Hermione Granger was, as everyone liked to remind her, the brightest witch of her age. The pressures of this title had never gotten to her before, but now that there was so much riding on finding the real horcrux, she felt as if the boys' eyes were on her. The worst part was that all she could do was wait until Kreacher came back with Mundungus Fletcher.
The grey light of dawn was creeping across the sitting room of number twelve Grimmauld Place. It slid silently over Harry, who was sprawled across the floor, then to Ron, who was softly snoring in a tangle of sleeping bags. His hand was stretched out from his side, towards the couch cushions that Hermione was laying on. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was Ron's had wrapping in hers.
Ron's red hair was tussled this way and that, casting shadows over his freckled cheeks. He looked beautiful. Hermione sighed. Despite being the brightest witch of her age, there was one thing that continuously evaded her intellect. There were moments when she was absolutely positive that Ron felt the same way about her as she did for him, but could she ever be sure? If Lavender Brown had taught her anything, it was that Ron, and perhaps feelings in general, were extremely unpredictable.
Hermione quietly stood, stretching her arms out and shaking the tiredness from her body. These feelings of doubt and worry had to be kept at bay – Hermione needed to read. She'd tried her best to only bring books that would aid in their horcrux hunt, so she didn't bother searching through her bag. Instead, she went up the staircase and onto the second floor. While they were searching Regulus Black's room the day prior, she had noticed a small bookshelf in the corner of the room. Hermione opened the bedroom door and tiptoed inside, careful not to disturb the boys sleeping downstairs.
The bedroom was filled with things. There were framed photos on the dresser, a silver and emerald rug bore the Slytherin crest, which Hermione walked over tentatively. The bureau was still filled with Hogwarts robes. It was as if Regulus was still living there, still writing letters at his desk to the friends in his photos, still sleeping beneath the Black crest and his collage of Voldemort's exploits. Hermione felt as if she were intruding, regardless of whether or not the room now belonged to Harry. She carefully sat down in front of the bookshelf, tracing her fingers along the carvings that lined the shelves.
Among several schoolbooks, the shelf held some books on dark magic, and a few anthologies that reminded Hermione of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. The book that stood out to her was a small, leather-bound journal. Unlike the other books, it's spine was not embossed with any fancy title, and its cover was not extravagantly decorated with gold leaf and floral patterns. It was perfectly plain. Hermione pulled it out from between two books on magical history, revealing it's bursting pages. She untied the leather strap that was keeping it closed, allowing the journal to explode out, revealing pages upon pages of writings, with photographs and drawings taped in. Hermione studied one photograph in particular.
It was falling out of the two pages that it had been squished between, and there were some ink smudges on its back. It showed a girl who couldn't have been much younger than Hermione. She had large, swooping curls exploding from her scalp, and a wide smile. Next to her stood a skinny black-haired boy. They were both in swimsuits with towels wrapped around their shoulders as the pressed their cheeks together for the picture. Hermione dragged her finger down the smiling kids, to the words scrawled at the bottom of the photo: Me & Reg at the lake (taken by Dirk) '76. The picture reminded her of the day that she and Ron had spent at the Black Lake with Luna, and a smile lifted her cheeks. She flipped to the front of the book, searching for a name to put to the face of the smiling girl. A message was written in the same looping script that filled the rest of the book:
If found, please return to Alaris I. Hewett, Ravenclaw House.
Hermione couldn't imagine why Regulus would have kept a Ravenclaw's diary in his bedroom. In fact, she could not imagine someone like Regulus ever being friends with a Ravenclaw, but by the looks of the photo, they might've been much more than friends. It then occurred to Hermione that she, Harry, and Ron, didn't know much about Regulus at all. Up until yesterday, Harry had believed him to be just as bad as the rest of the Black family. If Regulus really had sacrificed himself in the hope of destroying Voldemort, then perhaps what Sirius and Remus had recounted was not the entire truth. Hermione's train of thought was interrupted by yelling from downstairs.
Ron's voice sounded from the bottom of the staircase. "Hermione! Hermione!" His calls became more and more frantic as he ran up the steps.
Hermione leapt up from the floor, tucking the diary under her arm and racing towards Ron, who was not panting in the doorway. "What is it?" She went to draw her wand before realizing that she'd left it downstairs. Ron was now clutching his chest dramatically.
"We woke up and didn't know where you were – don't do that! I thought you'd been taken!" Ron slumped against the door frame, pocketing his own wand. He leaned down the steps. "She's up here, Harry!"
Hermione smiled apologetically. "Sorry, couldn't sleep."
Ron glared at her before stomping down the steps, clearly more distraught about Hermione's disappearance than he wanted to let on. Downstairs, Harry was peeking out one of the front windows. "Guys... we've got company."
Two cloaked men were now standing in the square outside of number twelve. They were scanning the houses, shifting on their feet every once in a while. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all felt a sinking feeling in their stomachs.
"Death Eaters, for sure," Ron said pulling the drawing room curtains open to give Hermione a clearer view.
Her breath fogged up the glass as she craned her neck to see what was happening outside. Ron's arm was still holding the curtain open above her, which both of them became quite aware of when Ron looked down at her. "You reckon they know we're in here?"
Hermione looked up at Ron, whose face was only inches from her own. She quickly stepped backwards, bumping into Harry as she retreated further into the drawing room. A mixture of discomfort and fright screwed up her features, which were now flushed pink. "I don't think so. Or they'd have sent Snape in after us, wouldn't they?"
Ron let the curtain fall back into place. "D'you reckon he's been in here and had his tongue tied by Moody's curse?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded, "otherwise he'd have been able to tell that lot how to get in, wouldn't he?" Harry nodded, moving away from the window with the others. "But they're probably watching to see whether we turn up. They know that Harry owns the house, after all."
Harry furrowed his brow. "How do they..."
"Wizarding wills are examined by the Ministry, remember?" Ron said. "They'll know Sirius left you the place."
A thick silence fell over the three of them. Harry was staring at the floor, turning over some thought inside of his head. Ron glanced from him to Hermione.
Ron was the one to finally break the silence. "Anyone want some tea?"
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Kreacher did not return, which left Hermione with plenty of time to read the journal. She tried to explain to Harry that learning about Regulus' relationship with Voldemort might help them find other horcruxes, but Harry didn't seem too interested in listening to what Hermione had to say. He was too busy thinking about what might happen if the Death Eaters knew that they were inside - something that Hermione had been considering as well.
While Ron and Harry played a game of wizard's chess in the kitchen, she flipped through the diary. It reminded her of the one that Tom Riddle had used to coerce Ginny into opening the Chamber of Secrets, though the contents of this journal were much less sinister. In fact, it reminded Hermione of the journals that she kept when she was younger. Every single page was filled with writing – there were even pages that had extra parchment clipped onto them. She found header towards the back of the journal that caught her eye: He got the mark. Hermione thought back to her last year at Hogwarts, when Harry had suggests that Malfoy had gotten the dark mark. She gulped and quickly flipped back to the first page in the diary. A good reader never spoiled the ending for themselves by reading ahead. The header at the top of the first page read: I got sorted into Ravenclaw! The stark contrast between the two topics caused her to frown.
Hermione pulled a blanket over her legs and hunkered down into the couch cushions, ready to uncover the mystery of Regulus Black's Hogwarts days. Even if she couldn't find much about Regulus or Voldemort, she needed something to take her mind off of all the other things she had to worry about. Based on the first entry Hermione read out of the diary, it seemed that Alaris I. Hewett had felt the same way.
There are some people here who don't seem to like muggle-borns very much.