Chapter 2: Memories and Musings
Harry leaned back while Hermione was explaining her latest attempt to get electronics working at Hogwarts. In great detail. The runes and arithmancy theory did sound good to him, but he was not the researcher of the two and she had lost him when she started to post-OWL stuff. So he made the appropriate appreciative noises and studied his oldest and best friend. She was looking well. Slight tan from her vacation, hair loose so her long curls were covering most of her shoulders - he somewhat fondly remembered her bushy hair, before she had learned her first cosmetic spells - and her new robe. Enchanted by herself, of course.
That was Hermione as he and only a few others knew her: Passionate, enthusiastic, happy. Most only knew the facade she presented to the rest of the world. The stoic, dutiful and loyal muggleborn retainer. The shadow of the Boy-Who-Lived. The know-it-all who beat the purebloods at their own game. Harry himself was presenting a facade to the public as well. The Boy-Who-Lived. Youngest seeker in century. Slayer of Slytherin's Monster. And youngest Patron in history. He almost scoffed at that thought.
He hadn't known anything about the Magical World when he had boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. He had committed so many faux-pas in his first few months out of sheer ignorance, he had almost ruined his reputation if not for his Quidditch talent and his killing of the troll. Such heroic deeds had bought him some leeway, he had been seen as eccentric rather than uncouth. Until he had become Hermione's Patron. Then he had to quickly learn what he should have known all along. Fortunately Hermione was a good, if pushy tutor. If she wanted to learn something not much could stop her. Not even a teacher.
*****
Hermione and Harry had knocked on the Transfiguration teacher's office door after dinner, and it had swung open by itself while a disembodied voice - not the professor - had invited them in.
"Professor McGonagall?"
"Please enter." That had been her voice, friendly, tough with a touch of impatience - or annoyance, or so Harry had thought. They had been in that office before, after the incident with the troll. It hadn't changed. Marble furniture that seemed to grow out of the floor: A desk, shelves, even chairs. Not much in the way of decorations - a single painting of a Highland Cottage on the side, a wand mounted on the wall. The rest had been books and parchment. Austere, cold, solid. Like McGonagall, in a way. And yet flexible when needed - she had to use magic to adjust her office all the time, Hermione had theorized.
The teacher had been looking at them, not quite frowning, but far from smiling. "What can I do for you, Mister Potter?"
Not "Mister Potter, Miss Granger?" Ever since Harry had become Hermione's Patron it had been like that in such meetings. It had been quite the contrast from the more egalitarian stance during classes. Hermione had felt insulted at first, when she had noticed, but then she had realized that addressing both of them when they were together would have been a faux-pas since it would have implied that they had a similar status. Which would have been an insult towards Harry. Just as it would have been an insult to let Hermione speak for them when addressing both a pureblood Head of Family and an authority with her Patron present. Hermione could have come alone, but Harry hadn't wanted that. It was for his sake, after all.
"I am in need of lessons in Wizarding Etiquette, Professor. Hermione and I have been studying the relevant tomes in the library, but we have noticed there are a few gaps in the knowledge provided by the books." A fact that had vexed Hermione greatly. The girl had practically devoured "The Wizard's Book to Etiquette" and "Etiquette for Witches", only to realize that they were meant for half-bloods and muggleborns. Purebloods, especially Heads of Families, were meant to learn proper conduct in polite society from their family. Hermione had managed to deduce part of what they needed from various sources, among them even a play that denounced "uncouth muggleborns" by contrasting them with well-bred purebloods on stage, but that method had had its limits. Not to mention that it had also taught them quite old-fashioned customs - although acting even more conservative than the purebloods their age certainly had confused them.
"I am sorry to say this, but I am quite busy with my duties as Transfiguration Mistress, Head of House and Deputy Headmistress. I cannot spend time tutoring students in topics outside the official curriculum." The professor had not sounded quite as sorry as she had claimed to be. Harry had glanced over to Hermione. She had picked up on that as well, and had had to fight not to butt in. Harry had expected that reaction - none of the teachers had been happy with Harry becoming Hermione's Patron. Part of that had been caused, he knew, by him and Hermione exploiting their unique circumstances to circumvent a number of school rules which had never been meant to deal with a student also serving as a Patron.
"Oh, of course not, I'd never impose on you like that. I fully understand that Hogwarts has not the capacity to provide such lessons." He had smiled widely, as guilelessly when he had convinced his elementary teacher that he and his cousin had had nothing to do with the bird bath incident. "I just wanted to ask for permission to hire an etiquette tutor. Well, not for permission to hire one, I do not need anyone's permission for hiring someone for my retainer, but for him or her to visit us in Hogwarts for the lessons."
"Mister Potter, only staff is allowed to teach at Hogwarts. I cannot permit such visits." Harry had been sure Hermione had been biting her lower lip then, ready to explode at the old witch. A glance from him had caused her to settle down a tiny bit. Good enough.
"I understand completely." His smile had shown more teeth then. "I'll have to hire a tutor over the holidays, and over summer. It will be quite the workload, but I bet a number of people will jump at the chance to teach the Boy-Who-Lived what Hogwarts or his guardian in loco parentis could not, so I should manage to find a willing teacher." From the way McGonagall had frozen for just an instant, she had understood what he had implied.
"On second thought I think I can manage to spare the time to fill those gaps you mentioned." Her eyes had been blazing though her tone had remained controlled, if more than a bit cold. He had not cared that much, despite knowing she was already overworked to some degree. But he needed those lessons, for Hermione as much as for himself, and she was his responsibility. Besides, if McGonagall had noticed Hermione missing at Samhain, none of this would have have been possible.
A bit later the two had left the office, with a tentative schedule for etiquette lessons in their pockets. Hermione had been more than a bit disillusioned that they had had to use such pressure to achieve their goal, but Harry had considered that the first lesson he had taught her as her Patron.
*****
Hermione was still detailing her planned experiments. A lock of her hair had come loose - he wasn't sure if that was a fault or feature of the cosmetic charm she used - and she absentmindedly pulled it back behind her ear while explaining about interlocking inverted runes. He had thought she was pretty, even before she had had her teeth fixed, but he knew she was insecure about her looks. And, though he didn't like to think about that, she might mistake his intent. A Patron had a lot of power over their retainer, and he would not be able to bear seeing his best, most trusted friend look at him with fear in her eyes. Fear of what he might demand of her. He felt guilty enough about her situation as a muggleborn, and that wasn't his fault.
It was bad enough with the Dursleys. They tried, honestly tried, to be his family, to support him, care for him, but they were so afraid of magic, so afraid of him, he had hated living with them. And had hated himself for feeling that way.
He could not even honestly blame them. Aunt Petunia had lost her parents and sister to wizards who saw her as barely more than an animal, then had been told by Dumbledore that only Harry's presence in their home protected them from those wizards who wished him and his family harm. He couldn't hold her responsible for not telling him he was a wizard either - she had been informed of what the consequences were for breaking the Statute of Secrecy. And as he had recently found out, from Sirius, his father and his friends had played some pranks on Petunia and Vernon back in the day. Harmless for wizards (or so Sirius claimed - his standards were a bit off, Harry had found out), but terrifying for muggles who couldn't undo spells with a wave of their wand and were utterly helpless against magic. It had not been a surprise that she had panicked when Harry had started to have bouts of accidental magic. Not after he had thrown the older boy who had tried to steal Dudley's toy 10 meters back with a wave of his hand and obliviators had covered it up, but had not touched the Dursleys.
That had happened when he had been five. Petunia had, in an attempt to prevent further such incidents, told her neighbours that Harry was a nice kid, but could "freak out" when pushed. She had meant well, but instead of instructing their kids not to push or bully Harry, the neighbours had told them to avoid him. At least Dudley wasn't afraid of him, or his special power, as Petunia had explained his magic to him, when ordering him to keep it secret, "or bad men will come and take you away". An explanation that had made sense to him after watching Dr. Who. It hadn't helped with his isolation from other kids his age, though. Something he shared with Hermione.
And he actually had a special power, something other wizards had not, as he had found out in his first year.
*****
Harry had gone home for Christmas but both he and the Dursleys had been glad that he had spent a number of days after Christmas with the Grangers, after Hermione had given them a heavily edited explanation which had taken a long time, even though it could have been summarized as "He saved my life, and now he is responsible for me according to Wizarding Society". Some of the looks Hermione's parents had given him had made him almost wish they'd have been afraid of him. Though all in all it had been a good time - best Christmas holiday in years for him.
Neither he nor Hermione had been suspicious when the Defense Teacher, Professor Quirrell, had asked them to meet them in his office after dinner on the same day they had returned to Hogwarts. Hermione usually had done extra credit work for any teacher that allowed it and Harry had demonstrated a talent for defense even the rather demanding professor had acknowledged.
His office had been cluttered with books and all sorts of strange things, not unlike Dumbledore's and a far cry from McGonagall's, but it hadn't had the sort of "lived in" feel that the Headmaster's had. And no phoenix. It had been darker too, with less lights floating around, and those that had been there had been mismatched like the furniture. The result of too many different teachers, over the years, who had used this office had but never really taken it over. What was unique though was the smell, no stench, of garlic that had filled the entire room. Harry had almost gagged, and he had heard Hermione gasp.
"Good evening, Mister Potter." The professor hadn't been behind his desk, but had appeared at their side, out of the shadows there, surprising - to put it mildly - the two students. Before Harry had realized it he had positioned himself between Hermione and the teacher. At the same time he had felt a sudden, stabbing pain in his scar that made him gasp and almost fall down. He had recovered though, despite the ongoing pain, and had faced the teacher, who had looked quite different compared to before the holidays.
The man's robes had been rather frayed, and instead of his usual wide hat, which tended to float after him when he took it off and was enchanted, as he had been fond to say during class, with enough spells to hold a rampant Manticore at bay, he had worn a turban. His face had looked haggard too, quite a difference from the jovial wizard they had known, and his eyes had showed an intensity that was almost frightening. "Please hand over your wands, I need to check them. There has been an incident."
The two had done so, after a slight hesitation, with Hermione looking indignant at the suggestion she could have broken whatever rule had been broken during this incident. Harry had been distracted by the constant pain in his scar - he had expected blood to run down his face any moment, or bleed into his brain.
The teacher did not check the wands though, but dropped them into a drawer of his massive desk, which closed by itself at a gesture from him. Harry had started to grow concerned then - handing over a wand was a major gesture in the Wizarding World, apart from authorities in the line of their duty, only the closest of friends would even ask for that.
"Tell me, have you heard about the artifact hidden in this school?"
There had been rumors about something valuable or important or dangerous hidden in the school. Neither Harry nor Hermione had paid much attention - in their spare time outside school and, in Harry's case, Quidditch, they had been busy trying to learn as much of the rules of Wizarding Britain as possible while avoiding Draco Malfoy's attempts to discredit or simply injure them.
"No, Sir, I haven't." Harry had answered while Hermione, her curiosity evident, had perked up, and stepped up to his side.
The man smiled, and Harry's unease grew. That smile had been very different from his usual, slightly teasing smile. "Dumbledore has hidden the Philosopher's Stone here." When neither Harry nor Hermione showed any sign of recognizing it, the man snarled. "The most sought-after alchemical artifact in the history of magic! I've been looking for it for a week, while Dumbledore attended the usual New Year's festivities at the ICW and the Ministry of Magic, and I haven't found even a trace of it, only false leads and traps."
Harry had glanced at the door then, but a flick of the professor's wand had covered the rust-colored wooden door with a shimmering field of magic. "Too late Mister Potter." Quirrell had been standing behind his desk, a smile so warped it had almost looked like a caricature on his face. "Your mudblood will go and tell the Headmaster that I demand the stone, in exchange for your life." With that he had aimed his wand at Harry and shot a red spell at him.
Harry still remembered the surprised expression on Quirrell's face when said spell hadn't hit him, but had been reflected back at the caster instead, striking the teacher right into his chest. The man had fallen down, but hadn't been knocked unconscious - though he had started to move with obvious difficulties, in an almost uncoordinated manner. "Potter!" he had growled in an inhuman voice, "You'll pay for this!"
Harry and Hermione had charged forward to get their wands, but neither had been able to open the desk drawer. In desperation, Harry had taken a page out of Dudley's book and had jumped the wizard still trying to get up. Both had tumbled to the floor again, and Harry had started to hit the man wherever he had managed to reach. His weak blows had not shown any effect, until he had landed one in the man's face.
To his horror, the face had started to disintegrate, turning into ashes. And while the growling had turned into curses, the face had not moved, not even the eyes, while the body had started to jerk and twitch, then flail around. "Potter! Curse you!" It had only been after the turban had come undone that he had caught a glimpse of a second, monstrous face on the back of Quirrell's head, screaming at him in pain and hatred, until that too had disintegrated, leaving only ashes and a green spectre that had fled through the wall. Harry and Hermione had exchanged shocked looks, then Harry had stared at his hands, right before he had thrown up on the still smoking corpse.
The two had been stuck there for a few hours, until the spell on the door had faded and they had been able to get help - the desk had withstood any attempts to get the drawer to open. They had covered the remains up with some tarp taken from an empty cage in the corner, and had spent the rest of the time sitting on the other side of the desk, trying to puzzle out what had happened.
They didn't find any explanation, until Dumbledore told them that the man had become possessed over the holidays, likely during his trip to the Mediterranean, where he had planned to investigate ancient tombs.
*****
Harry still remembered the lessons he had learned then: He had a special power, and he should never hand over his wand to anyone he did not trust. The latter lesson had gotten him into trouble with Snape more than once, of course; but that would have happened anyway.
Hermione had finally finished her explanation of her planned experiment, and despite his well-timed appreciative comments she smiled at him in that mixture of fondness and slight annoyance that told him she had noticed he hadn't really paid attention. He smiled in return, spreading his hands briefly to show he had noticed. A brief check of his new watch - a gift from Sirius as well, mechanical and enchanted of course - showed they still had quite some time until the Weasleys would arrive, unless they had decided to break with their pattern of always boarding the train at the last minute. Thinking of Ron...
"'Baiting the Basilisk' is still selling well. Lockhart sent us our cut for the second quarter last week." It had been sent to him alone, and both of them knew it, but neither commented on it. Instead Hermione nodded, and noted down the sum in her ledger.
"That alone should cover the tuition for this year." she commented happily.
"Sirius insisted on paying my tuition." Harry frowned slightly. He was very happy to have a godfather, a link to his parents and his family's history, but he had been very proud of being able to provide for himself and Hermione thanks to something he - they - had earned. Hermione snorted, amused - she hadn't missed the parallels between Sirius' stance, and Harry's stance towards her own tuition.
That book, but more so the events that led to it being written, had changed all their lives, back in their second year. Harry would never forget that night.
In the words of Lockhart, "Terror stalked Hogwarts in those days. Someone, something, had petrified a member of the staff and several students. Not even the great Dumbledore, vanquisher of the Dark Lord Grindelwald and the only one You-Know-Who ever feared, had found the lair of Slytherin's Monster yet. It seemed only a matter of time until the first victim would be found dead - or disappeared. No one seemed safe, not after a Slytherin pureblood had been found petrified together with a ghost. And the mandrakes ordered would not arrive for several more days, so we had no remedy for those petrified. The students huddled in their common rooms, seeking safety in numbers, no matter how much of an illusion that would be in the face of such danger. They would have been sent home already, if not for the terrifying suspicion that among them, hidden by the darkest magic, lurked the Heir of Slytherin, and that sending them home would loosen him and his monster on the Magical World. Aurors supported the staff and had found a colony of acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. Some thought the Monster had been found - but I and every reader of "Adventures with Acromantulas" knew of course that those beasts rent and poisoned their victims, they did not petrify. No, Slytherin's Monster was not a giant spider, but something far more terrible.
I had written to all my friends, whose adventures and heroic deeds my readers are surely familiar with, and asked them for advice. Advice, not help. I was sure that with Dumbledore as our protector we had no need of more wands, but knowledge only those who hunted the most dangerous terrors of the Magical World would be privy to. I would be proven wrong, for the knowledge we needed would be found in Hogwarts itself, thanks to our own hero, the Boy-Who-Lived, and his faithful friends. The young wizard had only weeks before been mistaken for the Heir of Slytherin himself due to his ability to talk to snakes - a great gift, as Jungle Jenny, the witch whose bravery and skill with a wand was only second to her beauty and whose deeds I have recounted in "Out in the Outback", would say, as would anyone else living around the deadliest of snakes. And yet, far from carrying a grudge, he and his loyal retainer Hermione Granger as well as his best mate Ron Weasley, had snuck out of their dorm and braved the dangerous hallways, to search the library of Hogwarts, where I, on a similar mission, encountered them."
*****
Harry, Hermione and Ron had used his father's cloak of invisibility to sneak to the library. Harry had been reluctant to go, but Hermione had been adamant that they only needed a bit more information to identify the Monster, and that time was of the essence. The young witch had also argued that the library, with all the protection spells to prevent theft or damages, would actually be safer than the common room. Since she had been there, unhurt and safe, while Hagrid, carrying a mirror for some reason, had been petrified not ten steps outside, Harry had been forced to agree with her logic.
The library had been an impressive sight. The walls, lined with ancient wooden shelves, reached far higher than the those of the great hall, thanks to expansion charms. Floating marble platforms allowed those perusing it to reach those heights safely and easily. Self-indexing shelves, not quite as old, filled most of the center and wings. Not quite as tall, but still topping four meters each, they could be commanded to rotate their books up and down at verbal commands so there was no need for ladders or floating platforms there. The newest shelves even found books on certain topics, at the mere touch of one's wand and a strong mental command, and deposited them in one's hand. That the whole library was covered with a tailor-made silence spell, allowing everyone to talk normally without the voices carrying further than a few meters, was almost to be expected, as much as self-expanding tables that never ran out of space for books or studying partners. Hermione's home away from home, Ron had called it - the young witch certainly felt at home there, and had happily informed them about the features of the library at every opportunity during their first year, eyes filled with delighted wonder at such a paradise for a bookworm. Kind of like Ron got when it came to Quidditch, not that Harry had ever voiced that comparison to either of them.
They had made their way, still invisible, to the back, near the restricted section. There, visible, but out of reach of even the most advanced student without permission from the Headmaster himself, were the rarest, and most dangerous tomes stored, some of them dating back to the time of the Founders, some said to be even older. Hermione's Holy Grail, Harry knew. That night though she had not wasted more than a single, longing look on those books before she had turned to the Magical Beast section, face set with stubborn determination.
"My Patron, I would suggest we split our efforts up. One searches the books dealing with mythical and extinct beasts, the other two search through the tomes describing exotic beasts." Hermione's expression had clearly indicated that she did not consider this a mere suggestion. She had not yet been as able to hide her feelings on such matters.
"A good idea, my Wand." Back then, they had been formal with each other even if had been just the two of them and Ron. That had changed, of course, that very night.
The three had been sitting at a table in the back, books covering the top. Hermione had gone through three tomes already, Ron had been on his first, Harry on his second, when they had been interrupted by the arrival of Lockhart. The professor hadn't been happy to find three second year students there. But since he had been as pragmatic as his lessons, he had not taken much to be persuaded into joining them rather than escort them back to the Gryffindor dorm once he had seen their planned research. As he had put it "If more of my colleagues were willing to research knowledge rather than search the castle, we might have already dealt with the monster." He had even granted them a pass to access the books that spells prevented students from taking out of their shelf without special permission from a teacher.
Harry hadn't known how long they had spent there, barely talking to each other but for showing each other possible monsters, until Hermione had suddenly exclaimed "Yes! I've found it!" The three others had quickly crowded around her, staring at the picture of a basilisk in an old tome while the excited witch had explained her reasoning. "It all fits! Harry could understand it, so it has to be a snake, or snake-kin, or serpent-like monster. The spiders leaving, the dead roosters - probably the work of a conjured fox, not a real one - and the petrified victims, since every one of the them had only seen the reflection of the basilisk's eyes, not the eyes directly. Hagrid must have come to the same conclusion, that's why he has been carrying a mirror! And the monster is traveling through the pipes, that's why no one found it yet and why Harry could hear it!"
Lockhart had nodded. "It sounds convincing, enough to take to the Headmaster. Basilisks… they have been thought to be extinct in Britain for hundreds of years, maybe even in the world. The last sighting I investigated was a hoax. Well done, Miss Granger. Let us head to the Headmaster's office then, and inform him." Hermione had beamed at the praise, and Harry had felt proud of her. Then he had frowned. His best friend had beamed at the famous, good-looking author turned teacher, and he hadn't liked that.
Hermione and Lockhart had sent the books back to their proper places with a few flicks of their wands and they had gone off. Not even at the door though Harry had heard the hissing voice of the monster again - coming their way!
"I hear the basilisk! It's headed towards us!" His voice had been muffled by the library's enchantment, but his friends and Lockhart had heard him. Ron had paled and started to pray to all the gods he could think of, Hermione had trembled, but both had taken their wands out. Lockhart had been faster though, grabbing the three children and pushing them back towards the restricted section. "Hurry, if we hide it might pass!"
They hadn't needed much prompting, and had run to the back of the library, pressing themselves against the ends of the shelves, hopefully hidden from view. Harry and Hermione in the middle, Ron to their right, Lockhart to their left. The author had been shaking as well, sweat covering his face - they knew he had started to join hunting expeditions for his latest books, but always in the company of a experienced wizards or witches. And yet he had taken out his ever-present mirror - Harry had decided then and there not to make fun anymore of Lockhart's well-groomed appearance - to observe the doors of the library.
"D-Do you think it has gone away?" Ron had asked, whispering despite the muffling spells.
"I don't know. Maybe." Harry had answered, holding Hermione close. The young girl was almost panting, and biting on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
"The doors have just been pushed open. It's coming inside." Lockhart's voice had destroyed what faint hope they had had. The monster had been inside the library, they could not look for it without dying, and the spells that muted their own words inside the room would hide any sound the beast could make until it was upon them. The wizard had started to cast, conjuring rooster after rooster. "Send them away with stinging hexes. If we are lucky one of them will get close enough so its cry will be heard by the monster. It won't kill them, only a real rooster could, but it should still affect it."
While the three students had started to cast - missing a few before they managed to steady themselves, Hermione had muttered, quietly so only Harry had heard, "I would have never thought I'd die because a library was too silent." Then the cries of the stung roosters had made conversation impossible.
Suddenly the shelf Harry and Hermione had hidden behind had started to shake, as well as the next on the other side, and the sound of a gong filled the library. "That's the alert that sounds when someone tries to remove a protected book without permission! It alerts the librarian!" Hermione had exclaimed. It also threw the miscreant back, as Harry had been told. More gongs sounded - the monster had to be stuck between those two shelves, books shaken loose by the impacts, hopefully getting battered by those spells. "Run!" he had shouted. "To the exit!"
The four had scrambled up and had started to run towards the doors while behind them the massive serpent had trashed, caught between the two shelves holding the "magical beasts" section. Eerily, no sound but their own steps and the gongs could be heard even though shelves might be crashing and tumbling behind them.
Lockhart had been the first at the door, reaching out to open it when he suddenly had been propelled sideways, crashing into a table. A slim figure had appeared in front of the doors, smaller even than Hermione, her wand still pointed at Lockhart.
"Ginny?" Ron had exclaimed, incredulously, when his sister had turned towards him, showing red eyes and cruel expression.
"Hah! Did you think you could escape me, Potter?" She had smiled almost manically, and Harry had realized this was not Ron's sister, but someone possessing her. Ginny had started to say something else, but had been interrupted by Hermione.
"Petrificus Totalus!" The muggleborn witch had cast the spell perfectly, as expected, but the spell splashed harmlessly against a blue shield suddenly protecting the redhead.
"You dare raise your wand against me, mudblood? Crucio!" Ginny's face had been twisted with hate as she had cast, and Harry had not thought, just reacted, throwing himself between his best friend and the possessed witch, shielding her with his body. Instead of the expected pain he only felt a brief shock as the spell had been reflected towards Ginny, who had cried out with pain for an instant before she had dropped the spell. The girl had been reeling and before she had managed to cast again Ron had tackled her to the ground and wrestled her wand away from her. Hermione's next body-binding curse had not been deflected, nor had been a stunner from Harry.
With a groan, Lockhart had gotten up. "What happened?" he had asked, shaking his head and blinking, blood seeping through his left sleeve. At that moment the gongs, which had been constantly ringing, had suddenly stopped.
The four had looked at each other for an instant, no one daring to look back. "Run!" And they had run again, through the doors, leaving Ginny or whoever had been possessing her behind. Turning to the right and around a corner, Lockhart had stopped, wand raised and aimed at the floor in front of the doors to the library. When the basilisk had crashed through them, the floor and the doors literally exploded in its face.
The others had only heard an inhuman, monstrous roar, but Harry had heard the curses, the promises of vengeance, and the pained exclamations as the monster had come at them again. Another corner, and a fiery flash had passed them. Only when Harry had heard the trilling song had he understood - Fawkes! The phoenix had been attacking the monster!
Another roar shook the walls. "Eyes! Eyes!" And Harry had understood what Fawkes had been doing.
"It's blind, Fawkes blinded it!" He had shouted as the reached the next corner, only to see the stairs in front of them turn away just as a sad trilling had sounded behind them, suddenly cut off. "Dead! Kill!" the basilisk had shouted, in triumph.
"He got Fawkes." Harry had spit out, staring at the empty space where the stairs had been. They had been trapped, no way out. Lockhart had barely managed to run, still hurt from Ginny's spell. But… "It's blind, we can trap it here. Send it over the edge!"
Hermione had nodded and had started to cast at once. "Aquamenti!" Harry and Ron had followed her example and had covered the floor with water, which Hermione had turned to slick ice.
"Heard! Kill!" the basilisk had shouted and suddenly Harry had been filled with anger, fear forgotten.
"Then come get me, you stupid snake!" he had shouted - in parseltongue, as Hermione had told him later.
With another roar the monster had just done that, charging around the corner. Harry had already been moving to the side, and still was almost clipped when the monstrous serpent reached the patch of ice and, unable to stop, had slid over the edge where the stairs had been and had fallen down three floors to crash head first into the stone floor.
*****
As they had soon found out, the fall had killed the beast. Its poison had been sizzling, eating through even the magically treated stone floor - which had cracked from the impact. Hermione had mentioned something about larger animals being more vulnerable to falling, but Harry had not been paying attention. The auror contingent had surrounded the corpse with wards and charms to keep anyone from stepping into the drops of poison splattered around it while the four basilisk slayers had been ushered to Madam Pomfrey to be checked and treated.
Dumbledore had arrived at the infirmary as well, some time later, with an unconscious Ginny floating behind him. "Another victim of Slytherin's Monster" he had stated, handing her over to Pomfrey. He had looked over at Harry and his friends, then had met Lockhart's eyes until the author had nodded in understanding. 'Baiting the Basilisk' would later strongly hint at Ginny having been controlled by some hitherto unknown power, probably similar to the hypnotic eyes of Chameleon Boas, a fact that had vexed Hermione's sense of intellectual honesty, as her father had explained it to Harry one day after a particular rant of hers.
On the positive side, all three students had received a cut from the profits of Lockhart's next book - if not as much as his usual partners got, seeing as he had been involved a bit more than usual in dealing with the beast. Technically, Harry had gotten Hermione's share as well, as was his due as her Patron, but at least he had gotten to spend it on her tuition without hurting her pride.
The encounter had also turned Ron from Harry's mate into a friend of the two. Sharing lethal dangers tended to make minor annoying personal faults seem unimportant, or so Hermione had claimed, though Harry had wisely not asked if she had meant hers or Ron's. At least they hadn't had to go through all the formal etiquette anymore when it was just the three of them, since Ron now counted as "close family" and would not expect such formalities.
*****
"At least the book royalties are coming in. The Ministry has still not paid out the due compensation for confiscating the corpse of the basilisk." Hermione's voice shook Harry out of his reminiscing. "I can't believe settling things take that much time, with Lockhart, you and Dumbledore waiting for it."
"Sirius said that until the Ministry has found a way to profit from it it won't be settled." Hermione muttered some very uncomplimentary words about corrupt officials in response. The young witch could be very opinionated about the virtues of an efficient and transparent government. Harry changed the topic before she could could start a rant about the lack of democracy in Wizarding Britain. "It'll be good to see Remus again."
As he had hoped, Hermione picked up on it. "Oh, yes. He's the best DADA teacher we have had so far."
"Better than Lockhart, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award?" Harry couldn't help but tease his best friend about the crush she had had on the Professor.
"You're just jealous." Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, grinning widely, before pulling her legs up on the seat to prop up her book with her knees. "Does that mean Sirius will visit his best friend often, and oh so coincidentally will meet his favorite godson as well?"
Harry smiled in response. "Indeed. He stocked up on enough floo powder to fill a trunk."
"It'll be good for him. He shouldn't be alone." Hermione grew serious again. Harry knew that she thought Sirius needed therapy after his ordeal, but his godfather was adamant in his refusal, claiming he only needed to live it up to make up for the years he lost to Azkaban. Sirius had pulled himself together after escaping that prison, but it taken him weeks until he could think clearly enough to actually contact Remus, instead of sneaking into Hogwarts and trying to capture the rat while hunted by a horde of dementors. Harry knew his godfather still wasn't really well, but he couldn't do much about it. His own encounter with the dementors was still fresh in his mind, to imagine having to live around those monsters for 12 years… he shivered.
"Here." Hermione handed him some chocolate. "Have they found the one who ordered the dementors to attack us yet?" Harry shook his head in response, munching. "I bet they haven't yet decided what makes them look worse, having dementors go out of control and attacking the Boy-Who-Lived, or having someone inside the Ministry who had sent dementors to attack the Boy-Who-Lived and might send them out again at someone else."
Harry frowned. "You've been spending too much time with Sirius, he said exactly the same thing."
"At least we now know how your power works." Hermione pushed her errant lock back behind her ear again.
"No more experiments where poor Harry gets cast at." Harry grinned, exaggerating his relief. It hadn't been that bad, but Hermione had been rather obsessed with finding out what his power did, why it had repelled the spells from Quirrell and possessed Ginny, but didn't save him from Draco's ambush in 3rd year, or any of her own spells, and her experiments had become more… elaborate over time.
"Dumbledore knew all along, but never told you about the blood charms until you were about to move in with Sirius. That man and his secrets…" Hermione huffed, annoyance visible on her face. She hated when knowledge was hidden from her.
"To be honest, that was a secret better not revealed to just anyone." That his protection worked against Voldemort and all his marked followers was good news. That Voldemort was not dead, but trying to return to life, and had attempted so twice by possession, was rather bad news. At least Harry knew his family would be safe at Privet Drive. And seeing Ron's reaction when he had realized that he had tackled Voldemort himself when he had charged his little sister… Harry had to chuckle. Hermione looked puzzled, so he explained. "I was thinking of Ron's reaction to hearing about that particular secret." That caused her to grin as well.
"Speaking of him… it's a quarter to 11. The Weasleys should arrive any time now." Hermione stood up and opened the window, leaning out. "I don't see any redheads yet though… ah, there. They just arrived." She drew her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" A silvery otter started to swim around in the air in front of their window. The witch sat down, then frowned at Harry's bemused expression.
"You really like that you finally mastered that spell."
Hermione crossed her arms. "It's more dignified than shouting. As your retainer, I have certain standards to hold up."
"And you can show off that you mastered a spell most adults can't cast."
"That too."
Crookshanks chose that moment to make himself be heard, demanding to be let out of his pet carrier. Hermione narrowed her eyes at her familiar as she opened the carrier. "I should feel jealous. You sleep for hours during the trip, and as soon as Ron shows up, you wake up." As Harry expected, the half-kneazle ignored her complaints and started to strut around the compartment.
A short time the door to the compartment was opened and Ron stuck his head inside. "Ah, there you are!" Behind him, Fred and George waved. Harry saw they were wearing their new open robes over what looked like a skin-tight suit made out of smoke that was shifting through all colors of the rainbow. Ron noticed his expression, and nodded sagely. "They are baiting people to cast finite on them."
"Ah." Harry understood.
Fred - or George - put a hand on his chest, slightly displacing the smoke around it. "We'd never do such a thing. This is just fitting attire for the start of our Year of Exploration." "Very fitting attire. Form-fitting even." his twin added.
"It's the Year of Discovery." Hermione spoke up, after glaring at her familiar, who was begging Ron for some treats. Then she noticed what clothes the twins were wearing, and blushed slightly.
"We like the Year of Exploration better. We already know who we are, and what we want to do with our lives. But we have so much to explore." "And so many." Laughing, the twins went off to find a compartment of their own - probably sharing it with Lee Jordan and the Gryffindor chasers. Harry couldn't help but remembering what Sirius had told him of his parent's Year of Discovery, and blushed slightly before banishing the memory.
Hermione closed the door with a flick of her wand while Ron stashed his trunk before feeding Crookshanks a few more treats. She frowned "You're spoiling him."
Ron was unrepentant. "Only the best for the tomcat who tried his best to defend me against a vile rat." He sat down, petting the purring half-kneazle. "So, what have you two been up to? Apart from Hermione abusing her Patron's permission to practise magic all the time."
Hermione had the grace to blush, before launching into a detailed description of her family's trip to France.
*****
Pansy Parkinson suppressed the urge to hex the idiot in front of her into silence. Draco Malfoy was going on and on about his vacation, his plans for the year, his decision to take part in the Tournament contrary to his father's warning - as if the Goblet of Fire would actually pick him as the Champion of Hogwarts. But instead of cursing the fool she smiled, giggled, and flattered him. As stupid as Draco was, convinced of his own superiority despite dozens of examples to the contrary, he made a wonderful tool for her own plans. So easy to manipulate. She'd miss him, well, a bit, once she'd drop him in their 6th year. If he lasted that long - his father could only cover so much for him.
Until then though Draco would serve very well for her plans to deal with a few … not rivals, annoyances. Sometimes she wondered if anyone knew just how much of Draco's blunders were orchestrated by her.
Chapter 3: The Goblet of Fire
