Hermione is DONE
Harry ran out of the library, pausing only long enough to scoop up the parchment that should have been the essay for Charms, but was completely blank. He fell into step with Malfoy, and they leaned into each other, whispering excitedly. The quill snapped in Hermione's hand. She was DONE. Harry had been goo goo eyed and sighing over this ridiculous livestream dark arts show, and she was 100 percent fed up with his nonsense. She had finally gotten him to settle in at their usual library table, when his alarm for the latest show had gone off. He hadn't even said goodbye before running off to join Malfoy of all people! The only solution? She had to figure out what spell they had cast over him, and counter it. It had to be a spell. Harry had never been so interested in learning.. well.. anything. The only thing that could be captivating him was some sort of dark compulsion. She would do what she had always done in these situations. Research, and solve his problems for him. (she was going to carefully ignore the thought that he might be into the show due to some sort of sexual attraction. They had been friends since they were tiny and the thought of him doing anything like that was just disturbing. Better to discover what sort of dark spell had been cast on him.)
School had just started the week before, and Harry was sneaking off with Malfoy to gossip every time she turned around. She went to a lot of effort to help Ron and Harry stay on track all year, and here it was their NEWT year, and Harry was just goofing off! Ron always slacked, so that was no surprise, but Harry usually put in enough effort to keep her from getting upset. Now he just blew her off! Ignoring her! Even though she only cared about helping him. Something must be done.
There was only one thing to do in such a situation. Hermione went back into the stacks. She felt her brain coming into focus as she turned all of her attention to the new project, no longer thinking about the homework that would be due next week. She loved how she felt when surrounded by the potential answers to all of her questions. The moment before she opened the first book was her favorite, as it was a moment of limitless potential and no frustration. She quickly headed to the charms section, and started pulling down all the books on detection spells that she could find. Once she had the books arranged in four stacks in front of her, a buttress against the rest of the student body, she got stuck in. She took notes with one hand, making sure to annotate the source. The other hand flipped through the pages, and swapped books out. She continued in this fashion through several different books before a hand with red manicured fingernails snatched the book she was using straight out her grasp.
Hermione growled, and looked up. Her hair had long since quit pretending to be restrained by the hair tie, and had frizzed up immensely. Standing in front of her was Pansy Parkinson, her black hair precisely perfect in a chin length bob. Her lips were a brilliant red, matching her fingernails. For a moment, they looked like they were dripping with blood, but Hermione blinked rapidly and her eyes cleared. They were merely painted. "Looking up detection spells, Granger? What has Potter been hit with now?"
Hermione huffed and set her quill back down in the inkwell. "What's it to you, Parkinson? Isn't a witch allowed to study? This is the library." She wasn't sure how the other girl knew that she was trying to find something to help Harry, but it was pretty suspicious that she even asked. She crossed her arms over her chest, and stared the other girl down. She might even be in on it! Slytherins stick together and everyone knew that Voldemort was a Slytherin.
"Relax, Granger. It's too early for even you to be working on school work with this many books. Also, we're in the same classes, I know what's due next week. Seriously, did someone hit Potter with something?" Her eyes lit with interest, and she scanned the rest of the titles, trying to figure out what sort of spell or potion it could be. "Wouldn't Dumbledore fix his little hero? Why are you researching on your own?"
Hermione sighed and held her hand out for the book. "Not that it's any of your business, but I don't really want to talk to Professor Dumbledore about this yet. It's just a thought. I'm worried about him. What about you, aren't you worried about Malfoy?"
Pansy frowned quizzically, studying Hermione. She gracefully claimed the other seat at the table, and shoved a stack of books out of the way so they could talk more comfortably. She waved her wand in her favorite privacy spell and leaned in, resting her chin on her fist, with her elbow on the table. "Do tell.. Worried about what with Draco? Other than the obscene amount of time he's spending with your best friend, he's the same as always."
Hermione raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "Really? The same as always? Has he always dropped everything to pay attention to an internet show? Because all I ever hear him and Harry wanting to discuss is that show. I caught both of them in an alcove watching an episode together the other day! It wasn't even a new one!" She shoved her hair back over her shoulders roughly. "I don't know about Malfoy, but if Harry keeps up like this, he might not pass his classes! He hasn't revised with me all week!" Hermione's aggravation was rolling off of her in waves.
Pansy blinked in surprise, and a smirk curled her lips. "Really? He's that into it? I knew he watched the show, but you're making him sound obsessed."
"I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I guess I just thought that maybe you would know why he's being like this."
"Because Draco is a fan, too..." She completed Hermione's thought and nodded, consideringly. "I see. Well, Granger. Tell me this, have you watched the show? Like, more than one or two clips, the whole thing? Maybe that would be a better place to start, rather than trying to figure out what sort of spell they're casting through the internet, that can act like a compulsion. A compulsion on the Great Harry Potter, the one who threw off an Imperius like it was nothing." She slowly stood and shook her head. "It's not a spell, Granger. Look into something else."
Hermione stared at her, eyes rounded with shock. "What? Watch the show? It's Dark Arts, Parkinson! That's illegal!"
"Learning about it isn't illegal, just getting caught casting is. Have you even looked up why it's illegal? I would have expected more from you, Granger. Don't logical people research both sides of the issues before deciding? Are you really going to condemn it without even looking at it? Maybe you should join in with the Ministry in collecting all the old histories and Dark Arts books and burning them. I remember hearing something about muggles burning books once they couldn't find the witches anymore. If that's the background you're from, I guess it makes sense that you wouldn't be interested in learning more." While Hermione was still gaping at her in shock, she sauntered off.
Hermione's eyes burned with anger. Parkinson had some nerve, lumping her together with book burners! She wouldn't stand for that sort of aspersion on her character. No. She wasn't some narrow-minded idiot who destroyed things she couldn't understand, like the Nazis did.
She was going to have to watch the shows.
***
Hermione settled into the prefect's lounge, setting out her course books, a neat stack of her notes, and blank parchment. However, all was not as it seemed. Rather than working on a very tedious Arithmancy chart, Hermione was focused on the small screen of her phone, set just out of sight of anyone entering the office. She didn't expect anyone else to come in, half the school was in the Room of Requirement, attending a viewing party for the episode of Dark Livestream that was about to start. In fact, the music intro had just begun. Just in case, she shot a locking charm at the door, and a silencing ward over her desk. Hermione settled in to watch another show.
She had spent the past two days binging every episode on the Livestream, from the educational series to the Q&As. She didn't watch the executions again, though, she just couldn't bear it. Before she had even turned on the episodes, she did all the research she could, and she couldn't find any proof of any spells being cast over the internet. None had even been cast over the Wizarding Wireless, and wizards had been trying that for a generation. She was now fairly certain that Pansy was right; the spell wasn't on the show, and it was safe to watch.
It didn't make sense. Why was the Headmaster so against this show? Was Professor Riddle really telling the truth? Was he teaching real Dark Arts, or was he just whitewashing everything? The questions burned in her stomach and she wasn't sure who to ask. She could go back to Pansy, but besides being a gossip, she was incredibly intimidating. She was always perfectly put together, and just... No. She couldn't talk to Pansy. She could write to Sirius. He had access to the Black library. But Sirius also didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. He would tell anyone who was around every thought that popped into his head, and she really didn't want Harry to find out she was watching the show. It's not that she was embarrassed, it was just that she didn't want to have to listen to him waxing poetic, like he did to every other fan of the show. It made her cringe. No, she couldn't talk to Sirius. There was only one choice left.
The episode wrapped up, with the standard few questions from the viewers. She saw the same user names as always. The episode had been fairly interesting, going over several spells that were banned in England, but not in France, and discussing how they were created and why they were banned. This was the sort of thing she wished was discussed at school. Philosophy and law, not just practical things. Sometimes Hogwarts felt like a trade school, rather than the prep academy she was planning to attend before discovering magic. It was kind of disappointing that she was getting more information on such topics from a series of internet videos than the highly rated school she had attended for the past 7 years.
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione knocked on a door deep in the dungeons.