Chapter 8: The Cerberus and the Dragon
Hermione Granger abruptly sat up from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall during lunch, and began to gather her things. Ron tapped her on the shoulder, and with a mouth full of food, asked, "Wer ou goin ione?"
"Oh, honestly, Ron. Didn't your mother ever tell you that was disgusting?"
Ron swallowed. "Sorry…So where are you going? You've been running off quite a bit, and you're never in the library."
"Why, have you checked?" Hermione asked.
Ron had the decency to blush. "Uh…we've just been looking for you."
"It's not my problem if you fail your classes, Ron. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to visit a friend." She got up to leave, but Ron grabbed her arm. She glared at him.
"Visit? Friend?" Ron asked, confused. "What friend?"
She shook his hand off, and glared at him. "Harry Potter."
"What? He's a...a Slytherin!" Ron whispered. "Why-"
Hermione cut him off. "I don't need to explain, Ronald. Let me go." And with that, she turned and walked out of the Great Hall, leaving a number of thoroughly confused Gryffindor First Years.
Hermione boarded one of the moving staircases as she headed for the third floor. Harry had been unconscious for three days, and while he was going to live, it was unclear when he'd wake. She'd visited him every time she could; her conscience wouldn't allow her to do anything less. She'd been having nightmares in which she just stood there, frozen, while the troll killed Harry. She still couldn't believe she'd been unable to do anything. I don't deserve to be a Gryffindor. Harry's braver than I am. The Hat was right, I should be a Ravenclaw…
This is all my fault. Harry was reaching out to me and I rejected him. I was stupid enough to believe those terrible rumors that he was a Dark Wizard and a slimy Slytherin lackey of Draco Malfoy. It was so obvious that he was nothing of the sort. That's why he didn't always come to meals. That's why he was always alone…
She'd reached the Hospital Wing. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Madam Pomfrey stepped out of her office. "Oh, it's you again. Take a seat if you must. It's your duty to get to class on time."
"Any improvement," she asked hopefully. Madam Pomfrey nodded. "He'll be awake soon, and he'll make a full recovery. I was able to save his arm, though it might be stiff for a while…and those bruises aren't going to heal easily. The ribs will also be sore." Hermione nodded, she'd been worried Harry might lose his left arm, which had been mangled by his impact with the wall.
She walked over to the chair at the boy's bedside and sat down, pulling out her Transfiguration Textbook. She smiled at him. "I've got fifteen minutes before class, so now would be a nice time to wake up, Harry," she said softly, chuckling to herself. She began to read.
"…c'mon Daph, let me sleep more…" a tired voice sounded from the bed. Harry shifted.
Hermione dropped the book. "Harry?"
A very tired looking green eye opened, then another. His forehead furrowed in confusion, and Hermione put his glasses on. He blinked. "Hermione?"
She nodded, then called over. "Madam Pomfrey! He's awake!"
The matron came bustling out of her office with a tray of potions. "What exactly am I going to do with you, Mr. Potter? Is one near-death experience not enough for you?" she asked jokingly, though Hermione could tell she hoped not to see him again. It was probably mutual.
"Dunno. Trouble seems to find me," Harry said weakly.
"Drink these," the mediwitch said, "all of them." Harry downed the potions one by one, and made a face. "Do Healing Potions have to taste so awful?"
"Yes, I afraid that any type of taste enhancer would ruin the potion or at least dilute it severely. I'll get you a glass of water," Madam Pomfrey said. She walked away.
"Harry, I'm so sorry for treating you so badly. I didn't believe you and I should have. I'm lonely too and I really screwed this up," Hermione said extremely fast.
Harry chuckled weakly. "Slow down, Hermione, I don't blame you. It was my fault for attacking the troll."
"No, it wasn't. You only did that to save me," Hermione insisted. That was the reason, right?
"Oh…yeah, well…um" Harry said. Hermione could tell he was trying to figure out a way to assign blame to neither of the them, and failing. "Well, I forgive you, Hermione," he said well naturedly. "So, why exactly are you here, of all people?"
"Weren't you listening?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.
"First, you were talking extremely quickly. But I got the gist. Second, does this mean you want to be my friend?" he asked hopefully.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, Harry, I would very much like to be your friend."
"Look out academic records of Hogwarts," Harry quipped. Hermione giggled, a sound she didn't often make. The bell rang.
"Well, I have to be off. If you want, I'll try to get you today's homework," she offered.
Harry nodded. "Thanks. I'm going to try and get some more sleep, so maybe Madam Pomfrey will let me out by tomorrow. Bye Hermione."
"Bye Harry," she said as she left. She felt better than she had in weeks.
The combination of the passing of Halloween and the fact that he was no longer alone, perhaps combined with Madam Pomfrey's sleeping potion, meant that Harry's sleep held no nightmares. He slept right through dinner, and awoke refreshed and energized. He sat up, and didn't feel any pain, though his ribs were sore and his arm felt stiff. Madam Pomfrey came in. "Awake, are you? How are you feeling?"
Harry shrugged. "Much better. I think I can go to classes. I am famished, though." His stomach gave a loud growl.
Madam Pomfrey felt his forehead, then ran a number of spells on Harry. She seemed satisfied with the results. "Alright, you are free to go. Don't come back for a while, alright?"
Harry nodded. "Yes ma'am."
Harry hurried into his dormitory, where his classmates were all asleep. He grabbed some robes and took a quick shower, then raced upstairs. Unfortunately, before he could complete his odyssey to the Great Hall, he found himself yanked by the arm into an empty classroom. He looked to who was dragging him and saw Hermione, who appeared to be bursting to tell him something. "Is there a reason you have further deprived me of badly needed nourishment, oh dear friend Hermione?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"You have no idea what I was doing last night!" she began.
Harry couldn't resist. "Do I want to know?" he said smartly.
Hermione hit him in the arm. "Shut up. Do you want to know or not?"
"I suppose I do," Harry drawled lazily. Hermione was getting angry, and Harry hoped he wasn't giving her the wrong impression. "I'm just needling you, Hermione. I'm not like Malfoy."
"I know that. So, anyway, yesterday, Malfoy insulted Ron's father, because his family isn't very wealthy. Ron called his father a Death Eater and 'you-know-who's lapdog' if I can remember correctly." Harry winced. "I know, not the brightest thing he's ever done, is it? Anyway, Malfoy challenged him to a wizard's duel in the Trophy Room at midnight."
"He was bluffing," Harry blurted. "I guarantee he tipped off Filch. It's a win-win. If Ron shows up and get caught, he gets in trouble, if he doesn't show up, he calls him a coward."
"I know that now," Hermione said impatiently. "So anyway, Ron nominated Neville, the poor boy, as his second (as if he needed one). They were waiting for midnight, and I tried to stop them, because if they got caught, they would lose so many points. Ron just told me to be quiet, and I was stupid enough to follow them out the entrance to the portrait. The um…F-…F-…What's wrong with me?"
"Probably an enchantment that prevents you from giving away the location of your common room. It doesn't really matter anyway." Hermione nodded.
"So anyway, the F-…oh, the bloody portrait…"
"Language, Hermione," Harry mock scolded.
"I though you were hungry," Hermione shot back.
Harry stomach gave a loud growl, answering for him. "Famished. Continue."
"So I was locked outside (Harry whistled). So anyway, all three of us went up to the Trophy Room and heard Filch waiting for us. We took off, got down to the Third Floor Corridor…then we ran into Peeves."
"Ouch."
"Yes, and Ron had the bright idea to tell him not to yell that we were there and then he tried to punch him. Stupid for two reasons, really. First, poltergeists are incorporeal, and can't be affected physically. Two, Peeves is a poltergeist, and will do the exact opposite of what you want. So, naturally, he screamed that there were students out of bed in the Charms corridor."
"Double ouch."
"Well, you know that the Charms corridor is on the third floor, right? Well, do you remember what else is on the third floor?"
"Don't tell me you…"
"We did. Without thinking, I unlocked the door with a Charm and we ran inside. And guess what we saw?"
"What?"
"A dog, with three heads. And it was standing on a trapdoor," Hermione said, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
Harry whistled. "You got back okay?"
"Yeah, and I gave Ron and Neville a good chewing out before I went to bed. I was lucky I didn't wake up McGonagall."
"Well, you shouldn't open doors they bother to lock magically. Trust me, what's in them isn't supposed to be accessible to students."
"What would you know about that, Harry?" Hermione asked, her eyes boring into him.
Harry blushed, "I…um…It's not important."
"Isn't it?" she asked. Harry suddenly felt like he had literally been backed into a corner. "You shouldn't be opening doors that were locked, Harry. We did so because it was an emergency. What was in there?"
Harry stared at the floor. "Something."
"Obviously."
"I don't want to talk about it, alright. Suffice to say two Professors caught me and told me to leave and I didn't listen to the first one."
Hermione looked scandalized. "And you weren't punished?"
"Due to special circumstances, no."
"Oh, I understand. That's alright, I guess. Just don't do it again. We should get to Breakfast." Harry got up first and extended his hand to pull her up. The two were walking out the door together when they heard an all-too-familiar voice from behind them.
"Oi, what's going on here? What were you doing in there?"
Harry smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know, Weasley," he said. "Congratulations on your 'duel,' by the way."
Ron's ears turned red, and Hermione saw that Harry was really enjoying this. This isn't right, she thought. Then again, Ron was really just getting what had been coming to him. The things he'd said, ranging from Harry knowing all of the Unforgivables and using them on animals, to Harry's fondest dream being to kneel at the feet of the man who had killed his parents…They were so blatantly false. Why did I believe the stupid git?
"Stop it, Harry. Please. Let's just go and get food, you're starving, aren't you?" Harry nodded stiffly, his gaze never leaving Ron.
"On a first name basis now, are you?" Ron asked with an accusatory glare.
"C'mon Hermione," Harry said, visibly struggling to control his temper. Hermione followed. As they passed Ron, he whispered, "Traitor…"
Unfortunately for him, Harry heard it too. And Hermione barely had time to blink before Harry had his wand in the hollow of Ron's neck.
"Little trick I picked up from Daphne. Anything else to say, Weasley? he hissed, fixing the redhead with a withering glare. Ron swallowed.
"Fine," Harry snapped. "I don't have time to waste on you." He stomped into the Hall, Hermione following him. He turned towards the Slytherin table, but Hermione put a hand on his arm.
"Harry, why don't you sit with me…on the end of the Gryffindor table?"
"Sure that's a good idea?" Harry asked, glancing at the Gryffindors. Ron had just sat down and was whispering excitedly, and the Gryffindors were now looking at him with hatred and Hermione with disdain.
"On second thought," Hermione said. "How about we sit with the Ravenclaws, I know Mandy Brocklehurst…a bit." Harry frowned. "I'll just sit with the Slytherins, Hermione. I'll see you later." It was Hermione's turn to frown.
"Why don't I sit with you?" she asked.
Harry looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head. "Because…I don't know, trust me, it's a bad idea. They don't like Muggleborns."
"I don't care, Harry," she said defiantly.
Harry shrugged, "Your funeral; they can't hate me anymore than they already do."
The reaction when Hermione took a seat next to him at the Slytherin table was predictable. Daphne Greengrass looked at Hermione as if she was something on the bottom of her shoe, and Nott raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Zabini looked at both of them with disdain, and Pansy and Millicent began whispering excitedly, probably making up more rumors. Malfoy, however, wasn't going to stay quiet.
"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, Potter? Bringing a mudblood to the Slytherin table! A Gryffindor no less."
Harry's eyes narrowed at the word, 'mudblood.' "I'm eating with a friend, or at least trying to. You know what a friend is, Draco? Or have you never spoken nicely to anyone who wasn't bought by your Death Eater of a father?"
Hermione was shocked by Harry's daring. As, apparently, was Malfoy. "I ought to challenge you to a duel, Potter," he hissed.
Harry rolled his eyes. "And you haven't because..? This isn't the first time I've announced that your father was a Death Eater."
"Because you aren't worth my time. Anyone who associates with such…filth is hardly worth my precious time," Malfoy said scathingly.
"It's because I'd win easily and break some of your perfectly manicured fingernails you stupid pureblooded arse," Harry replied. Hermione was starting to wonder if every conversation Harry had with a Slytherin was this intense. Harry certainly seemed to be an expert at this.
" 'Pureblooded'? Is that supposed to be an insult?"
"Yes, I consider being an inbred, stuck-up, arrogant prat to be quite an insult, Heir Draco of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy." Harry managed to make the grandiose title into a scathing retort. Malfoy was fuming.
"Maybe I'll take out my anger on your little mudblood," he hissed maliciously, as if Hermione wasn't there. Hermione was about to speak up when Malfoy suddenly found himself in the same situation Ron had been in moments earlier. And it looked like he'd been in this situation before. He swallowed as he looked down at Harry's wand. "You don't have the guts, Potter."
"Try me," Harry hissed softly. He looked downright frightening. All of this over me? He suddenly started gathering food into his napkin, shrinking it as he did. Where did he learn Shrinking Spells? "C'mon Hermione." Harry got up, and she followed, grabbing a bread roll. They walked out of the Great Hall, and onto the grounds. Harry sat down on the stairs, unshrunk his food, and began eating like a starving man. Which was what he was?
"Harry," Hermione said, taking a seat near him, "why did you do that?"
"Because Malfoy's a slimy, arrogant, stuck-up, inbred prat who can't keep his fat mouth shut. He'd make a horrid Death Eater."
Hermione's mouth dropped open at the insinuation. "Aren't you treating him a little harshly?" Harry laughed out loud, then flipped up his robe sleeve. A series of bruises covered his right arm.
"What's that?" she asked stupidly, having a feeling where this was going.
"Present from Crabbe and Goyle for waking up Draco by screaming."
"Why were you screaming?" Hermione asked.
"Nightmares," Harry replied simply, then took another bit of his bread roll. "My parents."
Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "You have dreams about…"
"Yeah," he said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice from the goblet he'd brought with him. "They are especially bad around Halloween. Notice how I've been looking like the walking dead?" Hermione nodded. "There you go. They only went away when…" he stopped, eyes staring into the distance. Then he shook his head, as if to clear it. "…can't think about that…" he mumbled to himself.
"Think about what?" Hermione asked. He was keeping something important from her. Truth be told, they'd only just started being friends, but based on how freely he shared everything else. But he got nothing new out of him.
The two new friends spent most of the next week in each other's company, on the grounds, in the library, even in the Great Hall. A Ravenclaw in their year, Lisa Turpin, had heard of their predicament and now Harry and Hermione sat with her and Terry Boot. The Ravenclaws didn't seem to mind, thinking that if Hermione was friends with him and Lisa and Terry didn't mind him, he couldn't be that bad. The Gryffindors still loathed him, in part for taking away their resident brain. She spent very little time in the Common Room, where most of the Gryffindors ignored her.
Not that she cared. Harry was more of a friend than she could have ever imagined. The boy was very intelligent, and extremely insightful. He also seemed extremely observant, and she cracked up the first time she witnessed an 'observation duel' between Harry and Theodore Nott. He was kind and understanding as well, and Hermione felt free to discuss her problems with him. He returned the favor, but she found she didn't mind. She hadn't figured out what it was that he was blatantly hiding from her, and figured it must be something very private.
She was, to put it bluntly, fascinated with Harry's guardian, the legendary Auror Daphne Dressler. Daphne had been the youngest ever to become a full Auror, requiring only a few months of schooling before she was thrown out onto the front lines. And she more than held her own, capturing a half dozen Death Eaters and becoming one of the most feared duelists in Britain. The story of how she lost her husband was tragic and nearly drove Hermione to tears. She'd been morbidly curious when Harry said Daphne had never told him exactly what had happened that night, though that was where Daphne had gotten her scars.
She'd apparently taught a few tricks to her surrogate son, but Hermione learned that most of the advanced magic that Harry knew he'd taught himself. Like both spells he'd tried to use on the troll. Hermione had tried to learn some of the combat spells, and had the Disarming Spell down, though the Stunning Spell was eluding her. It all seemed to come naturally to Harry.
It was late one Sunday afternoon when Harry suggested they go and see their mutual friend, Hagrid. The two crossed the bridge and walked down to Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The door and windows were shut. Odd.
Harry knocked on the door, and there was a sudden series of loud movements. Harry knocked again. "Hagrid? It's just me and Hermione." The movement stopped. "Alright, 'Arry, come in."
Hermione swore she heard a muffled, "What are you doing!" before Hagrid pulled the door open. Inside, much to her dismay, was Ron and Neville. Ron opened his mouth to say something when Harry's eyes locked onto the fireplace. "Hagrid, are you mad? A dragon in a wooden house?"
Hermione had no idea what Harry was talking about, but then she saw the egg in the fireplace. It was, indeed, a dragon egg, there was nothing else that size and color. What exactly are you doing, Hagrid?
"Oh, great, now the Slytherin knows. Happy now, Hermione? Happy that Hagrid's going to get arrested?" Hagrid paled. Harry's eyes flashed. "Of course she isn't, you stupid git, because I have no intention to tell on him. Why don't you shut it, Weasley?"
"How can you stand him, Hermione?" Ron asked, exasperatedly. "He's just a grouchy, slimy, Slytherin git."
Hagrid shifted nervously, trying to cover up the egg. "Uh, maybe 'e's right, 'Arry. Maybe yeh should go…"
Harry glared at him, betrayal in his eyes. "Fine," he ground out, then spun on his heel and ran out of the cabin Hermione stood there, glaring at them in turn. "I hope you're happy," she said, before running after her friend.
Hermione found Harry at the water's edge, leaning against a tree. She saw silent tears streaming down his face. He had his Slytherin House Badge in his left hand, his tie in his right. He suddenly rolled the badge in the tie, and with a mighty heavy, hurled both far into the lake.
"Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry spun around with the same eerie military-precision she supposed must have come from watching his guardian. It only seemed to happen when he was upset. She walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice. So she pulled him into a tentative embrace, and was surprised to see that he returned it enthusiastically.
They broke apart, and Hermione beamed at him. Harry gave a weak smile back. She pulled him to his feet. "C'mon, we're going to see a man about a dragon." Harry laughed.
They ran back to the house, and Harry pushed open the door, his cheerful expression vanishing, replaced by an emotional mask.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Ron demanded.
"I've gotten rid of my badge and my tie. I've got nothing else indicating that I'm Slytherin. So, you gonna let me in now?"
Hagrid at least had the grace to look ashamed. "Sorry 'Arry. Had some bad experiences 'cause of Slytherins. One got me expelled." Hermione looked at him in question, but she was polite enough not to ask.
"Well, Ron?" Hermione asked. Ron looked disgusted. "I'd prefer the company of that bloody three headed dog over his!"
"How do you know about Fluffy?"
Four sets of eyes turned to stare at him. Harry said, quietly, "Fluffy?" while Hermione preferred "that thing has a name!" Ron and Neville just stared, openmouthed.
Hagrid shifted nervously. "Yeah, 'e's mine. Bought 'im off a Greek Chappie down in the Hog's Head when he was just a little baby." Hermione stared at Harry in disbelief.
"What's it guarding?" Harry asked, hoping to catch Hagrid off guard.
"Oh, it's guarding the S-…Hey! Can't tell yeh that. That's between Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel," Hagrid said angrily.
"Flamel?" Harry repeated. "Does that have anything to do with that little red thing you got in Gringotts?" Hagrid looked alarmed that Harry had seen that.
"Shouldn'ta told yeh that," Hagrid muttered under his breath. "All right, clear out, all of yeh." As if grateful for an excuse to the leave the company of the Slytherin and the Gryffindor traitor, as Hermione had been dubbed, Ron and Neville ran out, though Neville was much more tentative. Hermione sighed, she believed Neville was better than that.
As they walked up the path back to the bridge, Harry and Hermione turned to each other. "Library," they said simultaneously, prompting both to go into a fit of laughter. The two friends raced up the path and headed for their favorite part of the school.
Harry and Hermione, as usual, threw themselves headfirst into this latest research project. Unfortunately, despite reading and re-reading as many books on famous witches of wizards in recent times, they found no mention of the mysterious Flamel. Hermione swore she head read the name before, but couldn't figure out where without proper context.
Their research was often cut short by an increasing academic load, as well as Quidditch practice. Harry and Hermione budgeted their time well, and managed to get all of their work done, as well as compete with each other for the best marks in all of their classes. Both were constantly trying to out do each other with extra credit or including information not found in the textbooks. They paired up most of the time, much to the chagrin of the rest of the classes, who could use a bright partner.
They were the only ones now who could stay awake during History of Magic, and while Hermione wasn't quite as interested in the subject as Harry, the two often held long discussions on the reasons behind certain goblin rebellions or giant wars. They sat with Lisa Turpin and Terry Boot at meals, neither of whom they were really friends with, but the two were friendly enough to give them a place to sit together. Malfoy seemed to be ignoring Harry's existence, something that Harry didn't mind at all. Aside from the occasional conversation with Nott or Greengrass, Harry rarely spoke to his Slytherin classmates.
Except during Quidditch, of course. Flint's motto was 'win the cup or die trying.' And indeed, it seemed as if he was trying to kill them. Harry loved to fly, but flying in freezing cold rain and wind wasn't his idea of a walk in the park. Strangely enough, his teammates didn't seem to care that he always brought Hermione along, who would sit in the otherwise empty stands, reading. Harry supposed they thought that the rest of Gryffindor hated Granger, so she probably wouldn't be spying on their practice. Not that Hermione would understand the complicated aerial maneuvers anyway. Quiddtich, like flying, was not her forte. Still, Harry would push his best friend onto a broom once in a while, trying to at least get her proficient. It was slow going.
The actual game was played at the end of November, Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw had a team almost entirely composed of second and third years, none of whom had been together very long. Roger Davies, a third year and one of the Chasers, was the only player who had been on last year's team, mostly comprised of 7th years. Harry's opposite number was a pretty second year girl named Cho Chang who seemed to be practiced on a broom, but wasn't nearly as good as Harry. The team as a whole was inexperienced and hadn't practiced nearly enough, and the Slytherins took full advantage.
It was a rout from the time that Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The Slytherin chasers, Flint, Montague, and Pucey, scored with reckless abandon, reducing the young Keeper to tears. The Ravenclaw Beaters could hardly get their hands on a Bludger to hit, because Bole and Derrick were playing the best they ever had, harassing the Ravenclaw Chasers and even causing Chang to crash. The game was played in the middle of a rainstorm, and the frigid air finally justified all of those hellish practices.
Hermione was sitting in the Slytherin section for fear of her own safety. Harry had begged Nott and Greengrass to let her sit there, just so that she could support him, and they had reluctantly agreed, though Daphne had added, "don't expect me to talk to her." Nott had just nodded, a sign that Harry took as meaning, "don't worry about her." Harry really wasn't sure what to think of the enigmatic Slytherin boy at times.
With Hermione cheering him on, wearing a borrowed green scarf to placate the Slytherins, Harry prowled around in pursuit of the Snitch. The score was 210-20 Slytherin, and Maggie Bletchley was making a show of lounging on her broom, yawning occasionally to mock the ineptitude of the Ravenclaw Chasers. Harry spotted the Snitch near her and took off, making a fist to indicate the Snitch was near her. She got out of the way, and Harry quickly was in pursuit. Chang reacted slowly, being on the other side of the field, and Harry had the golden ball struggling to escape his grip by the time she reached him. The final score was staggering, 360-20 Slytherin. Harry flew down and received a hug from Hermione and a pat on the back in congratulations. Nott just smiled mysteriously at Harry.
Unfortunately for Hermione, the response of the Gryffindors to her sitting, 'behind enemy lines' was not a positive one. Nor was it very intelligent off her to admit she'd attended every Slytherin practice. Ron Weasley started ranting about "House Loyalty," something that made Harry snort into his eggs when he heard about it.
He was of the opinion that it was Hermione's duty to report back on the Slytherins. When she point-blank refused, stating that the only reason Flint tolerated her presence was because she wasn't a spy, Ron drew back his fist to hit her, but was stopped by Neville. Harry told Ron that he was damned lucky for that; if he had struck his friend, Harry would have hexed him into the next millennium.