Chapter Nine
Time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye as Hermione settled into life at Hogwarts; seconds and minutes, disappearing like sand slipping through her fingers. Between classes, extracurriculars and trying to maintain a social life while completing her homework on time, it was hard to find time to breathe, and yet Hermione enjoyed every moment—exhaustion and all.
Hermione and Amelia had met as discussed in the H.C.N office, which only seemed to grow busier under the clutter of half-finished articles, piles of parchment and the nearing deadline of the first edition of the Hogwarts Chronicle Newspaper of the year. They engrossed themselves in planning out the bones of their articles: brainstorming questions, making lists of potential interviewees, discussing the points of focus or angles, and conferring with Amity and Kaeden, whose insight helped them narrow down the more interesting ideas they had.
They became fast friends in the process, bonding over their shared enthusiasm for journalism, but also their mutual respect for the dedication they both had to making their article the best it could possibly be.
By the time they separated for the evening, they were wired with the glee that came from spending time with someone who had the same interest in a hobby as they did. Before parting, Amelia had given Hermione a magical version of a tape recorder, which Hermione would put to use to record conversations with their interviewees.
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In the dormitory before bed, Hermione began her first round of interviews.
She spoke to Adeline about her experience growing up in a wizarding family with a rather notorious past; Alana and Daphne about their father’s work in the Ministry, one in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Creatures and the other the Wizengamot; Millicent, who spoke candidly about feeling homesick and like she wouldn’t find her place within Slytherin; Tracey about her mother’s work as the owner of a small cafe in Diagon Alley and how she’d had grown up running about the shopping district and helping her Mum in the kitchen; even Pansy did an interview, though short and blunt, about her favourite classes so far and the things that had been surprising about Hogwarts even to her, a pureblood. Hermione listened carefully to it all, jotting down notes on things her dormmates had said that she might like to expand on in her article.
When she met with Amelia the following day during the usual H.C.N meeting, they reviewed one another’s recordings and notes and began the long task of listening to each conversation and picking out the most insightful or attention-grabbing moments. It was a slow, but steady process allowing a clearer picture to emerge—a vision of what their article might look like when published.
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On Thursday, it was Hermione’s 12th birthday.
It was the first birthday in her life that she’d ever spent away from her Mum. When she woke, her heart felt heavy with homesickness and longing. It’d only been three weeks since she’d left home, and she still had over three months till the Christmas holidays—it felt like a lifetime.
Hermione, having grown up an only child, without a father and little family, had always been rather attached to her Mum. They did everything together. Her Mum taught her how to cook and bake, though Hermione tended to get bored rather quickly, they liked the same books and movies and spent many an hour in the cinema or at home curled up with books, and both of their ideas of weekend fun was spending time in museums and galleries. They were two peas in a pod, to say the least, and Hermione felt their distance much more intensely.
Perhaps that was because birthdays had always been special in the Granger home. Sure, they hadn’t been loud, extravagant affairs, but there was a staunch tradition regardless: they’d have a sleepover in the living room the night before, dragging their mattresses downstairs with a struggle, they’d watch movies until midnight when her Mum would sing her happy birthday before bed; in the morning they’d have whatever breakfast Hermione felt like (even if it wasn’t a breakfast meal), Hermione would open her presents, and then they’d set out for the day on an adventure of Hermione’s choosing before having dinner in the evening. To others, it might seem rather mundane, but to Hermione, it reminded her of home—of the warmth, comfort and irreplaceable love felt in the presence of someone who loved you unconditionally.
Hermione tried to shove away the ache in her chest as she got dressed for the day.
She hadn’t told anyone it was her birthday. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps some part of her knew that she’d miss her Mum too much to want to do anything, or maybe she was just worried no one would care. Regardless, she somewhat relished the normalness of her routine.
Daphne and Alana had already gone down to breakfast, too hungry to wait for Adeline who was having a spot of hair trouble. Hermione had decided to stay behind and wait for her friend who was determinedly trying to yank a brush through the tangled mess her hair had become.
“Do you want some help?” Hermione offered.
“I can do it! I’m a strong, independent—ow!” she cried out as her brush caught on a particularly stubborn knot. “Just go down to breakfast. I’ll meet you there.”
After ensuring that she didn’t want her to wait, Hermione picked up her bag and headed down to the Great Hall, joining Daphne and Alana who were already well into their breakfast.
“Where’s Addie?” Alana asked.
“Trying to mediate the battle between her hair and hairbrush,” Hermione laughed. Deciding to indulge herself for her birthday, Hermione treated herself to a plate of pancakes, topped with maple syrup, cream and mixed berries.
“Honestly, I told her that she needs to start braiding her hair before bed with how chaotic of a sleeper she is,” Daphne tutted.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Hermione agreed, cutting into the warm, fluffy pancakes. “If I don’t braid my hair in some form, it’d be like hers, too. I’ve told her that braiding it makes you need to spend so much less time on it in the morning but she never listens.”
Midway through Hermione’s breakfast, the owl post arrived. Surprisingly enough, a large brown post owl swooped down from the ceiling, beelining for Hermione. It landed with a flap of its wings in front of her plate and with a hoot of acknowledgement, stuck out a leg, attached to which was a small package.
“What’d you order?” Daphne asked as Hermione unbound the package from the owl.
“Nothing,” Hermione answered, frowning, wondering who it’d come from.
Having completed its delivery, the owl promptly snatched the last piece of bacon off of Daphne’s plate before launching back into the air, leaving a gaping Daphne behind. “Darned owl didn’t even say thanks,” she huffed, staring forlornly at her bacon-less plate.
The box wasn’t heavy or large, and was made of cardboard—nothing that gave away what it was other than the small notecard attached to it with Hermione’s name scrawled across it in her mother’s handwriting. Hermione eagerly opened the notecard to read what was inside.
At the same moment, Adeline joined them at the table, hair finally tamed into two braids (although they were a little messy, having been done in a rush) and her robes slung over her bag. She thumped down into her seat, huffing a little from rushing from the dormitory. She eagerly reached for some breakfast—they didn’t have long till classes started after all, and they needed to make it out onto the grounds to the greenhouses for Herbology. “Oh, I forgot it was your birthday!” Adeline said bluntly, “Happy birthday, ‘Mione.”
Daphne and Alana exchanged looks of horror and surprise with one another before rounding on Hermione, both of their voices echoing over the quiet morning chatter, “It’s your birthday?!”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Daphne added.
Hermione winced at the looks sent their way by other students. This was exactly what she’d been hoping to achieve. “I just didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” Hermione murmured, flushing under their gentle criticism.
“Well, too bad. A girl only turns twelve once!” Alana declared, “Daphne and I will brainstorm ideas for your birthday whilst we plot Addie’s demise for not telling us.”
Adeline gasped sarcastically, holding her hands up in surrender. “Oh no… I’m just terrified.”
“How’d you even know it was my birthday anyway?” Hermione asked.
Adeline shrugged nonchalantly. “Your Mum and Andy have been writing to each other. Your Mum mentioned it to Andy—wanted to know some information about how to get a package to you—and then Andy mentioned it to me. At the time, I figured that if you wanted us to know, you would’ve said something, and then eventually I just forgot,” she added sheepishly.
“You’re hopeless,” huffed Daphne, “How am I meant to spoil my friends under these conditions?”
Hermione’s heart warmed at how much her friends cared, and despite her initial wish for an uneventful day, it made the day feel much more special.
As the others finished up their breakfast, Hermione turned her attention back to the card from her Mum:
Dear Hermione,
Happy 12th birthday, Hayati!
It feels so strange not to be with you on your special day, but I’m comforted knowing that you’re thriving at Hogwarts, learning magic, and making new friends. I’m so proud of how brave you’ve been this year, tackling everything with the same fierceness and determination you’ve always shown, even in moments of uncertainty. I admire you and your courage very much, Hermione.
Since we couldn’t be together, I wanted you to have a little piece of home with you today. So, I’ve included some of your favourite things and some additional items that made me think of you. I also went to your vault and the main family vault with Andromeda, and we picked out some things we thought would be of interest to you. There are some presents inside from the Tonkses and Celeste, who all passed along their love and well wishes.
I hope that your day is full of just as much joy and love that you put out into the world, my darling.
Remember to take time to celebrate yourself today. You’re always so focused on your studies, and whilst dedication is important, it’s even more important to celebrate yourself and these moments in your life—they’re precious and you’ll be glad one day for them.
I can’t wait to hear all about how you spent your birthday. Don’t forget to write to me soon; I’m always thinking of you.
With all my love,
Mama
By the end of the note, Hermione was misty-eyed. She wanted nothing more than to open the gift and see what was inside, but they didn’t have long till class. Instead, she carefully made room in her bag for it inside, promising herself that she’d open it once the day of classes was over.
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Hermione, Ron and Harry had decided to do their interview that day over lunch, considering their schedules often didn’t align. They were meeting in the viaduct courtyard, beloved by students not only for its proximity to the entrance hall and bridge which led to all of the buildings where classes were held but for its beautiful architecture, plant life and views of the rolling hills and mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Today, it was sunny and cloudless, but the wind had a chill that whispered the reminder of winter’s incoming snowscape.
“Happy birthday, Hermione! Daphne told us,” Harry greeted, tone full of warmth only made stronger by his smile, which was always large and beaming.
Hermione sighed dramatically—and a little jokingly—as she approached the small alcove they’d claimed. It was secluded, tucked between two colossal stone pillars long overtaken by ivy. The two boys sat on one side of the alcove, with sandwiches spread out on paper towels between them. Ron was already stuffing his face with one, waving at Hermione, while Harry made room for her to sit in the middle of them, leaning back against the wall behind her.
“Thanks,” Hermione smiled gently.
Ron, having swallowed his mouthful of sandwich, said, “We got lunch for you as a birthday gift because we didn’t have time to get you anything. We didn’t want to show up empty-handed—my Mum would have a fit if she knew otherwise.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything, but I appreciate it,” Hermione beamed, touched by the simplicity of the gesture.
After a quick lunch, Hermione got out her list of questions and recorder so they could begin the interview. She checked it was working properly first before they began:
Hermione: This is Hermione Granger. I’m recording this on Thursday the 19th of September, 1991, at 12:34 pm. I have here with me Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who have agreed to be interviewed for my article in the Hogwarts Chronicle Newspaper. So, Harry, what was it like when you first found out you were magical?
Harry: It was unbelievable. I mean, I’d spent my whole life thinking there was something wrong with me because I kept doing accidental magic and I had no idea what it was. Then Hagrid showed up on my birthday and told me I was a wizard… It was so surreal—I felt like I was watching one of Dudley’s—that’s my cousin—shows on telly or something. I thought there had to be a mistake and for weeks afterwards, I kept thinking I’d wake up and find out it was all a dream.
Ron: Well, if it is a dream, you have an active imagination, mate.
Hermione: What about you, Ron? I mean I know you grew up in the wizarding world, but what was it like to get your acceptance letter?
Ron: Well, I felt relieved. I mean, yes I come from a magical family, but I was worried I’d be a squib or something. My Mum and Dad assured me that I’d done accidental magic so I was not a squib, but it wasn’t till I got my letter that I felt… I don’t know… assured, I guess.
Hermione: What about Diagon Alley? What were your first thoughts, Harry, and what was it like going for school supplies for yourself, Ron?
Harry: It was… I don’t think there are words to describe it. Getting my letter was one thing, but seeing the magical world and seeing other people like me was insane. It was also very overwhelming. There was so much to see and I wanted to buy everything—even things I didn’t need or would’ve wanted otherwise. Hagrid had to keep steering me on track because I’d get distracted by something in a shop window and almost get lost in the crowd. I think my favourite part though was getting my wand, for obvious reasons, but I also think Gringotts was so cool.
Ron: I’ve been to Diagon loads of times but it never gets old. Seems like there’s always something new to see or do, especially around the holidays when it gets busier. My favourite shop is Quality Quidditch Supplies, though. I love getting to see the new brooms when they’re on display.
Hermione: What stood out to you right away about the magical world, Harry?
Harry: I feel like everything I see for the first time is so shocking to me. I couldn’t believe how different it all was to the Muggle world and how normal it was for everyone. It seems obvious that it’d be different, but I feel like I’m being shocked constantly. The moving portraits terrified me for the first week or so, though. They’re kind of creepy.
Ron: I think it’s weirder that the Muggle world doesn’t have moving portraits. How boring!
Hermione: How peaceful more like. There’s nothing worse than trying to find your way about the castle and the portraits messing with you for fun.
Harry: I saw a fourth-year Gryffindor having a proper argument with our common room portrait in our first week because it wouldn’t let him in until he listened to her sing.
Ron: She’s a dreadful singer, too, which doesn’t help.
Hermione and Harry: [laughs in unison]
Hermione: Anyway… Where were we? [Checks notes] Ah yes… What were your first impressions of the Hogwarts Express and coming to Hogwarts for the first time?
Harry: I was terrified. I almost didn’t make it onto the platform because Hagrid accidentally left before telling me where the entrance was. Luckily I overheard Ron’s Mum and they helped me on. I was pretty nervous overall because it was all so loud and there were people everywhere who all seemed to know each other, but then I met Ron on the train and he was so talkative that all my nerves went away. Then I met you, Hermione, and Neville, too, which was nice. I can’t wait to do the trip again over Christmas when I’m not nervous so I can see what I missed out on, you know?
Ron: Personally, all of the snacks and sweets that Harry bought us on the train were the best part for me.
Harry: [laughs] Do you ever not think with your stomach?
Ron: [humming thoughtfully] Not really, no.
Hermione asked them a few more questions, like their first impressions of the Great Hall, their feelings around the sorting ceremony, something about the castle that they hadn’t expected, their favourite subjects so far, and their favourite place in the castle, before they moved onto questions that would hopefully help future muggleborn students with navigating the magical world.
Hermione: Is there something about the magical world that you think would surprise someone who grew up in the Muggle world?
Harry: Honestly, almost everything, which I know isn’t helpful. There’s so much to the magical world that I hadn’t even considered! But maybe how normal magic is to wizards—like using it for cleaning or cooking.
Ron: Maybe how big the wizarding world is. People think it’s just Hogwarts and Diagon Alley, but there’s so much more not just in the rest of the world, but in England, too.
Hermione: What advice would you give someone new to the magical world?
Harry: Hmm… I’d say that it’s fine to be overwhelmed, but once you learn your way around the castle it’s like a weight’s lifted off of your shoulders. Then you get to just enjoy Hogwarts and everything about it. I think being curious and sort of… uhm—what’s the word for it… immersing yourself in classes and extracurriculars takes away the homesickness and then before you know it, you’re doing okay.
Ron: I’d say not to be worried about not knowing everything. Nobody does—even us who grew up in the magical world. Like Harry said, just focus on getting to know the castle and classes and everything else will happen over time.
Hermione: That’s actually rather brilliant advice. I’m surprised [Hermione teases]
Ron: Hey! [breaks into laughter]
Hermione: [still laughing but trying to gather herself] Ok. What about any must-visit shops in Diagon Alley? What do you both recommend?
Ron: Well, obviously I’d suggest Quality Quidditch Supplies if you’re into flying or Quidditch. Even if you don’t buy anything, the gear is worth seeing. But there’s also Zonko’s Joke Shop—they have a shop in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade—and they sell lots of cool, funny stuff. Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour has the best, unique ice-cream flavours. My favourite is Sherbert Lemon or Gillyweed Gelato. If you’re looking for some less popular shops, though, I’d suggest The Muggle’s Matchbook. My father works for the Ministry in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department and he completely fell in love with the Muggle world. The Muggle’s Matchwork is his favourite shop in Diagon. The owner, Louisa, sells lots of Muggle items for wizards who are nervous about buying items for the first time. She also sells Muggle items that have safely been combined with magic—like record players. It’s rather fascinating.
Harry: Well, I haven’t explored Diagon Alley too much, but there are a couple of places I liked. The Leaky Cauldron is a classic favourite, but I also like Pippin’s Perks Cafe. I visited The Enchanted Stitchery, which is like a Muggle seamstress and they can adjust your clothes and offer cheaper alternatives than some of the bigger clothing stores in Diagon Alley. I’ll have to explore Diagon Alley more next summer, though.
Hermione: What about any magical books or stores that you’d suggest? Anything popular amongst wizarding families, or that you’ve read so far that you think would be helpful or insightful to read?
Harry: Well, I’ve only just started exploring some of the books available in the library [Harry sheepishly ran a hand through his hair] but Quidditch Through the Ages seems to be a favourite for anyone who loves flying. It has heaps of fascinating stories about how the game and rules evolved. Also, Hogwarts: A History seems to be another one people enjoy.
Ron: The Tales of Beedle the Bard. They’re wizarding children's bedtime stories, but with lessons and hidden meanings. My favourite is ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune’, but my mum always loved reading ‘The Wizard and the Hopping Pot’ to us as kids. I think they’d be good to any muggleborn who wants to see what we read as kids.
Hermione: What magical foods or sweets do you think everyone should try at least once?
Harry: I love Chocolate Frogs. They’re delicious, of course, but they come with these cards with famous witches and wizards on them. I’ve started making my own collection—though it’s nowhere near the size of Ron’s. He has like hundreds.
Ron: Five hundred and twenty, to be exact.
Harry: Oh, I’m sorry, Sir Ronald. Five hundred and twenty—how dare I make that mistake!
[Hermione and Harry laugh, whilst Ron pouts]
Ron: Anyways. Let’s ignore the two mean people! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans are fun to eat with friends. Just be careful—once I got a bogey-flavoured one, and it was awful. But treacle tart is probably one of my favourite desserts. I also like Fizzing Whizbees. They’re like this popping kind of sweet that lets off sparks and it’s like having fireworks in your mouth!
Hermione: Well, now that you’ve given enough ideas to rot someone’s teeth, let’s move on to the next question: What wizarding games or activities do you suggest to someone who’s never tried them before?
Harry: Flying, for sure. The first time I was on a broom was in our flying lessons, but the first time I properly got to fly was in the Quidditch Skirmish Club on the weekend and I’d never felt anything like it… I felt unstoppable.
Ron: Agreed. I also like Exploding Snap. It’s a card game but the cards literally explode—it can get chaotic. Also, Wizard’s Chess is another favourite, although it’s a little barbaric because the pieces are enchanted and will argue with you for making a bad move, fight with one another, and even destroy each other. The pieces repair themselves after the games over though.
Hermione: Ron, what’s your favourite magical holiday or tradition?
Ron: Christmas is my absolute favourite. My family always has a big celebration and we cover our house in enchanted lights. And we always get a proper Christmas tree and decorate it, but we also do some Yule celebrations. I’ve heard it’s a whole other thing at Hogwarts, though, so I’m most excited about that.
Hermione: What about you, Harry? What celebration are you most excited about?
Harry: Halloween sounds fun because of how they decorate the castle, but Halloween’s never really a fun time for me because, well—my parents died that day. [Harry goes quiet for a moment] But I’d have to agree that Christmas sounds like the most exciting.
Hermione: I’m sorry, Harry. I wasn’t thinking…
Harry: [smiling assuredly] It’s alright, Hermione, honestly.
Hermione: That’s all my questions for now anyway. [Pauses the recorder and checks her watch] Merlin, we need to get to Defence Against the Dark Arts. It starts in fifteen minutes!
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Hermione, Ron, and Harry raced through the corridors of Hogwarts, their footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls, the sound amplifying their frantic urgency. Fifteen minutes seemed like a long time until you were navigating the maze of moving staircases in a castle that had no regard for your schedule. And considering Professor Quirrell’s notorious dislike of tardiness, every second felt like an eternity.
“Oh no, we’re never gonna make it now,” Ron panted as they bounded up the stairs two at a time, his face flushed and his breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Quirrell’s gonna love taking points off of us.”
They managed at the last moment to scramble onto the moving staircases, which moved them up to the second floor. Without pause, they darted off and onto the next, which would take them up to the third floor.
On the third-floor landing, they stood for a moment trying to catch their breath. It was then that they realised they were on the wrong side of the third floor entirely.
“Oh crap—” Harry cursed as they watched the staircase move away from them, leaving them stranded with only one way to go.
Hermione didn’t even have it in her to scold Harry for his language as she checked her watch. They had ten minutes to make it to Defence Against the Dark Arts, and it would take them almost the entire ten if they waited for another staircase. “Come on, we’ll just go this way and loop around to the other side.”
A small corridor led off of the landing, at the end of which was a crossroads: they could go left, continue straight ahead, or go right.
“Which way?” Ron asked.
“Right,” Harry answered decisively. “The other ways would take us way too long to get where we need to go.”
Without further discussion, they hurried down the right corridor, none of them noticing the small, inconspicuous sign that read: No Students Past This Point. Danger!
The atmosphere of the corridor shifted the deeper they walked. The air was frigid, as though the stones themselves were exhaling some forgotten, ancient chill. Hermione’s arms alighted with chills even beneath her robes. Here there were no paintings—not even a window to offer the glow of the sun—only flickering torches that cast distorted shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally and oppressively around them. Even the faint hum of the castle had faded into nothingness.
“This corridor is terrifying,” Ron whispered as they passed unnervingly lifelike statues of golems, creatures and demon-like entities. Their cold, grey, lifeless figures felt like they were tracking them and the hair stood on Hermione’s neck in warning.
Unlike many of the other corridors in the school, this one didn’t have other pathways branching off of it and doorways leading to classrooms. Instead, there was one singular door at the far end.
The further they moved toward that door, the worse the corridor felt. An ancient, primordial thing felt like it resided over this hall, waiting to take them for its prey.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by the faintest of sounds. The unmistakable sound of something moving toward them. They turned toward the noise, but before any of them could react, Mrs Norris, Filch’s cat, appeared, slinking around the corner, her yellow eyes gleaming in the half-darkness. Her tail flicked slowly, and for a moment, Hermione swore the cat was sizing them up.
“Sniff around, my sweet. Students may be lurking…” Filch’s voice came from somewhere behind her, grating and filled with suspicion.
The trio froze, wide-eyed and fearful. Filch’s words made it clear they were in a forbidden part of the castle. There was no telling what kind of punishment they’d face if they were caught. Panic surged through them, and they quickly took off for that singular door at the end of the corridor.
Ron reached the door first, tugging on the handle desperately, but it didn’t budge. “Oh, now we’re really screwed!” he whispered, a note of despair in his voice.
“Move over,” Hermione said, pushing past him. She pulled out her wand, closing her eyes determinedly as she focused on that familiar spark of magic within, visualising it moving through her body like a fierce wave taking the shore. She felt it move to her wand hand and let it fill her fingertips, connecting with her wand, before she opened her eyes and whispered, “Alohomora.” With a soft click, the door opened.
She didn’t have the time to be surprised it’d worked as she shoved Harry and Ron in, forcing the door closed behind them just as Filch’s footsteps moved into the corridor.
“Which way did they go, my sweet?” Filch’s voice cooed as Mrs Norris sniffed around the door. The trio held their breath, praying they wouldn’t be caught. After a few tense moments, the sounds of Filch’s footsteps grew fainter, and they exhaled in relief.
“Alohomora?” Ron questioned as they gathered their bearings, Harry turning to survey where they’d ended up.
“Standard Book of Spells, Chapter Seven. Daphne told me about it,” Hermione answered simply, smiling to herself as she realised that she had actually done it; her first spell that she’d tried that they hadn’t learnt in class yet, and she’d done so without trouble. She wondered if it was her desperation that had made it happen, or if constantly using magic in classes was beginning to strengthen her magic somehow. She wanted to practice again tonight and see if she could do it again as a way to test her abilities, but for now, they had to focus on getting to class.
“Uhm… guys…I think I found out why we’re not supposed to be in here,” came Harry’s fear-filled voice.
Hermione turned to see what he was looking at and almost fainted with sheer terror.
For a moment, she was sure that she must be dreaming, or had hit her head after slipping on the stairs or something because what stood in front of her couldn’t possibly be real. Yet, there it was: a monstrous three-headed dog, so large its heads and sides brushed the walls and ceiling, its elephantine-sized feet planted protectively over what looked like a trapdoor.
Three pairs of glowing, merciless eyes narrowed on them. Saliva dripped from, forearm-long fangs—fangs that would easily take their heads off. All of them stood entirely still, echoing the beast's own stillness as it regarded them, noses twitching as it scented them. It was clear that the only reason it hadn’t attacked yet was that it seemed momentarily confused by their presence. That changed quickly, though. A low growl began to rumble from its chest, the sound vibrating through the floor and walls. It was a sound unlike anything Hermione had ever heard, and it was a sound she never wanted to hear again.
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as adrenaline filled her body with a feeling of fright-fight-freeze filling her—unfortunately for her, she was fairly certain she was in the ‘frozen’ stage. Ron yelped in alarm and flattened himself against the door, fumbling for the door handle frantically. As he managed to get it open, Harry tugged Hermione through the doorway just in time for the dog to lunge at them. They slammed the door shut and Harry took off, tugging Hermione behind him.
The trio didn’t stop until they were outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, where they bent over, panting and petrified.
“What are they doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” Ron gasped, clutching his side as he tried to catch his breath.
Hermione felt rather frozen still, her limbs unsteady and a little numb. She curled her fists, digging her nails into her palms until the pain shook her from her panic enough to think clearly. “I think it was guarding something—I saw a trapdoor on the floor.”
“Guarding something?” Harry repeated as they finally entered the classroom and took their seats. “What do you think it was guarding?”
“I have no clue, but I’m not sure I want to know,” Hermione admitted as she unloaded her supplies, hands still shaking.
“Well, regardless of what it’s protecting, we know what’s hidden on the third floor now,” Ron said, “And I don’t know about you, but I am more than happy to never go near it again!”
The bell rang, but the memory of the monstrous three-headed dog stayed with them, lingering like a shadow as they waited for Professor Quirrell to begin his lesson.
Professor Quirrell entered the classroom from his office, his robes seemed slightly askew, as though he had been hastily adjusting them. He greeted the class with a stammering "Good morning," before walking over to the desk and completing the roll call. His hands trembled as he marked down each student’s name before placing the parchment down and addressing them. "Today, we’ll begin learning defensive manoeuvers and positions. These are important, as they will prepare us for beginning to implement them in our spellwork next week."
As he turned to the blackboard, using his wand to write the words DEFENSIVE POSITIONS across it, Harry suddenly let out a soft, involuntary yelp. His hand shot up to his forehead and his fingers pressed against it as though trying to quell a sudden ache.
Hermione’s eyes immediately darted to him, concern alighting. "Are you alright?" she asked softly, voice filled with worry as she leaned closer to him.
Harry nodded slightly, though his face twisted in discomfort. "Yeah, just a headache. I get them often in this class," he muttered, voice strained as he rubbed at his scar. "I think it’s all the garlic."
Hermione watched him closely, brow furrowing. She had been noticing a pattern—the headaches always seemed to happen in Defence Against the Dark Arts class, though she wasn’t sure why. But what caught her attention now was the colour of the spot where Harry’s fingers had been pressing. When he pulled his hand away, Hermione’s eyes immediately fixed on his forehead. The scar—already a deep, jagged mark—was now flushed a bright, unnatural red, as though the skin surrounding it had been inflamed.
Hermione had never noticed it appearing that way before. The scar had always been sensitive to the touch, Harry had said once, but now it appeared more pronounced and irritated. She cast another glance at Harry before turning her attention back to Professor Quirrell, whose eyes had moved to the blackboard again, though he seemed unaware of the tension in the room. Hermione couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something more to Harry’s reaction than just garlic, but she also knew absolutely nothing about curse scars—in fact, hardly anyone did—and she certainly wouldn’t uncover anything about it in class.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Once classes were over, Hermione headed for her dorm. Her friends had all disappeared elsewhere, but Hermione didn’t mind as she used the time to finally open the present from her Mum.
She dropped her bag to the floor and settled onto her bed with the box. Using a pair of scissors to carefully cut the tape of the outer box, she retrieved another box from inside. Sitting on top was another note, this one short and reading: The box has been shrunken and charmed feather-light for the owl. Tap your wand on it and it will return to its original size. Hermione did as told and the box grew to over twice its original size.
The box was made of polished dark mahogany, with delicate silver filigree bordering its edges, forming a pattern of twisting vines and tiny blossoms that seemed alive beneath the glow of her side table lamp. In the centre of the lid, her name was inlaid in mother-of-pearl, with coiled serpents writhing around it.
A faint hum of magic seemed to radiate from the box, making it warm to the touch—the kind of warmth that felt lively, as though the box itself recognised her. The clasp was shaped like a serpent’s head, its eyes set with tiny emeralds that glittered. When she traced her fingers over the clasp, the serpent’s eyes seemed to follow her movements, and for a brief moment, she thought she heard a quiet voice.
Hermione opened the box and surveyed its contents, only to be surprised at the sheer amount of gifts inside, all of which had their own little notecards attached for explanations about who they were from.
From Andromeda, Hermione received a rather large stack of French books that had been kept in the Black family vault for many years now, and that she thought Hermione might enjoy: Victor Hugo’s Les Contemplations (a set of his poetry works), Marceline Chevalier’s Les Potions des Lumières (a potioneer and magical historian who specialised in the intersection of magic and philosophy during the Enlightenment), Margaux Lefèvre’s Histories Magiques de la Révolution Française (a book dedicated to uncovering wizard involvement in revolutionary movements), and Henri Rousseau’s Bestiaire de la France Sorcière (a magizoologist with a passion for French folklore and magical wildlife). Additionally from Andy, she’d been given a silver jewellery box engraved with her name and beautiful flowers and ivy around it, as well as a gold locket engraved with the family crest, and snakes and ivy—Andy said that the locket was imbued with protective spells, as well as charms that would make the locket heat up against her skin to warn her of imminent danger and that nobody but a member of the family should wear it for their own protection. Hermione immediately pulled it on around her neck, leaving the chain loose enough that it laid beneath her shirt where the crest could remain hidden, whilst she placed the jewellery box on her bedside table, and the books on her bookshelf.
From Tonks and Ted, she received a couple of sets of different gold earrings, shaped in stars, owls, flowers and suns, and some beautiful heavy, floral-shaped hairpins with gems in the centres in beautiful shades of green, red and blue colours.
From Adeline, she received a gorgeous bracelet with a star charm, little snake and a stack of books. She’d also gifted her an expensive and old-looking book on beginner runes with a note that said she could use it to begin learning about runes, and a beautiful leather wand holster that she could attach to her arm for safe, easy access to her wand.
From Celeste, she’d been given a large box of homemade Greek food, which once given to her Mum, had been put under a stasis charm by Andy. There was spanakopita, taramasalata, and tzatziki with freshly made pita bread, baklava and loukoumades. Hermione’s stomach immediately rumbled at the smell of it all, having missed Celeste’s cooking a rather lot.
From her Mum, she received a bottle of perfume called Aurora Mist, with notes of poppy, peony and white musk; a magical version of a cassette player and cassettes of all of Hermione’s favourite albums and music, with headphones so that she could listen to music while at Hogwarts; a beautiful fountain pen charmed with endless ink; an Egyptian book called The Tombkeepers Index, by Asenath Saqqara, which demonstrated all of the ways magic is used to protect ancient Egyptian sites and objects, like pyramids and tombs; a book called Women Who Changed the World by Katherine V. Dawes, which wrote about influential muggle and magical women across cultures and time; The Alchemist’s Daughter, by Meliora Flamel, a book written by the daughter of infamous Alcehmist Nicolas Flamel, which details her life as his daughter. Additionally, her Mum had bought her a new set of warm winter robes in a beautiful shade of maroon, as well as a matching scarf with a monogrammed H on it.
Hermione unpacked it all into her corner of her dormitory, smiling thankfully at it all filling her space and reminding her even more of home and all the people she held near and dear, before beginning to write thank you letter’s to everyone.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Hermione was about to head into the Great Hall for dinner when Adeline intercepted her. “Nope, no dinner tonight,” she said, giggling slightly as she tugged Hermione by the arm.
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, fighting against her hold. “I’m starving, Addie…”
“Just trust me,” Adeline said, tugging her back down toward the dungeons. However instead of bringing her in the direction of the common room, she pulled her in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see in a minute. Be patient.”
Adeline led her into a small hallway lined with portraits of food. She stopped at one of a bowl of food and tickled at a pear. “What in—” Hermione trailed off as the portrait and a large portion of the wall swung open into a cavernous room: the Hogwarts kitchens.
The space was far larger than she had imagined it to be. The low, vaulted ceiling was covered in the flickering light of candles that floated lazily above the tables and counters. Everywhere she looked, delicious-smelling food was being cooked up—a pot of stew bubbled gently on a stone hearth, freshly baked loaves of bread lined a long wooden counter, and large bowls filled with colourful seasoned vegetables.
The warmth of the kitchen was a stark contrast to the usually chilly corridors. The heat from the stoves and ovens made the air thick with the smell of roasting meats and sweet pastries, that were constantly pushed in and pulled out of the stoves and deposited onto the four long tables in the centre of the room that mimicked the house tables in the Great Hall. House elves bustled around, floating copper pots with practised ease, humming tunes to themselves as they prepared for dinnertime. Some were dressed in simple white uniforms with the Hogwarts emblem embroidered on the breast, while others wore brightly coloured scarves or bandanas in all manners of patterns.
But what drew her attention more was the group inside the kitchens—Daphne, Alana, Harry, Ron, Neville and Lily, who all shouted, “Surprise!” at her entrance.
They were stood before a circular table with enough chairs for all of them. The table was covered in an array of mouth-watering dishes: large platters of roast chicken and tender lamb, bowls of crispy roasted potatoes, mounds of soft, honeyed carrots, tangy salads, and thick slices of freshly baked bread. The rich aroma of the food was intoxicating and Hermione’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.
“What is this?” Hermione asked in what she could only describe as complete and utter surprise.
Alana waved Hermione over. “Dinner’s ready and you’re the guest of honour! Happy Birthday, ‘Mione.”
Hermione’s heart swelled with gratitude, eyes watering with how thankful she was. Hermione deposited herself into one of the chairs, the cozy glow of candles flickering in the centre and over their faces, basking them in a loving warmth.
They all dug into the food, piling their plates high. A house elf bustled over with a pitcher of orange juice and poured them all a glass. “Thank you!” Hermione beamed, “What’s your name?”
“Kessa, miss,” said the house elf.
Hermione held out her hand for it to shake. “It’s lovely to meet you, Kessa. My name’s Hermione,” Hermione said, “Could you please thank the other house-elves for this meal? It’s lovely!”
Kessa seemed to flush a little. “Yes, Miss Hermione. I will tell them.” She bowed her head and bustled away from the table back to what she was doing.
As the evening went on, the chatter never slowed, the table filled with the sound of laughter and joy.
As the last of dinner was cleared away, the focus shifted as a house elf brought over a large birthday cake. The cake itself was a little crooked, but effort had gone into decorating it regardless—a thick layer of pink frosting lined its outside, and delicate sugar flowers and other little emblems covered it. Twelve candles topped it.
“We made it ourselves,” Lily admitted sheepishly, “It’s a little messy but we did our best.”
“It’s incredible!” Hermione complimented, wiping away tears. “This is… thank you all so much. I never thought I’d have friends like you all… I was always the weird, know-it-all. But you all have made me feel so special and understood since we came to Hogwarts and I will never have the words to repay you all for any of it. Just know that I feel so lucky and grateful…”
Hermione tugged them all into a group hug that had them all laughing and smiling. When they pulled away, Alana tugged her over to the cake. “Come on, make a wish!”
Hermione looked around at her friends, letting the love and kindness of the weekend sink deep into her heart. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought about all she wanted, before settling on this: the safety and health of her friends and family. As she blew out the candles, the room erupted in cheers and claps—joined in by the house elves—and her friends began a terribly out of tune, but hilarious rendition of Happy Birthday.
Hermione cut the cake carefully and served them all a slice. It was as delicious as it looked. The soft, creamy frosting melted in Hermione’s mouth, the chocolate filling rich and perfect. As the last crumbs were eaten, the chatter grew softer as they relaxed, stuffed and happy. It had been the perfect birthday celebration—cozy, private and filled with good food and even better company.
“Best birthday ever,” Hermione whispered to herself, her heart full.