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Hermione has scarcely felt more terrified. She forces herself to continue searching the faculty stands and swallows down the sudden urge to burst into tears. It’s odd, but she feels much more scared right now than she had on Halloween. Logic would dictate that a threat to her own safety should be the most distressful of situations, but it’s now that Hermione can hardly breathe through her terror. She has never had a friend to care for before. Never have her emotions been so overwhelmingly contradictory to logic.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t believe it!” All the breath leaves Hermione in a startled whoosh. “Professor Black! Look!"
She passes Ron the binoculars with shaking hands, eyes darting between Harry’s jerking figure dangling one-handed from his broom and Ron’s brow scrunched at the top of the binoculars.
“What’s he doing?”
“Jinxing Harry’s broom!” Hermione hisses.
“What?!” Ron pulls the binoculars away, looking at her like she’s mad. “Professor Black’s alright, though.”
Hermione snatches them back and looks through them furiously. Sure enough, as she had seen the first time, Professor Black’s eyes are locked on Harry’s unsteady broom and his lips are moving in words too fast for her to possibly interpret. His face has its usual characteristic solemnity but there is a focus there too.
“He’s not blinking, he’s saying something, it has to be him!” Hermione says desperately.
“Hermione, you’re mad! Professor Black got injured, alright, so he’s a mysterious bloke, but he’s actually nice, you can’t seriously think that he would hurt Harry, can you?”
“There’s no time to lose!” Hermione utters. Determined, she sprints across in front of the fans clamouring to the front of the stands to watch Harry. She weaves and fights through the crowd until she finally arrives at the stand she had seen Professor Black sitting in. There is a sudden collective gasp from the crowd and she looks up, suddenly fearful, but Harry is still holding on tight. Hermione grips the base of her wand tightly in her pocket- Harry is counting on her. She can’t let him down. Taking in a deep motivating breath, she surges forward through the line of Professors. They make varied disgruntled noises as she barges them, even accidentally knocking Professor Quirrell into the row in front. She calls out a quick sorry and crouches down beside Professor Black, who is still as ever. She whispers the memorised spell for her blue flames Harry and Ron love so much. After a moment, Professor Black lets out a noise like ‘Gah!’, apparently finally noticing the flames. With his eyes thankfully away from Harry, Hermione scoops the flame into the jar in her pocket and scrambles out of the staff stands. She looks up desperately, squinting toward Harry. He is climbing back up onto his broom. Hermione feels an immense relief at his safety, but it is undercut by the disappointed surge of betrayal somewhere in her belly. She had liked Professor Black and had thought he was a good teacher. But, unlike opinion or emotion, facts didn’t lie- he had tried to kill Harry.
*
“It was Professor Black.” Hermione forces herself to say miserably over a humongous mug of piping hot tea in Hagrid’s cabin.
“Are you sure?” Harry says immediately, eyes wide. “But I thought he was alright.”
“He said he was a Death Eater, though.” Ron says glumly. “I guess they don’t change.”
“Now don’ be silly, you lot.” Hagrid says firmly. “Why would Professor Black try to hurt Harry?”
Harry sends Hermione and Ron a questioning look. Ron shrugs, while Hermione nods solemnly. Hagrid could be a good ally.
“I think he tried to get past the three-headed dog on the third corridor.” Harry says uncertainly. “On Halloween he was odd, and then he was limping, and then I saw his leg all bloodied up and I think he was trying to maybe get at whatever it’s guarding-
Hagrid drops his teapot. It shatters on the floor. Hermione flinches, and she sees Ron wince out of the corner of her eye. But Harry’s concerned eyes are fixed on Hagrid.
“How do you know about Fluffy?” Hagrid asks, aghast.
“Fluffy?” Ron sounds torn between horror and amusement.
“Yeah- he’s mine- bought him off a chappie down the pub las’ year, lent him to Professor Dumbledore to guard the-”
“Yes?” Harry interrupts eagerly. Hermione resists rolling her eyes. She likes Harry, quite a lot actually (she had been very scared when she thought he might die today), but really, that’s just common sense- never interrupt the sharing of unanticipated knowledge.
“Now, don’t ask me any more.” Hagrid says gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.”
“But what if Professor Black’s trying to steal it?”
“Professor Black is one o’ the kindest men I’ve ever known, he wouldn’ hurt a hair on anyone’s head. He may have been a Death Eater once, but ‘e certainly ain’t now.”
“So why did he just try and kill Harry?” Hermione cries, catching Harry’s eyebrows shooting up from the corner of her eye.
“Hermione-” Hagrid sighs, eyeing her like she’s a child, like she doesn’t understand. Hermione hates that look. She had done everything in her power to understand everything she could about the wizarding world, and it still doesn’t seem to be enough, even for her closest friends in the world.
“I saw him, Hagrid!” Hermione says shrilly, feeling tears clog in her throat. Harry and Ron both give her alarmed looks, evidently subject to the universal male fear of crying women. “I don’t want to believe it, either, I like Professor Black, but he wasn’t blinking and his lips were moving, and he kept eye contact! I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid!”
Hermione lets out a hiccough, overcome. She always tried to place logic above emotion but if Professor Black was a dark wizard then how could she trust anything she knew? It was very distressing. Ron pats her awkwardly on the arm, murmuring a soft encouragement to drink her tea.
“I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” Hagrid says hotly. “I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Professor Black wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh- yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel-”
“Aha!” Harry says triumphantly. Hermione exhales exasperatedly through her nose- boys never learnt. “So there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?”
Hagrid looks furious with himself. He urges them to drink their tea and soon dismisses them, voice clipped. They trudge back up to the castle, Hermione hiccoughing to break the silence every few moments.
“I never knew smart people cried.” Harry says airily halfway to the courtyard. Ron and Hermione both stare at him. He shrinks back slightly.
“What?” Ron says dully after a moment, seemingly still processing Harry’s words.
“You didn’t know smart people cried?” Hermione repeats, voice thick and disbelieving. Honestly, every time she begins to have the slightest faith in her friends’ intellect-
Harry shrugs as if it were normal. “Well I’ve only ever seen me cry. And Dudley. And Ron.”
Ron promptly whacks Harry on the arm.
“Ow! What’s that for?”
“I told you that in confidence.” Ron says hotly, ears pink and eyes darting to Hermione. She narrows her eyes at him.
“I know you cry Ron.” She says slowly, restraining from rolling her eyes. Ron whips to her, gasping.
“Who told you?” He demands, eyes wide and desperate.
“Everyone cries!” Hermione explodes, throwing exasperated hands into the air. Both Harry and Ron reel back at her outburst. She sighs. “Look… yes, sometimes I cry. Sometimes Harry cries. And yes, Ron, sometimes you cry. Everyone cries sometimes, whether it’s because they’re having a bad day or their dog died or they’re slicing onions-”
“What was that one?” Ron says quizzically, head tilting to the side.
“-they cry. It’s perfectly healthy and normal. I was upset because I liked Professor Black and it was confronting to think that he wanted to hurt my friend, so yes. I cried. Sometimes it’s better to just let it out.”
Ron nods sagely, meanwhile Harry’s face scrunches up indignantly.
“My aunt and uncle always say it’s better to keep it in, and only cry when I’m alone in my cupboard.”
He seems to notice the horrified silence that has fallen after his words and he flushes, looking down at his feet. Hermione exchanges a significant look with Ron- Harry doesn’t often mention his life at home but when he does it only seems to exponentiate their worry. Ron scrambles for a new conversation topic.
“What was that you said about onions?” He says hastily.
Hermione sighs, sensing an impending argument. “They make you cry.”
“No they don’t.” Ron insists stubbornly.
“Yes. They do.” Hermione grits her teeth. “When you cut them a chemical gets released-”
“A chemical?!” Ron looks aghast. “Like that poison green stuff in muggle comic books?!”
“No, a chemical to make your eyes water-”
“Hermione, I think someone’s trying to poison you!” Ron whirls around and grabs her shoulders urgently, bringing them to a halt. There’s a moment of stunned silence as Hermione stares at Ron’s stiff body language and deeply concerned eyes. She feels a surge of fondness for him swoop up through her. Then she catches Harry’s eye. After a split-second of eye contact they both burst into hysterical laughter.
“Ron, that’s normal.” Harry laughs. Hermione giggles into her hand. Ron’s eyes practically pop out of his head.
“Normal?!”
“Maybe your Mum uses a spell to stop it.” Hermione suggests, mind already whirling with possibilities. “Or maybe wizarding grocers do.”
“Onions really make muggles cry?” Ron says disbelievingly. Harry and Hermione both nod and he shakes his head in bewilderment. “Blimey.”
Harry laughs. Hermione rolls her eyes- honestly, as much as she likes her friends, they can both be so thick sometimes.
“We’ll have to start researching this Nicolas Flamel person.” Hermione begins thoughtfully.
“Maybe we should slip onions into Professor Black’s pumpkin juice.” Ron says schemingly. “Muggle ones, so he’ll cry. Then he’ll be sorry.”
Harry laughs again. “Sure, Ron. You do that. Hermione and I will stop him from getting past the dog, but you put some onions in his juice, that’ll show him.”
They laugh, but Hermione feels her amusement diminished by hurt. Professor Black had been kind to her. He was strict but not nasty, patient but not indifferent. He was affirmative and he noticed her meticulous following of his instructions. And now he had tried to kill Harry and was going to try and steal whatever Fluffy’s guarding. Why did a world full of magic and wonder still have to have the heartbreak and disappointment of her old world?
*
“It’s too cold for classes.” Ron grumbles, wrapping his robes further around himself. He stomps along moodily, footsteps echoing in the blistering corridor. “We should all be allowed to stay in the Common Room and not have to go through the corridors.”
“At least it’s almost Christmas.” Hermione points out, shivering slightly as a particularly cold wind sweeps past. “Something to look forward to.”
“Food!” Ron groans, extending his hands out pleadingly. “Roast chicken and potatoes. Hot pumpkin soup. Hot chocolate.”
“That’s not helping, it’s freezing.” Harry’s teeth seem to chatter a bit as he speaks. “Now I’m hungry.”
“Think about presents, then.” Hermione suggests, crossing her arms across her chest and lowering her icy nose beneath the wrap of her scarf.
“Yeah, a tissue or a sock from the Dursleys.” Harry shrugs, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his robe as they round the last corner before the dungeon. “Great.”
Hermione exchanges a look with Ron who seems suddenly sad. Hermione too feels as if she might cry. That settles it. Hermione would get him something, even if it takes all her pocket money. He will have presents on Christmas morning. She nods firmly to Ron, who nods back, brow still furrowed with concern. If Hermione spoke to Hagrid, too, then Harry would have another present waiting when he wakes up. Yes, perhaps this afternoon she could pay him a visit and mention it. Maybe see if she could get something else out of him about Nicolas Flamel, too.
Hermione exhales slowly and watches her breath puff out into mist. Harry, noticing, huffs out a breath to create his own cloud. Hermione’s nose and the tips of her fingers are bitingly cold. She huddles closer to Ron and Harry for warmth just as the door to the classroom opens. Professor Black leans out the doorway.
“Come in, quick, it’s freezing out here.” He gestures fervently. The students rush forward, squeezing into the classroom and letting out collective sighs of relief. Hermione lets out her own sigh as the wave of toasty warmth washed over her. Ron says ‘that’s better’ softly as he sinks into his chair and Harry rubs his hands together, smiling slightly. Professor Black has charmed several fiery orbs to float around the classroom, keeping it warm in the cold. Hermione always has to pointedly ignore the considerate nature of this- he had tried to kill Harry and that was a fact.
“Don’t get comfortable.” Professor Black says quickly. The students freeze, half already seated, half crouching awkwardly midway to their seats. Most of them are in the middle of rolling up their sleeves or unwrapping their scarves from their necks. “The potion we’re making today requires a forty-five minute waiting period, so I want you to get started as soon as possible. Your instructions-” He waves his wand and the usual parchment sheets arrive on each student’s desk. “Please begin.”
There’s the usual thundering of feet and scraping of chairs as students rush to the storeroom at the back. Hermione examines the instructions for Herbicide Potion carefully, retrieving the four ingredients she’ll need. The class quickly gets to work and the room fills with excited chatter about Christmas and plans for the holidays. Overlapping conversations fill Hermione’s ears as she begins mulling her lionfish spines.
“- my Gran’s gonna make her famous plum pudding-”
“- and my twelve cousins will be there-”
“- football in the backyard with my Mum-”
“- angel on the tree to sing carols-”
“- reckon i’ll get the new Cleansweep-”
Hermione adds the Standard Ingredient and begins grinding it into the powdered spines. After several moments, her mixture is completely crushed and she tips it out onto the bench, carefully dividing it into even portions. She adds three of these to her cauldron and waves her wand. The powder moistens slightly with the charm and Hermione leaves it to brew, turning her attention to the other side of the desk. Ron is gritting his teeth as he roughly grinds the lionfish spines, while Harry is methodically measuring out his powder.
“I do feel so sorry,” Malfoy begins, raising his voice over the buzz of conversation. “For all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.” He looks pointedly at Harry, face smug, earning a laugh from Crabbe and Goyle.
Hermione, furious at yet another taunt about Harry’s subpar home life, turns to Harry, whose jaw is set as he determinedly concentrates on his powdered lionfish rather than the dig. Hermione feels a spark of pride at his maturity, contrasting to Ron who, once Professor Black’s back is turned, sends a sharp up-yours gesture Malfoy’s way.
“Ron!” Hermione pulls his hand down, eyeing Professor Black to ensure he hadn’t seen. Harry smothers a laugh.
“What?” Ron shrugs, mouth still set in a scowl as he glares at Malfoy. “If he’s gonna mouth off about Harry-”
“Mr Malfoy.” Professor Black’s sharp voice cuts through the chatter of the class, which quickly dwindles away to silence. Every eye is on Malfoy and Professor Black, facing off on either side of Malfoy’s bench.
“Yes, sir?” Hermione notices with a spiteful surge of satisfaction that Malfoy looks nervous.
“Tell me, do you find it amusing when I discuss with your mother the particulars of my leaving home?”
Draco looks down at his lap, cheeks slightly pink. “No, sir.”
“Do you find it amusing that my brother ran away from home?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you find it amusing that I would stay at Hogwarts over the holiday to avoid being at home with my parents?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why would anyone doing the same, or staying at Hogwarts for any reason, be amusing in the slightest?”
“I-I don’t know sir.”
“Hm. I see.” Professor Black’s face is a blank mask but his eyes are full of hardened disdain. “I would appreciate if, in the future, you restricted your conversation in my classroom either to the relevant coursework or to a social topic not founded in insulting someone else. Ten points from Slytherin for thoughtlessness.”
“Sorry sir.” Malfoy’s face is lit up like a stop light and the rest of the class practically hold their breath. Professor Black steps away from Malfoy and everyone hastily returns their gazes to their own potions, whispering to each other. Hermione exchanges a surprised look with Harry who is staring at Professor Black as if seeing him in a new light. His eyes widen and he quickly ducks his head as Professor Black approaches their bench.
“Mr Weasley.” He says coolly. Ron, who had just hastily rearranged his gobsmacked expression, jolts and looks up nervously.
“Yes, Professor?”
“Please refrain from using vulgar gestures in view of your Professors. Five points from Gryffindor for poor timing.” And he walks away. Harry stares after him.
Ron lets out a sudden snort. “Did he just tell me to make sure I don’t let anyone see next time?”
“I suppose so.” Hermione purses her lips and swallows down her budding respect for their Potions Professor as he leans down to correct Lavender’s measurement. “He makes it very hard to dislike him, doesn’t he?”
“I’ll say.” Ron’s mouth is still open in a stunned smile. He lets out another laugh before returning to his lionfish spines, chuckling to himself. Hermione is scared. How will they go up against someone they are all fighting hard not to respect, not to like?
“I didn’t know he had a bad family.” Harry says quietly, eyes still trained on Professor Black as he adds his powder to the cauldron and waves his wand.
“I don’t think anyone did, besides Malfoy.” Hermione surmises, resting her chin on her fist. Her mind is whirling with the information. Could that be why he joined the Death Eaters? Were his family too Muggle-loving for his taste? “Interesting, isn’t it?”
Harry hums noncommittally. “Nice to see Malfoy taken down a peg, at least.”
The rest of the lesson continues uneventfully, with no further insults from a thoroughly embarrassed Malfoy. Ron is gleefully recounting Professor Black’s sharp reprimands of Malfoy as they continue down the corridor once the lesson ends. Hermione has weakly tried to halt his narration but he ignores her. She is scared again- Ron, who had found it most hard to believe in the first place, is beginning to like Professor Black again. He pauses in his unnecessary reenactment as they approach a large fir tree in the middle of the corridor. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and heavy breaths from the other side lead Hermione to deduce that Hagrid is the one blocking the corridor.
“Hi, Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asks cheerily, poking his head through the fir needles and dodging a fir cone.
“Nah,” Hagrid dismisses gruffly. “I’m all righ’, thanks, Ron.”
“Would you mind moving out of the way?” Comes a cold drawl from behind them. Hermione and Harry turn to find Malfoy standing there with an unimpressed look on his face. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you
leave Hogwarts, I suppose- that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”
Ron disentangles himself from the prickly branches with some difficulty and simply smirks at Malfoy. “You know, Malfoy, that sounds to me like “a social topic founded in insulting someone else”, and I don’t think Professor Black would appreciate that. Should we call your Uncle back to dress you down again?”
Malfoy’s nose twitches angrily as Hermione and Harry both laugh. “At least my family aren’t scrounging for gold by kissing the boots of anyone who walks past with a galleon. Surprised you haven’t asked Potter for a loan yet. You two suit each other so well, put together you manage to have a decent family and decent money. Might as well marry each other and get it over with now-”
Ron dives at Malfoy and seizes the front of his robes. Hermione lets out a small sound of distress, hands lurching toward Ron as if she could stop him.
“Mr Weasley.”
They all turn to find Professor Black standing solemnly at the top of the dungeon stairs. Ron lets go of Malfoy and takes a step back. Hermione immediately grabs the back of his robes to prevent him from leaping forward again. She doesn’t take her eyes off Professor Black, wanting to study his every move.
“He was provoked, Professor Black.” Hagrid says, peering into the scene through a gap in the branches. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family, and Harry.”
Professor Black is unswerving. “Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules. Five points from Gryffindor, Mr Weasley, for laying hands on another student. If you do something similar again it’ll be detention.”
Ron nods once, eyes trained to the ground. Professor Black turns to Malfoy who shrinks back slightly.
“Five points from Slytherin. Don’t let me catch you insulting anyone in this manner again.”
With those words he turns away and descends the stairs to the dungeon once more, black robes billowing behind him. Malfoy pushes past the tree, face flushed and resentful. Crabbe and Goyle scramble after him.
“I’ll get him.” Ron says through gritted teeth, shaking his head. “One of these days, I’ll get him-”
“I hate them both.” Harry says bitterly, glaring at Professor Black’s retreating figure. “Malfoy and Black.”
Hagrid encourages them to cheer up and swiftly changes the subject, taking them to the Great Hall to examine the Christmas decorations. Hermione only half-listens to what is being said. While Professor Black’s strictness is frustratingly unbiased, his continued admonishing of Malfoy seems like some strange ploy to earn Harry’s trust. Everything about the situation spoke of dishonesty. Hermione found herself suddenly terrified, because with their continued wavering opinions of him and his inconsistent behaviour towards Harry, they might have no way of knowing whether to trust him until it was far too late.