Chapter 2
Throughout the fall, Hermione became more and more stressed. All the classes she attended and her homework piled up and she started spending most lunch breaks and all evenings doing homework.
On top of that, she discovered something about Professor Lupin because of the essay they had to write for Professor Snape when he substituted Defence Against the Dark Arts. She couldn’t believe that Professor Dumbledore would hire a literal Werewolf to be their teacher. She kept her discovery to herself though because she didn’t want anyone else to panic and if she was honest, Professor Lupin was one of the best teachers she had ever had.
In her opinion, nobody was as good as Professor McGonagall, and she also loved Professor Vector, who taught her new favourite subject Arithmancy. Still, Lupin was a very close third and also seemed unable to harm even a mouse, let alone a human.
Next to school work, her private life became much more complicated, too.
The Weasley twins had given Harry some ludicrous map that enabled him to find a secret passage leading to Hogsmeade. Harry had followed them there on their last weekend out, even though he wasn’t allowed to go and through some unfortunate circumstances, they had found out that Sirius Black had once been friends with Harry’s parents and was Harry’s godfather. Not only that, Black was also responsible for the deaths of Harry’s parents because he had been their secret keeper, supposedly hiding them from You-Know-Who but eventually betraying them.
Harry had been devastated since finding out and Hermione tried her best to support him and make him feel better while at the same time keeping up with her schedule and all the work she had to complete. But she started to struggle. She was sure Harry was about to do something stupid given the chance. Also, she wanted him to hand the map in to Professor McGonagall but she didn’t want to start a fight with him as long as he was so upset. So she let him be.
On top of it all, Hagrid had received an invitation for a formal hearing concerning Buckbeak’s attack on Draco Malfoy and Hermione had also started to do some research, helping him to prepare for that.
Honestly, she was exhausted all the time, and so happy when it was finally Christmas Break.
On Christmas Morning, Hermione woke up to find a small pile of presents at the foot of her four-poster bed. She was alone in her dormitory since both Parvati and Lavender went home to spend Christmas with their families. Hermione had decided to stay and get as much work done as possible. Also, she appreciated an empty dormitory.
She got up, scratched Crookshanks’ head, who had slept cuddled up into her side, and put on her robe before starting to unpack her presents. There was a card and some sugar-free sweets along with a book she had long wanted and a nice, warm sweater from her parents. Hermione appreciated the small gifts her parents usually sent her at Christmas. She missed them a little more this year. She also got some chocolate frogs from Ron, a new diary from Harry and a packet of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans from Ginny. Mrs Weasley sent her some home-made cookies.
As Hermione put away the small tin of baked goods, Crookshanks jumped onto her lap and demanded to be pet. She laughed softly and stretched a little to reach the last slender packet and card. It was wrapped in some nice, dark green paper, the script on the dark green envelope neat. Opening the card first, Hermione took it out of the envelope to read.
Dear Hermione,
Merry Christmas!
You must be wondering why I’m sending you a present for Christmas. I honestly just wanted to thank you again for the way you helped us at the match against Slytherin. Even though we ultimately lost, I hope you know it wasn’t your fault — you were actually the biggest help that day. I asked my mum if it’s appropriate to send you a gift and she thought it was a great idea. So, I hope you don’t mind.
First, I thought about giving you a book about quidditch because Potter told me you aren’t really that interested in the sport. I thought that needed to change. However, I wondered what you would like to get and maybe also what you would need and I changed my mind.
The quill you can find in the box is a hawk quill I bought at Diagon Alley. My mum told me, hawks symbolise courage (like Gryffindor), strength, and clear vision. They also sometimes stand for wisdom, so I thought it was quite fitting. I knew you wouldn’t need a Smart-Answer quill or a Spell-Checking quill as no quill’s answer would be as smart or correctly written as your own. So, I just went for the one I thought was prettiest. I hope you like it.
I hope you’ll have a nice Christmas break. Don’t do too much homework. Everybody needs a break sometimes, at least that’s what my dad says.
Yours,
Oliver Wood
For a moment, Hermione couldn’t believe what she had just read. Oliver Wood had given her a present for Christmas! Was that really happening? Her crush was back with full force straight away.
She put the card down, took the slender box and carefully unwrapped it. When she dropped it, Crookshanks jumped onto the floor to play with it. Then Hermione opened the box. In it was one of the prettiest quills she had ever seen. It was the perfect blend of white and brown stripes with a fully brown tip. When Hermione took it into her hands, she was amazed because it had such a nice grip and a great balance. She was looking forward to using it for her homework later today.
Also, her heart was pounding hard, and she noticed that she couldn’t stop smiling. She touched his signature with her fingers for a second. Then she closed the box again, and set it neatly onto her bedside table before putting the card back into the envelope and sliding it beneath her pillow.
Grabbing Crookshanks, Hermione decided to go and say good morning to Harry and Ron before getting dressed. She twirled on her way to the door.
So, Christmas Morning was great until Harry opened his presents and found the Firebolt. No matter how often Hermione explained that nobody would send Harry such an expensive broom out of the goodness of their hearts, Harry and Ron wouldn’t believe her. Ron was worse than Harry, already angry at her for bringing Crookshanks into their dormitory that morning. Ron was furious at her and Hermione felt utterly alone yet again. She spent the morning in her dormitory, doing homework and trying to enjoy Oliver’s gift for as long as possible. She knew, if she went through with what she was planning to do, he would quickly start hating her as well.
After lunch, which became more irritating once Professor Trelawney arrived, Hermione stayed back in the Great Hall to talk to Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt, which resulted in the confiscation of the broom by their Head of House, who agreed with her. Things went downhill from here on out.
Not only did Harry and Ron not talk to her anymore throughout the rest of Christmas break, but her classes would become even more stressful and on top of it all, Oliver Wood hated her just like she thought he would.
Hermione overheard him talking to Harry the night before term started. When their conversation was over, Wood was as white as a sheet, nervously running his hand through his hair and pacing back and forth.
“I’ll go and talk to her, Harry,” he promised earnestly. “I’ll make her see reason… a Firebolt… a real Firebolt, on our team… she wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do… I’ll make her see sense… a Firebolt…”
Hermione made sure to avoid Oliver Wood that evening.
At lunch the next day, he stopped behind her, close to fuming. Hermione knew she couldn’t get away. She felt sorry for herself and wished she had thanked him for the beautiful quill before.
“Why did you tell Professor McGonagall to take away Potter’s Firebolt, Granger? Do you want us to lose the Quidditch Cup?” he asked in disbelief.
His words hurt, especially as he only used her surname again, but they made her angry at the same time and she was thankful for it. At least she could talk to him without blushing furiously or crying this way.
“I did not tell her to take it away, I only made her aware of how implausible it is for anyone to randomly gift Harry something this expensive. And we know that a mass murderer is trying to kill him, so it could’ve been Sirius Black who sent it. It’s only reasonable to check that broom thoroughly!”
She spoke without turning around to face him. Wood still stood behind her, eyes wide in further disbelief.
“Broom?! BROOM?! Granger, this is a bloody Firebolt, a brand new one, too! Don’t you think we’d know if Sirius Black strolled down Diagon Alley and entered Quality Quidditch Supplies to purchase a freaking Firebolt?”
Hearing Ron, who sat a few seats away from her — because of course, he was still not talking to her and neither was Harry — snort loudly into his mashed potatoes, Hermione decided lunch was over. Grabbing her book bag from the seat beside herself, she stood up and looked at Wood angrily.
“Well, just for your information, I do care about Gryffindor winning the Cup but I care more about Harry’s well-being! And so should you, to be honest!”
And with that, she left the Great Hall without looking back. She didn’t want to see Oliver’s angry face. All she wanted to remember was how nice he had been to her before all this. She didn’t notice Harry looking after her.
From that moment on, she avoided all three of them and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. If she was being honest, she didn’t even have time to care for their grudge against her because she had too much homework to do. To be even more precise, she barely spoke to anyone anymore and became increasingly lonely.
Still, Hermione was sure that she had done the right thing in protecting Harry. She only hoped he was making progress in finding a solution for the Dementors.
One afternoon, walking through the corridor, Hermione heard loud voices from a classroom in front of her.
“Aunt Min, you cannot be serious! The Firebolt is fine! There is nothing wrong with it! And we need it back right now!” Oliver Wood’s voice came through the open door.
Hermione, always a curious witch even though she didn’t want to get into any more trouble with the quidditch captain, slowed down a little. She admittedly liked listening to his voice and his accent. And who was Oliver talking to?
“Ollie, lad, Potter will get his broomstick back as soon as possible, but you have to admit that Miss Granger is right. It isn’t very likely for someone to give such an expensive gift to Potter. I know because I was the one who got him his last broom, remember?”
Hermione blinked in surprise. Professor McGonagall was Oliver Wood’s aunt? She had never known.
“But Aunt Min, if you don’t give it back to Potter, we are going to lose the next match! He has to practise to get a feeling for it. As long as Potter catches the Snitch first, the broom can throw him off afterwards for all I care. Do you want us to lose the Cup, like Granger?”
“You honestly have to get your priorities straight — Potter’s health is much more important than any Quidditch Cup could ever be, don’t you think? And don’t be ridiculous, Ollie, you know I want Gryffindor to win, and so does Miss Granger. I never knew you would be so rude towards a young woman just because of a broom. I expect you to be more polite to her, or I’ll have to let your parents know. This is no way for a young man like yourself to behave, not even when it comes to quidditch.”
“But how much longer are you going to keep it?” interrupted Oliver, quite rudely Hermione thought. She could hear Professor McGonagall inhaling deeply. Then she spoke louder than before.
“As I said, Potter will get his Firebolt back as soon as Filius, Rolanda and I have finished looking at it. So, we are going to keep it as long as necessary, Wood. Now, leave me alone please, these papers are not going to grade themselves, you know? And make sure to practise your Transfiguration before the next class, your rook was still wearing a crown today.”
Quickly, Hermione got going. She didn’t want to be caught by Oliver, listening to his conversation with his aunt. Still, Hermione was very thankful towards Professor McGonagall for having her back in this matter.
At this point she spent most of her time in the library or by herself using up several of the little tables in the common room, doing her homework or studying. Every night, especially when the team returned from practice at the Quidditch pitch, some sneered at her, talking to each other loudly, making sure she would hear. Wood never took part in it anymore, though, and Hermione always pretended not to hear any of them.
That evening, when Hermione was doing her Arithmancy homework, she noticed Oliver approaching Harry, who was sitting on the other side of the common room with Ron.
“Bad news, Harry. I’ve just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She — er — got a bit shirty with me. Told me I’d got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn’t care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch on it first.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Honestly the way she was yelling at me… you’d think I said something terrible. Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it…” He imitated Professor McGonagall’s severe voice. “‘As long as necessary, Wood…’”
Hermione thought it was very rude of him to make fun of his aunt that way.
“I reckon it’s time you ordered a new broom, Harry. There’s an order form at the back of Which Broomstick … you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy’s got.”
“I’m not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good,” said Harry flatly and after a couple more seconds, Wood walked away to do some studying of his own.
Hermione focused on her work again. She wondered why Oliver never told anyone that Professor McGonagall was his aunt. Maybe he thought his classmates would think she favoured him in any way. She seriously doubted that, though. Just listening to their conversation today showed her that it was the other way around.
Frustrated about the fact that, yet again, thoughts about Oliver Wood were distracting her from the work she desperately needed to finish, Hermione groaned, tried to focus and got back to work behind her stack of books. She didn’t know that a certain quidditch captain watched her for a couple of minutes before starting on his own homework.
***
Hermione visited Hagrid often and told him about Ron and Harry’s behaviour towards herself. He never said a word against the two but still made her feel understood. Hermione spent quite some time in his hut helping him with Buckbeak’s case, happy to not be stared at or sneered at angrily for a change.
Once more working on her homework one February evening — she had just finished her Muggle Studies and Arithmancy essays and was working on a Rune translation just now — when the noise in the Gryffindor common room became quite loud. Hermione looked up from her work, ready to tell off whoever was making as much noise when Harry and Ron approached her table, Firebolt in hand.
“I got it back,” said Harry, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt.
“See, Hermione? There wasn’t anything wrong with it!” said Ron.
“Well — there might have been!” said Hermione. “I mean, at least you know now that it’s safe!”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” said Harry. “I’d better put it upstairs —“
“I’ll take it!” said Ron eagerly. “I’ve got to give Scabbers his Rat Tonic!”
Hermione watched him take the bloody broom from Harry’s hands as if it were the Holy Grail and carry it up the boys’ staircase. Rolling her eyes she got back to her translation.
“Can I sit down then?” Harry asked and she looked up once more.
“I suppose so,” she said, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair before getting back to work.
It was quiet for a moment before Harry asked, “How are you getting through all this stuff?”
“Oh, well — you know — working hard,” she answered even though she just wanted him to stop talking so she could finish her work and go to bed.
“Why don’t you just drop a couple of subjects?” Harry asked as she searched for her Rune dictionary.
“I couldn’t do that!”, she answered, scandalised by the thought alone.
“Arithmancy looks terrible,” said Harry, picking up her number chart.
She noticed that he was trying to patch things up between them and it warmed Hermione’s heart. Of course, Harry would know the easiest way to get her back to talking to him was through school and her work. He was somehow bright like that.
“Oh no, it’s wonderful! It’s my favourite subject! It’s —“
But she was interrupted by a terrible, strangled yell that echoed down the boys’ staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Hermione noticed Oliver Wood and some of his classmates looking up from their NEWT studies. There came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder — and then, Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.
“LOOK!” he bellowed, making Hermione jump, striding over to hers and Harry. “LOOK!” he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.
“Ron, what —?” she started but was interrupted once more.
“SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!”
She was leaning away from Ron, utterly bewildered. What was he on about? What had happened to Scabbers and why was it her fault yet again?
“BLOOD!” Ron yelled into the stunned silence before Hermione could ask him to articulate appropriately. “HE’S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?”
“N-no,” said Hermione. Her voice was trembling and she felt tears watering her eyes. Whywaseverythingalwaysher fault?
Ron threw something down onto her Rune translation and she leaned forward a little to inspect. Lying on top of her nearly finished translation were several long, ginger cat hairs.
Hermione looked at them a moment longer before looking up again, but Ron had already turned around and stormed back up the boys’ staircase. The other students started whispering but she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Feeling Harry’s eyes on her, she looked at him instead, starting to speak but unable to.
“I’m going to check on him, Hermione,” Harry said and when he got up to follow Ron without another word, her heart broke once more.
No one ever checked on her.
No one ever cared about how she felt about these things.
No one ever stuck to her instead of someone else.
Tears streamed down her face when Hermione grabbed her books and parchment to put them into her book bag before turning to the girls’ staircase. She bumped into someone on her way and she thought she heard someone say her name, but she didn’t look back as she ran up the stairs and into the dormitory she shared with Parvati and Lavender. She just hoped she’d be alone for a bit to cry in peace.
She dropped her bag on the floor and just managed to close the curtains around her four-poster bed, mumbling a silencing spell so Lavender and Parvati wouldn’t hear her once they came upstairs. Then, she buried her face in her pillow and allowed her sobs to shake her shoulders. Seconds later, Crookshanks, who had slept peacefully at the end of her bed, cuddled up into her side and began purring. Hermione only sobbed harder.