When Rhiannon woke late on Saturday she tiptoed downstairs to find the castle awash with rumours. Even her own house-mates were suspicious, and Rhiannon fielded too many questions of ‘where were you going’ and ‘why were you there’ as she slunk off to Herbology, the only class they had that day. The whole castle smelled of fear from grounds to towers, and whispers followed her as she drifted like a ghost through the corridors. Professor Sprout sternly quelled any muttering in her class and set them to tending mandrakes again. The rumour was that the cat was dead, a rumour Professor Sprout quickly put to rest.

“She’s Petrified, and the best way we’ll undo that is with these here mandrakes, so hop to it and take care not to stab them with your trowels there,” said Professor Sprout briskly, shooing away some students who crowded around Rhiannon’s table to pepper her with yet more half-accusing inquiries. That led into a brief discussion about what Petrification actually meant, but thankfully the attention was diverted from Rhiannon herself for the time being. When the class finished and she was released for lunch, she slunk back to her dorm room to hide, pulled the curtains around her bed and refused to emerge from her warm cave of wand-lit books and a companionable cat for the rest of the day, not even for Hermione. Hermione sneaked her some bread rolls from the evening meal, and she only crept out to shower when her roommates had fallen asleep.

There was no time for hiding the next day – they had the first Quidditch match of the day against Ravenclaw again and it started at nine sharp. Rhiannon pulled up the hood of her team robes and ate her breakfast at the Hufflepuff table with Dudley, where the other students were more polite and less likely to pry. She finished as quickly as she could and hurried outside, having stowed her broomstick and pads under the bench while she ate.

Outside, the wind howled and beat against the walls of the common area in which the Gryffindor team sheltered. Grimly Oliver handed out goggles to the players, having charmed them against the weather. “Looks like we might get the first snow out there, so be careful – snow-light is flat, I want a clean game. No injuries this early in the season, you hear?” he warned them. He patted Rhiannon’s shoulder gruffly. “You especially, and Katie – you don’t have the weight to counter the wind. Look out for eachother out there, and everyone look out for them two. Alright team, mount up. Ron, you stand by in case I need to plan plays from the ground instead.” he finished, and with that the players mounted their brooms.

The game was a short one. No-one’s hearts were really in it and just as Oliver had said, Rhiannon could smell snow in the air; they all wanted to get in before it hit. Just as they did every game they played, she and Sorcha Cho taunted eachother light-heartedly, one thing their hearts were in – it boosted their teammates’ morale, and their own, to play up the friendly rivalry. Rhiannon didn’t have to hold back, this soon after the full moon she was still shaking out stiffness and her vision lacked the usual colour perception, so she was looking more for the Snitch as movement than anything else. That was something she had an advantage in, but with the bustle of the game and the wind around them it was hard to pick out a specific and very small movement amongst it all.

Sorcha caught the Snitch as the first snowflakes blew down around them. Rhiannon’s superior broom was little advantage in this weather, and she congratulated her opponent honestly enough as they both made for the ground. They clasped forearms and grinned at eachother, then trudged off in opposite directions towards the team rooms.

Rhiannon returned to the castle and showered, enjoying the time to herself. The water blotted out the whispers she could hear from the dormitories, and she could imagine she was alone in the world. She must have lost more time than she meant to, because she was startled from her daydreaming by a tentative knock on the stall door.

“Rhi, you alright?” Hermione asked, straining her low voice to carry over the water. Rhiannon groaned and shut off the water, then groped around for her towel to wipe water out of her eyes. “Y-yeah,” she replied tiredly. Hermione hummed quietly. “Alright. I’ll leave you to get dressed,” she replied, and Rhiannon heard her footsteps as she left the room.

Rhiannon leaned on the stall wall as she dried her hair, then dressed as quickly as she could. With a clean pair of socks in hand she left the bathroom, and hung her towel up over a chair that stood at the foot of her bed beside the trunk there, usually for just that purpose. She sat down on her bed and petted her cat absently, too fretful to relax but too tired to work off any of the fretting even though there was no one but Hermione in the room with her.

“Rhi,” Hermione asked quietly, and Rhiannon looked up at her friend who sat on her own bed just across from Rhiannon herself. “We, I – heard, bits, about Friday night,” she began awkwardly, and Rhiannon’s heart sank. She shook her head, refusing to meet Hermione’s gaze.

“S-s-s-omething, weird, happened. I heard something. I knew she wasn’t d-d-d-dead, ‘mione.” Rhiannon whispered, hugging herself with one arm. “Someone did this – and I think – I think I heard them do it.”

Hermione stood and shifted across from her bed to Rhiannon’s, and wordlessly put an arm around her friend. “No wonder you were caught for time,” she murmured, squeezing Rhiannon as she spoke quietly. She rested her chin on top of the smaller girl’s head as Rhiannon wrapped her own arms around Hermione and snuggled into her chest.

Rhiannon found that she took strength from the physical closeness, and mustered her courage with that strength. She tapped out of the hug and took hold of one of Hermione’s hands instead. “’mione, he said – ‘you’ll be next, M-mu-mum-mudbloods,’” she whispered, stammering over the horrible word. “He – he knows something, or- or thinks he does. You’ll get hurt. You and Dudley and anyone else they don’t think is magic enough.”

Hermione’s brows drew together. “He – Draco Malfoy?” she asked, and Rhiannon nodded frantically. “The voice – the- when it happened. I heard them do it, Hermione – the voice said it wasn’t the right target. That must have meant Mrs Norris. ‘mione, they’re after you. Or people like you anyway. Although it could be you specifically too, they don’t like you...” she trailed off, wringing her hands fretfully. Hermione covered Rhiannon’s hands with her own and held them gently as Rhiannon began to worry her fingernails.

“If – if – Draco Malfoy knows anything, we can figure it out,” she reassured Rhiannon patiently. “We’ve got friends in Slytherin house. Lots of people will be at the game now, Slytherin against Hufflepuff, but I bet our friends won’t be out – Tracey and Daphne are probably studying, maybe Heather too. We could just go and ask them.” Hermione suggested, and Rhiannon brightened at the idea. “W-w-we could check on Ginny too, haven’t s-s-een her much since start of term,” she suggested. Hermione reached over and ruffled her hair fondly. “Yes, mother hen,” she teased, and Rhi blushed and mumbled her protests.

Hermione stood and offered Rhiannon her hand. “Let’s fetch Ron and Neville, and we’ll go ask the Slytherins,” she said. Rhiannon stood and shook the stiffness out, more inconvenience than real pain at this point, then bent down to grope under the bed for her cane and vainly tried to dust the cat hair from her clothes once she’d done that, making her wrists crack unpleasantly. Hermione winced while Rhiannon was unconcerned, and they set off together downstairs in search of their friends.

Downstairs, Ron was dozing in an armchair while Faye glared daggers at a half-written essay on the coffee table in front of her. Both looked up as Rhiannon and Hermione approached, Ron with a yawn as he did. “Good game,” Faye greeted them, her sullen expression dissolving into a bright smile. Rhiannon shrugged, Faye shook her head. “Nah, it was – this weather’s right foul, you and Sorcha both put on a fine show in it. Take the compliment.” she insisted, and Rhiannon too cracked a grin. The Scottish girl had been fairly forceful about that from the start of their friendship – no dodging out of compliments you earned. Her bluntness could be intimidating, but she was a fierce friend and Rhiannon remembered how she’d taken charge under the onslaught of keys last school year – a loyal friend too. Rhiannon had none of her usual anxieties about other people’s perceptions when it came to Faye, she always knew where she stood with the short brunette and she liked that. It made her a little guilty for hiding the lycanthropy from her, but she just wasn’t ready to outright tell someone – with the others, the decision had been made for her.

“You alright, Rhi? Lookin’ kinda like a kicked puppy over there,” Faye teased, and Rhiannon startled. Then she realised her inner musing had been showing on her face as so often it did, and Faye’s comment had been a harmless one. She flushed and rubbed her nose, embarrassed. “Yeah,” she muttered, and perched on the couch arm just along from Faye.

“Well, n-no,” Rhiannon amended with a guilty look at Hermione. “That night Mrs Norris got found – I think Draco Malfoy k-k-kn-knows something.” she said, and Faye peered at her suspiciously. Rhiannon fidgeted on the arm of the couch, and Faye beckoned impatiently.

“You’re making me nervous there like that, come on, sit down both of you,” Faye said, and hastily Rhiannon and Hermione complied if only to make things easier. Rhiannon stared at her hands, her friends at eachother. Finally, Faye spoke again. “I heard what Malfoy said, but he sounded like he was bluffing. What’s really going on?” she asked.

Rhiannon’s shoulders slumped and she took off her glasses to rub her eyes wearily. “I- I’ve been hearing things,” she began after glancing hurriedly around the room to check no-one else was listening in. “Voices in the walls. I thought I was ti-t-t-tired and dreaming, but I heard it right before Mrs Norris was, you know, and Dudley hears some of it too. It said the cat wasn’t the target, they got it wrong. And then Malfoy said... I think it’s after people like he said, the wrong kind of magic people. We have to find out if he knows something, because if he’s right... they’re going to be after Hermione.” she finished, twisting and untwisting her hands in her lap as she spoke, trying to keep her voice slow and steady as best she could. She looked around at her friends, expecting to see pitying expressions, for them to think she was crazy.

They did nothing of the kind. Ron’s sleepy grin had vanished, leaving a scowl in its place. Faye cracked her knuckles and closed the book she was reading from. “That’s too specific to be just in your head,” Ron said pensively, and Faye nodded agreement. “And the wall said the Chamber of Secrets... there’s old stories about it, the founders searched the school after Slytherin left and found nothing, but it seems he did leave something after all. And if it’s open, you’re right – no-one hated Muggle-borns, sorry Hermione, more than Salazar Slytherin, of course he’d have left a nasty surprise for them.” he finished. The four of them looked at eachother wordlessly – there weren’t any words when you stood in front of a millennia-old prejudice.

“Well, I’m not frozen yet,” said Hermione tersely, breaking the silence. “We may as well go ask our friends in Slytherin, whoever’s still inside anyway.” she added. Ron nodded, frowning. “I haven’t seen Ginny much, be good to – see if the kids in her year are treating her right.” he agreed, and Hermione shook her head in fond exasperation. “Mother hens, the both of you,” she teased them, and helped Rhiannon up from the couch.

“Maybe don’t mention the voices,” Faye suggested as she stood. “That’s even more a bad sign for wizards than it is for non-magic folks.” Rhiannon shuddered and nodded – Faye was a fairly close friend, that was fine, but she couldn’t gauge how the Slytherin girls might react at the idea. They made their way out of the common room, exchanging cheerful greetings and jokes with Tina Gryffindor on their way.

The Slytherin common room was located in the dungeons. Down here the air was close and chill, making Rhiannon feel even more claustrophobic than the castle did usually. Hermione reached for her hand and she flinched away, extra contact made the sensation worse. They huddled loosely together as they traipsed through the dungeons, coming to a brighter-lit area with still-life paintings hung on the walls and a cast bronze statue of a witch turning into an animal of some kind. Ron winced. “Sorry, wrong way. This is the Hufflepuff side of downstairs.” he apologised. Rhiannon brightened, and grinned as she shook her head at him. Hufflepuff meant Dudley – she’d know he was safe in person. “H-how, d’we get in?” she slurred, words running together in her eagerness. Her three friends all shrugged, and shifted so they could lean against the wall to think. Rhiannon perched on the edge of the statue and listened – she couldn’t hear into the common room, it was probably warded, but she could hear other students making their way through the corridor they stood in. Maybe the Hufflepuff/Slytherin game had been rained off, or maybe it had finished early. Either way, Rhiannon turned away from her friends to quickly alter the muffling charms on her ears and turned back in time to greet a group of Hufflepuff students, most of whom she recognised.

“Hey, Sally-Anne,” Hermione said, catching the attention of the tall, strong-featured brunette who owned that name. She smiled and closed the book she read while walking and wandered over to Rhiannon and her friends. “Hey, Hermione. What’s a crowd of Gryffindors doing down here?” Sally-Anne replied, looking over the four of them. Rhiannon shrugged and shuffled her feet. “Looking for my cousin,” she replied shyly. Sally-Anne’s curious expression brightened into a genuine smile and she nodded understandingly.

“I’m just heading inside, I’ll send him out if he’s in there. He wasn’t in the library,” Sally-Anne replied, and beckoned them as she headed off down the corridor and ducked into a side hallway the others hadn’t seen. A little bewildered, the four followed her to a side-room that resembled a very old cellar, stacked with enormous brewing barrels. Sally-Anne rapped a particular barrel with her knuckles, and a passage unfolded itself from it. She headed on through, while Rhiannon and her friends stayed put.

“Doesn’t seem very secure, don’t you ever get people from other houses coming in?” Faye asked of nobody in particular. Other students milled around in the cellar, and they laughed at that. “Yes, and?” an older Hufflepuff boy asked, amused. “They all go off to bed before it gets too late, what’s the big deal?” he added as he stepped through the doorway, and the barrel’s passage folded inwards again.

The four of them all looked at eachother, feeling a little guilty. It was silly, Rhiannon thought, to keep others out with passwords. Why couldn’t Dudley come and study with the rest of them if he wanted? Why not Luna, or Ginny, or any of her other friends in other houses? Especially over the holidays, when there had been barely twenty students left in Gryffindor tower, it would have been nice. They hadn’t meant to get all caught up in the divisions, but it was made too easy. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing.

Their introspection was interrupted by a light clatter as the barrel passage swung open again and Dudley walked carefully out, bracing himself on the hand-rails as he stepped down the few steps to the floor where Rhiannon and the others stood. He patted the barrel affectionately and it folded up again, he turned to face them looking a little confused. “S’up?” he asked, scanning their faces.

For some reason, that little comment had Rhiannon struggling to contain laughter. “You – you say s’up – when it’s your life in danger,” she choked out, wiping tears of helpless mirth from her eyes. Her friends, now including Dudley, stared at her. It just seemed very out of place to her, the casual attitude, when faced with someone who wrote threatening messages on the wall and claimed to be the heir of a long-dead bigot who’d left behind a murder-chamber. And all he had to say to that was ‘’sup’.

Eventually Rhiannon’s laughter subsided as her friends continued to stare, their bewildered expressions growing concerned. “Sorry,” she wheezed, trying to tamp down another fit of giggles. Dudley sighed. “I’m gonna guess I missed something?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. Rhiannon nodded and pushed away the last of her laughter, growing serious.

“I-it-it-it, ‘s about Friday night.” Rhiannon said slowly, her tongue felt leaden in her mouth as she tried to force the words out. Dudley’s round, scarred face grew serious and he fiddled with the handle of his cane. “What you heard.” he replied, again not a real question. She nodded, tight-lipped, and stepped forward to squeeze his hand as she mustered her courage.

“I- I- I, I heard them do it.” Rhiannon whispered, casting furtive glances about her in case someone else was listening. They weren’t, but she didn’t like how echoes carried in the cellar. “Th-t-th-that’s what I heard, when I covered my ears. S-someone said... th-they said, “that wasn’t the target.” Something else was. The Chamber of Secrets, that was Salazar Slytherin. And with what Malfoy said too... I think it’s you, who was the target, people like you and Hermione.” she finished, for the second time that day. Again she half-expected him to call her crazy, to laugh. Again she was wrong. Dudley shook his head and bit his lip, looking at the others. “And you want to go talk to the Slytherins about it, right? There’s a few in my year that are alright. I heard that Malfoy kid too, maybe someone knows what he’s on about.” he said, with a quick glance at the others to confirm he’d guessed correctly.

Ron shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms. “Yeah, we were. We got lost and ended up here.” he replied stiffly. Hermione stepped on his foot and he scowled, she returned the expression just as fiercely. “Be nice,” she hissed, seeing Rhiannon shift away from them. Faye shrugged, not knowing the full story there and not really caring. “Do you want to gripe, or shift along? Because we can go see our mates without you,” she asked tartly. Ron’s eartips flushed red where they poked out of his scruffy hair and he shuffled his feet, awkwardly moving over so Dudley could fall in with them. His distrust wasn’t as sharp as it had been at Rhiannon’s birthday, but he was certainly still tense around Dudley. It wasn’t like Rhiannon didn’t understand. She did. Sometimes even she felt tense with her cousin, like she didn’t know where to put all her years of hurt now that he’d so obviously grown better, guilty for holding that hurt at all. She just didn’t like the conflict, and wished selfishly that Ron would just go beat his issues with Dudley out in a corner somewhere so they could all get on with things. Then immediately she felt guilty for thinking that.

Rhiannon continued to stew in her thoughts as the five of them made their way through the maze of corridors in the dungeons towards the side the Slytherin common room was on. The light grew gradually dimmer, the torches replaced by hanging wrought-iron and glass lanterns whose flames did not flicker as fire should. Rhiannon had to give it to the Slytherins – they could certainly stick to a certain aesthetic. She didn’t notice the change in temperature as such, but Faye, Hermione and Ron all shivered and hunched their shoulders.

Unlike the Hufflepuff common room, there was no indicator they might be in the right place. The walls were bare stone except for the still-flame lanterns. They had to be somewhere around the right place but... Rhiannon frowned. She removed her wand from its place behind the rearing snake’s head on her cane and shoved it into her sleeve, then rearranged her ever-disheveled hair to conceal the motion of tapping her ear with it to release the muffling spells. She really needed to figure out how to change those without a wand, she thought, and tilted her head to try and catch any sound of people. She expected the common room would be warded like Hufflepuff’s had been, but surely there’d be people outside – and, yes, there they were, just down the hall and to their left.

Rhiannon glanced quickly at Faye, reassuring herself the other girl hadn’t noticed anything suspicious, then nodded down the hallway. “We – must, be close to the common room, it’s got to be around s-s-somewhere, maybe just carry on a bit?” she suggested a little stiffly. The others shrugged. Ron, Hermione and Dudley knew what she’d done, but they took the lead from Rhiannon on keeping Faye in the dark.

Rhiannon led them down a series of hallways, following her ears toward a low hum of chatter in the hallway. It grew loud enough for the others to hear and Rhiannon used the same trick as before, her wand still concealed in her sleeve so she could replace the muffling spells while appearing to fuss with her hair.

They emerged from the corridor into a wide, low-ceilinged hallway – more of an open-ended room really, and crowded with students of all ages wearing a mixture of casual clothes and regulation school uniform. Rhiannon’s eyes adjusted to the increased light and she blinked, taking in the sight before her.

The hallway had been transformed into a sort of makeshift campsite. About ten students were camped there, sharing blankets, sleeping-bags and pillows amongst them with clear room for much more. Someone had built a pillow fort in one corner, and Rhiannon was surprised to see some of her friends amongst the gathering of Slytherin students.

“H-hey, Tr-t-Tracey,” she stammered, picking her way carefully around students and spread-out blankets to make her way across the hallway room to the few she recognised. Tracey Davis was a pretty Black girl in Rhiannon’s year, her skin a few shades darker than Hermione’s and her hair done in a multitude of fine braids that flowed down over her shoulders. With her was another that Rhiannon recognised, a stocky brown-haired girl with blue-violet eyes named Heather Pace. They had Transfiguration and Herbology together this year, and it was hard not to befriend the people you re-potted mandrakes with.

Tracey looked up over her black-framed spectacles. “Rhiannon,” she replied, affably enough though her soft voice was tired and thin around the edges. “Hermione, Faye, Ronald. Miscellaneous Hufflepuff.” she added, a weary half-smile picking up one corner of her mouth as she nodded to Dudley. He snorted, and Rhiannon grinned. “M-m-my cousin, Dudley,” she introduced him quickly. Then she frowned, looking over the open room again.

“What all are y-o-yo-you doing here?” Rhiannon asked of the two Slytherin girls, gesturing around with her free hand. Tracey’s smile vanished, and Heather’s expression grew dark as well.

“Protesting,” Heather replied shortly, running a hand through her untidy hair as she spoke. Rhiannon tilted her head, her other friends shared similar expressions of confusion. Heather shrugged, and Tracey continued in her place.

“They set a bigoted password, so we’re staging a sit-in until they change it. Sleep-in, really.” Tracey explained, gesturing to the other students around. “We’ve got two of the prefects on our side, Connor and Clarissa, and about a third of the rest of the house – mostly us lower years, though, and not everyone’s here right now being it’s a free day. Clary says it’s happened a couple times before.” she finished, and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

Rhiannon hugged her stomach with her free arm, her face creasing up with worry. “Are you all okay? A-a-a-aaaa-are you warm enough? Is Ginny alright?” she asked in a rush. The two Slytherin girls smiled at her third question and nodded. “Bit quiet, but yeah. She’s out here with us at nights, but I think she’s studying somewhere now,” Heather replied. “Good kid that one, I like her,” an older boy agreed from where he sat a short distance away. His blond hair was disheveled and his jaw prickly with stubble, like he hadn’t shaven in a few days. He grinned wearily and waved to Rhiannon and the others when they looked over at him.

“Connor Janey, sixth-year prefect,” he introduced himself shortly, before returning to his own conversation.

Tracey and Heather straightened out some blankets and gestured for Rhiannon and her four friends to sit down, they did so gratefully. “So, did you just come to check on Weasley Junior, or did you want something else?” asked Heather bluntly. Rather than being derogatory as it could have been, her tone indicated ‘Weasley Junior’ was an affectionate nickname, and Rhiannon was glad. So glad she almost didn’t notice the rest of the question, until Hermione nudged her. She stared wide-eyed, and Ron snickered.

“We wanted to ask if you knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets.” Faye replied, equally frank. Ron, Rhiannon, Hermione and Dudley all stared at her – they’d wanted to be a little more subtle than that! But the Slytherin girls sobered and shook their heads.

“Malfoy’s been crowing about it a fair bit. But we’re out there, and anyone that might know doesn’t do much more than hint about it around us – they’re all in the common room, and we’ve not been in for a month,” a third girl replied, Rhiannon hadn’t noticed her lying down and half-hidden beside Tracey. There were dark circles under her amber eyes, and her flaxen hair was lank and knotted – Daphne Greengrass, a far cry from her usual neatly put-together self. Heather and Tracey nodded agreement with a grimace. “Malfoy and his lot, they come out here to whisper and hint and lord it over us, but we don’t know anything useful,” Heather added with a scowl.

“It’s not that we don’t want to help, it’s that we can’t. We’d let you in to listen, but you’d be caught in an instant.” Tracey said regretfully, twisting her fingers as she spoke. Rhiannon’s heart sank, and she looked at her other friends expecting to see her own defeat mirrored on their faces. And for the most part it was – Ron covered his face with his hands and groaned, Faye leaned back against the wall and frustratedly slapped the floor, then winced. A few nearby Slytherins laughed, though not unsympathetically. Hermione and Dudley, on the other hand, frowned and looked at eachother. Some invisible understanding passed between them, and Hermione’s face brightened into a wry smile.

“What if we wouldn’t be?” she asked, pitching her voice low and quiet so that those nearby, other than the three girls in their year, would be unable to hear. The three Slytherin girls shrugged and looked at eachother. Hermione’s grin turned wicked, and Dudley bounced on the spot in excitement. “I’ve read about it, but it’s not like they’d let us try it in class,” he added, his grin matching Hermione’s. The Slytherins looked more and more baffled, as did Rhiannon, Ron and Faye.

Faye lost patience with it. “You’re doing the thing again,” she grumbled, and Hermione and Dudley blinked at her. Faye sighed and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “The thing where you’ve already figured out the ending and we don’t even know what book you’re reading,” she added, a smile taking the edge off her prickly words. “Can you catch the rest of us up?” asked Ron plaintively, and Rhiannon nodded a hasty agreement. Normally she was the one to do that with Hermione and sometimes Neville, she wasn’t all that sure she liked this new feeling of being left out. Immediately she felt guilty for that thought and tamped it down flat, refusing to let any resentment in. No. She was happy for Dudley, happy he got on – for the most part – with her friends, happy he’d found things he was good at. That was all that mattered.

Hermione rubbed her hands together and fiddled with a lock of her springy hair, looking for a hanging braid to chew on where there was none. “What if we became you? Not you you, necessarily. Just anyone who could get in and be overlooked.” she suggested, now tapping her fingertips together as Xenophilius did. The Slytherin girls still stared at her, and Heather raised an eyebrow. Tracey made an impatient gesture with one hand, go on. Hermione bounced in place and squeezed herself with her arms, her grin brightening even more. “Polyjuice potion,” she explained, in a low whisper.

Daphne groaned and sat up, stretching as she did so. “That’s – all kinds of banned,” she said thoughtfully, though it was only a token resistance. Hermione nodded solemnly, her grin fading. “People are going to get hurt. Don’t rules come after that?” she asked. Ron stared at her, and Faye grinned. “Damn girl, you have grown up,” she teased Hermione, and Hermione blushed furiously.

The Slytherin girls murmured amongst themselves, nodding and frowning as they did so. “You’re not wrong,” Tracey agreed, though she was hesitant. Daphne shrugged. “You’d have to be careful who you picked – counts me out, for sure, they’d notice if I went back in.” she said though again she was being more the voice of reason than resistance. Dudley shook his head and waved a hand, no matter. “We can figure out who closer to the time – it’s a weird potion, it could take months.” he replied. “Just so long as you’re in, we can figure it out.”

The three Slytherin girls looked at eachother again, then nodded. “We’re in,” Heather replied grimly, looking at Heather as she did so. Tracey’s expression was equally bleak, Daphne’s weary. “We might not know anything, but this problem comes from Slytherin. We can’t fix the problem in the house, it goes too deep, but it... I don’t know, it feels like our responsibility to do something about at least this.” Tracey finished, and the other two nodded along with her.

Hermione grinned again and clapped her hands excitedly. “I’ve wanted to brew this since Professor Snape mentioned it in first year,” she said, then sobered. “Not, that this is about that. It’s just the best solution. We can find out if they know anything in there, and if they don’t, that’s suspects off the list and we’re free to look elsewhere.” she added hastily. Ron grinned and tweaked a lock of her hair, she swatted him.

“And I think we’d better take our Hermione to the library before she combusts,” Faye said to the Slytherin girls, who snickered and nodded agreement. Hermione blushed at the teasing, Rhiannon squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’ll talk later, when we have something more concrete,” Ron agreed, and he stood and helped Rhiannon to her feet. The Slytherin girls waved a friendly goodbye, and the pack of Gryffindors plus Dudley made their way back through the students and blankets. Hermione bounced with every step, and Rhiannon frowned. “Aren’t you s-s-s-s-c-s-s-sc-scared?” she asked, as they limped up a flight of stairs to the first floor. Hermione shook her head resolutely, and squeezed Rhiannon’s hand.

“No way. Now we’ve got a plan, and things to do.” Hermione replied firmly, then grinned. She stopped and struck a pose like a general pointing the way. “To the library!” she announced grandly, and the five of them laughed all the way upstairs.