The Next Morning.
Thursday, Sept. 12
Hermione had only realised how tired she was after she'd passed out the moment she laid in bed on Wednesday night, and for the first time since Harry told her the truth about Voldemort and Scabbers and everything else (which, as hard as it was to believe, was only last Friday, not even a week ago), she had a full, uninterrupted night of sleep.
Although, she wasn't quite sure if that was because she didn't have any dreams, or was just too tired to be woken by them.
Whichever it was, was irrelevant however, what mattered was that Hermione was well-rested in a way she hadn't had the opportunity to be in too many days.
Thanks to her clearer mind and improved mood, her morning rituals took slightly less time than they usually did, but even so, when she went down to the common room some time later, Harry was already sitting there waiting for her.
He looked the same as he always did; bright eyes, a small smile, bird-nest hair, a neat uniform, and Hedwig within touching distance, but Hermione had to wonder how much sleep he could have gotten if he was already dressed and waiting by the time she came down.
"Ohayo," Harry said in his customary greeting, even adding a little wave.
"Good morning," Hermione said back as Harry rose and they walked down together to breakfast.
Breakfast was the mundane affair it usually was; they ate, talked about some trivial things, did some light studying, and Hedwig got them a paper from whatever mysterious place she acquired them.
Draco even approached their group while they headed for Transfiguration, although, unlike he usually did, this time he aimed his barbs at Ron instead of Harry.
Hermione suspected it was because the blonde boy had finally learned that he couldn't match Harry in a verbal spar, while Ron, on the other hand, was—unfortunate, but true—an easy target. All Draco needed to do to make Ron spitting mad was say pretty much anything about the Weasleys' financial situation, and the Slytherin was more than willing to take advantage of that.
"Hanging around Potter an awful lot, Weasley," Draco said, smiling cruelly. "What? Hoping some change will fall from his pockets? Because everyone knows that's how you Weasleys feed."
A few of the Slytherins within earshot snickered, and Hermione scowled at them, even as Ron, and Neville, Ron's closest friend of their group, went red with anger.
Before anyone could say anything, Harry asked aghast. "Draco, you're picking on Ron now? How could you? I thought you and I had something special?"
Eyes turned to harry, mostly in confusion. Hermione just rolled hers.
"What are you on about, Potter?" Draco asked.
Harry looked hurt. "I'm talking about our thing; you know, where you try to pick on me and I turn it back on you and make you look silly—you have a bit of grease on your cheek, by the way. It's disgusting."
Draco's eyes widened a bit and he immediately reached up to wipe his right cheek.
"No, the other one," Harry said.
Draco wiped the left.
"A little lower."
Draco went lower.
"Farther back."
The Slytherin complied.
"More to the—ow!"
Hermione smacked Harry on the arm.
"Ignore him, Draco. There's nothing on your cheek," she said, and a few people, including Crabbe and Goyle, snickered.
Draco went redder than even Ron had, and his face twisted into an expression of anger so poignant that it stunned Hermione for a second, then he reached into his robes to pull out his wand, only to stop when the tip of Harry's tapped his nose.
The hallway stilled.
"Now, Draco, you've got two choices," Harry said calmly. "Choice no. 1—which I really advise you to take by the way—is you keep your wand back in your robes, and I become Switzerland; mind my own business. Choice no. 2 is you don't keep your wand back in your robes, and I become North Korea.
"You really wouldn't like North Korea."
Draco looked around him, saw the faces of all the students watching, waiting for his reaction, and for a moment he actually looked like he would try to fight, but then the tip of Harry's wand glowed red and the Slytherin panicked and backed away.
A few people snickered, but Draco had already made his choice; he stabbed his wand back into his robes.
"Good choice," Harry said.
Needing to get the last word in, Draco growled: "My father will hear of this, Potter," before storming off, his clique rushing to follow after him.
"Say hi for me," Harry called after them, finally keeping his wand.
After the Gryffindor boys finished gushing over how cool Harry was for the simple act of drawing his wand and they finally continued heading towards class again, Hermione asked quietly: "You got that from a movie, didn't you?"
Harry said nothing, but the sudden blush on his cheeks was all the answer she needed.
She shook her head fondly, Harry would never change.
He had been pretty cool though. Even if he had no business getting into fights in the first place.
Thankfully, Draco seemed content to do no more than shoot nasty looks at Harry during Transfiguration (probably from fear of Prof. McGonagall), so the lesson was normal enough. Things only changed when, after the lesson, Prof. McGonagall asked Harry to stay behind.
For a few days after the event with Prof. Snape last Friday, Prof. McGonagall had been somewhat cold-shouldered towards Hermione and Harry, but mostly Harry. It had given the girl the impression that the professor was displeased with them over what happened.
Hermione would have preferred to stay and hear the conversation, but she went out with everyone else. She told the other Gryffindors to head for lunch, that she would wait for Harry alone, and they agreed.
It took barely a minute before Harry came out. He looked... annoyed, yes, but mostly disappointed, and Hermione was on him in an instant, wanting to know what Prof. McGonagall had said to him.
Harry shrugged, trying to keep his tone light. "Apparently, I should count myself lucky that, against her wishes, Dumbledore has decided not to punish me for my unacceptable behaviour last Friday."
Hermione frowned. "Was that exactly what she said?" She couldn't help but ask.
Harry shrugged again. "Pretty much."
Hermione's frown deepened; she didn't know how to feel about that. Prof. McGonagall was the first person from the Magical World she had ever met; her favourite teacher in the surprisingly short time she'd been at Hogwarts, the realization that the woman wasn't on Harry's side in this was... upsetting.
I mean, sure Hermione thought that Harry antagonizing Snape didn't help matters much, but, as hard as it was for her to admit, Prof. Snape hadn't been much better.
No, he had been worse.
"What else did she say?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged yet again. "Nothing much, just how she's expecting me to act in a manner befitting a Gryffindor from now on. Specifically tomorrow."
Tomorrow? Oh, right, their second class with Snape was tomorrow. Hermione had been trying to not think about that.
Harry took her hand. "Don't worry," he said, "Snape won't bother you again."
He looked certain, so Hermione asked, "How do you know that?"
Harry stared at her, and something dark flashed in his eyes as he said, "Because I told Dumbledore that I would kill Snape if he hurt you."
Hermione faltered. Her mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds before finally a strangled "what?" came out.
Harry started to answer her, then he stopped, let out a breath, and pulled her into the nearest unused classroom (how many of these did Hogwarts have anyway?).
Closing and locking the door with a Locking Spell behind them, Harry took another breath then started to speak.
His first words completely confused Hermione.
"I had it all set up, you know?
"Got a magical tent; bigger on the inside—a bedroom, a kitchen, a kickass bathroom. Got a broomstick—two broomsticks, just in case. Two invisibility cloaks too. Bought tons of non-perishables; every book that looked even remotely useful; would have bought an extra wand too, but Ollivander gave me a look that honestly scared me when I asked.
"The only thing that was left was to clean out my Gringotts vault."
Realization had been slowly dawning as Harry spoke, but that last sentence sealed the deal; Harry been planning to run away.
A memory from long ago, back before Hermione learnt more truth than she knew what to do with, rose then. A memory of Harry telling her that he'd almost not come to Hogwarts.
"Why did you come? If you didn't want to?" She'd asked, and Harry had replied: "To meet you. Why else would I come?"
Hermione repeated the question again now. "Why did you come to Hogwarts, Harry?"
Really, why had he come? Because despite how he acted, Harry wasn't the kind of person who would do something like this, something he clearly would rather not have done, without a good reason.
So what was that reason? Did he hope it would make killing Voldemort easier? Was it to get easy access to the horcrux in The Room of Requirement?
What was it?
"Do you know how you and Ron and I became friends in the books?" Harry asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "We saved you from a troll."
Hermione blinked.
"And I kept telling myself that, of course such an event that relies on such a ridiculous amount of coincidences wouldn't happen if I made a change as big as not going to Hogwarts. But the question was always there; what if it did?
"What if Ron was still an idiot? What if Quirrel still released the troll? What if you were still in that bathroom crying?
"What if I wasn't there?"
Harry stared in her eyes as he said that last part, and Hermione stared back, utterly captivated by the boy and his words that she understood just enough to be chilled by.
"So, on the first of September, I got on The Hogwarts Express," Harry continued. "And I met you. And you gave me something I hadn't even realised I needed.
"So, at the risk of sounding like an overprotective psychopath and having you avoid me for the rest of my natural life, Hermione, if Snape—if anyone—hurts you, I'm going to fucking kill them."
Hedwig swooped down from somewhere at that moment to perch on Harry's shoulder, adding her own bark of agreement to the mix, and, for the longest time, Hermione Jane Granger had no idea what to do with the situation she found herself in.
★★★
Hermione walked with Harry to The Room of Requirement after Defense Against the Dark Arts still feeling a little awkward.
Some of it was from the declaration Harry had made back in that empty classroom (which she'd avoided discussing, and Harry thankfully hadn't either), but most of it was actually from the events that took place during Defense itself.
Apparently, Draco had decided that Voldemort's class was the one he was willing to seek vengeance against Harry in. Granted the boy didn't know the real identity of the stuttering professor, but even so.
Anyway, for the first time ever, Quirrel had let them practice a spell in the classroom, instead of droning on for the whole three hours in his irritating stutter (why he faked it Hermione would never know).
It was the Jelly-Legs Jinx, and the students had partnered up to practice, and since neither Harry nor Hermione much liked the idea of leaving themselves helpless in a classroom with Voldemort, they'd deliberately held back on the spell. And that was when Draco had 'accidentally' used the spell on her from behind.
The fact that he had targeted her, who he no doubt (accurately) considered an easier target, was not lost on Hermione, and it made her wonder, just for a second, if maybe there was an advantage to a show of strength after all. To being strong.
When she fell, and Harry saw who had caused it, he had looked so angry that Draco had actually staggered back in fear. But then Quirrel had intervened. He chastised Draco (t—that's en—n—nough now, Mr. M—malfoy), talked Harry down (n—no need f—for violence, M—mr. Potter), and cast the counter-jinx on her. Then Voldemort had offered her a hand to help her up.
She'd taken it (couldn't come up with a reason not to). And it had been warm, and soft, and very human. And it had made Hermione feel... awkward. Very awkward. And she wasn't even sure why.
The girl pushed the feeling aside as Harry finished the ritual to activate the room and the door appeared, as unassuming as ever. Harry pushed it open, and they walked into a dark, misty, and very creepy forest.
Hermione and Harry stared at each other, then back at their surroundings. The trees around them were leafless and covered in webs, the air smelled... weird, but very real, and the skittering of very many legs sounded from all around them.
Along with hissing. A lot of hissing.
Dark shapes began to emerge from the mist, very real-looking dark shapes with venom-dripping fangs and too many red eyes. They came on the ground, from the trees, everywhere.
This was not feeling like a safe place to train.
"Harry," Hermione whispered, "what did you ask the room to give us?"
"A place where we can learn to fight acromantulas," he replied, just as quietly.
Hermione swallowed. "Did you add safely to that?" she asked, already dreading the answer.
Harry froze. "I think we should leave," he said. "Now."
It was three steps to the door, and the nearest spider was at least fifteen feet away.
They barely made it.
As they stood outside panting, backs pressed against the closed door, Hermione decided that, henceforth, she would be the one activating the room.
The second attempt (with 'safe' heavily emphasized), produced a beautiful, sunlit forest where everything was soft, almost like the world was made of foam.
They still walked in cautiously, wands held at the ready for an attack. An attack that came in the form of three giant, colourful, plushy spider dolls with the biggest, cutest eyes.
Hermione had to physically restrain herself from gasping with amazed joy.
"You're messing with me, right?" Harry asked flatly. "I mean, I know we wanted safe, but dolls? Hermione, I can't play with dolls; do you have any idea what that'll do to my reputation if it got out?"
The girl rolled her eyes, and was beginning to answer when something large, soft, and very powerful slammed into her and sent her flying.
Hermione flew ten feet into the nearest tree, bounced off it's spongy trunk with her side, slammed into the soft-ish ground, rolled twice, and then dazed, got covered from the neck down in what felt like very sticky cotton candy.
Thirty seconds later, when the world was upright again, she made out Harry screaming her name, and two very cute spiders staring down at her.
On that day, Hermione learned a life lesson; neither the word 'safe' nor the word 'cute' meant not terrifyingly dangerous.
Well, the first one did, but that wasn't really the point.
★★★
Despite how they looked, the dolls were just as fast, just as strong, and just as violent as actual acromantulas, and fighting against them was hell.
Fifteen minutes after they first stepped foot in the room, Hermione and Harry just had to call a timeout.
They curled up in a corner together, panting and sweaty and, despite how soft everything was, achy (apparently, getting repeatedly slammed into surfaces, even soft ones, was rough on the body. Who knew?).
Fortunately, they could control the room to an extent; they could make it reset, which made the spiders and all the webs they released poof out of existence, and they could choose when to start a new round, which made the spiders start appearing and attacking once more.
It was a bit like some of the videogames Hermione had seen, and she wondered if the room had taken it from her head, or if it had done so from Harry's, since she knew that videogames weren't things that she thought about all that much.
Then again, Harry had never talked about videogames either. He talked about movies, and music, and books, even science and future events, but never videogames.
At one point, Hermione might have theorized that maybe by 2021 people just didn't play videogames anymore, because everyone had finally realised that they made you dull (much like they did Shawn from her old school), but after all the things Harry had told her of the future, Hermione simply decided now that Harry just didn't like them.
"They're too fast," Harry said.
Hermione blinked. Had she missed something?
"The acromantulas," Harry explained, "they're too fast."
Oh. She nodded. The giant arachnids could move so fast they almost seemed to blur. Usually, before she and Harry could even finish casting whatever spell they wanted, the creatures were already on them.
"Maybe we should learn silent casting," Harry suggested.
That might work, Hermione thought. Unfortunately— "Silent casting is for N.E.W.T students, Harry. It's very advanced. I don't think we can learn it in time."
Harry sighed and slumped. "Great," he said. "At this point we might as well just carry torches for all the good our wands will do us."
Hermione stared at him, her brain kicking into gear.
"What?" Harry asked, noticing her expression. "You got an idea?"
Hermione nodded energetically, her excitement building as her idea took solid shape in her mind. "We don't need to learn silent casting, Harry. We can just cast the spells before we meet the spiders instead."
Harry stared at her blankly. "I'm not following."
Hermione rolled her eyes, then stood. "Remember the Hanging Flame Spell?"
Harry frowned. "The one that made the witch, what's-her-face, invent the Lumos because it kept setting things on fire."
"Geraldine Bierwagen, Harry. And yes, that one."
"Okay, what about it?"
Hermione cast the spell, and like the name implied, it created a floating tongue of fire about the size of a man's fist in the air before her. Then she cast the spell again, again, and again, and with every new one she created the look of realization in Harry's eyes grew.
After the sixth one Hermione stopped, and then she began to direct all six flames around with her wand. It was clumsy, it was slow, and some of the flames guttered, threatening to go out, but it was working.
They could use this.
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Thursday, Sept. 12
Her lungs ached. The air reeked of burning foam. Her wand in her hand thrummed with power in a way that she had never felt before. Power and eagerness; like it had been starving for a fight.
More spiders rushed at them and Hermione reacted.
There was no spellcasting, no fancy wand-work, just her raw will shaping the flames that now surrounded her. A dozen of them.
Two merged, against all logic becoming half a dozen times bigger than the sum of their parts, and, with a flex of her will, it shot off like an arrow and slammed into one of the approaching spiders, setting it alight.
The spider thrashed and burned for a few seconds, before it poofed out of existence like they always did after taking a serious hit.
That was one down but many more to go; the very reason why she and Harry had to remain on the move, lest they get swarmed by numbers.
A spider dive-bombed them from up in the trees, and Hermione only noticed it when Harry pointed his wand at it and shouted, "wingardium leviosa!" leaving it floating helplessly in the air.
Casting in the heat of the moment the way he was, Harry's incantation was atrocious; he put emphasis on all the wrong syllables, and the less said about his wand-work the better, nevertheless, the spell worked. As it always had for the both of them no matter how much they butchered them.
Actually, it may be possible that Hermione had done silent casting once or twice since this mad rush started.
This mad rush that wouldn't stop.
"Why won't they stop attacking?" Harry shouted, unknowingly voicing her thoughts.
"I don't know," Hermione replied, as she tried to take a moment to create more flames so she didn't run out. "From everything Hagrid told us they should have stopped by now."
Both distracted by their conversation, an unseen spider slammed into Hermione from the left, sending her into Harry, and the two of them to the ground. That was it.
Over the hour they'd been practicing, both children had learned one very important lesson; when facing acromantulas, never fall.
Before she or Harry could get their bearings to control their flames, they'd been doused in 'webbing' and 'bitten' several times by the nearest spiders.
They were dead.
On the other hand, they had lasted almost eight minutes that time and killed over three dozen acromantulas before being taken down.
"Reset," Hermione called, and the spiders and their webs instantly vanished in puffs of white, quickly-dissipating smoke.
Despite being free, both preteens remained on the ground, trying to catch their breaths as the effect of an hour of almost nonstop physical activity took its toll on them.
After almost five minutes, Hermione said, "I think it's because we asked for a place to fight them in. That's why they wouldn't stop attacking."
"Oh," Harry said. "Yeah, that makes sense."
Then they both settled back into silence.
Between the softness of the ground and the serenity their idyllic surroundings afforded, Hermione and Harry soon began to drift off, and it was only Hedwig making her arrival known with a bark that kept the two from falling completely asleep.
Neither of them had any idea how the owl, who they hadn't seen since lunch, had gotten into The Room of Requirement, but it was Hedwig, so they simply chalked it up to that.
Interestingly enough, the owl didn't come empty-handed; she came carrying a note from Hagrid.
Apparently, he was inviting them over to watch the hatching of something called a rainbow butterfly. He also spelled her name wrong.
"Come on," Hermione said rising, "if we hurry we might make it." Hagrid's note had warned that the butterfly might hatch at any moment, so hurrying might be best.
Unfortunately, the girl really didn't want to go anywhere covered in icky, drying sweat like she was, so she had no choice but to head to the Gryffindor Tower first to bathe and change.
Or…
Outside the room, Hermione closed the door, and after it disappeared, walked across the blank wall three times, thinking to herself: 'we need a bathroom.'
The door reappeared, and she opened it to find her bathroom at home. It was exactly how she remembered it, down to her toothbrush on the sink where she kept it.
Hermione walked in, looking around in amazement.
"Is this the bathroom from your house?" Harry asked, and she nodded.
"It is! It's exactly as I remember it. It even has my toothbrush. See?" She picked up the object to show Harry. "I brought this with me; it's in our bathroom in the dorm."
She looked at the toothbrush; it looked used. She sniffed it; it smelled used too, but more than that, it smelled like her toothpaste. The attention to detail was uncanny.
The girl looked around the bathroom; at the mirror she'd stood in front of for years, at the shower curtain her mother had bought just weeks before she left for Hogwarts, and at the door that led out of the bathroom that she knew would simply take her back into Hogwarts if she were to walk through it, and she was hit with a wave of homesickness so hard that it stole her breath away.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked.
She looked at him. "I miss home," she said in a small voice.
Home didn't have Voldemort. It didn't have angry, hateful professors. It didn't have basilisks, or giant man-eating spiders that she had to learn to kill so they didn't kill her. No, it had safety, and comfort. And it had her parents.
And while she knew that their relationship wasn't perfect, or even as good as it could be, she loved them, and she missed them. More than she'd imagined.
Harry hugged her.
"Don't worry," he said, "you'll see them soon for Christmas."
It barely took Hermione a second of thought to shake her head. "I'm not going home for Christmas."
Harry pulled back. "Why?"
"Because I won't leave you alone in Hogwarts, Harry. And you're not going to those horrid Dursleys either. Those people are just awful. Treating you the way they do? What was Dumbledore thinking leaving you with them? They can't even be called your family. And to think Petunia is your mom's sister, I can't even—"
Harry hugged her, tight. And for lack of anything else to do, Hermione hugged him back.
"I think I finally get what people mean when they say they've been blessed to know a person," Harry said into her hair, and Hermione's face went red.
"Oh, stop it, Harry," she said. "All I have are books and cleverness."
For some reason, Harry laughed, then he pulled back and said: "Don't forget bravery and friendship."
She could tell there was a joke in there somewhere, but Harry didn't seem willing to share, so she ignored it.
Looking around the bathroom one more time, Hermione realised something; it was designed for one person to use at a time.
Great, she nearly sighed. There was no way Harry wasn't going to make fun of her for this.
★★★
A shower and magically cleaned clothes later, and Hermione and Harry headed for Hagrid's hut.
His note had told them to come to the back, saying that was where he would be, so they did accordingly and went around.
The back of Hagrid's hut had more space than Hermione had thought. There was a steep decline, just behind the house, which helped hide that there was an empty pen, as well as four small buildings of unknown purpose back there.
Finding Hagrid was easy, they could hear the man's booming voice coming from the smallest of the buildings before them, and also see his dog, Fang, sitting outside of it.
The dog barked and rushed at Hermione as soon as it saw them coming, and Hermione endured his slobbery greeting stoically while Harry stood way back from the creature.
Coward.
"Fang, is that them?" Hagrid asked from within the windowless shack before the door opened to reveal the heavily bearded man.
"Hey, Hagrid," Harry said, finally stepping forward now that Hermione had paid the price to calm Fang down.
"Harry, Hermione!" Hagrid called happily. "Yeh made it."
Hermione was beginning to respond when Prof. Snape stepped out of the shack.
What was he doing here? She wondered.
Snape seemed to feel the same, because he asked Hagrid, his voice a growl through clenched teeth, "Why are they here, Hagrid?"
Hagrid looked perfectly ignorant of the sudden tension that had enveloped their surroundings. "Well, I thought they might like to see the butterfly hatch, so I—"
Snape began to walk away. "Have an elf bring the chrysalis to me when it's done," he said without turning.
All three of them watched him go, Hagrid with confusion, Harry with anger, and Hermione with a mix of both.
Finally, Hagrid muttered. "Strange one, that Snape." Then louder, he said, "Yeh two should come in now, it's almost starting."
Hermione took Harry's hand before they walked in, a gesture he seemed to appreciate.
The shack was dark inside, except for a weak, pulsing light that changed colours randomly. Wait. It wasn't a light.
Hermione and Harry approached it and saw that it was actually a chrysalis. It was hanging off a broken branch, itself tied to a string hanging from the ceiling, and it was the source of the changing light lighting the room.
It was beautiful.
"This is a rainbow butterfly?" Hermione asked.
Hagrid nodded, smiling hugely. "Thought it would be the muggle one, did yeh?" He asked.
Hermione hadn't even known that there were muggle rainbow butterflies, and she said so.
"Oh?" Hagrid looked surprised (Hermione didn't know why, but people tended to get that reaction whenever they learnt she didn't know something). "Well, there are," the man said. "Beautiful, mind, but dull next to their magical cousins. Can't blame muggles for giving 'em the name though; completely blind to the magical kind, muggles. A shame. Quite the beauty."
Hermione had to agree. It was quite unfair, really; being unable to see something so beautiful simply because you couldn't use magic.
She wondered if there was a way to bypass it.
"I'm guessing it's useful for potions," Harry said. "That's why Snape was here."
Hagrid nodded. "Oh, yes, been waiting on this day near a week now. Don't know why he suddenly left."
The talk about the butterfly being useful for potions set off an alarm in Hermione's head. "You're not going to kill it, are you?" she asked Hagrid.
The man looked alarmed. "What? No, of course not! I didn't bring the little fellow from The Forest to keep 'im safe only to have Snape chop him up. All he's taking is the cocoon when he's done."
Oh. That was good. Hermione had been worried they were going to watch the butterfly hatch only for it to be killed.
"So, you're just going to let it go?" Harry asked. "What if something hurts it?"
Hagrid waved off the boy's worry. "Nah, it's only dangerous for 'im at this stage."
The light started to get brighter, and Hagrid said, "Almost there now."
"Can I film it?" Harry asked, and Hagrid was elated at the idea.
Harry reached into one of the pockets on his muggle backpack that Hermione actually knew that, like hers, was much bigger on the inside, but unlike hers, contained much more than just his school books, and pulled out his camera.
He fiddled with the controls for a bit, then cast the Levitation Charm on it, magically keeping the lens pointed at the hatching butterfly. It was just in time, because at that moment, the butterfly glowed much brighter than it had before, and then started to break out from its cocoon.
It was slow, obviously laborious work for the little creature, but Hermione was enraptured by every second, and in the moment when the butterfly first spread its wings, bathing the room in rainbows almost too bright to look at, her heart stopped at the sheer beauty of it all.
She leaned into Harry, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
This was beauty. This was magic. This was Hogwarts. And this was what they needed to protect from Voldemort.
It was in that moment that Hermione decided that they would go to the acromantulas that night, and when she looked at Harry, somehow, without needing to say a word, she knew that he agreed.
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Same Day.
Thursday, Sept. 12
Hermione reached into her sleeve, grabbed the hilt of her wand where it stuck out from the holster Harry had given her, and drew it as fast as she could.
"Not bad," Harry said, as she stood with the tip of the weapon pointed at an imaginary opponent.
Hermione paused. She'd just thought of her wand as a weapon; she'd never done that before.
With some effort, the girl shook off the thought and said, "I'm still not as fast as you."
Harry chuckled. "Hermione, I practiced this one move for hours everyday for over a month, not to mention I have really good reflexes, it would be weird if you were as fast as me already. Not to mention depressing."
Grudgingly, Hermione had to admit that he was right, but, as far as she was concerned, that was simply a reason to practice until she could match Harry's speed, maybe even surpass it.
As she made to resheathe her wand, Hedwig returned.
After the rainbow butterfly had hatched, and then flown off into the sunset (which had been a rather sad moment), Hermione and Harry had sent Hedwig to get Arden, the centaur lady, so they could ask for her help in finding the acromantulas.
During their wait for the owl to return, Harry had given her both his spare wand holster and invisibility cloak.
"Just in case," he'd said. Hermione agreed.
Considering who they were waiting for, Hermione and Harry had parked themselves just inside The Forbidden Forest, but far enough away from Hagrid's hut that they wouldn't have to worry about the man spotting them. Thanks to that, Hedwig didn't need to perch on either of them when she returned, but was able to take one of the many convenient branches instead.
"Hedwig, you're back," Hermione said.
"Did you find Arden?" Harry asked, and the owl pointed deeper into the forest with a wing.
With how long ago sunset was, the forest was dark enough that the brightness of the two little lights Hermione had made—just enough for them to see by, but hopefully not enough to be seen from outside the forest—did not reach very far, because of this, Arden's arrival was heralded more by the sound of her hooves coming into gentle contact with the forest floor, than by sight.
Arden looked as she had the last time they'd met her, and Hermione was surprised to find that her recollection of the centaur's features were wrong.
In her memories, the centaur had looked more human, more... normal. Meeting her again and being reminded of how alien Arden's features really were was rather jarring for a bit.
The centaur walked up to them, well into the paltry glow from Hermione's lights. "Hermione Granger. Harry Potter," she said, eyes moving from one to the other in line with her words.
"Hello, Arden," Hermione said, while Harry just gave one of his small waves.
"You called for me," Arden said without preamble.
Hermione nodded. "We need your help to find the acromantulas," she said.
"You will meet with them tonight, then?" Arden asked.
The girl nodded again. "We thought it would be better to do it at night because they're nocturnal," she explained.
"Yeah," Harry added, "wouldn't want them cranky from lack of sleep while we tried to negotiate."
"Thoughtful," Arden said, "but it leaves you at a disadvantage."
Hermione nodded; she and Harry had thought of that.
"Do you think we should wait for daylight, then?" she asked, seeking the centaur's advice.
"No," Arden said. "I think you should drop this fruitless plan; the spiders are savage beasts with little sense, nothing will come of this."
Hermione blinked. She turned to harry, who looked just as surprised; they'd both assumed that Arden was supportive of the plan.
The worst part was the centaur hadn't even sounded angry or... anything really, when she said it. She'd simply spoken with the same kind of simple assuredness with which a person would say that fire burns.
It made Hermione a little less confident in this whole endeavour.
Before the girl could begin to overthink things however, Arden said, "Come," and began to walk away. And with no choice in the matter, Hermione and Harry followed on the ground, as Hedwig did in the trees.
The walk was long, slow, and quiet but for the sounds of the forest at night, and the only thing that kept it from being terrifying was the abundance of light they had around them to keep the shadows away. That, and the presence of her friend beside her, as well as Hedwig's occasional call from up in the trees. It was a constant assurance to the girl that she wasn't alone in this.
Naturally, Harry was the first to break the silence.
"You know," the boy said, "this whole thing kinda reminds me of Hansel and Gretel."
Hermione looked at him. "This is nothing like Hansel and Gretel."
"Yes, it is; two kids follow a strange woman made of breadcrumbs into an enchanted forest, where they then have to compete in a tournament of doom in order to free their evil stepmother from the vile clutches of a humble woodsman, who's also, and here's the twist, their father.
"Hansel and Gretel."
"You haven't read Hansel and Gretel, have you?" Hermione asked after several seconds of just staring at the boy.
"Nope," Harry said, popping the 'p'. "Seen the movie though. The one with Jeremy Renner; it was awesome."
That name sounded familiar for some reason.
"Who's Jeremy Renner?"
"Hawkeye."
Oh, right. "Your favourite Avenger."
"Hey, you remembered," Harry said with a big smile of pleasant surprise.
Hermione just gave him a flat look, with the unending lecture Harry had given her about all the Avengers and why Hawkeye was the "awesomest one to ever walk the face of the Earth" (his words), it was harder at this point to not remember. He had been so serious about it that she'd almost caved and taken notes at the time, for goodness sake.
Harry, either not noticing her expression or uncaring of it, sighed wistfully. "I can't believe I have to wait thirty years to watch the series... wait. What if my coming back in time causes a butterfly effect that causes the first Iron man movie to flop for some reason, thereby creating an alternate reality where the Avengers movie was never made and Hawkeye never hit the big screen?"
The boy turned to her, an expression of what she would have once thought to be genuine horror on his face. "Hermione, I think I'm having an existential crisis."
She rolled her eyes. "It's just a movie, Harry."
The boy gasped dramatically with a hand on his heart. "You did not just say—"
"We are here," Arden interrupted, and a sibilant, female voice agreed from the shadows up ahead: "Yes, you are."
In an instant, Harry had his wand drawn, all signs of playfulness gone, while Hermione first had to abort a motion for the pocket of her robes, before remembering where her wand actually was and going for the holster instead.
Even as Hermione drew her wand, the strange voice was still speaking. "Although, I have to wonder why a centaur has brought two little spell weavers to us; a peace offering perhaps?"
"The border is where their webs begin," Arden said. "I will wait here for your return."
The centaur didn't turn, but it was clear who she was talking to, and, after taking a moment to prepare themselves, Hermione and Harry walked forward.
It was over twenty feet to the point where the webs began, and the pair stopped some feet away from the first one they could see, and through it all, Hermione kept repeating to herself like a mantra, "be bold."
The problem when dealing with acromantulas, the girl had learned after her talk with Hagrid, wasn't that you couldn't afford to show fear. It was what the acromantulas considered to be showing fear.
For example; if Hermione were to take Harry's hand right now, the spiders will either interpret it as him needing to be led, therefore weak, or her needing comfort, therefore weak.
They believe in the strength of the individual above all else. It was probably why Hedwig was staying up in the trees, now that Hermione thought about it. The owl probably didn't want the acromantulas to think that Hermione and Harry needed her help.
Quietly, much more than Hermione would have thought a creature that big could move, an acromantula walked into the reach of their light, all the way up to the very border of the spider territory a few feet from them.
Up in the trees, red eyes began to appear, so many that Hermione had to remind herself that every eight only counted for one spider just to calm her nerves.
As the spiders increased in numbers, so did their hissing increase in volume, until, soon, it was this constant, piercing thing that seemed to be chipping away at her mind.
Harry spoke. "Jesus, will you all shut up already? You're making my tinnitus act up."
Surprisingly, it worked; every acromantula present immediately fell silent. All except the one closest to them.
"Well now," she said; it was the same voice that had first spoken, "the little spell weaver has found his little courage. I wonder where that was earlier when that door dropped you in the heart of our home."
Hermione frowned in confusion for a second before realisation dawned; the creepy place with the acromantulas that The Room of Requirement had opened into earlier today hadn't been a fabrication. The door had actually somehow portaled them to the acromantulas in the forest.
From the expression on Harry's face, he had figured it out too, as well as the other thing; they had run from the spiders already.
It was too late, the acromantulas already saw them as weak, and there was probably nothing they could do, short of killing some, to change their mind. And, mean, man-eating spiders or not, Hermione didn't really like the thought of killing anyone.
It was a curious thought that those same spiders would very likely think her weak for that.
Their shock over the recent revelation must have looked like hesitation to the spiders, because the one in front, the only one that had spoken so far, let out a hissing laugh that caused more venom to drip down her fangs, and said, "Run back to your castle, little spell weavers. Hunting you will bring us no joy." And then the hissing resumed.
Hermione stood still as the dissonant, yet paradoxically harmonious hissing of dozens of acromantulas rose in volume.
She was angry.
Here she was trying to stop a madman, because apparently, everyone else either couldn't or wouldn't, and yet these... people, were acting like the boys in her school who dared each other to do dangerous things for the stupidest reasons, and then made fun of those who were smart enough not to engage.
So what that she and Harry ran away before. Of course they had. Their lives had been in danger; any sane person would have done the same. But now the acromantulas wouldn't even talk to them because of it.
Well, fine. They want a show of strength? She would give them a show of strength.
In her hand, Hermione's wand grew warm as it thrummed with eagerness, and the girl cast a spell that she'd learnt yesterday but hadn't even practiced because of how terrifying it was.
"Conflagra."
Fire exploded outward from where she stood, reaching almost twenty feet in every direction. It covered Harry, the trees, and all of the spiders within reach, and despite the very real heat they could all feel from the flames, not a single thing was singed; the conflagration had parted around every single one, bathing them in heat and light without actually burning anything.
In the still silence that followed, Hermione Granger walked forward, breathing hard but steady, and when she was face to face with the giant, man-eating arachnid, close enough to smell her rancid breath, she said: "Take us to your leader."
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Wednesday at 8:05 PMReport
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Threadmarks: π20:: The Deal Is Struck
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Zaster(verified cape)
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A/N: last one for now.
Same Day.
Thursday, Sept. 12
Hermione's staredown with the spider lasted quite some time, but the girl refused to yield.
Finally, right when her eyes were beginning to burn, the spider asked: "What's your name, girl?" And Hermione blinked from surprise.
"Hermione Granger," she said.
The spider scoffed, and Hermione tried not to retch from the concentrated blast of her awful breath she got. "Well, Granger, if you knew anything about us, then you would know that you were already speaking to the leader."
That took Hermione by surprise. "But what about Aragog?" she asked. "I thought he was your leader."
The acromantula looked insulted. "Unlike you, spell weaver, we are not led by our frail grandfathers," the spider said. "Now, tell me why you've come here. And what's so special about the two of you that a centaur escorted you."
Hermione hesitated, not because she didn't know what to say, but because everything she and Harry had planned had been geared towards Aragog, and the hope that he would dislike Tom Riddle enough, due to their history, to be willing to help. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Finding out now, however, that they would not be meeting Aragog, and that he didn't even hold as much power as they'd thought he did, the girl wasn't quite sure what to do.
The worst part was that she couldn't take a moment to deliberate with Harry, she was scared to even turn at all to look at him, because that would require her to turn her back on the giant spider in front of her, and something told her that if she did that, it may very well be the last thing she ever did.
She knew it was probably just her fear speaking, but the eleven-year-old wasn't at all willing to risk it.
Fortunately, Harry was his dependable self as always, and he came through for her now as Hermione was beginning to realize that he always would.
"Does the name Tom Riddle mean anything to you?" he asked, walking forward to stand beside Hermione; close enough for her to feel his presence, but not so close for it to look like he was providing her support.
A small part of Hermione noticed how she had paid more attention to body language in the last five minutes than she ever had before in her whole life.
The spider looked at Harry. "Yes," she answered finally. "My grandfather has no love for him."
"Then your grandfather would be unhappy to know that good old Tom, or Voldemort—as he now calls himself—is back," Harry said.
"And you're hoping we would kill him for you," the spider stated simply.
Harry paused, and he and Hermione glanced at each other, before the girl said, "Well, no—"
"Not that we would refuse if you offered," Harry quickly threw in.
Hermione ignored him; as nice as it would be to push this fight onto someone else, it wouldn't really matter in the end, because in the unlikely event that the acromantulas won that fight, they still wouldn't be able to stop Voldemort; he was a ghost.
"—we wanted to ask for your help in stopping him," Hermione said. "Voldemort is coming to the forest."
The acromantula tensed. "Why?" she asked.
"He needs unicorn blood," Hermione said. "We don't know when but—" and to her great surprise, the spider, as well as a few up in the trees, laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.
"And how do you intend to make us help those pathetic creatures?" she asked.
"Well, before we met you guys, I was thinking we could appeal to the goodness of your hearts or something, but now that I've seen that it's all darkness and edge in there, I suppose we could always trade," Harry said.
"And what would two little spell weavers have that we would want?"
"Jeans and daytime TV?" Harry asked. "No? What about beer?"
Seeing the unamused looks he was getting from everyone, including Hermione, Harry raised his hands in surrender and kept quiet.
As unimpressed as Hermione was with his joking around however, she knew that Harry was right, they didn't really have anything to offer the spiders.
The only way she could think of to make the spiders do anything, she was starting to suspect, would be to force them, and like the Herd-mother had said, she and Harry lacked the strength to do that. Although, Hermione wasn't sure she would want to even if they did have the power; she didn't want to become a bully.
As her thoughts spun fruitlessly, Harry spoke again: "Oh, I know. How about a basilisk?"
The acromantulas all hissed and recoiled as Hermione's head whipped to Harry.
A what!?
Is he insane? How would they even kill a basilisk? Especially one as big as he'd described this one to be.
But Harry wasn't finished. "And that's not all," he said. "You know Myrtle? The girl Riddle killed and framed Aragog and Hagrid for? It was the basilisk he commanded to do it. In other words, there's a basilisk under Voldemort's control living in Hogwarts right now. Just waiting. And all you have to do to get rid of it, is promise to help us stop Voldemort."
But for some quiet hissing here and there, the spiders were silent for a long time. Then finally, the acromantula said, "We will need proof; you will bring us the corpse."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's a sixty foot snake," he pointed out simply.
"Then you bring me to the corpse," the spider said, undeterred. "We want proof."
Harry looked at Hermione, seeking her input, she realized, and though the girl had no idea how they would even go about killing the basilisk, she nodded.
"Looks like we have a deal," Harry said.
"We will be waiting, spell weavers. For your sake I hope you can do more than throw a little fire around." And with those parting words, the spiders disappeared as quickly as they came.
"Say hi to your Grandpa for me," Harry called after the departing creatures, then he and Hermione walked back to Arden, who turned without a word and began to head back the way they came.
The children followed.
By some tacit agreement, Hermione and Harry waited until they were far away from the border before saying anything.
"Well, that was terrifying," Harry began. "Especially the part where you went all fire goddess of vengeful wrath."
With dawning horror, Hermione realised how shocking that must have been for Harry. Her reaction was only worsened by the realisation that she hadn't even considered it until he'd mentioned it.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" she asked, looking him over for injuries, even though a part of her mind realised that she would know already if he'd been burned.
"No, no, I'm fine," Harry said, waving away her concern. "Honestly, I'm mostly amazed. Your control over that spell was divine, Hermione. I felt the heat, saw the flames bend around me. I flinched and they moved with me. How did you do that?"
"I don't know," was all the girl could say, because she really didn't. "I just didn't want to burn anything."
Harry let out a breathy laugh as he stared at her with amazement. "Books and cleverness," he said. "Yeah, right."
Uncomfortable, as she usually was whenever Harry complimented her, Hermione changed the subject. "Do you have a plan to kill the basilisk?" she asked.
"Of course," the boy said, "I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise," and Hermione felt a worry that she hadn't even realised she was feeling slip off her shoulders. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, by the way," Harry continued, "I just didn't know how to with them there."
Hermione admitted that she hadn't known how to either.
"Too bad we haven't mastered legilimency," Harry said, "if we had we wouldn't have had a problem communicating."
Hermione's eyebrows climbed as she realised that Harry was right, legilimency could be used like that.
It would require a level of skill with the art that neither of them currently possessed though, and considering they had a grand total of one-and-a-half sessions under their belts, they wouldn't be attaining said skill level in quite some time.
Pushing that thought away, Hermione returned to more pertinent matters, like what Harry's plan to stop the basilisk actually entailed.
"Well, since I'm not a parselmouth anymore, thanks to our ROB and master, I figured trying to control it was pointless, so I went for the next best thing; roosters."
Harry's plan was as simple and straightforward as Hermione should have expected it to be; get a rooster, figure out a way to broadcast it's crow across the castle, cross their fingers and hope it works.
"That's your plan?"
"What? Got something better?" Harry asked defensively, and Hermione had to reluctantly admit that no, she did not.
Back at the edge of the forest, Arden spoke for the first time throughout the return journey. "You will not need my help to find the spiders again, yes?"
Hermione and Harry looked at each other, and from the look on the boy's face Hermione could tell that, like her, he didn't really remember the way either.
Before they could decide on anything however, Hermione remembered something that made her to come to a quick decision. "No, we won't," she told Arden, and at Harry's questioning look, she said, "We can use The Room of Requirement now."
"Good," Arden said. "Farewell."
And with those parting words, the centaur walked away.
"Thank you for your help," Hermione called after her to no response.
"You know," Harry said as they watched the centaur leave, "I'm starting to get the feeling that she may not like the spiders very much."
Hermione shot the boy a dry look, then glanced at her watch; it was 8:40pm. Dinner ended at 9:00.
"We missed dinner," she said, after a bit of mental math told her that twenty minutes wasn't enough time to make it to The Great Hall and still get anything to eat.
"We did?" Harry asked. "That sucks. I'm hungry. And we have Astronomy tonight, so we might also miss breakfast tomorrow."
Hermione hadn't thought of that.
No matter, she still had some snacks left in her trunk. It wasn't much, but it was better than no—
"Wait, what am I thinking?" Harry asked rhetorically. "I have food."
"You do?"
"Hm-mm," the boy hummed affirmatively, as he pulled a box about the size of his head from his backpack.
"What's that?" Hermione asked as she watched Harry place the box on the ground.
"This, Miss Granger," Harry said grandly, "is a magical tent." And he tapped his wand to the object.
Like a bouncy castle being inflated, the box unwrapped and swelled up to become a small, unimpressive tent.
It was so small, in fact, that if she didn't remember Harry telling her that magical tents were much bigger on the inside, she would have wondered how they could both fit in.
From up in the trees, Hedwig swooped down and into the tent with full speed.
"Well, someone's eager," Harry said, then to Hermione: "Ladies first."
Obligingly, Hermione stuck her head into the tent, and despite having an idea of what to expect, her eyes still bulged in awe.
There was a chandelier. A chandelier. It hung over the living room, which had a nice blue sofa next to a fireplace.
There was a huge bookshelf laden with books in a corner, and a gleaming kitchenette in another. Hermione caught Hedwig lying facedown on a large, purple, vibrating pillow.
The owl was purring.
No wonder she had been so eager.
Surprisingly, the air was warm and fresh, and the tent appeared to have air-conditioning based on the soft breeze she felt blowing from somewhere.
"Welcome to mi casa," Harry said, walking in behind her. "You can pick your jaw off the floor now."
★★★
They made dinner.
Well, Harry made dinner. Hermione mostly just kept him company while he did.
It was quite the sacrifice for her; Harry's bookshelf was just so alluring.
As they ate, Harry put on some music. Muggle music. And the next thing Hermione knew, he had pulled her up to dance with him.
It was nice. It was very nice. And Hermione didn't realise how tense recent events had made her until she felt herself relax.
She felt Harry relax too, and she caught a glimpse of the tiredness he seemed to always carry but rarely show.
They sat on the sofa to rest afterwards, just for a minute. They were out in seconds. And there were no dreams for either that night.
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Wednesday at 8:10 PMReport
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Tanner, Kukahi Kauwe, Fijili and 60 others like this.

ashuronA Thousand Dreams. A Thousand Excuses.
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i am pretty sure goblins are the goblins of the wizarding world
Wednesday at 9:24 PMReport
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Fijili, mac_&_cheese, ArKFallen and 5 others like this.

WaNoMatsuriNot too sore, are you?
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Zaster said: ↑
And there were no dreams for either that night
And they missed Astronomy, didn't they?
Wednesday at 9:40 PMReport
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SixthRanger, DrakenWise, Agnes-sama and 1 other person like this.

ZelaznogNot too sore, are you?
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Maaaaaaan. I really love this story.
Wednesday at 9:46 PMReport
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mac_&_cheese and Zaster like this.

Zaster(verified cape)
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