be that polite and still look that mean is beyond me,” Mr. Granger muttered.

“Yes, but it makes you think twice about robbing them, now doesn’t it,” Mrs. Granger added knowingly.

“Twice, thrice, and four times over, believe me.”

They made their way to an attendant at the long counter. “May I help you?” he snarled.

“Yes, I’d like to open an account.” Hermione said handing over the bag that contained all of her muggle money.

The clerk’s expression turned to what must have been the goblin version of a smile. “Ah we love to gain new customers.” He handed Hermione a form. “Just fill this out. No monthly fees for underage wizards and witches and unlimited owl correspondences; a bargain.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Granger agreed though it was obvious he had no idea what the goblin meant.

The clerk was counting Hermione’s money. “A nice little savings for such a young witch. This comes to 213 galleons, 11 sickles, 4 knuts.”

Hermione beamed. She’d been saving money ever since she’d started receiving an allowance at age 8 and her father was very generous with monetary bonuses when it came to good grades. “When a high mark is earned, it’s worth its weight in gold,” he’d always tell her. Since Hermione rarely spent any money, she already had a hefty savings.

“Can I have 10 galleons of that now, please,” she asked politely.

The goblin nodded and handed her a bag and a small book. “This is your ledger. It will be magically updated every time we receive or take money on your behalf. See.” He pointed to the first page of the open book it already had two lines in it. One for her initial deposit of 213 galleons 11 sickles and 4 knuts and another for her withdrawal of 10 galleons.

“Also take these,” He handed her a stack of green envelopes. “Use only these special Gringotts envelopes to send money or request a withdrawal. Of course when you are here in Diagon Alley you can simply come to the bank and ride down to your vault.”

Hermione nodded quickly at this information and then looked up at her parents. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Mr. Granger asked in alarm.

“I just have to get something real quick.” She said, thinking about the owl-post stand she’d seen earlier.

“But all we have to do is exchange our money…” Her mother called after her, but Hermione was already through the doors.

Hermione made her way out of Gringotts and was about to race down the stairs when she saw something very familiar. It was a giant man, easily head and shoulders taller than everyone else. He had wild, tangled black hair and a thick beard and wore a large overcoat. It could only be Hagrid. And with him… he seemed to be covered with soot, and his glasses were broken, but it was unmistakably Harry Potter!

“Harry!” she called out and he looked up and saw her. It really was him. “Harry over here.” She was so excited to see him that she tore down the stairs to greet him and was about to fling her arms around him, but then thought better of it. She didn’t want to make a scene, especially in front of Hagrid. But she was still grinning from ear to ear.

“Harry! What happened to your glasses?” She looked up at Hagrid and realized she hadn’t even greeted him. “Hello Hagrid. Ooo, it’s wonderful to see you two again. Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?” She realized she was rambling even worse than usual, but for once she didn’t care. It was Harry and he was used to it. She had a hundred more questions to ask him, like how he had ended up with Hagrid, and why he hadn’t written her all summer.

But Harry, true to form, seemed extremely calm. “As soon as I’ve found the Weasleys,” he said cutting off her tirade of questions.

Just as she was about to suggest they go look for them, Hagrid pointed into the crowd and she could see Ron with his brothers and father running down the street. There was a sudden rush of Weasleys and for a moment there was a bit of chaos as Mrs. Weasley and what had to be Ron’s little sister joined them and everyone was checking to see if Harry was okay. Hermione had the distinct feeling that she’d missed out on something and that Harry had recently gotten himself into some sort of trouble but she couldn’t get in a word edgewise to ask.

“That’s alright,” she thought contently. “Harry’s okay and everything’s back to normal. Finally I can breathe easily.”

They all entered the bank again, Harry going on about seeing Mr. Malfoy in a place called Borgin and Burkes, a shop on Knockturn Alley, which Hermione knew nothing about.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were still standing at the counter. Apparently the goblin clerk had to go back to the vaults to retrieve more wizard money and they were waiting for him to return.

“Mom, Dad, let me introduce you to everyone. This is Harry and Ron, Ron’s brothers Fred, no wait he’s Fred, and that’s George and Percy, and his mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”

They shook hands all around but when they reached Mr. Weasley he seamed to realize something. “But you’re muggles! We must have a drink,” he said excitedly. “What’s that you’ve got there? Oh, you’re changing muggle money, Molly look!” he pointed wildly at them.

Ron seemed to be dragging his father away to another clerk, a look of embarrassment on his face. At the same time, the Granger’s clerk returned with their galleons.”

“That Arthur chap was a bit high strung about a few pounds,” Mr. Granger said. “Acted as if he’d never seen money before.”

“He hasn’t, Dad,” Hermione reminded him.

“Still, did you see me going on like that when I saw a galleon?”

“Not everyone can be as even tempered as you, Dad,” Hermione grumbled. “Just try to be nice, would you?”

“What are you implying?”

Mrs. Granger jumped in. “She’s implying that you should at least get to know the Weasleys before you immediately judge them like you do with everyone, dear.” The way Hermione’s mother said “dear” seemed to put the finally point on the subject and Mr. Granger clammed up.

A few minutes later, Harry and the Weasley family reappeared and they stepped outside the bank.

“Molly, why don’t you take Ginny shopping, I want to treat the Grangers here to a drink at the Leaky Caldron. We can catch up later.”

Mr. Granger had a look of utter terror in his eyes at the mention of the pub, but Mrs. Granger answered for them both. “That would be delightful.” She handed another bag of galleons to her daughter. “Here Hermione, you go off with your friends, we’ll meet you later. Where should we meet?”

“We’ll all meet up at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books.” Mrs. Weasley suggested and everyone agreed.

Hermione, Harry and Ron started down the street alone. Finally Hermione had a chance to ask the questions that had been burning a hole inside her for almost a half hour.

“Harry, how did you…”

But Harry didn’t hear her. “Let’s get some ice cream; what do you say?”

“Absolutely, I’m starving,” Ron answered almost drooling.

“Not surprising,” Hermione huffed as they headed for Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

As Harry bough the three of them ice cream she tried again. “Harry what happened this summer? Ron, why didn’t you write me back to let me know that Harry was okay? I was so worried. What’s been going on?”

“Same ol’ Hermione,” Ron said.

“Same ol’ Hermione,” Harry agreed and they both laughed.

“It’s not funny!” Hermione said in exasperation.

“Sorry,” Ron stopped laughing. “I did write you. The fact that Erroll hasn’t return means that he’s either lost of collapsed somewhere. Useless owl.”

“Why don’t you get a new one?” Hermione asked.

“Oy, what a great idea,” Ron said snidely. “Why don’t you buy us one?”

Harry cut them off. “The reason why you didn’t hear from me all summer Hermione is because a house elf named Dobby was cutting off my communication. He was trying to stop me from going back to Hogwarts. He’s the reason why I got that warning from the ministry of magic. He hovered a pudding in my aunt and uncles kitchen, and then he smashed it on the floor. It was because of him that my uncle looked me in my room for the rest of the summer. I’d still be there, half starved, if it wasn’t for Ron rescuing me.”

Hermione gasped. “What? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. He said that I’d be in grave danger if I went back to Hogwarts.”

“Well, there’s a shocker, Harry Potter in grave danger,” Hermione said blandly. The happiness she’d felt earlier about seeing her friend was beginning to dissipate.

“See that’s what I said,” Ron added cheerfully, mistaking Hermione’s sarcasm for ambivalence. “Harry’s been in loads of danger and scaved off just fine. Besides who’s to say this Dobby chap is even telling the truth. I think it’s a trick.”

Hermione waved a hand wildly in front of his face. “Ron, this is Harry we’re talking about. If there’s even a chance that he’s in trouble we can’t ignore it. Remember what happened last time we did that?”

“All I’m saying is we can’t get off on a fuss for nothing,” Ron said in exasperation.

“And all I’m saying is that we can’t ignore such an obvious warning. If Harry’s in danger again then we need to act now, while we can.”

“You two…” Harry said, “Can’t you at least save it until we’re at school.”

“I’ll never understand how you can be so level?” Hermione sighed.

“Easy, you’re always wound tight and Ron’s always too laid back. One of us has to be the level one,” Harry informed her.

Hermione laughed despite herself.

-----

An hour later, after walking all around Diagon Alley, the trio made their way to Flourish and Blotts. There was an unusually large crowd gathered outside for a Wednesday afternoon and they soon found out why. To Hermione’s utter surprise and delight, a sign in the bookstore window told that Gilderoy Lockhart was doing a book signing at that very moment.

Hermione almost exploded with excitement. “We can actually meet him!” she squealed. She noticed the boys giving her quizzical books. “I mean, he’s written practically the whole book list,” she rationalized calmly. She didn’t want them to think she was an obsessed fan like the dozens of women crowding the door… but she really wanted the chance to meet Lockhart, even just once. The girls at Hogwarts would be so jealous.

“Look, our parents are already in line,” Hermione said as they squeezed their way into the bookstore. “And they’re at the front; let’s join them.”

Harry and Ron didn’t seem as enthusiastic as she was, but Hermione didn’t care. After they all grabbed their one non Lockhart textbook, they joined the rest of the Weasleys and Grangers in line.

Hermione was surprised to see her father smiling. “How was your drink with Mr. Weasley?”

“Fascinating chap. Did you know he works at the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office? It was very informative, indeed.”

Hermione shook her head, but said nothing. Gilderoy Lockhart was in view now and she’d forgotten everything else. “Look mom, it’s him!”

Mrs. Granger looked up. “Oh my.” Her faced flushed. “Well, I guess I can see what all the fuss is about now. And you say all your course books this term are by him.”

Hermione nodded. “He’s the most famous, most amazing wizard ever.” She thought about this for a moment. Perhaps that wasn’t such a true statement considering she knew one of the most famous wizards in the world. He was standing two feet in front of her.

Speaking of Harry Potter. It seemed as if Lockhart had noticed him as well because he suddenly exclaimed, “It can’t be Harry Potter!”

Hermione watched in bemusement as Lockhart dragged Harry to the front of the crowd and dozens of people started taking pictures. “He can’t be loving this,” she said. “I know Harry, he hates being in the spotlight. Look at him; he’s red as a beet.”

“Can you believe him?” Ron had pushed his way back to meet her. “He only grabbed Harry to get his face on the front page of the Daily Prophet.”

“Oh Ron, Gilderoy Lockhart doesn’t need Harry to get his face in the Daily Prophet. He’s famous enough on his own. This whole crowd is here for him, remember?”

“Well I bet if they knew Harry would be here, there’d be even more people,” said a small voice behind Ron. It was the youngest Weasley, Ginny. There was something very familiar in her eyes. Hermione recognized it immediately.

“Little Ginny’s got a crush on Harry,” she thought to herself. “Aww, how cute.”

Gilderoy Lockhart was trying to gain the crowd’s attention. “What an extraordinary moment this is. The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time.” There was quiet now. “When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography, which I shall be happy to present him now free of charge.”

“Lucky,” Hermione muttered. “He’s going to get a personally autographed autobiography.”

“He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much much more than my book ‘Magical Me.’ He and his schoolmates will in fact be getting the real magical me. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“Did you here that,” Hermione squealed despite herself. “Did you hear that! He’s coming to Hogwarts, he’s coming to our school! Oh I can’t wait to tell Anne; she’ll be so jealous. She thinks she’s special because Lockhart did a lecture at her school. Well wait ‘til she hears about this!”

“Calm down, would you?” Ron said as they each grabbed a prepackaged stack of Lockhart’s collective works and made their way over to where Harry now stood with Ginny and…

“Malfoy,” Hermione snarled. “What’s he doing here? Can’t we go anywhere without seeing him?”

Ron grumbled.

“Now Ron, don’t get in a fight with him,” Hermione warned. “You’ll just get into trouble.”

But Ron was listening and Malfoy had already started in on him. It wasn’t long before both she and Harry had to hold him back.

“Why does Malfoy insist on taunting Ron? Doesn’t he realize Ron’s bigger than him?” To her relief, Mr. Weasley showed up. “Good he’ll put a stop to this.”

-----

“I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,” Mrs. Granger was shaking.

“Books flying everywhere. People stampeding all over the place.” Mr. Granger stammered.

“I only just got out of the way,” Hermione said.

It had happened, in a flash. One moment, Mr. Weasley was trying to steer them out of the bookstore. The next moment, Malfoy… not Draco, but Mr. Malfoy himself, had arrived. Hermione only had to listen to him for a few seconds to know where his son got his obnoxious personality from. And then, it was as if she was watching Draco and Ron. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley regressed to school age boys and soon they were using the bookstore as their own personal boxing ring.

“If it wasn’t for Hagrid showing up when he did,” Hermione said breathlessly. “They’d have torn down the whole store.”

“I’m not sure about that Arthur Weasley chap,” Hermione’s father said quietly. They were walking only a few paces behind Harry and the Weasley clan. “A trifle unhinged if you ask me.”

“Dad, a few minutes ago, you said he was fascinating,” Hermione reminded him.

“Well I have the right to change my mind.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be doing it again in a few minutes,” Mrs. Granger said with a half sigh, half grin. “If you want my opinion, this whole thing was started by those Malfoys. There’s just something about them that didn’t seat well with me.”

“All I’m saying,” Mr. Granger continued, apparently not hearing his wife, “is that I hope you’re friend Ron isn’t as hot headed as his father.”

Hermione shook her head vehemently. “Who Ron? No, never. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Mrs. Granger looked down at her daughter and grinned in a “you’ve got to stop telling fibs that your father doesn’t get” sort of way.

As they made there way to the end of Diagon Alley, Harry back tracked to the Grangers.

“Well, that was invigorating,” he said with one of his famous half grins.

“Oh so that’s your idea of fun,” Hermione quipped back.

“So I guess I’ll see you on the train to Hogwarts,” he said. “What are you going to do with the rest of your summer… other than study?”

“I’m going to find out if Dobby’s warning had any merit,” she said softly so that only he could hear her.

“Hermione you worry too much,”

“And I’m a bossy, know-it-all. Tell me something I don’t know.” She smiled. “But if there’s even the slightest chance that my best friend’s in trouble…”

“Yeah I know… guess I’ll see you in the library.” Harry laughed a little but then gave her a serious look. “Glad you’ve always got my back.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she said with a nod.

The group had reached the familiar brick wall that would lead them back to the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn’t long before the Harry and the Weasleys were off to the fireplace to floo back home and Hermione and her family were headed back down Charing Cross Road to take the train home. It would be another week before she would be able to see her friends again, onboard the Hogwarts Express. Until then, Hermione realized she had a lot of work to do.

Author’s Note: “Where the HELL have you been?” you might be asking me. My only defense is, you try getting a book published and doing ANYTHING else in your spare time. It’s impossible! But now the process is almost over. I think my book will be out in February. I still have some finishing touches to work out with the publishers but hopefully we can get it done quickly. Wish me luck. In the mean time, back to my fan fiction. I’m sorry this chapter is so short, I’ll do better next time. Also if you want to find out about my book, visit www.mendala.com, you can read the first 7 chapters online for free and as soon as I know when the book is out, I’ll post it on my site.

Chapter Summary: This covers the train trip to Hogwarts from Hermione’s point of view (isn’t that funny, considering the whole story is from her POV). What did she do when she found out that Harry and Ron were missing? Also after the excitement, little Ginny has something to ask of Hermione. Will this crazy day ever end?

“Hermione, is it just me or is this trunk heavier than it was last year?” Mr. Granger said as he struggled to lift the trunk into the car.

“Well, you always say not to take my education lightly,” Hermione quipped.

“Very funny,” her father said, clearly not amused. “Still, I would think an up and coming witch, like yourself, could do something about making this a bit lighter.”

“Sorry Dad, no magic outside of school. Believe me if I could I would. I had to leave my copy of ‘Hogwarts: A History’ behind; just not enough room.”

“How sad,” her mother said with a mocking smile. “Now you won’t get to read it for the four-hundredth time.”

Hermione gave her a stunned look. “Isn’t there some law that says you’re supposed to love me no matter what?”

“I do; teasing you is just part of the perks.”

“I can’t believe you people are my family,” Hermione sighed as she climbed into the backseat of the car.

Mrs. Granger took her place in the passenger seat. “You people? Is that what we’ve been reduced to?”

“I tell you, all this magic’s just gone to her head,” Mr. Granger added as he started the car.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Her parents seemed to believe that it was their God-given right to harass her as much as possible before sending her off to Hogwarts. It had been the same scene the year before and she feared this sort of abuse would become a permanent family tradition.

Her father started the car down the street. “So you never told me what your professor said about all the work you did this summer. Any extra credit involved?”

“Most likely that and more,” Hermione said. “But she won’t grade it until after terms starts; that way she can officially give house points for all my work.”

“Good show; now all you have to do is keep up the momentum throughout the year.”

“Haven’t you lectured her enough about her grades, dear?” Hermione’s mother said with a sigh.

“It’s not lecturing,” Mr. Granger countered. “If I don’t encourage her; who will? We have to be the ones to remind her that studies are important. Her friend’s certainly won’t.”

Hermione zoned out, staring out the back seat window. This was a conversation she could safely be a bystander to. She began to think about what the new school year would bring. The prospect of another year at Hogwarts was both exciting and frightening all at the same time. Harry’s story about the house elf, Dobby, and the vision that she’d had all seemed to be pointing towards some sort of inevitable danger. Unfortunately, she was no closer to discovering the truth. There just wasn’t enough information to go on. She didn’t even really know what a house elf was. Despite all that she had learned over the past year, there was still a lot she didn’t know about the magical world. It was just going to take time.

Before she knew it, they were pulling into Kings Cross Station and her father was lugging the huge trunk onto a trolley. It took Hermione a while to get control of the trolley. It really was significantly heavier than the last time she packed for school. As they walked towards platform 9 ¾, Hermione recalled how nervous she had been the previous summer. She’d dressed in her wizard’s robes before she’d even gotten to the station. This year, she was still in regular muggle clothing and brought her robes with her to change on the train. She didn’t have to worry about ending up in a compartment with Pansy Parkinson or someone equally hideous, because this year she had friends, Ron and Harry, who she could sit with. All and all, she knew this would be a much better trip.

“Well here we are dear,” her mother announced as they reached the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Hermione quickly hugged both her parents and turned the cart so that it was directed at the barrier.

“Send us an owl when you arrive,” her father said.

“I will,” Hermione assured him before pushing the trolley with all her might towards the barrier. Anyone who was paying attention would have probably thought the young girl had lost her mind, but Hermione, of course, knew better. She was magical and that meant the moment she hit the barrier, she’d be instantly transported to the hidden wizarding platform where the large scarlet engine, the Hogwarts Express, was waiting.

Almost immediately an attendant came and took her trolley, leaving her free to search for her friends. There were lots of familiar faces milling around the platform but she didn’t see Harry or the Weasleys in the crowd. The clock on the wall showed that the train would be leaving in a few minutes. She wondered where they could be. Harry and Ron had promised to meet her on the platform. Maybe they were on the train already, holding a compartment. Hermione was about to head for the train when she heard a familiar voice.

“Oy, Hermione, hold up a bit.” It was Fred Weasley. He had his brother, George, and his younger sister, Ginny, in tow. “Blimey, we almost didn’t make it here in time. Ginny here forgot her diary.” He rolled his eyes. Ginny looked cross.

“We’re all going to share a cabin, with you, Harry and Ronnikins,” George explained.

Hermione wasn’t sure she liked the idea of sharing a compartment with the two biggest pranksters in Hogwarts, but she nodded anyway. “What about Percy?”

The three Weasleys all groaned at once. “Perfect Percy rides with the prefects,” Fred said in a sing-song voice.

Mrs. Weasley came up behind them. “Knock that off. Hurry up and get on the train.” She kissed all three of them quickly. “Now you have a wonderful first year Ginny. Where are Harry and Ron?”

Fred shrugged. “How should we know?”

“Yeah, we’re not our brother’s keeper,” George added.

“I swear you two are impossible.” She hurried off to find them herself.

Fred started towards the train. “Come on let’s go and get a spot before their all taken.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Harry and Ron?” Hermione asked nervously. She tried peering through the crowd to spot her friends but it was far too congested.

Fred was trying to push through the sea of people. “This is a mess. We’ll find them on the train. They’re probably already there.”

Hermione followed the Weasleys to the Hogwarts Express but she had a nagging feeling that something was very wrong. Still, she didn’t have much time to debate. The train was getting ready to pull off. With one last furtive look at the platform entrance, Hermione climbed the stairs and followed the Weasley twins inside the locomotive.

“Hi Hermione,” Mandy Brocklehurst said as Hermione slid the door open to the compartment that she and three other girls were sharing.

“Hi Mandy,” Hermione said quickly. “You haven’t seen Harry or Ron have you?”

“No I haven’t. Haven’t you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and left the cabinet. She’d been up and down the entire train and hadn’t found her two friends. She returned dejectedly to the compartment that she was sharing with the Weasleys.
“They’re not on the train anywhere,” she said in a strained voice.

“Maybe they didn’t make it through the barrier in time,” Ginny offered. She was the only one who seemed concerned.

The twins on the other hand, were playing a game and didn’t seem the least bit worried. “I’m sure wherever little Ronnie is, he’ll be alright.” Fred assured her.

Hermione wasn’t comforted by these words. She was sure that something had happened to Harry and Ron. After everything Harry had told her in Diagon Alley, it couldn’t be a coincidence that they didn’t make it on the train. Someone didn’t’ want Harry Potter at Hogwarts. Could they have been kidnapped? Could they be hurt somewhere? What if Voldemort somehow got to them? The thought of Harry in danger while she was stuck on this train was infuriating.

Ginny tried to look on the bright side. “Don’t worry Hermione. This is Harry we’re talking about. I’m sure wherever he is; he can take care of himself.”

Hermione sighed, “That girl is so naive. She’s almost as bad as Ron. She thinks the ‘famous Harry Potter’ is immune to all danger.” She knew Ginny had a crush on Harry, but it seemed like the same kind of crush her roommates Parvati and Padma had. They only saw Harry as a famous wizard, not as a real person. It drove her insane.

There had to be something she could do to figure out where Harry and Ron were; but what? Hermione stood. “I’m going to go look again.”

“Wait,” George called before she could leave the compartment. “If you’re that concerned about Harry, then I have an idea.”

Fred looked up at him. “George!”

“What? We can do this just once for her. I mean after all, she did help us with some of those essays last year.” George reasoned.

“Oh alright, but just this once.” Fred agreed. “And only because it’s to help Harry.” He turned from his twin to the confused bushy-haired girl at the door. “You’ll have to wait until we get to school, but if Harry and Ron haven’t showed up by then, we’ll be able to find them for you. Chances are they’re probably hiding out somewhere. Up to something I’ll wager.”

Hermione thought about this for a moment. They could be hiding under the invisibility cloak. “Well, how are you going to find them if they’re hiding.”

“None of your business, nosey git,” Fred said quickly. “Just trust us.”

Hermione gave him a quizzical look. She knew plenty of good reasons not to trust the twins. Still, they seemed pretty serious and after the way they pulled off Ron’s late night birthday party the previous year, she knew Hogwarts was their domain. If they said they could locate Harry and Ron, then they probably could.

She plopped down in the seat again. “You better not be messing with me,” she warned.

George held up his hand sincerely. “Twins’ honor.”

Last year, Hermione had to ride across the lake to reach a lower entrance to Hogwarts castle. Then she was shoved into a small hallway with her classmates where she waited almost breathlessly for the sorting ceremony. But last year, Hermione was a first year at Hogwarts. This year was altogether different.

She joined Parvati, Padma, and Lavender in one of the horseless carriages that took them through the front gates of the Hogwarts grounds. These “horseless carriages” weren’t cars though. They were actual carriages that should have been pulled by horses, but none could be seen. After all she’d seen in the magical world over the past year, self-steering carriages didn’t faze Hermione.

“I’m so glad I’m not a first year anymore.” Padma said as she stuck her hair out the window.

“Me too,” Lavender agreed. “Bottom of the food chain.”

“Hey Hermione, where’s Harry?” Parvati asked the silent passenger.

Hermione had been staring out the window. “Uh, he and Ron are… doing something.”

“Doing something?” Lavender repeated. “What could they possibly…” Hermione glared at her and she immediately shut up. “Nevermind, don’t want to know.”

Soon they were disembarking at the castle’s main entrance. Hermione looked up at the familiar structure with its turrets and towers and realized that she was truly home. Ever since she’d come to Hogwarts last year, her world had changed. The life she knew before she’d found out about her magical heritage barely seemed real anymore. She still loved her parents, but all during the summer she felt like there was a piece of her life missing. She’d felt listless and restless. Now, standing there in front of the stone haven for young wizards and witches, she felt like she was were she truly belonged. Her world felt complete again.

She had just breathed a relaxing sigh when a hand clamped down on her shoulder “Hermione.” It was Fred and he had an uncharacteristically worried look on his face. “Harry and Ron aren’t here.”

“What?” Hermione asked confused.

“They’re nowhere on the grounds; we just checked.”

“But how do you…”

“Trust me,” Fred said in exasperation. “Wherever Harry and Ron are, they’re not at Hogwarts.

“I’ve got to find them,” Hermione turned on her heals, determined to search the whole grounds and even Hogsmeade if she had to.

“Ms. Granger?” came a voice from the castle entrance.

Hermione didn’t need to turn around to recognize the voice. It was Professor McGonagall. “I thought she’d be with the first years by now,” she said silently.

“Where are you going?” McGonagall asked.

“Uh…” Hermione thought fast. “I left something on the train.”

“Not to worry. Whatever you had on the train has already been brought to your room. Now come along; you don’t want to miss the feast.”

“But…”

“Come along, Ms. Granger,” the teacher said more sternly this time.

Hermione turned around with an angry sulk and followed her teacher back inside. “What I wouldn’t give for Harry’s invisibility cloak right now.”

The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement as the returning students took their seats at the four house tables. The sorting ceremony would be beginning soon and this was especially exciting for the second years, who would finally have a chance to witness the sorting, as opposed to being a part of it. Parvati and Lavender sat beside Hermione chatting and giggling hysterically but Hermione barely heard any of what they were saying. All she could think of was getting out of the Great Hall as quickly as possible to try and find Harry but this seemed impossible.

Hermione gazed absentmindedly at the staff table. She noticed the absence of not only Hagrid and McGonagall, both presumably working with the first years, but also Snape. Where could he be? Also noticeably absent was Gilderoy Lockhart. Perhaps he had been delayed somehow. After all, he was a world renowned wizard. He probably had some prior obligation.

After what seemed an eternity, a door opened and the first years, looking scared and anxious, marched in, followed by professor McGonagall carrying a stool and a tattered-looking pointed hat. The entire hall fell silent as McGonagall silently placed stool and hat in front of the line of confused-looking first-year students. All eyes fell on the relic. Even Hermione, whose mind was completely distracted by her present dilemma, was mildly curious at the processions now. For this was no ordinary hat; it was the Hogwarts sorting hat.

According to “Hogwarts: A History” the sorting hat once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, one of the school’s founders. He endowed the hat with intelligence, so that it could sort the incoming students into the four houses long after the founders were gone. Apparently, he also gave it a superb singing voice and aptitude for lyric writing, because at that moment, a tear at the top of the hat opened wide like a mouth, and the whole hall was filled with singing.

“Now listen up; I’ll tell a tale

Of magic folks of fame.

Two witches and two wizards great

And you should know their names

First Slytherin, a pure-blood

Who valued those like he.

Then Ravenclaw, a clever witch

As wise as she could be.

Fare Hufflepuff who wanted

All with magic to unite

And Gryffindor who sought out those

Who were as brave as knights.

Now they are gone but I am here.

I know there minds so well.

So when you place me on your head,

The house you’re in I’ll tell.

Only I can sort you out.

Only I can know.

So now that I have sung my song,

Let’s get on with the show.”

Everyone applauded, except for the still confused-looking first years. McGonagall had unrolled a long parchment and had just cleared her throat when, without warning, the large doors to the great hall burst open. There, standing in robes of stunning aqua-marine, a huge smile on his face, was Gilderoy Lockhart.

“So sorry I’m late,” he said loudly. “There was a huge reception at the Hogsmeade station and I just can’t say no to my fans.”

Everyone in the great hall turned. For a moment, there was a deafening silence. Then there was a great clatter of chairs as half the students, including many of the previously petrified first years went rushing towards Lockhart with loud cheers and whoops.

“Please, please!” Lockhart said loudly, “One at a time, one at a time. Plenty of autographs for everyone.”

Hermione was one of the few Gryffindor girls still at the table. Having already gotten an autograph from Lockhart in Diagon Alley, she was not pressed to try to reach her idol through the throng of screaming Hogwarts students. McGonagall, positively livid with rage, went storming past her, obviously intent on restoring decorum to the sacred processions about to commence.

Hermione turned her attention to the staff table and saw other teachers rising to help the deputy head mistress, others were whispering among themselves, but Dumbledore looked mildly amused by the whole thing. He sat, with his fingertips together staring serenely at the bewitched ceiling.

This gave Hermione an idea. All the staff, students, and even the resident ghosts were completely distracted by Lockhart’s abrupt entrance. This would be the perfect chance for her to escape and go Harry hunting. All she needed was a way out of the Great Hall. Fred and George were still sitting across from her looking positively bored. They were clearly unimpressed with any distraction that they themselves did not cause.

“Fred, George,” she hissed.

The twins turned to her.

“I’m going to go look for Harry and Ron.”

“Hermione, we’ve already told you they’re not…”

She cut George off. “I don’t care! I’ll search the whole grounds and Hogsmeade if I have to. I’m going to find them. But um…”

Fred grinned. “But you need a way to get out of the Great Hall without being noticed while everyone’s distracted by that git over there.”

“Uh… yeah.” Hermione nodded, not bothering to snap at Fred for insulting their newest professor.

George pointed casually behind him with his thumb. “See that statue of Gregory the Smarmy over there.”

Hermione leaned around to look. There, looking very smug indeed, was a tall statue with the unmistakable likeness of the famous wizard.

“Just shake his hand; a passage to the grounds will open up in the floor behind him.” Fred informed her. “Lots of people know about it, but hardly anyone uses it, especially since it’s here in the Great Hall.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said jumping to her feet.

“No problem,” Fred called to her as she rushed off towards the statue. “But this is the last time. After this our debt to you is over.”

Hermione gave them one fleeting puzzled look. It had been the second time since she’d known the twins that they had reminded her of members of some wizard’s mafia. Dismissing this, she slipped quickly towards the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. She remembered that Gregory was famous for creating a potion that made the drinker think you were their best friend. It was only appropriate to see that the statue depicted him with a huge grin on his face and his hand extended as if he was offering it to someone.

Hermione took another quick look around to make sure the appropriate persons were still distracted, and then took Smarmy’s hand. To her mild surprise, the statue’s arm moved easily. She heard the sound of stone moving behind the base and rushed around to find that part of the floor had moved aside to reveal a passage leading down. She ran down the dark sloping stairs, around a tight corner and up another set of stairs and pushed her way up to the middle of the Hogwarts grounds.

She looked around, trying to get her bearings. It finally occurred to her that in her zeal to go hunting for her friends, she hadn’t really done any planning. She thought for a moment. If Harry and Ron hadn’t made it on the train, then maybe they had to find another way to get to Hogwarts. There couldn’t be but so many ways to get to the magical school. If Harry had to get to Hogwarts, it would probably be by broom. Then of course there was the option that Harry and Ron were just hiding, thinking it’d be a thrill to skip the feast and do something mischievous, most likely Ron’s idea. If they were roaming about the grounds, the most likely place they’d be was the quidditch pitch, flying around on Harry’s Nimbus 2000. The chance of them being spotted while everyone was in the Great Hall was pretty slim. Either way, the odds of Harry being in the air seemed pretty high, and if that really was the case, then there was definitely one place she’d be sure to spot him.

Hermione kicked the large statue in the shin and a small passageway opened behind it. She was only a stones throw away from the hallway that would have taken her to Gryffindor Tower, but of course, this wasn’t where she was headed. She ducked down and crawled through the passage. A few minutes later she found herself standing on one of the high ramparts of Hogwarts staring down across the grounds. Hermione had spent many days up there the previous years, usually to watch Harry practice Quidditch.

This was the first place she decided to focus on, the Quidditch pitch, but there was no sign of anything in the air over the still grass. Her eyes fell on the forbidden forest. Though she knew if Harry and Ron were actually in the forest she’d never be able to tell from that height, she thought perhaps if they were flying to Hogwarts, she’d be able to spot them. Still, there was no sign of anything in the air around the school. Finally she scanned the grounds, walking around the edge of the ramparts to get a good view all around the castle.

An odd sight caught her eyes; one of the solitary trees on the grounds seemed to be deformed. She recognized it from “Hogwarts: A History.” It was called the Whomping Willow. She didn’t remember it looking like that last year and wondered what had happened to it.

The wind was beginning to pick up and she knew that the feast was probably letting out. Disheartened, she descended the stairs to the Hogwarts corridors.

“Hermione, where’ve you been?” The unmistakable voice of Parvati Patil sounded behind Hermione as she stepped into the Gryffindor Tower corridor.

“Uh, I got sick, I had to run to the restroom,” Hermione lied quickly.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Lavender was just behind her. “Parvati heard from her sister who heard from that Hufflepuff boy, Wayne, who overheard from a Slytherin girl, that Harry and Ron are getting expelled for driving a flying car to school! Crashed it right into the Whomping Willow.”

“What? Hermione tried to process the fast speech, but even after she went over it in her head twice, it still made no sense. “Parvati, I think you’re sources have gotten the message garbled.”

“Well, they’re supposed to be down in Snape’s office if you want to say good-bye to them. I’ll tell you one thing, if they don’t get expelled, it’ll be the greatest stunt ever pulled at Hogwarts,” and with that the two retreated to the portrait of the fat lady. Hermione heard Lavender shout out “wattlebird” to the fat lady and they disappeared into the common room.

Hermione didn’t want to believe it, it was impossible, it was unfathomable, it was… “Ron,” she muttered bitterly. If there was any truth to this story, any at all, then it had to be the doing of that king of all idiotic ideas: Ronald Weasley. There was only one way to find out. She took off down a flight of stairs.

Ron and Harry weren’t in Snape’s office, but Hermione didn’t know whether this was a good or bad thing. Obviously, the rumors weren’t true, but then, where were they?

“This is ridiculous.” She thought angrily to herself. “I’m running all over school, worried sick, and Harry and Ron are probably having the time of their lives. Fine, I’ll just go to the common room. Forget this.” Her stomach growled audibly. “I really wish I hadn’t skipped dinner.”

Hermione made her way out of the dungeon level and proceeded up the many flights of stairs that would lead her back to Gryffindor Tower. As she ascended to the final landing, Hermione began trying to remember what the new password was when she heard the distant cry of the fat lady call “Password.”

The moment she looked up, two things registered immediately: first, the new password was “wattlebird,” and second, there were two boys standing in front of the portrait of the fat lady, and one was tall with flaming red hair… it was Harry and Ron. Without preamble, Hermione took off towards them.

“There you are!” she cried as she reached them. “Where have you been? The most ridiculous rumors: someone said you’d been expelled for crashing a flying car.”

Harry looked as weary as Hermione felt. “Well, we haven’t been expelled…”

Something in his tone made Hermione ask, “You’re not telling me you did fly here?” This came out harsher than she intended as it always did when she was this tired and frazzled.

“Skip the lecture and tell us the new password,” Ron snapped.

Hermione felt like giving him a hearty slap, but decided against this course of action. “It’s wattlebird,” she said hastily and at the sound of the correct password, the portrait automatically began to swing open. She hoped Ron would leave so she could talk to Harry alone. She turned to him. “But that’s not the point…”

But to Hermione’s complete surprise and chagrin, Ron didn’t leave, in fact, their conversation was interrupted by the whole of Gryffindor, all of whom were apparently wide awake and waiting for Ron and Harry, or at least that’s what it seemed like. Several hands reached out to pull the two boys in.

Hermione was furious as she climbed awkwardly in behind them. Everyone was raving about Harry and Ron’s “daring” stunt, as if it were the grandest scheme in the world. “What do they know?” she thought angrily. This was typical. As long as they didn’t get the house in serious trouble, nobody cared if Harry did something fool hearted or reckless or almost got killed. They just lived vicariously for the thrill of it all.

“And to think, I was worried about them.” She scowled at the thought.

Hermione had just started her internal debate as to how she was going to weather the celebration of Harry and Ron’s arrival until she could finally have a chance to talk to Harry alone, when she heard his voice call out, “Night!” to him. Harry and Ron were already heading towards their dormitories. Disheartened, hungry, and furious, Hermione started resolutely for hers as well.

She pushed the door open to her dormitory and was met with a mild surprise. Ginny Weasley was sitting on her bed. She jumped a little as Hermione entered.

“Ginny… what are you…. you’re not in this dormitory… are you?”

“Oh no,” Ginny grinned nervously. “Of course not, I just, uh… wanted to talk to you about something; I mean… that is if you’re okay with that.”

“Oh,” Hermione’s frustration seemed to disappear as she tried to discern what the first year Weasley girl wanted. Her stomach growled again, this time so audibly that Ginny heard it.

“Oh, are you still hungry?” Ginny asked revealing a small bundled. She unwrapped two large pieces of pie. “I snuck these out from the feast in case I wanted a late night snack, but you can have them.”

Hermione was vaguely reminded of Ron, but dismissed this and gladly accepted the food Ginny offered as she sat down on the bed beside her.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Hermione asked after swallowing a large chunk of pie. She reached over to her nightstand, where a large clear picture of water always sat with a small goblet beside it, and poured herself some water.

“Well it’s just,” Ginny’s face went almost as red as her head. “This is so embarrassing but... oh I’ll just be out with it. I’ve got a huge crush on Harry!”

“Duh,” Hermione thought to herself as she downed another piece of the first slice of pie.

“I’ve never not been able to talk to anyone but when I get around Harry it’s like my mind goes completely blank. I don’t know what to do about it.”

Hermione felt a pang of irritation but didn’t dare show it in her face.

“I mean, he spent weeks at our house and I still never g6t up the nerve to talk to him. That’s so unlike me. I mean, he’s famous; what do you say to Harry Potter? Hermione, you’re one of his best friend’s, right? You’re a girl; can’t you help me?”

Hermione almost choked as she took another gulp of water. “Help you? Help you what?” she sputtered.

“Help me get Harry to notice me,” she said almost pleadingly.

Hermione set the goblet and second, untouched, piece of pie on the nightstand. “Ginny, I’m sure Harry already notices you. I mean you’re Ron’s younger sister, that’s hard to miss.”

“But I don’t want him to think of me as just ‘Ron’s younger sister,’” Ginny said.

“Well then, just talk to him,” Hermione said, trying to reason with her.

Ginny gave her an exasperated look. “Don’t you think I tried? It’s just so hard.”

Hermione matched her exasperation. “Ginny, it’s just Harry. He’s just a normal wizard, like us. He doesn’t want to be famous. It’s not like he’s Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry just wants to be treated like everyone else. If you do that, then you’ll be fine.”

Ginny thought about this for a moment, then seemed to switch gears mentally. “Does he… you know… like anyone here? I mean, I already know he’s not into you or anything. Ron told me.”

Hermione was fully taken aback by this statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ginny seemed to register this look of shock. “Oh… does that mean that…”

Hermione waved her hands wildly. “No no no, it’s just that Harry and I… we just have a different friendship than he has with Ron.” She was glad to see that Ginny didn’t really understand what this meant. “Trust me, you can’t fully rely on what Ron tells you about everything when it comes down to Harry.”

“See this is why I need you,” Ginny continued excitedly. “I bet with your help, I could plan something that would really make Harry noticed me,” and to Hermione’s surprise, Ginny had a look in her eyes that reminded her of the twins.

“Oh no!” Hermione said, waving her hands wildly again. “I don’t think so. If you want to try to impress Harry, you’re going to have to do it on your own. I’m staying out of this.”

“But Hermione!” Ginny squealed. “You’re Harry’s best friend…”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to get involved. I want to stay Harry’s best friend, and I don’t think he’d appreciate this.”

Ginny pouted. “I don’t get it. I thought you’d want to help. I mean, when I told Ron, he said that I might have a chance to get Harry to fancy me this year if I just got up the nerve.”

“Ron said that?” Hermione eyed her suspiciously. ”Why would Ron encourage Ginny’s crush?”

“Yeah, well he said maybe, but he did act like he thought it was a good idea for me to try. He seemed happy at the thought, and he knows Harry real well too, so I thought maybe he figured Harry would like me too, ya know?”

Hermione sighed. She would have to let the young redhead down gently. “Ginny, it’s just… You shouldn’t go getting your hopes up. I’ve seen… other girls try what you’re thinking, and it’s never worked out. The best thing to do around Harry is just be yourself and maybe try to be his friend. I don’t think you can really hope for anything more.”

Ginny was still frowning. “I see… I guess I should’ve figured… you just want to keep Harry all to yourself,” she said in a small voice.

Hermione almost chocked again, although this time she wasn’t aided by the presence of any food or drink in her mouth. “What? Ginny, it’s not that at all. Harry and I are just…”

“I heard those girls… I think they’re your roommates… talking about how close you and Harry are and how it’s almost impossible for Harry to notice any other girls. I don’t blame you, if it were me; I’d do the same thing. But if Harry doesn’t like you that way, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let any other girls have a chance Hermione. It’s not fair. If you’re his friend, you won’t stop him from being happy.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but not for the first time, a small voice in her head that sounded distinctly like her mother, told her to choose her words carefully. After all, Ginny was in Gryffindor, which meant she’d be seeing a lot of the young redhead, not to mention she was Ron’s younger sister. She didn’t want to be on bad terms with her.

Hermione sighed. “I do want Harry to be happy,” she said truthfully. “And you’re right, other girls probably are less willing to… approach Harry when they see me with him, but I wouldn’t push someone away from Harry just because I wanted him all to myself or anything like that.” “If that were the case I would’ve gotten rid of Ron ages ago,” she added mentally. “It’s just that Harry chooses his friends carefully. There’s nothing I can do about that. So like I said before, if you want to be Harry’s friend, just be yourself.”

Ginny stood and Hermione was glad to see she wasn’t glaring at her. “Well… alright. I guess I’ll figure out something if you won’t help. But… could you… what I mean is… I don’t want Harry to…”

Hermione grinned. “I won’t say a word, I promise.”

Ginny returned the smile. “Thank you,” she said as she started towards the door. “Enjoy the pie.”

Hermione collapsed on her bed as Ginny shut the door behind her. “Just great,” she sighed. “Just what I need, another member of the ‘We Love Harry Potter’ fan club.”

She wondered what Ginny would try to do to win Harry’s affection. She also wondered what Parvati, Padma, and Lavender would think if they were to find out about Ginny’s crush. Would they even see the first year girl as a real threat? Probably so. After all, she was Ron’s younger sister. In their mind, that would give her the advantage.

Another thought took up residence in her head; what was Ron thinking? Why would he encourage Ginny to make a fool of herself in front of Harry? Did he think her crush was funny or was it something else? Could it be that Ron was plotting? Did he want Harry to fall in love with his younger sister in the hopes that some day Harry might really be a part of his family? It seemed beyond far fetched, but then… Harry had told her that he felt like a surrogate son, living at the Weasleys all that time during the summer. He hadn’t had a real family before, and the Weasley’s treated him like he was one of their own. He seemed so happy.

Hermione rolled over on her side, staring at her nightstand. “Would Harry just naturally get closer to Ginny after spending all that time with the Weasleys over the summer? I mean, they are almost the same age, and Harry does really like their whole family. It would kind of make sense. Maybe Ron wasn’t that far off when he told Ginny to give it a shot. I mean, I never did actually ask Harry about the whole thing. How would I know if he likes her or not? Maybe I’m the one who’s got it all wrong.” It was then that she finally noticed how much this really bothered her. Was she… jealous?

“No! Harry and I are just friends!” she admonished herself.

“But is that all you really wanted?” another part of her brain asked.

“It’s more than enough,” she answered herself.

“Is it really?” the first part pressed.

“Yes it is!” she answered forcefully. “I’m not going to fall into this trap again. Harry and I are friends. That’s all I could ever ask for and it’s great, and he’s wonderful to me and I’m not going to muck that all up by throwing myself at him like some dewy-eyed schoolgirl.”

Having resolved this inner conflict for now, Hermione got up and changed for bed, hoping she could fall asleep before Lavender arrived. If there was one thing she didn’t need to hear that night, it was Lavender’s bear-like snores.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone, I've stopped writing fanfiction because with all of the other things that I have on my plate, I can no longer keep up and writing fanfic has become a burden instead of something fun to do.

I hope you guys don't send flames or hundreds of emails trying to convince me otherwise. It's not that I don't enjoy writing fanfic, I just can't do it anymore with all the other stuff I have to do and I have my own series of books to concentrate on. If you enjoy my writing, please take a look at my novel (www.mendala.com). I'd really appreciate that. I thank everyone that has sent me compliments on my stories and I'm going to leave them up for a while too. Heaven will finish up my current fanfic at her leisure and will do any others in the series if she chooses. So look to her pen name for the continuation of my fics.

Chapter Summary: Okay, how many of you found that Hermione’s blind obsession with Gilderoy Lockhart throughout the entire book, despite loads of evidence of his flailing incompetence, was a little unrealistic. I mean, come on, this is Hermione we’re talking about. She may have a little crush, but she’s not that stupid. So I have devised my own reason for this.

--- Begin Fic Here ---

A full night’s sleep didn’t really help Hermione’s disposition the next morning. She was still mad when she climbed out of bed and her stomach was growling with new vigor. After getting ready for the day, she decided to go down to breakfast on her own, instead of waiting for Ron and Harry. She took her copy of Gilderoy Lockhart’s “Voyages with Vampires” with her to read.

As she descended the stairs to the entrance hall, she saw Gilderoy Lockhart himself, in a turquoise robe.

“Good morning, Professor Lockhart” she said cheerily as they crossed paths.

“And good morning to you,” Lockhart beamed. “Oh, and what have we here.” He reached for Hermione’s book. “One of my personal favorites.”

“Mine too,” Hermione said breathlessly. “I just loved reading about all of the different kinds of vampires you met in your travels. It’s amazing how different each of them were. You were always so unbiased though. Always gave them a chance. I think that was the most incredible part. You weren’t just out to hunt them down, but to learn from them. You immersed yourself into their culture, even though you were putting your life on the line. I bet you learned so much. Still there was something confusing about it. I noticed that something you said about your journeys in France didn’t quite make sense and I was wondering…”

“My, my, my,” Lockhart said, still beaming like crazy. “I see you notice the… uh… tiny nuances of my adventures. That’s always nice.”

“I’ve read all your books, Professor.” Hermione continued excitedly. “I want to be just like you. I want to be brave.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone can be just like me,” Lockhart chuckled. “But I’m sure that if you keep up your diligent study of my travels, you’ll be just fine.” He rubbed her head and started towards the oak front doors.

Hermione tried to hide her blushing face as she started towards the great hall. She sat down at the Gryffindor table and propped “Voyages with Vampires” against a milk jug so she could read it while she ate.

Ron and Harry joined her several minutes later, but she barely noticed, nor did she want to make it easy on them. She’d been worried sick about them yesterday and they were out driving a flying car, and to top things off they went off to their dormitories without so much as a word to her. No, she was going to do the ignoring today.

Hermione was just wrapping her mind around how exactly she was going to tell Harry how thoroughly annoyed she was with him and Ron when an alternate solution landed, quite haphazardly, in her milk jug. It was Erroll, the Weasley family’s post owl, and as Ron pulled him unceremoniously out of the jug, Hermione registered one thing: the owl was carrying a scarlet red envelope. It reminded her a little bit of the sparkling blue envelop that contained Lavender’s slumber party invitation. Ron called it, a “howler.” Something about the name, didn’t sound good to Hermione, and the way Ron was reacting to it, she suspected her hunch was right.

After several promptings from Neville, Ron reluctantly opened it and Hermione could fully appreciate why he was so hesitant to do so in the first place. It was horrible, ten times worse than any of the shouting matches she got into with her father. Mrs. Weasley’s voice resonated from the scarlet envelope at a volume so loud, she was sure that the whole castle could hear it. This megaphone version of Mrs. Weasley’s voice boomed a lecture at Ron about the flying car incident that was so thorough, that when it was finally over, Hermione could think of very little to add.

“I’ve got to learn how to send one of those,” she thought mischievously to herself with a grin.

-----

Hermione was in a much better mood after breakfast. She knew it was wrong to gloat but she felt a certain sense of self-satisfaction that Ron had gotten into the appropriate amount of trouble for the antics they pulled yesterday. It seemed that Harry had taken the contents of the howler to heart too, which, surprisingly, didn’t give her the same feeling of satisfaction. She didn’t want Harry to have another burden to add to his already growing list.

She still hadn’t had a chance to really talk to Harry since they got there and it didn’t seem she would anytime soon. Their first lesson was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and that wasn’t a class that really lent itself to private conversations. Besides, Ron would still be there, and she wanted Harry to herself.

As it was, the only person who would get Harry to himself was Gilderoy Lockhart who arrived with Professor Sprout. Before the three of them could make it into greenhouse three, where they would be working, Lockhart pulled Harry out of the group to have a word with him. Hermione very much wanted to linger to see what Lockhart was going to say to him, but Ron elbowed her inside.

As she massaged the shoulder Ron had bumped into, it occurred to her that she’d also been wanting to speak to Ron alone, and seeing that Professor Sprout was still occupied with preparing their lesson, she took her opportunity.

“Ron,” she hissed and Ron jumped as if he’d been electrified.

“What’d I do now?” he asked grumpily.

“What’s the big idea telling Ginny she should try to work herself into Harry’s good graces? What’re you playin’ at?”

“Huh… oh.” Ron grinned sheepishly. “Well, you know it can’t hurt. I mean, don’t you think it’s kind of cute?”

“No,” Hermione answered emphatically. “I think it’s horrible. You know Harry doesn’t like it when girls throw themselves at him, and it’s your sister, Ron. Do you want her to get her feelings hurt?”

“Of course not, and what makes you think that'll happen anyway?”

“Do you really see Harry fancying your sister?” Hermione was glaring at him now.

“Well…” Ron ran his fingers through his hair. “Why not? I mean, who’s to say. There’s nothing wrong with a little encouragement. I mean… don’t you want Harry to be happy?”

“Of course I do!” Hermione almost screamed in irritation, “which is why I don’t go trying to set him up with somebody.”

“I’m not trying to...” Ron started but at that moment, the greenhouse door opened and Harry entered. At the same time, Professor Sprout called for the class’s attention.

-----

After a lengthy Herbology lesson, Hermione was glad to have enough of a break to run up to Gryffindor Tower and clean up. They had spent the entire time repotting mandrakes, which was far more difficult than it looked. Although she still always landed As in Herbology, it was not Hermione’s favorite subject. She just didn’t see any reason to get that dirty.

As she ascended the stairs to the girl’s dormitories, she noticed someone slumped against the wall.

“Ginny?” Hermione said timidly as she approached the redheaded figure sprawled out on a stair just above her. She bent down and shook her.

“Uhhh… huh?” Ginny said groggily.

“What are you doing here?”

“I… oh… I don’t feel too good. I don’t know. I think it might’ve been something I ate last night.”

“Maybe you should go to the hospital wing,” Hermione offered.

“Huh? No… I’m fine. I think I’m late for class.” She pushed herself up and started down the stairs. “I’ll see you later.”

“But Ginny…” Hermione called after her, but there was no response. Ginny was gone.

Hermione sighed and headed up the stairs to clean up.

-----

Hermione’s next class was transfiguration. She was hoping to get to the classroom a few minutes early to talk to Professor McGonagall about her extra credit work, but it took too long for her and the other Gryffindors to clean up after their previous lessons so she decided to wait until the end.

It was in McGonagall’s class that Hermione learned that Ron had suffered another consequence for his trip; his wand was almost broken in half.

“I was trying to stop the car, but I ended up snapping my wand,” he explained quietly to Hermione while McGonagall was upfront telling the class about the lesson.

Hermione felt a pang of compassion. This was definitely punishment enough. There was no way Ron could do his lessons without a functioning wand and he seemed reluctant to ask for another one. Hermione couldn’t blame him, not only was Mrs. Weasley furious at him, but she had a feeling his family couldn’t exactly afford a new wand. Ron’s had been a hand-me-down as it was. She felt a bit guilty for her earlier gloating over the howler he had received. She didn’t know what was wrong with her; she hadn’t felt that sort of animosity towards him since before they became friends. It felt as if her emotions were on a rollercoaster.

Hermione reached down in her bag and handed Ron a roll of spellotape. “It’s not much, but maybe it’ll help.”

“Thanks,” Ron mouthed as he began to repair his broken wand.

Unfortunately, the spellotape didn’t help. Ron’s wand performed terribly during transfiguration and there was nothing he could do about it. He was miserable.

“How am I going to get through the year with this,” he grumbled as the wand emitted a puff of gray smoke.

“I’ll look up wand repair in the library later,” she promised him. “Maybe I can find something temporary to help you.”

Ron didn’t seem uplifted by this offer though. “I don’t think anything can help this.”

Hermione was about to offer him more words of comfort but at that moment, the lunch bell rang and Professor McGonagall called out to her. “Ms. Granger, will you please come with me to my office.”

Hermione turned to her two friends, and they both had a worried look on her face. “I’m sure it’s nothing bad; I’ll meet you in the Great Hall.” She grabbed her bag and filed out of the classroom behind McGonagall and the other students.

McGonagall didn’t say anything to her until they reached her office and she shut the door behind her. For a moment, Hermione thought there might actually be something wrong but when the Professor spoke from behind her desk, her tone was not severe.

“Ms. Granger, I went over the work you submitted, and I must say… I’m very impressed.” McGonagall said it as if it cost her a lot to admit it.

Hermione smiled politely. “Well, thank you, Professor. Does this mean I’ll be getting extra credit, and maybe some house points?”

“Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said a little more severely this time. “I don’t think you understand. The research I assigned to you was complex. It’s the kind of work I would have given a student in their OWL year. I know you’re exceptionally bright, but I have to admit, I never expected you to complete it, and so thoroughly.”

Hermione didn’t know whether this was a good or bad thing as McGonagall seemed very serious. “Uh… did I do something wrong?”

McGonagall pulled a file from the middle of a stack of identical folders. Though Hermione didn’t have too long to process this move, she did wonder vaguely how the professor had known that this one file in several dozen was the right one.

“I found out about your experience at the ministry seminar last summer, very impressive. You spoke two different languages when you held the realizer and you’re grades last year were nothing short of astounding. You have a natural aptitude for magic that surpasses most students who have passed through these halls.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say. It was rare that McGonagall gave out compliments like this. It was almost as if she were bragging.

“Ms. Granger, I know it’s a little premature to be making a decision about what career you want to pursue after school, however, soon you will have the opportunity to select new subjects to take starting third year. It’s never too early to start planning for the future, so I really want to encourage you to take as many classes as you seem interested in. You’ll find that you’ll have a lot more opportunities if you do. I don’t want you to get panicked though; you still have plenty of time to decide what you want to do.”

“I just feel like I’ll never know,” Hermione admitted.

Surprisingly, McGonagall smiled at this. “Let me let you in on a little secret, Ms. Granger. When I was your age, I had no idea what I wanted to do either. It’s not uncommon.”

Hermione nodded at this, slightly relieved.

“Take some time over the next couple of years to talk to your professors about your strengths and weaknesses and maybe that will help you. Don’t stress too much about it though, as I said before, you still have time. For now, you’re gong to get the extra credit I promised you, along with 40 points for Gryffindor.”

Hermione stood. “Thank you, Professor.” She let herself out of the office and started towards the Great Hall so she could meet Harry and Ron for lunch.

As she entered, she once again ran into Gilderoy Lockhart. Hermione was so startled, she dropped the coat buttons she transfigured in class and had been carrying since she left the classroom.

“Ah what have we here,” Lockhart said, still with the same perfect smile he always seemed to have.

“Oh,” Hermione blushed as she picked up the half dozen buttons she dropped. “They’re just beetles I transfigured in class. I kept them to see if I could transfigure them back. It’s supposed to be very difficult.”

“You transfigured all of these?” Lockhart said in awe. “Very impressive. You know you remind me of me when I was younger. I had quite an aptitude for transfiguration among other things. I’d say you’re almost as skilled as I was when I was your age. Keep up the good work. You never know, maybe with a little more practice you could get a few advanced lessons from me,” he said with a laugh as he left up the stairs.

Hermione beamed as she made her way to the Gryffindor table and pulled out her schedule. She wanted to know exactly when she would have her first lesson with her idol. “Maybe I can ask Lockhart about my career options. I bet he had a lot of problems deciding what he wanted to do when he was a young wizard. Anyone with that much talent must have had loads of problems deciding what to do.” As she thought about this, she began absentmindedly doodling on her schedule.

She didn’t have long to day dream though. Harry and Ron appeared a few moments later. “Where have you two been,” she said hiding her course listing from view. “I’d have thought you’d have gotten here before me.”

“We had a lot of clean up to do; Ron’s wand made a real mess of things,” Harry explained.

“The spellotape didn’t work,” Ron grumbled. “Not that it really matters. I don’t even think with a perfect wand I’d have been able to transfigure those beetles.”

“Oh, you’d have done fine. Look.” Hermione pulled out her transfigured beetles. “See, it’s really easy, isn’t it Harry?”

Harry, who had a look like a deer caught in headlights, avoided the subject by rummaging through his bag, “What have we got this afternoon.”

Hermione caught on that transfiguration was obviously a touchy subject and put her coat buttons away. “Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she started to put her own schedule away but Ron seized it.

“Why have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?” he demanded.

“I… I was just bored,” Hermione said grabbing her schedule back and turning her attention to the food on the table.

“So what did McGonagall want?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I got 40 points for Gryffindor for the extra credit assignments I did over the summer.” Hermione brightened at the change of subject.

“Extra credit?” Ron said in disgust through a mouthful of food. “Why in the world would you request extra credit over the holidays?”

“What does it matter?” Hermione asked in agitation. “At least it earned house points. We’re well on our way to winning the cup again this year.”

“You study too much,” Ron concluded aloud.

“Why do you always say that? If it weren’t for my studying you wouldn’t have been able to…” She stopped herself from saying, “find Harry this summer.”

Ron caught her unspoken words though. “Oh… yeah,” he said sheepishly.

Harry looked from one to the other. “What?”

“Nothing,” they both said simultaneously.

-----

They had some time after lunch so the trio made their way to the courtyard.

“Why are you still reading that,” Ron asked as he saw Hermione pull out “Voyages with Vampires.”

“Yeah, I thought you already read all of Lockhart’s books over the summer?” Harry added bemused.

“You read them all?” Ron said shocked. “How could you possibly manage to do that and pull off extra credit work? You’re not human.”

Hermione decided to feign deaf to Ron’s last statement. “There’s this one part in here that doesn’t make sense. I’ve read all of Lockhart’s books, and sometimes things don’t line up. I’m trying to figure this one out. Maybe I’ll ask him during class. It’s probably an editing mistake.”

Hermione looked up from her book, expecting some sort of response, but the boys were already engaged in a conversation about quidditch so she returned to her reading.

A few minutes later, Hermione had cause to look up again. She heard the loud, irritating voice of Draco Malfoy shout, “You’re giving out signed photos, Potter? Everyone line up, Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was only the first day and already Malfoy was making trouble. It was clear that he hadn’t gotten over Harry winning the house cup for Gryffindor last year. She also suspected he was angry at her for making top of the class, above him. Whatever his motives, she knew it was useless to try and stop Harry and Ron from engaging the upstart Slytherin. She’d tried many times before and always failed. Whenever Malfoy pushed, Harry always had to push back.

“Why can’t they just grow…” a flash of something turquoise off to the side caught Hermione’s attention. It was Gilderoy Lockhart, wide grin plastered on his face, headed right towards them. She shut her book emphatically to get Harry and Ron’s attention, because it looked as if Ron was about to snap. He had even pulled out his spellotaped wand.

“Look out!” she whispered harshly, jerking her head to the side.

Ron put his wand away hastily and Hermione pretended to return to her reading as Gilderoy Lockhart approached them.

Malfoy knew better than to try anything in front of a teacher, and Lockhart’s natural buoyant personality immediately diffused the tense situation immediately.

Ron inched his way over to Hermione as Lockhart posed for a picture with Harry.

“Who’s the kid with the camera?” she asked him.

Ron shrugged. “I dunno, but he’s in Gryffindor. Wanted a signed photo of Harry. Too bad Malfoy had to overhear.”

“I see. I’m sure that’s the last thing Harry wanted. It’s a good thing Professor Lockhart was around to diffuse the situation.”

“What?” Ron scoffed as they watched Lockhart guide Harry towards the castle entrance. “Lockhart was only around because someone had a camera.”

Hermione shut “Voyages with Vampires” again and stood. “Oh Ron, why do you always think Lockhart is after more fame. He’s famous enough. He doesn’t need to go seeking it.”

“Whatever, I think he’s jealous of Harry,” Ron said.

Hermione scoffed. “Ron, Gilderoy Lockhart is an international celebrity. He has no reason to be jealous of Harry. That’s just ridiculous.”

They made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. “His so-called adventures sound like a load of rubbish. You said so yourself; you found discrepancies.”

“Like I said, I’m sure their just editing mistakes. Do you really think he’d be able to get away with just making it all up? People would know he was lying.”

“Not necessarily,” Ron said in a mock-sage sort of way.

“Have you ever had a theory that turned out to be right?” Hermione countered smugly.

“You’re not always right, you know.”

“Yes, but statistically, I have a better chance at being right than you do,” Hermione beamed as she turned into their classroom behind some other students.

Harry was already sitting at the back of the room, with all of his Defense Against the Dark Arts text books stacked in front of him. As was customary, Ron sat on one side of Harry while Hermione took her place on the other side. Hermione noted how odd it was that they almost always seemed to sit like this, on either side of Harry. It seemed to symbolize their friendship in a way. Ron and Hermione were both bound to Harry but not necessarily to each other. They had become, friends of sorts, but it really seemed that it was Harry that held the trio together.

“Would Ron and I even stay friends if Harry left the picture?” she wondered to herself. They constantly fought and were at each other’s throat, but that’s the way it had always been. Hermione kind of… enjoyed… their little tit-for-tat conversations. It seemed odd, but it was fun in a way. After all, even though they fought, it wasn’t as if they hated each other. They were both very opinionated and strong willed. Perhaps it was these similar personality traits that seemed to put them at odds and always made her blame Ron for the mischief that he and Harry got into.

She didn’t have too much time to think about this though as Professor Lockhart had started into his lesson.

It was clear by the way he started that though Lockhart had done many things in his life, he’d never taught before. He tried to make a few lighthearted jokes to warm the class up to him, but it was evident that the students were sizing him up. He was new, and they wanted to see what his teaching style was.

Finally, Lockhart jumped straight to the point. “I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books. Well done. I thought we’d start today, with a little quiz; nothing to worry about, just to check how well you’ve read them; how much you’ve taken in.” Despite these words of reassurance, everyone in the room suddenly looked slightly panicked. No one expected a quiz on the very first day. Not even Professor McGonagall would have done something like that. Hermione too was nervous. She had, of course, read all of Lockhart’s books, but she would have studied them more thoroughly if she had known they were starting off with an assessment.

When she looked down at her quiz, Hermione realized how truly difficult this was going to be. Apparently Lockhart was a more proficient professor than he let on. As she scanned the first page of questions, she saw that they focused not on the main facts of the books, but the subtle details that were mentioned throughout Lockhart’s adventures. She looked up at the blonde wizard still beaming as he sat behind his desk. She had new respect for him. He was testing to see how closely they read each book by asking obscure questions you could have only known if you had read them cover to cover as opposed to just skimming through the highlights. Quill in hand, Hermione set to work to show her new idol how well she had read his books.

Lockhart had given the class 30 minutes but it only took Hermione 15 to answer the 54 question quiz. She remembered all of the details that Lockhart had asked for, surprising even herself. She was sure she’d get full marks.

She looked around to see how everyone else was doing. The looks she saw on Harry’s and Ron’s faces as they bent over their papers didn’t seem good. No one else in the class looked like they were fairing well either. Hermione sat in almost smug placidness until Lockhart took up the quizzes.

She was shocked when the professor started going through the papers in front of the entire class, criticizing those who obviously hadn’t read his books that closely. Hermione waited with bated breath, hoping that he would reach her quiz, and her patience was rewarded.

“Ms. Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is “to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair care potions.’ Good girl!”

Hermione couldn’t help beaming from ear to ear. So far, she was the only person he had singled out by name for getting something correct, but that wasn’t all. Lockhart was flipping through her entire quiz, sizing it up.

“In fact… full marks!” Lockhart announced jovially to the class.

Hermione almost burst with joy; she turned to Harry, but could tell immediately that he seemed neither surprised nor impressed by this bit of news.

“Where is Ms. Hermione Granger?” Lockhart asked.

This seemed, for a moment, like a silly question, but then Hermione remembered that though she had talked to Lockhart on two separate occasions that day; she had never told him her name.

She raised her hand tentatively, hoping that he would remember her. It seemed that he did by the way he smiled at her in recognition. When Lockhart awarded her 10 points, she beamed, quite pleased with herself. Harry still seamed nonplussed and Hermione could only guess this was because he didn’t fair well on the surprise examination. From the look of utter shock on Ron’s face, it was clear he thought the whole thing was rather unfair.

Hermione shrugged this off and returned her attention to their instructor, who was even now placing a large covered cage on his desk.

“Now, be warned,” Lockhart started in a more serious tone than was his nature. “It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizard kind. You may find yourself facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whist I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

Hermione barely heard these words as she focused on the cage, trying to discern what it could be holding.

She didn’t have to wait long. “I must ask you not to scream, it might provoke them.” He unveiled the cage to reveal. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies!”

Hermione exhaled, only then aware that she had been holding her breath. “Pixies!” she thought angrily to herself. This was so unfair. Obviously Lockhart had heard that they hadn’t exactly gotten a proper education in Defense Against the Dark Arts their previous year. So now he was starting them with the most rudimentary of household pests. Other students were voicing their descent. Apparently everyone felt the same way. Did Lockhart really think they couldn’t handle a pack of pixies?

Lockhart merely smiled wider and put a hand on the cage. “Right then, let’s see what you make of them.”

He opened the cage door and the pixies immediately flew out all over the classroom. Hermione, like everyone else, was completely unprepared for this. Although pixies were relatively easy to control, they were fast and destructive. She ducked as a pixie rocketed over her and reached in her robes for her wand, which for some reason, she couldn’t find as immediately as she wanted to.

“Figures when I really need it, I can’t find it.” She heard screams from several members of the class and a lot of muffled footsteps as she sat under her desk desperately searching through what now seemed like a hundred robe pockets for her wand. She couldn’t see anything around her, but from what she heard, it didn’t sound good. No one was able to subdue the pixies and they were causing havoc.

Hermione finally realized why she couldn’t find her wand. It was in her bag. She grabbed it quickly, pulling it under the desk just as a nearby pixie had set its eyes on it. It started flying right towards her as she reached down in the bag and wrapped her hand around the wooden handle. Whipping it out, she shouted “Desdin Subsisto” and the pixie froze in midair.

Hermione barely had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief. She heard the distant ring of the bell, ending their class and felt someone pull on her arm.

It was Ron, “Come on. Let’s get outta here.” He dragged her from under the desk and she only barely had a chance to grab her bag before being pulled bodily towards the door behind the rest of the class, who were all fleeing by now.

“Wait, I didn’t even get a chance to…” Hermione started to protest.

Ron only tugged harder. “Oh no, this is crazy, let’s go.”

But it was to no avail. Lockhart called to them just as they reached the door. “Well, I’ll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage.” He walked past them, and Hermione was relieved to see that he didn’t look disappointed. In fact he winked at her as he walked out the class, giving Hermione the distinct impression that he knew that of the entire class, they were probably the only ones he could trust to clean things up. She felt herself blushing furiously.

Trying desperately to hide her red face from her friends, Hermione set herself to the task of capturing the pixies.

“Can you believe him?” she heard Ron bellow behind her.

Hermione only half heard this as she pointed her wand at two pixies and said “Desdin Subsisto.” They froze instantly. “He just wants to give us some hands on experience.” She knew Ron was loathed to do any extra work.

She walked the two immobilized pixies over to where the cage sat on the desk and shoved them inside. Then she took the cage to where she had left the first pixie she’d frozen.

“Hand’s on?” Harry said with a slight chuckle as he tried to get his “hands on” another pixie. “Hermione, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing.”

“Rubbish,” Hermione said as she crawled under her desk and found the first pixie. “You read his books. Look at all those amazing things he’s done.”

“He says he’s done,” Ron countered grumpily.

“Oh Ron, you’re not on about that again are you?” Hermione asked in exasperation.

“It’s so obvious Hermione,” Ron snapped. “Why can’t you see it? He’s a mindless twit. What about that ‘quiz’? What was that about?”

“He was checking to make sure that we actually read his books and not just skimmed them for important facts. I think it was very clever.” Hermione found two more pixies and froze them.

“Are you insane!” Ron blurted.

“You’re just mad because you didn’t do well… did you?” Hermione said knowingly.

“Well of course I didn’t do well!” Ron was shouting now. “Those questions were ridiculous.”

“You know, it surprises me that you’re from a wizarding family. You of all people should know that things aren’t always as they seem. It’s just like Quirrell last year. Who’d have guessed he was in league with ‘you know who.’ I’m telling you, Lockhart may seem flighty, but it’s all an act. I can tell. He gave us these pixies today because he knew that we hadn’t had a proper education in Defense Against the Dark Arts and he wanted to see what we would make of this small task, and look what happened; he was right! No one could handle the pixies. He probably thinks we’re a bunch of idiots now.”

“Even if you’re right, Hermione, I still don’t like him,” Harry said, finally grabbing the pixie he’d been reaching for and throwing it in the cage. “He’s so smug and arrogant. He’s got to be the most pompous wizard I’ve ever met. Dumbledore’s 10 times the wizard Lockhart is, and you don’t see him bragging about it.”

“Just because he’s confident about his abilities, doesn’t make him a prat. Do you think the same thing about me just because I’m a better witch than you? Oh wait,” she shot an angry look at them. “I almost forgot; you did think that before, didn’t you!” With that pronouncement, she shoved the last of the pixies into the cage, slamming the door shut. “I’ll take this to Lockhart’s office.”

-----

Hermione stormed angrily towards Lockhart’s office. “I don’t believe them,” she muttered to herself. “Always have to judge everyone. It was the same thing with Snape. We got so caught up on not liking him we didn’t even see the truth. Well not this time, I’m not going to let their prejudice distract me.” She pushed her way angrily into Lockhart’s office without even knocking.

“Why Ms. Granger; that didn’t take long,” Lockhart said in mild surprise. “I just got back in myself, had to go outside for a moment so I would have missed you if you had gotten here any earlier,” he said, slipping his wand in his robe pocket.

“Oh, sorry for barging in like that professor.” Hermione said distractedly as she looked around the office and saw dozens of photos of the professor smiling down at her.

“It’s alright,” Lockhart said with a smile even wider than the ones in the pictures of him. “I daresay I’ve had my share of people beating down my door before.”

Hermione put the cage on his desk. “Professor, why do you have so many pictures of yourself?”

“Ahhh,” Lockhart gave her a knowing wink. “I always have to have a ready supply, for my fans. I bet you want one, don’t you?” He grabbed one from a stack in front of him.

Hermione sat down in the chair across from his desk. His answer didn’t sit well with her. “That’s not the only reason is it? They’re there for another purpose, aren’t they?” Lockhart’s smile faded only just slightly, but Hermione noticed it all the same.

“You’re a clever little witch, aren’t you Ms. Granger. Tell me; what do you think the pictures are for.”

Hermione thought about this long and hard. All of the Lockhart’s continued to wink and grin at her. “You’ve given them to a lot of the students and staff at Hogwarts I bet and of course, wizarding photos can move and even leave their frames if they like. If these pictures are all over the castle, it’s like you’ve got a network of mini Lockharts that act as spies. Quite a clever trick actually; helps you keep an eye on all the students and the castle.”

Lockhart’s smile completely faded this time. “That’s absolutely brilliant,” he said in awe. “I would have never thought that… that you would have figured out my clever ruse.” He smiled at her again.

Hermione beamed. “See I knew it. My friend’s think you don’t know what you’re doing, but I can tell it’s all an act. After reading your books, I know you use a lot of deception and tricks to put people off their guard.”

“Ah, yes, and I can tell you have been reading my books; first person to get full marks.” Lockhart thought about this for a moment. “In fact, weren’t you the one who said you’d noticed some discrepancies?”

“Oh yeah.” Hermione was pleased he actually remembered. “I thought you might want to know about them, in case they were important.”

“Well, Ms. Granger, I do have an editor for these things,” he said with a light chuckle.

“I know, I know,” Hermione said hastily pulling out her copy of “Voyages with Vampires” and flipping through it. “It’s just… you discussed the meridian plant, here in chapter 16.” She pushed the book in front of him. “When you were talking about your trip to the Vampire Colonies in France, you said you found some meridian and used that as a natural barrier to the vampires’ mental manipulations, but meridian doesn’t grow anywhere in Europe and also…”

“Oh of course it doesn’t,” Lockhart grabbed the book hastily. “What it should say is that I brought some with me from Egypt.”

“Meridian doesn’t grow in Egypt either, Professor,” Hermione interrupted again, a little slower this time because it seemed as though he was becoming agitated. “Besides, meridian wouldn’t produce the effects you described here. Although it is useful against vampire bites...”

“You’ll find that when you’re out in the real world, not everything you read in a text book is true.” Lockhart said in a pacifying tone, as if he were talking to a small child who wasn’t getting her way.”

Hermione sighed in exasperation now. It was clear to her that Lockhart did not like to be told that something in his book could be wrong. “Are you sure it’s not supposed to be mantragenian. I thought perhaps it might just be a typo,” she blurted out finally.

Lockhart stopped in mid protest. “Oh,” he stared down at the page. The smile had returned to his face as he looked up at her again. “I do believe you’re right. Silly me. I didn’t even realize. Why it’s been so long since I’ve had that adventure, I must have forgotten. My, my, my. I’ve amassed so much knowledge over the years, sometimes I even confuse myself. I will have to write my editor right away to correct that. Would you mind writing it down for me so I won’t forget. Besides I’ll want to give you full credit.”

Hermione returned the smile but only half heartedly. She reached in her bag for a quill and parchment. Now she was beginning to see what Ron and Harry had seen all along. Could Gilderoy Lockhart really be a fake? She had to find out for herself.

“Professor,” she started cautiously as she began to put her correction to parchment. “There was something else I wanted to ask you.”

“Go right ahead,” Lockhart said as he took the piece of folded parchment she handed him.

“Well my friend… uh… Ron has a brother who works for Gringotts in Egypt and had a powerful curse put on him just yesterday, it transfigured him completely. I was wondering, since you dealt with these kinds of ancient curses before, what do you think will return him to normal. I think he told me the doctors were going to use mandrake, but in your book “Travels with Trolls” you came across a similar curse and used bubotuber puss. It seemed to be extremely effective, don’t you think? Would that work on my friend’s brother or are the doctors right by using mandrake?”

Lockhart fell for her trick. “I find that doctors are too stuck on the ‘traditional’ medicines. I’m not saying mandrake isn’t an adequate restorative but as I’m sure you’ve found from reading my book, bubotuber would work far better and clear him up in no time.”

Hermione jumped out of her chair. “Right, it would clear him up in no time… if he had a harsh case of acne, which is what you used bubotuber for in your book, to clear up a nasty case of troll warts to earn their trust. At least, that’s what you said you did but it’s quite clear to me that you don’t know the slightest thing about herbal remedies or Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m beginning to think you didn’t do a single thing you wrote about in those books. I can’t believe Professor Dumbledore hired you!”

Lockhart stood alarmed. “Ms. Granger, please calm down. I can explain everything.”

Hermione collected her bag and turned on her heals. “I can’t believe I fell for it. Harry and Ron were…”

“Obliviate,” came Lockhart’s voice from behind her.

Hermione felt a cool breeze through her hair. “Professor, is your window open?” She peered behind him, but the window was closed. “That’s odd, I thought I felt something.” She put her tea cup on the desk.

Lockhart put his down as well. “Well, this castle always seems to be a little drafty,” he said with a grin.

“I’ve completely forgotten what we were talking about,” Hermione said leaning back in her chair and shaking her head to clear the fog out of her brain. “I think that tea has made me a little drowsy.”

“That’s to be expected. It’s my own secret blend. Well, look at the time; I daresay we’ve been sitting here chatting for quite a bit.”

Hermione looked at her watch. “You’re right.” She stood to leave, grabbing her bag. “Thank you for the tea professor, and thank you for sharing some of your unpublished adventures with me. You really are a wonderful inspiration.”

“Well I’m always happy to share my stories with someone so eager to listen and learn,” Lockhart answered as he ushered her to the door. “Believe me, you’ve also been a great help to me as well.”

“Me?” Hermione almost squeaked, blushing again. “What could I have possibly done to help you? Even the typos I thought I found turned out to be nothing.”

“I always say you can learn something from everyone. Trust me; you’ve provided me with a great deal of insight, I hope we can chat again too.”

“Really? I’d like that.” Hermione beamed openly as she started down the hall. “Thank you again Professor; see you next class.”

-----

“Oy, there you are,” Ron called to Hermione as she climbed through the portrait hole. “You were gone so long; I thought you’d disowned us.”

“Don’t think the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” Hermione said in a mock testy voice. In truth she couldn’t get herself worked up. She had enjoyed her time with Lockhart far too much to be in a foul mood. “For your information, I’ve been having tea with Professor Lockhart. He’s really very insightful and inspiring once you take the time to get to know him. That bubbly exterior is just an act.”

“Oh, let’s not get on that again,” Harry sighed. “I don’t want to hear another word about that prat…” Hermione shot him a dirty look. “I mean about Professor Lockhart,” he corrected himself. “Let’s just get this homework done.”

“Right,” Ron agreed as Hermione joined them at the table. “Hermione, I hope you can give me some more insight on the properties of mandragora. I’m stuck.”

“Mandragora?” Hermione repeated perplexed. “Why do you need to know the properties of mandragora?”

“Because we have to write a paper on it for Herbology, that’s why.” Ron said in exasperation.

“We do?” Hermione thought hard about this but still came up blank. “I don’t remember that.”

Harry stared at her in awe. “How could you forget? We only spent the whole class shoving mandrakes into pots.”

“Uh…” Hermione thought harder and somewhere in the back of her head, she knew Harry was right, she just couldn’t seem to pull up the image of the actual event. “I must be tired. I’m going to have a lie down before dinner.” She headed towards the girls dormitory.

“Hey wait,” Ron called after her. “What about this paper? I swear that girl is going to blow a fuse if she keeps studying as hard as she does,” was the last thing Hermione heard him say to Harry before she ascended the stairs to her room.