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May We Live In Interesting Times. Chapter 13- Miss Know it all
🕑 Added 2024-10-20 18:23:38 +0000 UTCHermione stirred, her mind clawing its way through the dense fog of unconsciousness. Every movement felt sluggish, like she was swimming through water, heavy and slow. The first thing she became aware of was the dull ache spreading across her body, particularly her neck, where a throb pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. Her fingers twitched, instinctively rising to touch the spot, but as her hand brushed the bandages, pain seared through her like fire.
She gasped, the sound weak and hoarse.
“Harry, she’s waking up!”
Ron’s voice, familiar but thick with concern, broke through the haze. She blinked against the blinding light, her vision still blurred at the edges. Slowly, shapes came into focus—two figures hovering over her bed, watching her closely. Harry was at her side, leaning in with that anxious look she knew too well, his eyes dark with worry. Ron stood at the foot of the bed, his hands fidgeting as though he didn’t know what to do with them.
“Hermione,” Harry said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital wing.”
Her throat burned when she tried to speak, the words catching before she could get them out. Instead, she nodded slightly, though the movement sent a sharp pain shooting down her spine. The hospital wing. Yes, of course. She knew that smell—sterile, astringent, and the faintest hint of lavender. But why? Why was she here?
And then it hit her, all at once, a flood of memory that left her breathless.
The train. The serpent.
Her body tensed, the panic rising again, clawing at her chest. She remembered the cold, coiling sensation around her neck, the weight of the snake tightening, squeezing. She could still feel its slick scales, the hiss of its breath against her ear. Her hand flew back to her throat, fingers trembling as they traced the bandages.
“It’s okay,” Harry said quickly, his hand hovering near hers but not quite touching. “It’s over. You’re safe.”
Her eyes snapped to his, wide and wild. “The snake…” she managed to croak, her voice barely more than a rasp.
“We—” Harry began, but Ron cut in, his voice strained.
“We were so close to—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard, his face pale. “You nearly…”
“I’m glad you’re okay, Hermione.” Harry interjected
Her pulse quickened, and she clenched the blanket, her knuckles white. “Who?”
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, the kind that spoke volumes without a word. “We don’t know yet,” Ron muttered, his jaw tight, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “But it went past all compartment straight for us”
“This was a murder attempt.”
Now fully awakened, Hermione’s mind raced, perhaps boosted with the memory of how close she had been with death
Murder
Her mind jumped to the usual suspects.
Voldemort and to a significantly lesser level, the Slytherins.
Draco Malfoy and his lot.
But even that didn’t make sense.
This wasn’t their usual M.O Or school yard pranks while the whole world watched as he tried to make fool of the Gryfindors.
Still if this was a prank or a murder attempt, it was one poorly planned.
I mean what was the point of sending a what she recognized as the Venominus Ziggurat. The Magical Adder against two wizards and a witch. Especially when one of those wizards was the boy-who-lived. A wizard people knew could speak to snakes.
“And Harry,” Ron added, his voice tense, “he tried to talk to it… in Parseltongue.”
“It wasn’t listening, at first” Harry said quietly, not meeting her gaze. “It felt like it didn’t want to listen. I’m sorry.”
The way his shoulders slumped just slightly, how his eyes remained downcast. Like his guilt was practically pressing down on him like a laden cloak.
She recognized the signs immediately.
Of course, the person with the worst hero complex she had ever seen, would somehow blame himself for this attempt on her life.
Everything wrong with the world somehow circled back to him, as if he were the axis on which all disaster turned.
She wanted to shake him, tell him it wasn’t his responsibility, that there were probably other forces at play, darker and far more insidious than any of them could fathom. But she couldn’t—her body still felt like it had been drained of every ounce of energy, and the effort of even keeping her eyes open was exhausting.
Harry’s guilt was practically suffocating the room. “I should’ve done more,” he murmured, his voice tight. “I should’ve—”
“Harry,” Hermione rasped, cutting him off. Her voice was weak, but she forced as much strength into it as she could manage. “It’s not your fault.”
His gaze flicked to hers, startled, and she could see the war waging behind his eyes, the familiar battleground of blame and self-reproach. For a moment, she almost pitied him. Almost. But the ache in her throat reminded her that pity wasn’t what he needed. He needed a sharp dose of reality.
She took a breath, the pain in her neck flaring up again, but she ignored it. “You saved me,” she said firmly. “Both of you. And I’ll not sit here and listen to you act like you failed.”
Harry flinched, and beside him, Ron shifted uncomfortably. She could see that she wasn’t getting through to them. The frustration bubbled up in her, pushing against her ribs, but before she could muster the strength to argue further, a sharp pain gripped her as her throat tightened, her body immediately wracked by a sudden fit of coughing. Pain shot through her neck with every convulsion, and she clenched the blankets, her knuckles white as she struggled to regain control. She caught a glimpse of Harry’s face—his eyes wide with panic—as if he were about to leap into action, though there was nothing he could do.
“Merlin’s beard, she’s choking!” Ron exclaimed, taking a step forward, hands hovering uselessly as though torn between helping and staying put. “We should—”
“Out of the way, you two!” Madame Pomfrey’s stern voice cut through the tension as she bustled into the room, her robes billowing behind her. Her presence was commanding, as always, and in an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Harry and Ron immediately stepped aside, like schoolboys caught out of bed after hours.
Pomfrey was at Hermione’s side, a vial of potion already in hand. “This will ease the pain,” she said, her tone brisk but not unkind. “Drink it slowly now, Miss Granger. No need to strain yourself.”
Hermione obeyed, the bitter liquid sliding down her throat, cooling the burning ache that had made her cough in the first place. The relief was immediate, but the exhaustion that followed was overwhelming. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and it took every ounce of her remaining strength to keep them open.
Madame Pomfrey straightened, casting a sharp glance at the two boys who hovered anxiously at the edge of the bed. “And you two—out,” she ordered, her tone brooking no argument. “She needs rest to heal properly and I won’t have you lot disturbing her any further. Honestly, thinking you could stay here all night…”
“But—” Ron started to protest, his face falling. “We just wanted to make sure she’s—”
“She’ll be just fine,” Pomfrey snapped, already ushering them toward the door. “Now, off with you, before I report you to Professor McGonagall for loitering about after hours. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear it.”
As Madame Pomfrey continued to shoo Harry and Ron toward the door, Hermione fought the wave of exhaustion that threatened to pull her under. She raised a shaky hand, motioning weakly in Harry’s direction. “Harry,” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry froze mid-step, turning back to her instantly. Madame Pomfrey let out a huff of annoyance but allowed it, folding her arms with an impatient look as Harry approached the bed once more. He leaned in, crouching beside her, his brows furrowed in concern.
Hermione struggled to sit up slightly, her body protesting every movement, but there was something she needed to say
“Come closer,” she whispered, her voice raw and strained.
Harry hesitated for only a second before leaning in, his ear close to her lips and so she whispered into his ear.
He pulled back slightly, enough to look her in the eyes. Then, with a subtle nod, he squeezed her hand gently, his eyes never leaving hers.
“If you don’t leave this instant, Mr Potter, you’ll miss the feast entirely,” Pomfrey said, stepping forward to usher him out.
That was enough to get even Ron moving and they left, leaving Hermione alone in the silence of the infirmary.
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It wasn’t listening.
The words echoed in her mind, repeating with a persistence she couldn’t shake. She lay back in the infirmary bed, the scent of lavender and antiseptic clinging to the air, but her thoughts were far from the sterile comfort of the hospital wing. Harry’s words, spoken with such unease, had lodged themselves in her brain, like a splinter under her skin.
It wasn’t listening.
Hermione had witnessed Harry speak Parseltongue before. It wasn’t just speech—it was command. She’d seen how snakes, magical and otherwise, would halt as though hypnotized, swaying in deference to his voice. The language itself seemed to hum with power, a dark and ancient magic woven into every syllable.
Yet this time, it had failed. Or rather, the snake had failed to respond.
Why?
She frowned, her mind working through the puzzle with a growing sense of unease. Something about it wasn’t adding up.
The serpent—it wasn’t just any snake. She had felt the crushing strength of its coils, the cold weight of it as it tightened around her neck. This was no ordinary magical creature. It had been deliberate, measured. Powerful enough to kill her with a single twist, yet... it hadn’t.
The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. This hadn’t been a murder attempt—not a serious one, at least. If it had been, why send such a creature and then fail to follow through?
Hermione’s eyes flickered to the moonlight spilling through her window as her thoughts spiraled further. There were too many gaps, too many pieces that didn’t fit. The serpent had been sent for them. Of that she was sure.
But she didn’t think it had murder on its mind
It had something different and she was interested in finding out.
She knew Harry and Ron would return to check on her, as they had promised. She would need their help, or at least their cooperation in solving this mystery.
Her opportunity came soon enough. The door creaked open, and soft footsteps approached her bed. She could make out Harry’s figure, followed closely by Ron’s.
“Hermione,” Harry whispered, bending down slightly. “How are you feeling?”
Hermione didn’t waste time with pleasantries. She propped herself up, ignoring the twinge of pain in her neck. “Did you bring the cloak?”
“The cloak?” Ron’s face crinkled in confusion. “I thought you wanted to drop some food for her, Harry! Blimey, Hermione, you’ve just been attacked! Why do you need the Cloak now?”
“I know, Ron,” she began softly, her voice deliberately fragile. She let her hand rise to her bandaged throat, as if the action alone reminded her of how vulnerable she still felt. “But it’s just that... after what happened on the train, I—” She hesitated, making her voice small and uncertain, and immediately saw Ron’s face crease with concern.
“After the snake attacked me,” she continued, her eyes flicking up to meet his, “I don’t feel particularly... safe. Not even here.”
Ron’s eyes darkened with shame, his hand halfway raised to his hair as though itching to ruffle it in frustration.
“I just keep thinking... if it came after us once, what’s to stop it from trying again?” Hermione’s voice dropped to a whisper, as though she were confiding a secret she could barely bring herself to admit. She let the words hang in the air, noting the effect they had on Ron. His eyes widened in a mixture of horror and disbelief.
“But, Hermione,” Ron said, his voice faltering. “You’re in the hospital wing! Nothing can get in here. You’re safe now.”
Hermione shook her head, casting her eyes down to the bedcovers, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. “I wish I could believe that, Ron. But what if something else happens tonight? What if something’s still out there—waiting?” She swallowed audibly. “I’d just feel so much better if I had the Invisibility Cloak with me. It would help me sleep, knowing I could—hide—if I had to.”
Ron’s hesitation melted away in that instant. “Of course,” he murmured, almost to himself. He shot Harry a look that made it clear the decision was made.
To which Harry rolled his eyes before reaching inside his robes, fishing out the silvery, shimmering fabric of the Invisibility Cloak.
“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, clutching the Cloak with genuine relief. “I promise I won’t.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?” Ron asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, her voice firm. “I’ll get some rest.”
"Right, we better get going then Harry. We’re already way past curfew." He looked at Hermione with a small, hesitant smile. "Goodnight, Hermione. Try to rest, yeah?"
Hermione nodded, her lips curving into a gentle smile. "Goodnight, Ron."
As Ron made his way through the door, Harry followed before he stopped, his fingers lingering on the wood. The faint creak of the hospital wing's old door barely masked the silence that followed. He turned his head slightly, just enough for her to see those piercing green eyes.
"You might have Ron fooled, 'Mione," Harry said quietly, his voice calm but laden with meaning. "But not me." His gaze held hers. "Whatever you’re planning… be careful. Goodnight.”
Then he left.
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A short while later, cloaked in the comforting weight of the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione found herself standing outside the entrance to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. The castle was silent, bathed in moonlight, and the air was cool with the crispness of night.
She bent down, placing the Proximity Charm on the stone floor of the corridor before the door, watching as a soft glow flickered for a brief moment before vanishing.
It was subtle, just enough to sense when someone—or something—passed through this very corridor. It had been a gamble.
A gamble she was willing to take as she lay back down into the ward bed.
Seconds passed.
Minutes.
An hour.
Then she stopped counting. By now, the familiar tug of doubt began to creep in. What if she was wrong?
But then, just as she was about to call it a night and sleep off, the charm triggered.
Comments
Khanadiety
Just fixed up the chapters titles now. This chapter will be leading up to how Hermione found herself caught in the chamber of secrets.
GODKINGASH
whats going on im so lossed
