I met Ron and Harry in the Gryffindor common room the next morning, and they told me about Hermione now being half cat. There was a flurry of rumour about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked.
So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione's bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face. Harry, Ron and I went to visit her every evening and when the new term started, we brought her each day's homework.
"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening.
"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly.
Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown.
"I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper.
"Nothing," said Harry gloomily.
"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth time.
"What's that?" I asked, pulling a card out from under her pillow.
"Just a get well card," she said, trying to grab it back.
"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most- Charming-Smile Award."
I threw it back at her and wiped my hands on Harry as if it was covered in some disease - knowing Lockhart it probably was.
"You sleep with this under your pillow?" Ron asked.
But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.
"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to Harry as we left the infirmary and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower.
"That's Filch," Harry muttered when we heard an angry outburst above us.
We hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard. I couldn't make out much of what was said, being stuck behind the boys.
"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" Ron asked tensely.
We stood still, heads inclined toward Filch's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.
"Even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore -"
His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and I heard a distant door slam. We poked our heads around the corner. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
Now that Filch had stopped shouting, we could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.
"Now what's up with her?" said Ron.
"Let's go and see," said Harry. He pushed open the door and we all slipped inside. "What's up, Myrtle?"
"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"
"Why would I throw something at you?" Harry asked.
"Don't ask me!" Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me . . ."
"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," said Harry, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"
"Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"
"Well done Harry," i muttered, smirking and he shot me a glare, before looking back at the crying ghost.
"Who threw it at you, anyway?" asked Harry.
"I don't know . . . I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out . . ."
Glancing in the direction she pointed, I froze. Tom's Diary. Ginny had had it today, why had she . . . was this part of his plan? Harry pocketed it, and we left. Ginny wouldn't talk to me at all.
Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and fur free, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry showed her Tom's diary and told her the story of how we had found it.
There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.
"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," I heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."
Lockhart had some idea of a morale-booster, and it became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. I didn't get much sleep thanks to some weird dreams and hurried down to the Great Hall, slightly late. I stopped and almost puked just inside the doors.
The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. I joined Harry and Ron – who looked as ill as I felt – and Hermione – who was giggling – at the Gryffindor table. Sure i liked pink but this?
"What's going on?" I asked them.
Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced
"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn't end here!"
I eyed Hermione who shrank in her seat, blushing. Yup she'd sent him one. Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as the Gryffindors and i were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with us.
"Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.
He tried to bolt, but the dwarf grabbed his bag, ripping it. I crouched to help him pick his stuff up but the dwarf was on us fast.
"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.
"Not here," Harry hissed.
"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.
Harry gave me a desperate look and I dropped my bag next to him, shoving everything in it as fast as I could with his help.
"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.
Harry got up but the dwarf knocked him down, unfortunately on top of me.
"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's back.
"DO YOU MIND?!" I yelled from underneath both of them, hair bright red yet again – i was never going to be in control when i was angry, that much was obvious.
"Harry Potter, here is your singing valentine: His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's really divine, The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.
"GET OFF!" I screamed, blasting the bloody thing with my wand.
Percy tried to disperse the crowd and a card was shoved into my hands by the dwarf who ran off terrified.
"Give that back," Harry said.
I turned and my eyes widened, Malfoy had Tom's diary. That would not be good.
"Malfoy give me that, now," I said, holding out a trembling hand.
"Oh, it's yours?" he asked. My head shook itself on its own, "Wonder what Potter's written in this?"
A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified as she caught my eye.
"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy sternly.
"When I've had a look," said Malfoy, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry.
"As a school prefect -"
But Harry had lost his temper. He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and just as Snape had disarmed Lockhart, so Malfoy found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.
"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"
Malfoy was looking furious, and as Ginny passed us to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"
Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. I watched her go, feeling upset on her behalf and turned on Malfoy.
"You little bastard," I said quietly, walking forward, "You don't get to say that to her."
"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do?" Malfoy muttered, smirking, "Wouldn't want people to know what you were doing Christmas day would you?"
I snarled as I watched him walk away gleefully, almost crushing the valentines card in my hand. I looked down at it and opened it, wondering who on earth would send me something.
"Happy Valentine's Day?" I read. Who the hell?
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