The Cat Excuse
September, 1994
Hermione sat in their compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express with the Daily Prophet in hand. She was reading about the “Terror at the Quidditch World Cup.” The article explained everything which Hermione had witnessed and about how the Ministry officials there had to stop the chaos. It said that they weren't even sure who put together the attack which shocked her. Didn’t they have security in an area filled with so many witches, wizards, and especially muggles? Who was supposed to be looking out for everyone?
Ron told her that there was security which made her even more nervous. How had the death eaters conjured such a spectacle under the noses of countless Ministry officials and security wizards? She wondered if maybe someone from the Ministry had helped them. Someone like Draco’s dad who worked at and was respected within the Ministry but was so blatantly a follower of Voldemort, which they knew because of Tom Riddle’s diary.
Harry was sitting beside the open window of the compartment with a letter labeled “Sirius Black” on the front. He placed it into Hedwig’s beak and sent her off through the window.
“What’s that one saying?” asked Ron.
Harry sighed. “Hermione said I should let him know about the Quidditch match and that dream I told you about.”
“The one with Petigrew and–um–uh–”
“Voldemort,” Harry offered. He was not afraid of the name like most people were. “Yeah, that one. I think it’ll only worry Sirius.”
“Harry. Your scar is hurting and you’re having vivid dreams about the most dangerous wizard in the world in which he’s taken a sort of human form. I know you have the mentality that handling things on your own is your only option but this is bigger than just yourself. This could affect the entire wizarding world, and even the muggle world. If–Voldemort–somehow resurrects himself, it will become a much bigger deal than worrying Sirius who cares for you and believes in you and wants to help you more than anything in the world,” said Hermione in one breath while still looking at her newspaper.
Both of the boys were silent for a few seconds until Ron cleared his throat and opened his mouth to add something but ultimately decided against it and closed it again, leaning back and staring out the window.
The Start-of-Term Feast ended up being one of the most eventful yet. Two other magical schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, joined them in the Great Hall as Dumbledore announced that five years had passed since the last Triwizard Tournament and that one would be occurring this year. Fred and George were ablaze with excitement until Dumbledore said the Ministry decided that only students who were at least 17 years of age could enter their names to the Goblet of Fire to be chosen to represent their school in the tournament. They had just turned 16 in April.
“That’s rubbish!” they chanted.
Hermione looked across the hall and saw Cedric Diggory at the Hufflepuff table talking with his friends. He seemed to have quite a few of them. Cedric seemed to be right in the middle of them all drawing their attention with whatever amusing anecdote he was referencing. Past him, she saw Draco Malfoy, a bland expression on his face as he watched all of the Slytherins around him talking loudly about the Triwizard Tournament. She wondered if Ron and Harry were right and Malfoy was just as evil as his father, and if she should have defended him at all back in the forest. She only did it because she remembered the way people always seemed to underestimate muggle-born wizards. They seemed to think that because Hermione’s parents were muggles, she could never be as good of a witch as someone with two wizard parents. They were wrong, of course. She was the “Brightest Witch of Her Age” according to Sirius because she had worked hard. She thought the same kind of way about Malfoy. Harry and Ron seemed to think that just because Draco’s parents were evil Voldemort supporters, he would eventually become one no matter what. He was foul and downright hurtful sometimes but she did not want to stoop down to the level of the people who underestimated her at first. Suddenly, Malfoy looked in her direction and she averted her gaze as quickly as possible without drawing attention to herself.
She waited a few minutes before looking back at the Slytherin table only to realize that Draco was gone. She scanned the room and spotted his blonde hair moving toward the doors of the Great Hall. Without thinking, she got up and followed him out the door. Everyone at her table was too distracted to notice her standing up. She saw him walking down the corridor with considerable speed and tiptoed after him. He was walking for a while and had already passed the bathroom so she knew he didn't just have to pee. She also knew he was not headed to the dungeons where the Slytherins resided because it was in the opposite direction. However, he seemed to know where he was going and she had a hard time keeping up with him while remaining quiet. He halted for a moment, walking slower than before, looking from side to side a bit before picking up his stride again. He must have heard her footsteps. He stopped completely a few seconds later and began turning around so Hermione jumped into the nearest broom closet, the door slamming behind her. Her lack of sleep had made her reckless and unguarded. She was surely caught.
She hid behind a shelf in the closet, her breathing rapid and her mind suddenly wide awake. Adrenaline surged through her veins.
“Muffliato,” she whispered, waving her wand over her mouth to muffle the sounds of her breathing.
It was all futile in the end. The door to the broom closet slowly opened and closed. It was too dark to see who had entered but she knew.
“Lumos,” a voice sounded in the darkness.
A light came from Malfoy’s wand and revealed Hermione immediately.
“Oh–” he said, taken aback, “It's you.”
She looked at him with uncertainty. He didn't know she was following him, she could use that.
“I thought you were a prefect,” she breathed. It seemed to convince him.
His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing out of the Great Hall?” His eyes became cold like the fact that he was talking to her disgusted him somehow.
She drew in a long breath, trying to slow down her heart rate so her voice wouldn't falter. “I was going to the astronomy tower.” It wasn't a lie.
His expression changed so he looked annoyed.
“What are you doing out of bed?” she asked after he didn’t fill the silence.
“If you must know, I was going to the same place. Only now, I might as well head back to the dungeons where I have better company than a mudblood.”
She stood up, seething and now face to face with him. “That's fine by me. I didn't particularly want company–not from a foul, arrogant–revolting–wizard such as yourself.” she chastised, making to move past him, close to tears from her outburst. But before she could, he moved into her way, forcing her to stop.
He took a small step back, seeming to notice how close in proximity they were. She became aware of his height. He had grown a few inches taller than her since last year, so much so that she had to tilt her head up slightly to meet his menacing gaze. He looked like he might gouge her eyes out one moment and then his expression became amused.
“I’m starting to think you were put in the wrong house, Granger.” He chuckled but her face stayed solid. “You know it's okay to laugh, right?”
Her eyes met his and she tried to look as cold as he usually did. “Why do you call me that?”
He mirrored her expression and he looked away as if in thought. “Why wouldn't I? It’s what you are.”
She shook her head and grinned, as if what he said was so absurd, it was funny. “It's what I am,” she repeated as if pondering it. Her expression became irritated. “Do you know how idiotic you sound? You only call me that word because your father told you to. I’ll bet he’s controlled every thought you’ve ever had, hasn't he?” He scowled, willing her to go further. “But he’s just a little servant, isn't he? He preys on twelve year old girls because his ‘lord’ told him to. He walks around like he’s important, but really, he’s the biggest puppet there is. And that's where you're headed too. Someday you'll be just as big of a joke as your father is.”
Suddenly, his wand was out and pointed directly at her. She withdrew hers as well but they were so close together that when he tried to curse her and she tried to counter it, the flick of their wands made them collide and shot them both backward at the shelf behind them.
Hermione sat up, rubbing the back of her head. She thought she might have a concussion. Draco looked no better, still lying down with a pinched expression.
“What’d you do that for?!” he seethed.
“Counter your curse at me? I’m so sorry I didn't want to be cursed!”
“It was a bloody stinging hex! Godric–what did you do?” he sat, rubbing his head as well.
She honestly hadn't a clue what had happened. She assumed his spell went wrong because of their proximity and then shot at them both when she did the countercurse but that was just a guess. She had never heard of stinging spells causing both wizards to fly across the room at such velocity. She suddenly decided that she’d rather be anywhere but in that broom closet and stood up.
“I’m leaving,” she said, opening the door and walking into the corridor, still feeling a bit dizzy.
He didn't reply.
“Where were you?” asked Ron.
“Bathroom,” she replied. “I was thinking and you were right, Harry,” she glanced at the boy, “We need to keep an eye on Malfoy this year. Just in case.”
The first month of school was buzzing with excitement. The Goblet of Fire had been opened for anyone to put their name in and it was all anyone was talking about. All of the boys from Durmstrang had entered their names. People from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons seemed to be waiting for the right moment. Hermione had not heard of anyone putting their names in yet. Fred and George were busy at work thinking of ways to get their names into the Goblet without being 17. They approached Hermione when she was studying in the library one day and asked her for ideas. She had refused to even talk on the subject and pretended not to hear them when they kept asking. She did not want to break the rules and risk losing points for Gryffendor.
Hermione was enjoying astronomy this year. It was a lighter class to balance out her other, more difficult ones. They got to learn the names of stars and how to locate them. The only part she didn't completely like about the class was that they shared it with Slytherin that year. That disrupted some of the peace of astronomy but not all of it. It meant that she could watch Malfoy more closely. She had told Harry of Malfoy’s venture into the restricted section and he seemed just as skeptical. Hermione took this as a sign that she needed to pay attention to him. There seemed to be something different about him this year. He was more sullen and didn't taunt Gryffendor as much. In fact, he barely even talked to the other Slytherins when Gryffendor was around.
“Have you guys noticed that Malfoy doesn't bother us anymore?” Hermione asked Harry and Ginny one week into school. They were some of the last people left in the Gryffendor common room as it was growing late.
“I guess, yeah,” said Harry. “I hadn't noticed.”
“He seems–different–this year,” she said.
Ginny asked, “What do you mean, like nicer?”
“No, not at all. He just isn't talking as much. He just scowls at everyone and sulks around.”
“So what? If he’s not bothering me or my friends, I don't care what he does,” he said.
“Yeah, why should we care?” agreed Ginny.
Hermione’s expression grew exasperated. “Because–he may know something–about you-know-who. What if his father told him one of their death eater plans and that's why he's acting like this?”
“I think Malfoy would be celebrating if that were the case,” said Ginny.
“But what if it’s something really bad and it made Malfoy upset? That could be why he’s acting strange.”
Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, but how would we find out?”
“We talk to him.”
Harry and Ginny’s eyes narrowed and they gave each other a look like “is she serious?”
“Like–have a conversion–a civilized conversation–with Malfoy?” Harry asked, amused. “What makes you think he could ever talk to a Gryffendor without insulting or cursing us?”
Hermione sighed. “It doesn't exactly have to be civilized. If we could just make him boast about his ‘wonderful voldemort-loving-death-eating’ father, he might let something slip about their plans.”
Harry looked up in thought and then returned his eyes to Hermione. “I feel like there are better ways to get information rather than from Malfoy of all people. We don't even know if he knows anything.”
“It’s worth a try. With these dreams you're having and your scar constantly hurting, I feel like something big is coming. My parents are muggles, Harry. I’m scared.”
Ginny’s eyes softened and Harry looked sympathetic. “Alright–yeah–It’s worth a shot,” he said.
Malfoy was sitting in the courtyard with Pansy Parkinson. They were sitting on the stone ledge and talking. Well, Pansy seemed to be doing most of the talking and Draco only nodded along once in a while. Hermione and Harry exchanged a look and he gave her a slight nod of the head. They had decided to wait until Draco was alone or with someone not as threatening as Blaise or Crabbe to strike them with their plan. Pansy couldnt necessarily be considered friendly but she had never been as bad as some of the other Slytherins. Hermione sucked in a breath and reluctantly approached the duo. She put on a brave face because this was her idea after all. They noticed her approaching quickly and stopped their conversation to stare at her. Hermione realized that she had never openly approached Draco Malfoy in order to talk to him so it might have been slightly shocking for the pair. She stopped in front of them and opened her mouth to speak but Draco beat her to it.
“What d’you want, Granger?” he asked obnoxiously.
She hesitated before regaining her footing. “I’ve lost my cat,” she said. They each narrowed their eyes in genuine confusion. “Crookshanks.”
Draco’s face contorted, “We haven't stolen your cat if that's what you–”
“No–no–that’s not what I–”
“Do you think we’ve killed your cat?” interjected Pansy.
Hermione took in an exasperated breath. “No,” she assured them, “I was just wondering if you’d seen her anywhere. Like down in the dungeons maybe. I don’t go down there on the days I don’t have potions so I thought I’d ask you guys, seeing as you live down there and everything–”
“We haven't seen your bloody cat, Granger,” he scoffed, looking away as if something else had interested him.
“Well–thanks–anyway–bye,” she quickly said before sprinting back to Harry.
She noticed Malfoy’s cold eyes burning into her from her peripheral vision as she told Harry what they talked about. At first, it scared her, his expression one of pure contempt, but then she realized that maybe this was perfect. Malfoy being confused about why Hermione randomly decided to talk to him, even annoyed by it, would draw him into a place where Hermione could get information from him. She needed to make him comfortable talking with her so he wouldn't think about his words as much. She would have to read up on psychology, she noted. She headed straight to the library that night as she always did. She finished up her homework in History of Magic and Astronomy which was due at the end of the week and then scanned the shelves for a psychology book. The only one she could find was called The Wizarding Way: The Psychological Effects of Magic. It was a large book, her favorite, although not exactly what she was looking for. She wanted a book to tell her about psychology, not the psychological effects of magic. However, it would have to do. She brought it back to her table which was being shared with Ron and Parvati and plopped it onto the table.
Ron looked up and furrowed his eyebrows, “Please tell me that’s not the book we have to read for Herbology.”
“It’s not,” Hermione laughed, “Just personal reading.”
“Personal reading,” Ron scoffed, shaking his head.
Hermione smiled.
“What’s it on?” asked Parvati.
“Psychology.”
“Hm.” Parvati looked back down at her homework, uninterested.
Hermione opened the book to the first chapter, The Introduction, and began reading.
“The brain of a wizard is more complex than that of a muggle. This is because of the magic within us…”
Hermione stayed late in the library that night reading about wizard brains although it was unimportant considering the purpose of learning about psychology. She didn't need to know how magic was contained within wizard bodies in order to make Draco Malfoy confide in her, it was just interesting. She finished the first chapter (which was extremely short) and took a look at the title of chapter two, Effects of Dark Magic on the Brain. She shut the book and blinked a few times to unblur her tired eyes. She looked around and realized Madam Pince, the librarian, was the last one left in the library. It must have been closing soon. She rushed to pack her things into her bag, including the humongous book, and waved to Madam Pince as she left. She flopped into her bed without changing out of her robes and fell asleep quickly. She dreamt of a giant brain with arteries so large, they were used as passageways. She climbed through the tunnels and tunnels of the brain as if on a mission, but she did not know what that mission was. She was determined though, so she kept trudging along through the pink, bloody brain, checking off the parts she knew the names of as she went along. Pons, flocculonodular lobe, vermis.
In the evenings, students sat in the Great Hall waiting for their older classmates to drop their names into the Goblet. Hermione was there with Ginny one night after dinner because it was rumored that Cedric Diggory would be entering his name tonight.
“Come on, Mione! I know you think he’s cute too! Let's just go watch,” she pleaded.
Hermione reluctantly got up from her table in the library and followed Ginny to the Great Hall. They sat at one of the tables and Hermione pulled out her psychology book from her bag and began reading about dark magic and its effect on the brain. Fred and George entered the room shortly after and approached the two girls.
“Hello, Hermione,” the twins said in unison.
George pulled two vials out of his pocket and held them up into the light as if showing them off. “Turns out your help wasn’t needed anyway! What we’ve got here will surely allow us over the age line to drop our names in.”
“Dumbledore’s drawn an age line?” she asked, closing her book. She looked at the Goblet for the first time, realizing she hadn't noticed the glowing circle of light surrounding the Goblet.
“Yes, but we’ve figured a way to surpass it, as we do,” said George.
Hermione scoffed. “You really think you can break the age line of the most powerful wizard of all time? Are you delusional?”
Fred and George smirked. “We won’t be breaking it, Mione. We said we would ‘surpass’ it. Watch and learn.”
George handed Fred one of the vials and they said “bottoms up” before drinking the liquid. Suddenly, their features contorted and their hair thinned. They got a bit shorter and began getting lines on their faces. They were aging.
“Now!” George said.
They ran to the Goblet and did surpass the age line, and with triumphant smiles, they put their names into the Goblet. Everyone cheered but then stopped as they were thrown back across the age line along with the pieces of paper with their names. They continued aging as they ran out of the Great Hall, everyone applauding them for their effort.
Hermione went back to reading but was ushered to look up by Ginny a minute later. Cedric had entered the hall with a slip of paper. His fellow Hufflepuffs cheered him as he stepped over the age line and put his name into the Goblet. Ginny grabbed Hermione’s hand.
“I hope he wins,” she said.
Hermione nodded along.
They two girls were in the corridor walking back to their common room when Hermione spotted Draco Malfoy seemingly headed for the Dungeons. She looked at Ginny who saw him too and nodded toward him as if saying ‘be right back’. Ginny nodded back and continued her walk as Hermione turned and caught up with Malfoy. He heard her footsteps behind him and turned his head.
“What is it now?” he asked, turning forward again and picking up speed.
“I’m still looking for my cat and I thought I’d go check the dungeons before bed.”
“It’s getting late, isn't it? Wouldn't want to lose any precious Gryffendor points for being caught out of bed. That must be your worst nightmare,” he said with a smirk.
She checked her watch and saw that it was 10:04 p.m., four minutes past curfew. “I’ll take my chances.”
He gave her a look but didn't say anything else, he just kept walking. Hermione racked her brain for something else to say to keep the conversation up when Malfoy made a strange turn.
Hermione stopped. “That’s not the way to the dungeon,” she said.
He stopped walking and turned around. “Who said I’m going to the dungeons?”
“It’s past curfew–you–you’ll be caught out of bed.”
“As will you. Good night, Granger.” He turned and continued walking without another glance back.
Hermione pretended to keep walking to the dungeons but ultimately turned around once Malfoy was out of eyeshot. She walked back to the Gryffendor common room, tiptoeing so she wouldn't be caught, and thinking about where Malfoy could be going. What could he be doing so late at night? She closed her eyes and imagined the layout of Hogwarts to narrow down all of the places he could have been heading. She opened them after a moment, realizing that he could have been headed anywhere. All of the corridors led into one another, he could have been going to the other end of the castle for all she knew. The only way to find out would be to follow him one night.