Chapter Sixteen
Hermione was near desperate for alone time and the chance to write to her Mum by the time the girls had all climbed into bed. Hermione had never been so thankful for a day to end—seriously, if one more person asked if she was alright, she might run off screaming into the night, never to return.
With how busy Hermione had been in recent weeks with classes, clubs, homework, friends and all the recent chaos, she’d barely written to her Mum, and she felt horrible about it. She knew her Mum wouldn’t mind or be upset about it, and that she’d understand Hermione being busy, but Hermione felt guilty regardless. After all, she’d made a promise to write at least weekly, but had spread herself so thin that she’d neglected the most important part of her life.
She certainly wouldn’t do it again. Her Mum was the one person in her life she could turn to about any and everything. She was incredibly rational and would tell Hermione what she needed to hear—something Hermione needed sometimes as a rather rational, unemotional person herself who relied on a non-emotional response to events in her life. Not to mention, her Mum existed entirely out of this world, not having any ties to it other than Hermione, and that meant she could give Hermione a perspective on things she couldn’t find elsewhere.
Hi Mama,
I’m sorry that I haven’t written in a few weeks. Things have been insanely busy and interesting here at Hogwarts—honestly, you won’t believe it.
Classes have been good, but we’ve picked up the pace, and it feels like I always have some kind of essay or homework in each class. It’s almost never-ending, but despite my exhaustion, I’m never tired of it. I love learning about this world, and all it has to offer, and I finally feel like I might have a grasp on it. Sometimes, at least. Other times, it’s like that time we went swimming with Celeste, Alexander, Marissa, and Cathryn, and I jumped into the pool on the deep end to show off, but nearly ended up drowning if it weren’t for Alexander fishing me out, while I choked on water.
I’ve been feeling a lot of that this week, Mama.
She went on to recount the chaotic events of the last few weeks: the detention in the Forbidden Forest and the troll. Putting it out into words surprisingly did lighten some of the burden on her shoulders, but left her with an entirely new one—her Mum’s reaction to it all.
Since I found out I had magic, I’ve felt invincible. I felt so powerful, because I had this magic that should be impossible, but the troll and the Voldemort incident showed me just how wrong I was. I feel silly for thinking that the existence of my magic suddenly makes me powerful and untouchable. It wasn’t till that moment in the bathroom that I realised what true fear was and how much it can take hold of you… I’ve spent the last day feeling like the troll was waiting for me behind every corner, ready to finish the job.
Everyone keeps asking if I’m alright, and I know they mean well, but the question is exhausting. Of course I’m not okay. Adeline and I were almost murdered. How could we possibly be okay? And some part of me wants to answer “no” but then what? What could they possibly say or do to fix it or make it better? Unless they have a time machine, there’s nothing they can do, so the question just feels empty, Mama. None of them could understand—not unless they were there, experiencing what we did. I’m glad they couldn’t, too, because I’d never wish that fear on anyone.
The other Slytherins and Gryffindors want to start a club now with all the other first years for us to practice our spells and learn to defend ourselves. It feels foolish and pointless. When I think about the troll, all I want to scream at them is “nothing you learn could’ve saved you.” But I can’t fault them for wanting to try… some part of me does, too, especially now that we know that Voldemort is somewhere out there, trying to get to whatever Dumbledore has hidden.
I wish we didn’t have to do this, or bother with these things. I wish we could go back to when memorising potion ingredients was our number one stress. But regardless of my feelings on the matter, it’s not up to me to decide their fates for them. We all deserve the opportunity to decide our roles in our lives, and I won’t take that from them.
Anyway. I’m sorry for dumping this all on you. I know you’re my Mum and I should come to you first, but I know how much you’ll worry when you get this, and that makes me feel guilty. But I promise Mum, I won’t go looking for trouble—although it always seems to find me. I just don’t want to keep secrets from you.
I’m really excited to see you at Christmas. You have no idea how much I miss you.
I hope you’re doing okay and that work isn’t too busy.
I love you,
Hermione x
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Lily was eating a rather large bowl of cereal—the Hufflepuff girl’s favourite food of all time. The bowl was so large that Hermione was pretty sure she’d somehow stolen a serving bowl to use instead of a normal one—when Hermione approached her in the Great Hall the following morning. “Hi, Lils. Do you mind if I sit for a minute?”
Lily looked up from her bowl, a droplet of milk pooling on the side of her mouth that she brushed at distractedly. “Oh, hey, Hermione. Of course.” She pushed her bookbag to the floor so that Hermione could take the seat to her left, rather than her right, where Susan was sitting mid-conversation with an older Hufflepuff girl. Immediately upon looking at her friend, Lily noticed the dark circles lining her brown eyes, and her frazzled hair that she hadn’t bothered to even attempt to tame—something unusual for Hermione, who usually wore it pulled out of her face. “Is everything alright? You look… well, stressed.”
“Yeah,” Hermione answered, trying her best to sound convincing, but even to herself it wasn’t the slightest bit believable. Instead, she moved to change the subject quickly before Lily asked any further about it. “Do you remember yesterday when I mentioned that secret? Well, something happened, and the others involved in it think that it’s time to include you all in on it—the Hufflepuff first years, that is.”
Lily blinked at Hermione in surprise. She didn’t speak for a moment, clearly trying to process the change in Hermione’s decision about the secret in only twenty-four hours. “Well, when I mentioned you being able to trust me with it, I didn’t mean you had to tell me the next day. It can wait, you know?”
“It’s hard to explain unless you know about it, but we agreed it’s in all our best interests. Besides, it’s not exactly right of us to keep it from you all when it’s—well, it’s complicated,” Hermione answered vaguely. “Do you think you can meet me at the Great Hall doors with the Hufflepuffs at five to ten?”
“It might take some wrangling and bribery, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Hermione said, unsure whether to feel relieved or anxious about her friend’s easy agreement, considering how she didn’t know what she was getting herself or the others into. “I wish I could stay longer, but I have some stuff to do before then. I’ll be back to get you all, though.”
“See you then,” Lily smiled. As Hermione turned to leave, Lily called back out to her, “Hey, Hermione… I don’t know what the secret is, but thank you for including us in on it regardless. It means a lot to me that you trust us and want to include us.”
Hermione sent a smile in return, but a spark of guilt lit to life in her belly, raging like an inferno until it consumed everything in its wake. She felt horrible that she hadn’t included not only the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from the beginning, but that she hadn’t included her friend, someone who meant a great deal to her. But for now, she needed to shove the guilt down. She could, as she undoubtedly would, stew over it later and let it take her apart. But she had things to do now, and if she let herself feel it, she wouldn’t make it to that meeting.
Instead, she took off on her mission for the morning. She headed downstairs to the kitchen. Inside, she was greeted by the organised chaos of house elves amid the breakfast rush. They deposited platters onto the four house table replicas, which disappeared upstairs to be replaced by empty platters, which were removed from the table to be washed and dried. Other elves were already in the process of preparing meats, vegetables, soups and side dishes for lunchtime. Hermione did her best to keep out of their way as she searched for Kessa, the house elf she’d met during her birthday dinner. Eventually, she found the house elf at the very end of the tables, standing on a small platform where she was sternly giving out orders to her army of co-workers. She looked for all the world like a much smaller Professor McGonagall leading her Transfiguration lessons like an army general.
Hermione waited until she had a lull in business before she approached. “Excuse me, Kessa. It’s Hermione. I’m not sure if you remember me—”
“Yes, yes, Miss Hermione. Of course I be remembering you!” Kessa said, her smile broad, green eyes bright against her pristine Hogwarts uniform. She reached out and took Hermione’s hand, but instead of shaking it, she patted it gently between both of hers. “How can I be helping you, Miss?”
“I don’t mean to be a nuisance, but I was wondering if you know of any house elves that could help me find a place to hold a student meeting?”
“Oh, of course, Miss Hermione. Remi!” Her voice was demanding but gentle still.
A house elf Hermione didn’t recognise—Remi, she presumed—appeared beside them. Remi had a mass of long curly white hair that was drawn out of his face into two tight braids to prevent it from impacting his work. The braids allowed Hermione to see more of his angular face, and his blue eyes that were a shade so dark Hermione thought they’d almost blend in with the depths of the ocean. He was dressed in the same uniform as Kessa and the other elves, but he clasped a homemade, bright floral towel that he dried his hands on before slinging it over his shoulder. “Yes, Miss Kessa?”
“Remi, this is Miss Hermione. She be one of the first-year Slytherins,” Kessa introduced. “She be looking for a room to hold a student meeting. Can you be helping her?”
Remi seemed ecstatic to be asked to help someone, and his head nodded so eagerly Hermione wouldn’t have been surprised if it had come off. “Of course. Come along, Miss Hermione.” He beckoned her through the throng of busy house elves doing their jobs. “We can talk and see what you be needing, and Remi will help you find it.”
“Thank you. Oh, and Remi, please just call me Hermione.” She smiled, following him out into the hallway, where they headed for the stairs that’d lead them one floor up to the ground floor and entrance hall. “What’s your job within the castle, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all, Hermione. Remi be very proud of his work and be loving talking about it.” His little shoulders shook with pride as they clambered their way further upstairs. “I be the head cleaning elf. It is a most important job! Dumbledore be needing a strong elf to lead the cleaning of the castle, so I take the job very seriously.”
‘We’d all be running around like headless chickens if it weren’t for you all keeping the castle clean and us fed,” Hermione said seriously. “I take it that you enjoy your job, then?”
Remi shot her a very serious look, as if deeply offended by the notion that he wouldn’t enjoy his job. “Oh yes, very much so. Mr Dumbledore be letting me work when other families said I be too old to be useful, he be letting me take all the days off I be wanting, and be paying me—real money! Mr Dumbledore be my favourite wizard,” he explained, “Now, what do you be needing in this meeting room?”
Hermione was glad that Remi loved working, and clearly, Dumbledore seemed to treat them well—much better than other people, that’s for sure. But she had a million more questions; questions that would have to unfortunately wait so she could focus on the task at hand and not waste too much of Remi’s time. “Well, we were meeting in an old classroom, but there won’t be enough space for what we need since our group is expanding and we need room to safely practice spell work. But you see, it’s a bit of a secret…” Hermione admitted, unsure of what Remi’s reaction would be. Considering his love for Dumbledore, he might outright refuse to assist her in what was clearly not an above-board request. She was hopeful, though, that he might let it slide and not ask too many questions: questions like, would they get in trouble if this club were discovered? To which Hermione could only answer: she had no clue, and would need to assess the school handbook for the answer—something she’d rather not have to do considering how long it was.
“Ah, Remi loves secrets, Miss Hermione! It’s why he be loving Hogwarts—so many secrets everywhere!” he giggled conspiringly, “I think I have just the place. Come along, I'll be showing you.”
He took them up to the seventh floor. It was a part of Hogwarts that Hermione had scarcely explored, considering none of her classes were up here. Most of this floor was used for the less popular elective lessons as the rooms up here were a little smaller and barer than the ones downstairs that were frequently used. Every other room they passed seemed to be untouched, unused storage rooms, dormitories for guests, and old teachers' offices. Remi paused outside a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls how to do ballet and paced in front of it three times.
Hermione watched in complete fascination as a door appeared in the wall as if it had always been there. It was enormous, towering high above her head, and was gilded with filigree carvings that gleamed as Remi seized the brass handle that was much larger than his hand and swung open the door.
Hermione was immediately taken by the grandeur of the room inside. It was at least half the size of the Great Hall, with dark cathedral ceilings over which shadows danced in the light of the dim flickering sconces and chandelier. One of the wainscotted walls was embedded by three floor-to-ceiling windows which looked out onto the school grounds, despite the fact that this room was an internal one, through which windows shouldn’t have been possible. To its left, as well as the wall holding the door, were covered by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, bursting to the seams with dusty books, objects and magical instruments. The final wall was covered by mirrors that had seen better days and needed a good polishing, as was the entire room, really. The stone floor was covered by an assortment of rugs and squishy mats to protect them and also keep out some of the chill coming from the floor. Around the border of the room were cushions, ottomans and armchairs in all shapes, sizes and colours. It left the middle of the room open for Hermione to walk through, spinning in a circle to take in the room and all it contained.
“It’s absolutely brilliant, Remi! It’s even better than I’d hoped for,” Hermione exclaimed, “What is this place? Why isn’t it used more often?”
“It be known as the Room of Requirement, or the Come and Go Room. We elves be knowing about it, but not many students do anymore. It presents itself as whatever you be seeking. Remi asked for a place for students to practice magic in secret, and it responded, but you could ask it for a toilet and it be doing so. You need only walk three times in front of the tapestry like I did and ask for what you be needing.”
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Remi had gone on to explain that if they both exited the room, it would close itself up, and they’d have to re-request it. Instead, Remi said he would remain behind in the room and do some quick dusting—to which Hermione attempted to explain that she could do the dusting another time. Remi gave her a dark enough look at the mere idea of her taking his role from him that Hermione quickly agreed to let him—while Hermione went to retrieve the other first years.
When she returned, she watched the same looks of wonder cross their faces as they entered, peering at everything. Remi said goodbye to Hermione, making her promise to be safe and call for him if she needed him, before he left them to their devices.
The door closing behind Remi seemed to break the silence, and Ron loudly exclaimed, “This place is barmy! How’d you find it, Hermione?”
“Remi, the house elf who was just in here, helped me find it.” She went on to explain how it worked, and Ron looked intrigued at the idea of testing the room to see what it could come up with.
They all took a while to survey the room, Hermione reading the spines of the endless amount of books, deciding she needed to come back at another time to read some of them—some that she’d never seen in the library, and looked old enough to need to be in the archives and not in a forgotten room. Eventually, though, they all maneuvered to the seats Remi had moved into a circle in the middle of the room.
Lily was the first to speak once they’d all taken their seats and settled in. “What’s this all about, Hermione?”
Hermione had thought her speech through all night and didn’t leave herself room for her nerves to kick in. Instead, she launched into an almost identical speech to which she’d given to Adeline and Harry, and then later the rest of the first-year Slytherins and Gryffindors. It was practically memorised, word for word, now.
It went a lot better than she imagined it would. Of course, there was lots of gasping, fear and anxiety, and understandably fear, which was shut down quickly with the help of those who’d already known and were able to back Hermione up. But all in all, it went rather well. They spent much of the next few hours discussing thoughts and opinions on the matter. They assessed their current first-year textbook to see what was masterable currently, and then threw around potential meeting times—which would need to be finalised within the next few days, as things were only going to get busier the further into the year they went, particularly as they drew closer to exam season.