Chapter 9
The sound of turning pages echoed softly in the Forbidden Section of the library, a faint whisper reverberating through the air. Dim light fell onto the ancient tome, and the girl remained engrossed in her search. The noise outside faded away, leaving her alone with the towering stacks of hefty books. Hermione sat at an old wooden desk, cluttered with books and disorganized notes, her focus unwavering. The dark, intricate scripts within the ancient books drew her in. Each tome had been thoroughly examined and marked. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, a few strands slipping into her face. She brushed them aside absentmindedly, her eyes fixed intently on the words before her.
She scrutinized the blurred ancient texts with great care, ensuring no detail escaped her. The desk rattled slightly with her every movement. She bit the end of her quill before returning to write, her hand resting on her chin for support. Picking up a heavy book, she took in the bold, decisive lettering. Each line, each word oozed danger and malice.
Opening a larger book, she encountered slanted script resembling mysterious symbols. They weren’t in English or any language she knew. Ancient spells, dark enchantments written in unfamiliar characters, held a power only the brave or the foolhardy would dare confront. Each sentence pulled at her mind, compelling her to decipher every part, leaving nothing unexplored. Some of the books were familiar names she'd heard of, while others had been banned for decades. What were they even doing here, in a school?
Outside, a light breeze whistled through the window, carrying the late evening chill. Hermione remained oblivious to how quickly time had passed. Dinner had long since been forgotten as her eyes stayed glued to the tome, her mind detached from the world beyond. Everything around her blurred into insignificance, leaving only the words on the pages to occupy her thoughts.
The silence was so profound she could hear the faint thrum of her heartbeat and her occasional sighs. Leaning back, she stretched her tired body. A deep breath escaped her as she noticed the night sky outside, pitch black. She had lost herself in the books, unaware of time slipping away. The gnawing emptiness in her stomach irked her. Glancing at the window, she felt the chill breeze waft in again. Cold. But she welcomed it.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to sense her surroundings fully. Right now, her focus was on the Room of Requirement, dark magic, and "Drake." These spells, once deemed far too dangerous and untouchable, now lay open before her. The consequences no longer mattered as long as they served her purpose.
One day, she might need these spells. Experimenting now wouldn’t hurt. What if she cast Crucio on someone? Or Imperius, perhaps even Avada Kedavra? But then, would she still be Hermione Granger, the perfect Gryffindor in everyone's eyes? Or would she become a "monster" disguised as a student of noble ideals? These dark arts, once the domain of Death Eaters or Voldemort himself, now tempted her—a Muggle-born.
She laughed softly at herself, amused by her own foolish musings. A slip of parchment on the desk caught her attention as new words appeared:
Skipping meals to poison yourself, Granger?Or are you still absorbed in that damn book?
Sitting upright, she picked up the note and read it. Instead of replying, she simply held her quill above the parchment, unmoving.
I know you're there, Granger.
Silence.
Answer me.
Silence.
Siren. Now!
Satisfied with his impatience, she finally relaxed. Closing the book beside her, she slid it into her bag.
Concerned for me? she wrote.
No, just making sure you’re not dead under that cursed pile of books.
She bit her lower lip and wrote back, her tone indifferent.
Fine.
Good. Those books might drain your blood dry. Don’t skip meals. The words paused, the sender seemingly considering his choice of tone. She smirked faintly. I have more to discuss with you about the room. Don’t die before then.
Thanks for the reminder. But don’t concern yourself with whether I skip meals or not. I won’t die before I know everything.
She glanced away, her expression contemplative.
Tomorrow, I’ll answer your questions. Keep this parchment with you at all times.
How many questions did she have? She wanted to know everything, to claim it all as her own. Could this person truly satisfy her curiosity? Not just about the room but about himself as well.
At all times? Even during private moments, Drake?
She waited, thinking he might leave the question unanswered. But his response surprised her.
Yes. You’ll have to set aside your satisfaction if you want answers, Siren.
Siren. It was the third time he’d called her that. The name slid into the corners of her mind like a sharp blade. Siren—the enchanter. But was she truly enchanting anyone, or only herself? The name felt like a small secret between them, a thread tying two strangers together. She wondered who her mysterious collaborator really was.
Why do you even want to tell me these things?
Her quill hovered over the parchment, hesitation creeping in. Reason overpowered curiosity, and she stopped writing, waiting instead. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. Releasing it heavily, she read his reply when it finally came.
I’ve wondered when you’d ask me that. It’s a secret. I’ll tell you later.
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The Gryffindor common room was alive with warmth, the fire casting its glow across the space. Groups of students gathered, voices rising in animated chatter. Hermione pushed open the wooden door, stepping into the cozy atmosphere. The unusual liveliness tugged her out of the dark, dangerous world she'd been immersed in moments ago. She was startled to find everyone together—such a rare sight.
Ginny, seated by the fireplace, waved her over enthusiastically. Hermione approached, scanning the group of familiar faces—Neville, Dean, Parvati—who all greeted her warmly.
Ginny quickly pulled her down into a chair. “Hermione, listen! We’re planning a grand Halloween party! But it’ll include students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too,” Ginny paused for dramatic effect. “Maybe even Slytherin. Some of their boys are quite charming.”
Ginny winked, prompting laughter from the girls. The boys grimaced in unison. Gryffindor and Slytherin celebrating Halloween together? It was an entirely novel idea.
“I’m dressing as a vampire!” Dean declared, pretending to bare fangs. The room erupted in laughter. “I’ll be the most dashing vampire ever!”
A girl quipped, “But you’d burn in the sunlight. Better wear sunscreen if you want to survive.”
The room buzzed with excitement as everyone shared their costume ideas. Laughter filled the air, and playful teasing followed.
“I can’t wait for the party! I’ll be the most stunning witch there and make Harry put that book down,” Ginny proclaimed, determined.
Hermione raised a brow. “That book again? Don’t tell me he’s still carrying it everywhere.”
Ginny nodded in exasperation. “He doesn’t even look at me!”
Harry’s obsession with the old Potions book had grown. Though Hermione knew it had earned him high marks and Slughorn’s praises, its influence on him was undeniable—The Half-Blood Prince’s book.
“But how will we invite the others?” Neville asked cautiously. “Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are fine, but Slytherin? You know we don’t get along with them, right, Ginny?”
The room quieted, everyone turning to Ginny, who seemed unsure herself. Gryffindors had no real ties to Slytherins. Even casual interaction was rare, let alone socializing.
Ginny’s eyes lit up as she turned to Hermione, clutching her hand tightly. “Hermione, you could help us invite them! You’re close with Nott, aren’t you? Can you?”
Hermione hesitated. Since that day at the pub, she hadn’t spoken to Theo or Blaise. While they might seem friendly, convincing them to join a party was another matter. Theo agreeing was uncertain, let alone inviting others.
Before she could ponder further, the note in her pocket vibrated. The parchment—her communication with "Drake." His words from yesterday echoed in her mind. He would explain her doubts.
Caught between the room’s boisterous energy and the cold, precise words on the note, Hermione didn’t need long to decide.
“Sorry, Ginny. I’ll talk to Theo later. I’ve got something to do now.” She quickly stood, waving at her friends. They nodded understandingly, not stopping her.
“I’ll wait for your answer!” Ginny called, turning back to the others as they resumed planning the party.