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┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏 *•. ┄┄

𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒎?

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The rest of the holidays were mainly spent on the Quidditch pitch. The trio would take turns in riding the brooms and playing Quidditch—this way Hermione could practice for the chaser position and Ron the keeper (Harry insisted).

By then, Ron and Hermione had gotten over their rift and were again on good terms.

The rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again. Wood sought Harry out on the night before term started. The trio was sat on the couches of the common room talking excitedly about one of Ron's saves and Harry's horrible performance as a chaser.

"Had a good Christmas?" Oliver said, and then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice, and said, "I've been, doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After the last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one. . . . I mean. . . . we can't afford you to—well—" Wood broke off, looking awkward.

"I'm working on it," said Harry quickly.

"Professor Lupin said he'd train me to ward off the Dementors. We should be starting this week. He said he'd have time after Christmas," Harry informed him. "Me and Hermione are both going to prevent fainting episodes."

"Ah," said Wood, his expression clearing. "Well, in that case—I really didn't want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?"

"No," said Harry, suppressing a grin.

"What! You'd better get a move on, you know—you can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!"

"He got a Firebolt for Christmas," Ron couldn't help but burst out.

"A Firebolt? No! Seriously? A—a real Firebolt?"

"No. A chopstick." Said Hermione sarcastically. Oliver did not find this funny, "I'm kidding. Yes. A real Firebolt," she told them and they all stood in shock as Oliver Wood squealed with happiness and burst into hysterics. The common room followed swift.

Classes started again the next day and Hermione couldn't wish more for her holidays to come back. Flying outside on a cold day was one thing. Spending two hours standing on the grounds on a raw January morning was another, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs.

The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest lifeline she had ever seen. She also said Hermione had more lines than normal, which cause Hermione to frown at the randomness.

It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry and Hermione were keen to get to. They wanted to start their Patronuses class.

"Ah yes," said Lupin, when they reminded him of his promise at the end of class. "Let me see. . . . how about eight o'clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough. . . . I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this. . . . We can't bring a real Dementor into the castle to practice on. . . ."

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" said Ron as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"

"I don't think it's any of our business. . . ." Hermione trailed off.

"But?" Harry said and Hermione cursed him from knowing her so well.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione.

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron.

"It's not my secret to tell, Ron," said Hermione scoffed.

"She doesn't know," he said to Harry, then turning to Hermione "You don't know." Ron said and Hermione scoffed while Harry just shook his head in amusement.

At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, Harry and Hermione left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when they arrived, but they lit the lamps with their wands—which Hermione thought was really unnecessary; they could just have electricity and then switch the switch—and had waited only five minutes when Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binn's desk.

"What's that?" said Harry.

"Another Boggart," said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."

"Okay," said Harry while Hermione only nodded and tuned out as Lupin gave Harry the details she already knew.

She tried to think of a happy memory. Or a happy feeling, sensation, whatever it was. She thought about her old life but nothing filled with happiness. Yes, there were good moments but nothing that brought her a feeling of. . . . bliss? Then she thought to herself: when was she the happiest? And the answer came to her:

Christmas break.

It was perfect. She got to meet Sirius, got a Firebolt, spent time with Harry and Ron. It was carefree and she was genuinely happy. It wasn't the best memory for a spell-like this but it was the only one she had for now.

"Concentrating hard on your happy memory?" Lupin said, breaking Hermione out of her thoughts.

She snapped her head towards Remus again but as she went to look at him, she spotted something on a far corner that disappeared as she looked back. It must be a bug or something, she thought to herself, brushing it off.

Hermione grinned and nodded and Harry stammered "Oh—yeah—"

"Expecto patrono—no, patronum—sorry—expecto patronum, expecto patronum"

As Harry started fumbling and created a silver wisp, Hermione took a deep breath and muttered "Expecto Patronum." Suddenly something whooshed out of her wand and a silvery shield formed in front of her.

"Very good," said Lupin, smiling at the two. "Right, then—ready to try it on a Dementor?"

"Yes," they both answered.

Harry was tense, Hermione however was relishing the fact she was actually able to do it.

Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.

A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry and Hermione. The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward them, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over the two, and as Harry started yelling, Hermione started feeling faint.

Her vision clouded in mist. She felt her body fall into a void, and all she could hear was that baby, again, crying and wailing as a woman's voice started echoing through her mind.

"Everything will be okay, baby girl," the voice said softly, as if it was trying to prevent herself from crying. "We love you. Mummy and Daddy love you. You'll come back somehow—"

Hermione tried to listen for more, she tried to grasp anything more, a sound a scent, but she couldn't. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, a gasp falling out of her lips and then it all went black.

She woke up moments later with Harry's head hovering over her.

"Hermione?"

"Huh?"

Hermione sat up on the bed and looking around noticed she was in the Hospital Wing. The stock of beds lined up, the white curtains, the sanitary scent. She definitely wasn't in the History classroom anymore.

"Good. You're awake Miss Granger. Big scare you gave us," Madam Pomfrey told her as she came along with some potions. Hermione downed grimacing at the taste. She then turned to Harry, and Ron, who were beside her.

"What happened? We were practicing Patronuses," Hermione asked them.

"We were," Harry nodded looking worriedly at her. "Then we both passed out. But you stayed down. Lupin and I brought you here."

"Huh?"

"You slept through the night," Ron told her.

"What?"

"And Lupin said maybe it's better if you stop going," said Harry flinching at Hermione's screech.

"What?!"

"He said he doesn't want you dying or something."

"Then I won't die," Hermione said promptly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Simple as that. I want to learn."

"The thing is," began Lupin as he approached them, entering the Wing, "it's not as simple as that, Hermione."

Hermione scowled.

"So what if I passed out? Maybe I was just a little tired. . . ." Hermione said with a shrug, "Harry heard his mum too, I'm not the only one."

"You heard your mum?" Harry frowned.

"Yeah. Not important," Hermione waved him off as she realized her slip-up. "Come on, Remy. I really want to learn."

"I can't put you at risk."

"Come on! Poppy tell him!" Hermione whined and she heard Madam Pomfrey muttering disturbingly so she turned to the boys "Ronald? Harold? Come on, help me."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look and looked away and Hermione huffed.

"Fine. I'll just learn it on my own. . . ."

Hermione wasn't allowed to go to classes on Friday, which she actually didn't mind at all. She stayed in the Hospital Wing the whole day—mostly sleeping. When Ron and Harry came back after class it was right after Ginny had come. They both sat on either side of her and started telling her about their day. That's when Hermione decided:

She would do it today.

"Hey, guys, can I ask you something?" She asked the two boys who looked at her curiously.

"What would you say to a project that involved a lot of rule-breaking and a possible Azkaban sentence, or expulsion?" she asked and bit her lower lip while waiting for their response.

The two boys in question just gaped at her with blank looks.

"What do you mean possible Azkaban sentence?" Ron asked as he got out of his shocked state.

"You don't want to kill anyone, right, Hermione?" Harry asked her.

"What? No. Not right now," Hermione waved him off.

She then looked around and as she saw the three of them were all alone—including the rat, who wasn't there—she turned to them, "I think it would be a good idea for us to become Animagi."

"Animagi?"

"What?"

"Yeah. You know. Like Minnie," she told them with an exciting look. "It would take a lot of time but I already have the research down. I think the worst part will be putting a mandrake leaf in our mouths for a whole month."

"What?" They both asked again.

"Look guys, this would be really cool. We just have to be careful and all that. Why don't you think about it? We don't even have to start this year," Hermione told them.

That night the three of them left the Hospital Wing in silence. Ron and Harry because of their shock that Hermione would even think of something like that, and Hermione thinking of the best time to turn into Animagi. She just knew it had to be before they were on the run.

The next weeks passed and as Hermione, Harry, and Ron were heading down to the pitch to watch the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin match, Hermione spotted Padfoot on the outskirts of the forest. She gave a half-arsed excuse to the boys saying she had forgotten to do some homework and as they were far away enough she went in the direction of the forest.

As she ventured through it she spotted Sirius approaching her and she grinned. "Hey, Padfoot!"

"Have any food?" Sirius asked her eagerly.

"You finished the other already?" Hermione frowned and he shrugged sheepishly, "I'll get you more later."

"Thank you, Mia." Sirius grinned.

"Mia?" Hermione asked with a frown and a smile.

"Hermione is a bloody mouth full," Sirius said with a shrug. "How your mother—I mean—parents came up with it I'll never know."

"Well, I like Mia," said Hermione with a smile, "Maybe I'll tell people to call me that."

Sirius smiled.

"So, how's everything?" He asked as he sat down on the floor, Hermione following after him.

"Well, first of all, thank you so much for the broomstick!" said Hermione and beamed at him, "You didn't have to do that. I get why you send it to Harry, but I'm just his friend—"

"You've been a lot of help, Mia. It was the least I could do," Sirius said cutting her off, then he grinned, "Besides I've seen you fly. You're really good. It's like it's in your blood."

Hermione couldn't help to smile at that, but immediately it turned into a scowl.

"FYI, Moony is a bloody arsehole," she huffed and Sirius laughed.

"Why?"

"He made me stop Patronuses class after the first lesson," Hermione said, "Honestly! You faint and hear your mother and suddenly the world stops. Besides it also happened to Harry. I just happened to be more sleepy and only woke the day after—"

"You passed out for a whole night?" Sirius asked worriedly.

"Well, yeah," said Hermione, shrugging.

"Wait. You said you heard your mum?" Sirius asked suddenly and Hermione grimaced. Why did she keep slipping up?

"Yeah. . . ." she muttered.

"What was she—"

"I'm thinking of becoming an Animagus!" She grinned at him in an attempt to change the topic.

"What?"

"Well, it's bloody wicked. Besides, it must come in handy. I'm almost sure Ron and Harry will be in on it." Hermione told him and she couldn't help but notice the proud smile on Sirius's face, so she took a photo of it—something people didn't find weird anymore, she was always taking pictures.

"That's wicked!" He grinned, "Why would you think about it, though?"

"Duh. To continue the marauder's legacy. We have a Prongslet in the group already!"

Hermione laughed and, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something but when she turned around she only saw the dense forest ahead.

"What happened?" Sirius asked following her line of sight.

"Um—Do you—I—uh," Hermione stammered, scrunching up her face as she tried to come up with a way to tell Sirius she was seeing things. "Uh, never mind."

"But, Mia—"

"I should get going! Nice talking to you! I'll bring you some food!" Hermione said standing up suddenly in an effort to change topics. "Bye!"

"Bye, Mia," she heard Sirius sighing as she left the forest.

January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. Hermione hadn't been able to practice her Patronus due to the shit ton of homework she had. So much so, she even stopped going for her usual flies. She wasn't drained, though. She just didn't have as much free time as she wanted.

One night, Hermione was crouched over her Transfiguration essay—writing in pen, which saved her loads of time—as Harry and Ron, were polishing Harry's Firebolt. The common room started filling up exponentially by seven o'clock and people were gathering around the broom—which subsequently made Hermione pissy as everyone was talking so loud.

"Harry, will you take that bloody thing away from here, along with your swarm?" Hermione asked in exasperation.

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "I'd better put it upstairs."

"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic."

He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase.

"Can I sit down, then?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Sure," said Hermione after giving him a weird look.

Harry looked around the table. There was a pile of books in a corner and some charts for Arithmancy. There were colored pens sprawled around and some papers from essays finished to the side.

"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked her.

"I work?" said Hermione unsurely.

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine. I just have a little extra this week," Hermione shrugged.

"Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.

"It's not that bad. I might quit Divination though. I'm waiting to make a dramatic exit—"

At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder—and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.

"Get that out of my face—"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"

Hermione was lazily looking at Ron with an eyebrow raised.

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

"What?" said Hermione feigning curiosity and she heard the Weasley twins and some other people snicker.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs. Hermione grimaced at the sight but then turned to him with a deadpan look.

"Seriousily?" Hermione huffed. "How do you know it isn't your hair, Ronald?"

"IT'S NOT MY HAIR!"

"Geez. You're such a drama queen. How, pray tell, was Crooks able go get there?" Hermione scoffed, "Look, Ronald. I like you. You're a good friend. But you'll have to move on from that rat. It's not my fault. It's not yours. It's the circle of life. It happened."

"YOUR CAT MURDERED SCABBERS!"

"Exactly you daft git. The cat. Not me!" Hermione said in exasperation and with a swish of her wand her things were packed and she left the common room and to her dormitory. She found Crookshanks lazily sprawled along her bed.

"I know it wasn't you Crooks," Hermione said, "You're a badarse cat, but you could be more efficient at killing that rat."

The cat rolled its eyes and Hermione glared.

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