Hermione Granger and the Fate Foretold

Chapter 12: The Abyss

It had been a gloomy trip to Hogsmeade. Now walking in between Harry and Ron, Hermione adjusted her scarf to cover her mouth against the bitter cold. They made their way back to the castle in silence, following the trail of footprints left in the snow by Katie Bell and her friend a good distance ahead of them. Hermione could see that her two friends still had the dreary visit to the village on their minds but her own thoughts took her back to the past few weeks.

Although she had been puzzled as to why the battered copy of Advanced Potion-Making now in Harry's possession had set off such alarms in her head that first Potions lesson, the reasons had become quite evident in the weeks that had followed. Not only did Harry gain an undeserved reputation as a Potions prodigy from following the alternate instructions scribbled over the text, but the book had also proved to be a terrible influence on him in other ways. There were apparently all sorts of unknown, potentially dangerous jinxes, hexes, and spells written in the margins of the textbook, and Harry had taken to thoughtless experimentation, which annoyed Hermione considerably. Just that morning, Ron had enthusiastically recounted how he had been rudely awakened by being hung up midair by his ankle. He and Harry had treated the issue as a laughing matter. They were unbelievable sometimes, not thinking about the potential consequences of trying out an unknown, handwritten incantation. Also mentioned in the book was a particularly irksome spell (Muffliato) that would drown out all sounds with a loud buzzing for anybody nearby; Hermione hated this one most of all because she could actually foresee it being useful in certain situations. But her resentment towards the previous owner of the textbook (who they later found had referred to himself or herself as the "Half-Blood Prince") meant that she would rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than admit it out loud.

One part of Hermione told her that perhaps she should stop being stubborn and take a gander at the book herself; perhaps there was a plethora of useful information in those margins after all. And no matter how much she did not want to admit it, she could not deny that Harry's potions attempts were turning out better than hers. It bothered her immensely. She found herself growing easily irritated when she chanced a glance at his cauldron during lessons and a part of her she was not proud of began to seethe whenever Slughorn eagerly came by their station to praise Harry for his brilliance. After going unchallenged for so long, no longer being at the top was...unpleasant. Not because she particularly needed to be at the top or anything petty like that (she would never let herself or her actions be described as 'petty'), but the manner in which she had been displaced was particularly offensive. She had worked hard for her accomplishments. But this so-called "Prince" (what a stupid name, by the way) had appeared from nowhere and effortlessly surpassed her. She could feel the book taunting her, telling her that no matter how hard she worked, it would not be enough. The Prince had already helped Harry so much; he never asked Hermione for help on his Potions homework anymore. She was being replaced. She could not take it.

She hated the Prince.

Harry had taken notice of her attitude and offered to share the book with her but as she had staunchly refused at the time, she could hardly go back to him and ask to take a look now. That would be admitting defeat. She did not like being wrong or going back on what she had said. In fact, she did not even speak if she was not sure of something most of the time. So, no. She would not take a look at the book herself. She would rather go on a date with Cormac McLaggen or tell him that she Confunded him during Quidditch tryouts than do that. She dreamily imagined Harry coming to his senses and returning the book or burning the accursed thing herself. Yes, she thought to herself. How wonderful would that be? Her resolve strengthened. She would beat the Prince on her own and she was not going to act according to what some idiot had written in a book fifty, twenty, eighteen or however many years ago.