Chapter Fifteen
When she finally did fall asleep, Hermione was greeted by the haunting presence of horridly vivid nightmares.
Each dream replayed the troll attack, but only worse than what had occurred: the professors not arriving in time, leaving her and Adeline to face the monstrous creature alone, with varying degrees of violence and gruesomeness by the end. Sometimes, it's club found its mark, tearing head from limb; other times, the troll did it with its bare hands, sending sprays of blood and limbs across the bathroom for all to find.
She’d wake in a panic, bolting upright in bed, hand clutched to her chest as she tried to steady the frantic galloping of her heartbeat in her chest and the harsh breaths that accompanied it, trying to calm herself before she woke the other girls. The terror would cling to her like a second skin, sweat dampening her clothes, face and sheets. Sitting up in the darkness, Hermione glanced around the dormitory, ears straining for any sound beyond the breaths of her sleeping dormmates or the crackling of the fireplace. What if it’s still out there? What if it came back? She’d think.
Then, she’d glance at Adeline sound asleep in the bed next to her, blankets clutched around her face. The rise and fall of her cousin’s breath and the peaceful expression on her face would ground Hermione in the present enough for her to slowly lay back down and lull herself back to sleep eventually.
Hermione gave up entirely on trying to fall back asleep when it hit six in the morning. She slipped out of bed as quietly as possible and slid her feet into slippers, tugging a jumper over her pyjamas as she went to keep out the growing winter chill. Grabbing her book—Les Contemplations by Victor Hugo, which she’d received for her birthday from Andy—she left the dormitory.
The Slytherins preferred a more quiet common room, but at six in the morning, that quietness was almost eerie. The crackling fireplace painted orange firelight over her face as she curled up in an armchair in front of one of the enormous, ornate hearths. She opened the book to the first part, Autrefois, while tucking her legs beneath herself. The words blurred with her mind still a little hazy from sleep and the events of the night before, hands still trembling gently around the pages. Hermione closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before opening them to focus intently on the poetry, letting the rhythm of the verses carry her mind elsewhere.
Un jour je vis, debout au bord des flots mouvants.
Passer, gonflant ses voiles. Un rapide navire enveloppé de vents.
De vagues et d'étoiles ;
Et j'entendis, penché sur Tabîme des cieux.
Que l'autre abîme touche. Me parler à Toreille une voix dont mes yeux
Ne voyaient pas la bouche :
— Poëte, tu fais bien ! poëte au triste front,
Tu rêves près des ondes, Et tu tires des mers bien des choses qui sont
Sous les vagues profondes !
La mer, c'est le Seigneur, que, misère ou bonheur. Tout destin montre et nomme ;
Le vent, c'est le Seigneur ; l'astre, c'est le Seigneur ; Le navire, c'est l'homme. —
15 juin 1839.
Hermione had never really been a poetry reader. It’s not that she found it unenjoyable, per se, but it didn’t stoke her mind or heart like a good novel did. And yet, she found the words to be quite the balm for her wrecked emotions. She hadn’t had a chance to read much for pleasure lately, drowning herself in academic books, and so she slowly sunk into the book, welcoming the distraction.
At seven-fifteen, other students were slowly passing and Hermione decided it was time for her to get ready for the day. Unfortunately, it was Friday so she still had classes, but thankfully it was only a single lesson of Herbology and study hall in the morning and afternoon, which was much easier to handle today of all days.
On her way to the dorms, she was pulled to the side by Gemma. “I was on rounds last night when Professor Snape told me about what happened with the troll,” she began, “Are you and Adeline both okay? I can’t imagine how terrifying that must’ve been.”
The image of the troll’s club flashed through her mind and Hermione’s stomach dropped drastically, nausea beginning a climb up her throat. “Y-Yeah,” she stammered, voice unconvincing. “It was pretty terrifying. It’s just lucky the professors got there in time—I don’t know what would’ve happened otherwise.”
Gemma’s expression softened. “Dumbledore and the other professors are investigating how it got into the castle. Trolls usually avoid places with strong human scents, so it must’ve been confused if it headed toward the castle.”
“I didn’t know that.” The fact, despite her lingering fear, was oddly interesting to Hermione, and had her wondering as well why it had come to the school if that was the case. “We haven’t learnt much about trolls yet in Defence. Maybe if we had, I wouldn’t have frozen like I did.”
Gemma frowned. “Hermione… a first year could not have taken on a troll. Even most fully trained wizards would struggle with one. I mean, it took multiple professors to subdue the thing. Not trying to fight it was the smartest thing you could’ve done. You and Adeline did exactly what you needed to survive.”
Hermione nodded, thankful for her words despite the little it did to unknot the helplessness she’d felt that refused to loosen in her chest. “Thanks for checking in on me,” Hermione said finally. “I should let you get to the showers, though, before it gets busy.”
“Tell Adeline that I’m glad she’s okay, too,” Gemma added. “Oh, and Hermione… if you ever want to talk—about the troll or anything else—I’m here to listen; not just as your Prefect, but as a friend.”
Hermione gave her a small smile of gratitude before continuing to the dormitory.
All eyes turned to Hermione when she entered.
As usual, Pansy was awake. She was sitting at her desk that she’d turned into a dressing table, brushing through her knotless hair in between sips of tea and a conversation with Millicent, who was sitting on the couch, watching Circe who was sprawled in front of the warmth of the fire, warming her belly. Alana was hunched over her desk, Herbology essay illuminated by her small desk lamp as she frantically checked it over for any final mistakes or changes before she handed it in today. Daphne and Tracey were awake, but both girls were hunkered beneath their blankets, not wanting to brave the slight draft in the air that remained in the dungeons no matter how many fireplaces they lit. Meanwhile, unsurprisingly, Adeline was still fast asleep in Hermione’s bed, now sprawled across it like a starfish.
“I was wondering where you’d gone,” Daphne spoke, sitting up in bed and pulling her blankets around her till she was like a burrito.
“I couldn’t sleep so I went to read in the common room,” Hermione answered as she retrieved her uniform. She changed her undergarments behind the cover of her open wardrobe door before pulling on tights, socks, her skirt and button-up, draping her outer robes and tie over her chair as she turned to fixing her hair. She brushed through it carefully before pulling it back with a claw clip, not having the energy to do anything more with it. The silence was palpable as she got ready, and Hermione finally sighed, turning to face them. “I’m alright, guys. I’m rattled, sure, but I’m certainly not going to break. Can we go pretend last night didn’t happen and just act normal, please?”
The girls exchanged uncertain glances before nodding.
Pansy, however, took Hermione’s words in stride as she said, “I, for one, am disappointed that I didn’t get to claim your bed for myself. You’ve got a rather nice view of the Black Lake.”
"Pansy!" Tracey gasped, horrified at her friend's gall.
But Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the room. "Think again, Parkinson. I’m not going anywhere."
"Unfortunately," Pansy replied with mock disappointment, though the glint in her eye betrayed her amusement.
Telling the girls that she was okay was at best an overexaggeration, and at worst, a complete and utter lie. Because despite her brave face, Hermione felt anything but okay. The memory of the troll was a shadow that darkened her every thought, hanging around her like a heavy winter cloak till it was almost suffocating. It wasn’t just the fear she felt—it was the helplessness; the sheer vulnerability she’d felt in that moment. It felt worse than the Forbidden Forest, somehow, which confused Hermione. How could a troll encounter be more terrifying to her than a genuine encounter with a dark wizard intent on killing Harry personally?
Perhaps it was because in the Forbidden Forest, Professor Snape had been there an entire time; a barrier of strength between the students and Voldemort. Maybe it had given her some child-like hope that no matter what, as long as Snape stood between them, Voldemort couldn’t hurt them. But in the bathroom, it had been just her and Adeline, two first years with barely a lick of magic between them, much less something strong enough to protect one another. The terror in Adeline’s eyes, the roar of the troll, the sound of splintering wood and tile were all seared into Hermione’s mind.
Her hands trembled as she packed her schoolbag, emptying and refilling it unnecessarily just to keep them busy. She knew if she let herself dwell on the fear, if she allowed the cracks to show, she might shatter completely.
But if she admitted to the girls how rattled she was, they’d look at her like she was a glass with a crack in it, waiting for just the amount of pressure to shatter into a million tiny, unfixable pieces. And if she succumbed to all of the feelings inside of her, she wasn’t sure what would come out and when, or even if, she’d ever be able to get herself together again. Hermione hated the thought of all the fussing, attention and looks of pity, as if she was now something fragile.
So, she lied or overexaggerated or did whatever it took to keep the status quo and her sanity in tact.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
All day, Hermione tried to avoid the pitiful looks sent her and Adeline’s way. The story of last evening had spread like wildfire as all rumours did at Hogwarts, and Hermione hated the attention it brought with it.
She spent much of her day in the library, tucked as deep inside it as possible to avoid encountering anyone and their potential questions. She was rather ahead in her homework—weeks ahead, which was more preferable to Hermione than being exactly on time—and as such had begun some preliminary planning for her research projects.
She’d decided to begin with creating mind maps for each topic, allowing her to jot down areas of focus that came to mind for each research project, people she might want to interview to gather some more real-world expertise, and keep track of any books or materials she’d come across that might prove fruitful.
Focusing on one topic at a time was what Hermione found difficult, as her mind was a constant jumble of ideas and theories, like a hamster running on a wheel. She’d picked Charms as her first research project to work on. She had her first year textbook, of course, but she also browsed the ‘Academics’ Section of the library, which stored all of the textbooks and other academic material students had ever had on their syllabus, and got out all recent Charms textbooks, first year through to seventh, for anything of relation to her project.
She jotted down specific charms that she wanted to look further into—Scourgify, Reparo, Tergeo, and a few others that weren’t only for cleaning or repairing, but also how spells like Lumos or Accio could be used in the day-to-day life of wizards and witches—and noted any books that were referenced in the textbook to look into further at another time. It took up a lot more time than she thought it would, and so she was surprised when she looked up from her work to see Lily standing in front of her, clutching her books.
“Hi, Hermione,” Lily greeted, “I was just looking for a book for Defence when I saw you. I didn’t want to bring it up in Herbology around everyone else, but I just wanted to check on you after what happened—you know, with the troll?”
“Oh, right.” Hermione set down her quill, checking her watch—it was past four. Hermione closed the textbooks she’d been reading, stacking them to return them to their shelves. “Walk and talk?” Hermione asked, holding up the textbooks.
“What’s all that for?”
“My charms research project,” Hermione answered, “I’ve started planning out the bare bones and getting some ideas for later. I thought that old textbooks might be a good place to start for some inspiration.”
“Jeez, Hermione. We don’t have to submit them until exams,” Lily chuckled. “I think you have some time.”
Hermione shrugged, shelving the first year textbooks back in their correct places. “Perhaps. But I want to be ahead so that I don’t have to stress about it during exam season. I’d lose my mind trying to juggle finishing the projects up while revising.”
“Good idea,” Lily hummed thoughtfully. “So, how are you doing?”
“Considering how much worse it could’ve been, I’m doing alright,” Hermione said. “Honestly, I’m just trying to forget it and not think about all the what-if’s.”
Lily took some of the textbooks from Hermione’s arms, lightening her load drastically. “You don’t have to forget it, you know? That was surely a traumatic experience and it’s okay to be upset and scared about it. God knows I would’ve had to be sedated if I had been you in that situation.”
“I almost wished I had been sedated,” Hermione mused, “You’re right, it’s just a lot to deal with while also trying to focus on everything else going on.”
“Hermione, I bet you’re ridiculously ahead of your homework. You can take some time off and you still wouldn’t be close to being behind.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Hermione sighed, looking around them for any other students while she shelved the last of the textbooks. “There’s some other stuff going on at Hogwarts, but I promised those involved that I wouldn’t say anything without their approval.” Lily frowned, clearly upset that Hermione wasn’t going to share what was going on, but Hermione refused to betray the other’s trust in an agreement she’d forced them all to make. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon, Lily. But for now, just be glad you don’t have to know—it’s kind of a lot to deal with…”
“I won’t pretend to not be upset that you’re being all cryptic, but I trust you, Hermione,” Lily said eventually. “And when you’re ready to tell me, I’ll be here to listen. Besides, I didn’t come to grill you, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. How’s Adeline doing?”
“Adeline’s… I think she’s alright,” Hermione said eventually, “But you know Adeline. She’s even more secretive than I am when it comes to her feelings. She wrote to Tonks, her cousin, who’s an Auror, to see if she’s heard anything about how the troll got into the castle or if she can just offer some comfort, I guess. So, we’ll see what she says.”
“Well, tell her I’m thinking of her,” Lily smiled. “I should get back to the common room. One of the fifth year Hufflepuffs is helping me with my Defence spells—my stance has been rather shoddy.”
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
“What are we doing?” Hermione asked when Adeline intercepted her on her walk back to the common room from the library, taking her arm and leading her in the direction of their usual meeting room.
“All I know is that Daphne told me to get you while she got the others. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s about last night.”
Hermione sighed, pulling back on Adeline’s hold so they stopped in step in the middle of the corridor. “I don’t want to have to talk about it again, Adeline. I’ve already had Lily and Gemma ask me today if we’re alright, and that’s not including all the looks we’ve been getting.”
Adeline looked at her with a scolding expression before continuing to pull her along the corridor.“They just care about us, Hermione. It’s a good thing.”
“I know. Pity just gives me the heebie jeebies.”
“Honestly,” Adeline snorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”
The other Gryffindors and Slytherins were already in the classroom, some sat down in the circle of chairs still there from last time, others standing in groups chatting. When they noticed Adeline and Hermione had arrived, they broke apart from their conversations.
“Finally, they grace us with their presence,” Ron teased, grinning.
Adeline whacked him gently on his arm as she passed him to take a seat in between Alana and Hermione, Daphne on Alana’s other side. “Shut it, Weasley.”
Hermione sat down, tentatively crossing her legs, unsure what this meeting was for. “What’s going on?”
Daphne stood, looking for all the world like a general leading her soldiers into battle. “I called this meeting about what happened last night.”
Hermione sighed. “Daphne—”
“No, Hermione,” Daphne interrupted firmly, tone brokering no argument. “What happened last night needs to be discussed. I can’t imagine how terrifying that must’ve been for you and Adeline, and to know that it could’ve been any of us—that any student could’ve almost be killed—is… it’s horrifying, to say the least.”
“What Daphne’s trying to say in too many words,” Pansy chimed in, “Is that neither of you could even protect yourselves, and what’s the point of having magic if we can’t even do that?”
“Nobody who’s a student would’ve been able to do what the professors did, Pansy,” Hermione pointed out, “Gemma told me this morning that even most fully trained wizards and witches would’ve struggled.”
“It shouldn’t be that way, though!” Daphne exclaimed, “I mean, we came to Hogwarts to learn magic, and yes magic comes in all forms, but what’s the point of learning all about these creatures if we’d never even be able to defend ourselves against them? Not to mention, if Voldemort is truly back, that means that when he’s back to power—and don’t be foolish enough to believe that won’t happen—his Death Eaters will resurface, and how would we protect ourselves then when things inevitably start up like they were before?”
“What are Death Eaters?” Harry interrupted, looking confused.
“They were his followers,” Adeline murmured, “My mother and father were both in his inner circle of Death Eaters, but you’d be surprised how many wizards and witches joined his cause… Creatures and Beings, too, when he promised them rights that he never intended to act on.” She turned to Hermione then. “Daphne’s right, Hermione… I mean, I don’t know about you, but I hated how helpless I felt last night. I hated the feeling of waiting for my death because I had no means to fight for my life. I don’t ever want to feel that way again—no matter who or what I’m up against.”
“So what are you all proposing?” Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair that had come loose at some stage from her claw clip, haloing around her head in a tangle of curls.
“We make a little secretive club here—” Theo stated, gesturing around at the classroom, “Or somewhere else and train ourselves. Not only in mastering this year's curriculum, but the other years, too.”
“Are you all positively insane? I mean, do you hear yourselves?” Hermione huffed, looking around at them all. “We all have only just learnt Lumos, for God's sake. There’s no way we could possibly learn even next year’s curriculum yet.”
“That’s what practice is for,” Parvati said, “Besides, while I don’t quite believe yet that You-Know-Who is back, I don’t ever want to feel helpless like you and Adeline felt last night, Hermione. And it doesn’t mean that we immediately jump in to doing seventh year spells—we’re not suicidal—but we can work on mastering our current repertoire of spells and curriculum and learn how to use them. A Lumos, for example, might seem useless for anything other than lighting a room, but imagine if someone tried to attack you. If you had a strong enough Lumos, you could blind them temporarily to give yourself time to run or escape.”
“It’s a good idea, Hermione,” Harry commented, looking imploringly at her.
“Okay, okay, fine,” Hermione said eventually, seeing that she was outnumbered. “But I have two conditions. One, we need a bigger space than this—a room this small is too much of a risk to be doing spells. We’d risk hitting one another. And two, we include the other first years.”
“What?!” Draco exclaimed, “Wasn’t it your idea to keep it secret in the first place?!”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed, “But think of it like this. If you were in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, wouldn’t you feel betrayed that you were left out—not only for safety reasons, but imagine the rest of your year working on bettering their magic, and you not having that chance. Plus, official clubs have to be approved by a Head of House or Headmaster Dumbledore. If we want to keep this secret from the other years for now, we’ll need a good excuse for why we’re all meeting. If we included the other year’s, we could disguise it as a first year study group to help one another with our lessons.”
“Huh,” Daphne hummed, “That’s a good point. It’s got my vote.”
“Me too,” Adeline said.
“And me,” said Alana.
They went around the room and voted. Luckily, everyone seemed to agree and it was decided: they’d include the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.
“I can get Lily to gather the Hufflepuffs,” Hermione said, “Does anyone know any Ravenclaws?”
“My sisters in Ravenclaw,” Parvati responded, “I can get her to help.”
“So, it’s agreed. Tomorrow we’ll bring them down here and tell them,” Daphne said finally. “Although I think we’ll need a lot more chairs.”
“Everyone, think it over tonight and see if you can come up with any better meeting places. If we don’t come up with anything, we’ll meet here tomorrow at ten in the morning,” Harry said.