As Christmas drew nearer, the Hogwarts library grew noticeably emptier. Most pupils had abandoned their textbooks in favour of festive preparations and snowball fights. Entire fortresses of snow and ice had sprung up in the castle grounds, and fierce battles were now being fought over them.
Hermione, however, still spent a great deal of time in the library. Stacks of books were piled high in front of her, but she hadn't found so much as a mention of Nicolas Flamel in any of them. Now she had moved on to yet another thick volume, The Greatest Wizards of Modern Times.
"Right, Fa, Fe, Fi…" Hermione murmured, turning the pages.
Her eyes were already moving down the list of surnames when the words 'master of magical art' beside the name Finnigan Millennium suddenly caught her attention. Remembering the unusual magical creations she had seen in Diagon Alley, Hermione grew curious and quickly skimmed the entry.
'Finnigan Millennium, born 1937. A well-known master of magical art. Born in Limerick, Ireland. According to Finnigan himself, his interest in magical art began in childhood, thanks to his grandmother, who loved telling him stories about ancient wizards and magical creatures. These stories fascinated the boy so much that he tried to recreate them, first through drawings and later with the help of magic.
Today, Finnigan's works are exhibited in many galleries of magical art around the world. His most famous creations, The Mirror of Parallel Worlds and The Illusion of the Starry Ocean, attract thousands of visitors to the British Museum of Magical Art every year.'
Hermione wrote down the titles of both works in her notebook. She had never been to a major exhibition of magical art, but now she really wanted to see Finnigan's creations for herself. The next entry was about someone called Foster Terry. Noticing that he had been an outstanding expert in Transfiguration, she became interested and read on.
'Foster Terry, born 1921. A well-known professor of Transfiguration. Born in a suburb of Liverpool. Showed exceptional magical abilities from an early age. Attended Hogwarts, where he was sorted into Ravenclaw, and graduated with one of the best academic records in the school's history.
Despite his brilliant achievements in Transfiguration, Professor Foster gave up this branch of magic fairly early in his career and devoted most of his life to studying how magic affects the flow of time. His research caused considerable debate in the academic community. While acknowledging Foster's undeniable talent, many wizards nevertheless considered his work a pointless waste of the very time he was trying to study.
In the late 1960s, rumours began to circulate that Professor Foster had succeeded in creating a so-called Time-Turner, a device capable of transporting its owner several hours or even days into the past or future. However, most researchers today agree that Foster himself spread these rumours in an attempt to attract the attention of the Ministry of Magic and secure further funding for his experiments.
In 1969, after yet another failure and the loss of all funding for his research, Professor Foster left his home in Kent and disappeared without leaving any indication of where he was going. His whereabouts have remained unknown ever since.'
'Why on earth did he give up Transfiguration for such nonsense?' Hermione thought. 'There's so much to explore in it! With his abilities, he could have done so much! Although… it would be brilliant to have a Time-Turner too.'
After twirling her quill between her fingers for a little longer, Hermione finally wrote 'Time-Turner' in her notebook under 'Leisure Reading' and returned to her search for Flamel. But then she suddenly realised: she had already reached Foster. That meant the name she was looking for wasn't in this book either. With a disappointed sigh, Hermione set it aside and reached for the next one.
Harry and Ron were sitting at the next table, also surrounded by stacks of books. Except that instead of searching for Flamel, they were busy with something else entirely. Harry was using his wand to send a little paper ball darting between the books, while Ron tried to block its path with a shield made from folded parchment, which he controlled with his own wand. After blocking another attack, Ron couldn't resist letting out a triumphant shout. He immediately fell silent, but it was too late.
"Do you really think I haven't noticed?" Hermione gave her friends a stern look, just like a teacher. "Am I the only one who needs to find out who Nicolas Flamel is? Besides, I've got another meeting of the Relicium Club tomorrow, and I could do with some time to prepare for it. But instead, I'm sitting here searching for information that, as it turns out, nobody else even seems to need!"
"Hermione, we've been looking for information about this Flamel for days and haven't found anything!" Harry protested, putting down his wand. "Maybe he isn't even a wizard? Or maybe there's simply nothing about him in the books? There must be plenty of wizards who've never had anything written about them!"
"Or maybe he's just an old friend of Dumbledore's, and Dumbledore promised to help him," Ron suggested.
"So you think Snape is trying to steal something just to spite Dumbledore and his friend? Are you serious?"
Harry and Ron exchanged guilty glances.
"Well, when you put it like that…" Harry admitted. "But Hermione, couldn't we take a break for just one day? Ron and I… well, we're not used to spending all day with our noses buried in books. We're tired!"
Hermione snorted indignantly and slammed another book shut.
"Oh, so you two are tired, are you? Wonderful! I won't make you keep looking any more. And I'm done looking too! I've got plenty of my own things to do!"
She got up from the table and headed for the exit.
"Hermione!" Harry called after her, but she didn't even turn around.
"Damn!" he muttered when Hermione disappeared round the corner. "That wasn't very nice of us."
"Oh, she'll grumble for a bit and get over it," Ron said dismissively, getting up from the table. "We'll carry on looking tomorrow. Come on, let's go outside and play with the others. I've been cooped up in this castle for far too long."
***
The next day, Hermione returned to the library after all and became so absorbed in her reading that she only realised how late it was when there were just a few minutes left before the Relicium meeting. She hurriedly gathered her things and rushed through the castle, weaving between pupils.
As she came hurtling round another corner, Hermione nearly collided with Professor Flitwick. He sprang aside with surprising agility, then landed and took several quick, comical little steps on his short legs as he tried to keep his balance.
"Where are you rushing off to, Miss Granger?" he asked irritably.
"To the Relicium meeting! I'm running late, sorry!" Hermione blurted out and ran off.
When she reached the door, she stopped to catch her breath, smoothed down her hair and hesitantly stepped inside.
All the club members were already seated around the oak table. In front of each of them lay neatly arranged tubes, test tubes and other pieces of equipment whose purpose Hermione didn't yet know.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I got carried away reading in the library and didn't notice how –" she began, addressing Dumbledore.
"Not to worry, Miss Granger," the headmaster interrupted kindly. "Come in. We were just waiting for you."
Hermione hurried to an empty seat beside Casper Honeydew.
"And here I was hoping you'd changed your mind about coming," Elliot Grimm, who was sitting opposite her, remarked quietly, without even looking up from the instruments laid out in front of him. "After all, we only work with ordinary magical instruments here. What's someone who believes in the special powers of amulets supposed to do here?"
"You mean those amulets that help you win at Quidditch?" Hermione asked with an innocent expression, deciding to tease the Slytherin boy.
"No amulet can guarantee victory in Quidditch," Elliot declared confidently, still examining the instruments.
"Quite right," Hermione agreed, smiling slyly when Elliot finally looked up at her.
"Still, if you insist that you managed to get hold of such an amulet and used it during the match," he said calmly, "I'll be happy to inform your Head of House. I imagine the result will be annulled and Gryffindor will lose by default for using prohibited magic."
He raised an eyebrow mockingly, and Hermione's sly smile turned into a forced grimace.
At that moment, Dumbledore began to speak, and the conversations around the table died away.
"Well then, as I promised at our last meeting, today we're going to try making a Sneakoscope ourselves. First, take a copper tube."
Dumbledore held up one of the tubes so that everyone could see it.
"We use copper for a reason. It's an excellent conductor of magical energy, which is why it's often used to make devices like these."
He put the tube down and picked up a test tube containing bright orange powder.
"Next, we'll need a substance that can detect magic. Pour a little of the powder into the tube. But don't overdo it. The amount you use will determine how well the detector works."
Hermione watched Dumbledore carefully, trying not to miss anything. She poured a little powder into her own tube, then glanced at Elliot and noticed that he had used almost twice as much.
"Elliot, you've put in too much powder," she remarked without thinking. "Dumbledore said we only needed a little."
She immediately regretted opening her mouth. Elliot slowly set the test tube down on the table.
"Thank you for the advice, Miss First-Year," he said politely, though Hermione could easily hear the mockery in his voice. "I didn't realise you knew so much about making magical devices already."
"I only said you'd put in too much powder," Hermione protested.
"Oh, really?" Elliot looked at her tube, then back at her. "Then let's see which of us knows what we're doing. How about a bet? Whoever makes a working Sneakoscope first wins."
Hermione hesitated. Elliot was already in his fourth year and was considered one of the best pupils. Competing against him wasn't the wisest idea. But after all his mockery, she had no desire to back down.
"With pleasure!" she replied defiantly.
"Excellent. Just remember," Elliot added, calmly returning to his tube, "no amulet is going to help you here."
"Mr Grimm, Miss Granger," Dumbledore cut in. "I have nothing against a little competition. But let me remind you that we're here to learn and enjoy our work, not to try to outdo each other with snide remarks."
Hermione pressed her lips together.
"Don't pay any attention to him," Honeydew whispered from beside her. "Elliot can't stand being told he's made a mistake. Even when someone's genuinely trying to help him."
Hermione gave him a grateful look.
"Thanks, Casper."
Meanwhile, Dumbledore continued his explanation.
"Now we need to tune the detector to a particular type of magic. In our case, dark magic."
He took his wand, swept it smoothly over the tube and said:
"Malum Capere!"
Thin wisps of blood-red smoke began to curl out of the tube.
"If you've done everything correctly, you should see a little smoke like this," Dumbledore explained. "That means the detector is tuned. Now have a go yourselves. And pay particular attention to keeping your wand movements smooth."
"Malum Capere!" came the cries from all around the table.
Hermione carefully copied Dumbledore's movement and said the incantation, but nothing happened. She tried again, watching the movement of her wand closely. The result was the same.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore was making his way round the table, helping the pupils work out what they were doing wrong. Suddenly, a soft pop came from Hermione's left. She turned and saw a thick cloud of acid-yellow smoke billowing out of Casper's tube. Casper himself stared at his creation in confusion.
"Professor…" he called, then asked hopefully, "Is yellow smoke… good too?"
Dumbledore smiled.
"Not quite, Mr Honeydew. But no harm done. Just empty the tube and try again."
Casper was far from the only one having trouble. Some pupils repeated the spell over and over, but their tubes stubbornly refused to respond. Others had to empty their tubes and start all over again after yet another failed attempt.
"Excellent work, Mr Grimm!" Hermione suddenly heard Dumbledore say.
Looking up, she saw Elliot watching a thin stream of red smoke rising from his detector, clearly pleased with himself.
"A good start! Who's next?" the professor asked encouragingly.
'He beat me to it after all,' Hermione thought with annoyance.
What irritated her even more than Elliot's victory, though, was that she still couldn't get the spell to work. She had checked her wand movements several times and paid close attention to her pronunciation, but nothing had helped. And it wasn't just the lack of red smoke. Usually, Hermione could feel the magic responding to her efforts almost immediately. Now, however, it felt as though something was getting in the way of her magic.
'Maybe I'm just too nervous about this stupid bet?'
Lost in thought, Hermione didn't immediately realise that she had been staring straight at Elliot for several seconds. He caught her eye.
"Something wrong, Miss Know-It-All?" he asked with a faint smirk. "How's your detector coming along?"
Hermione turned away without a word and focused on the spell again. After several more attempts, a thin wisp of red smoke finally began to curl out of her tube. She sighed with relief. She'd done it at last! Though for some reason, it had been much harder than she'd expected.
Beside her, Casper was still struggling to tune his detector. Hermione offered to help him, and he readily agreed. Unlike Elliot, he listened carefully to her advice and did his best to copy everything she showed him.
Gradually, more and more pupils managed to complete the task. Once she was sure Casper could manage on his own, Hermione glanced at Dumbledore. The headmaster was moving from one pupil to another, patiently correcting their mistakes and offering advice.
Watching him, Hermione thought of Nicolas Flamel again.
'What exactly is his connection to Dumbledore?' she wondered. 'Harry said that whatever Fluffy is guarding is probably quite small. Could it be some rare artefact or amulet? In that case, perhaps I should be looking for information about objects connected to Flamel, rather than Flamel himself. After all, if they're guarding this thing so carefully, it must be worth something.'
Hermione decided that the next time she visited the library, she would make sure to look for books about well-known magical artefacts.
"Now take a small bell-shaped horn," Dumbledore continued, once the pupils had finished working on their detectors. "It will turn the magic picked up by the detector into sound. Attach it to the tube, then activate it with a spell."
Hermione set to work, concentrating hard. She still hoped to beat Elliot. After carefully attaching the horn, she reached for her wand.
"Excellent, Mr Grimm!" came Dumbledore's voice.
Hermione looked up. Elliot was already holding out his finished Sneakoscope to the professor. Dumbledore examined the device carefully, then brought a Fire Crab close to it. The Sneakoscope immediately let out a loud howl.
"Wonderful work!" Dumbledore said, handing the device back to Elliot. "You've finished remarkably quickly."
Elliot smiled with satisfaction and looked at Hermione.
"Well, Miss First-Year?" he asked. "Still think I put in too much powder? Or would you like to point out another mistake I've made?"
Hermione badly wanted to say something nasty in return. But she had to admit that Elliot really had finished the task first.
"Congratulations, Elliot," she said with mock politeness. "Beating a first-year pupil is quite an achievement!"
"Thank you," Elliot replied calmly, as though he had taken her words as a genuine compliment.
"Mr Grimm, Miss Granger, that's enough," Dumbledore cut in. "Mr Grimm certainly deserves praise. So let's have no more snide remarks and allow the others to finish their work."
Hermione pressed her lips together and turned away from Elliot, who was still looking pleased with himself.
"Actually, I've known Elliot for a long time," Casper whispered beside her. "He's not a bad bloke. And he really is very clever. You two just seem to have got off on the wrong foot for some reason. Maybe you could try –"
"I think he's arrogant and not particularly clever," Hermione interrupted, though she knew perfectly well that the last part was unfair. "So keep your opinion to yourself!"
Casper fell silent and looked down at his device. Hermione immediately regretted what she'd said.
"Sorry," she said quietly. "I just lost my temper."
"Yeah, I understand," Casper muttered, but made no attempt to continue the conversation.
Hermione went back to working on her Sneakoscope. All the parts were in place; she only had to finish tuning it. But once again, she couldn't get the spell to work. She tried again, then again, doing her best to copy Dumbledore's movements exactly.
At last, the device came to life. When tested, it let out a piercing howl, and Hermione lowered her wand in relief. By then, though, another Ravenclaw girl had finished ahead of her.
But third place was no longer what bothered Hermione. She had felt that same strange resistance again, just as she had when tuning the detector. Only yesterday, she'd had the impression that her magic wasn't responding quite as well as usual, but she hadn't thought much of it at the time. Today, however, the unpleasant feeling had returned twice, and both times she'd had to struggle to get the spell to work. Still, she'd been nervous about her bet with Elliot for almost the entire lesson, and perhaps that was why she'd had so much trouble.
The work gradually came to an end. Not everyone had managed to make a working Sneakoscope, and some of the devices behaved rather oddly. Casper's was particularly unusual: instead of giving a warning howl, his Sneakoscope began croaking loudly.
"Ribbit! Ribbit! Ribbit!"
Casper looked at Dumbledore in confusion.
"Professor, is there any way to fix this?"
"Of course, Mr Honeydew," the headmaster said with a smile. "But perhaps we'll leave that until the next session."
"Ribbit!" the Sneakoscope replied loudly.
Casper looked at the device, then at Dumbledore.
"I'm afraid it doesn't agree."
This time, everyone at the table burst out laughing. Hermione couldn't help joining in, and when Casper caught her eye, he gave a cheerful shrug.
***
More than a week had passed. In Professor Flitwick's class, Hermione waved her wand yet again.
"Lumos!"
But the tip of her wand remained dark. They had only started learning this spell today, and at first glance it had seemed simple enough. Yet Hermione had already tried it at least a dozen times without producing so much as a faint spark. She concentrated again and, taking care not to rush, copied the movement the professor had demonstrated exactly. But once again, nothing happened.
Something strange had been happening to her magic all week. At first, Hermione had noticed only a slight, almost imperceptible resistance, but gradually it had become more and more noticeable. Even spells she knew well now sometimes worked only on the second or third attempt. Today, though, it felt as if her magic had got stuck somewhere inside her and simply refused to come out.
'What on earth is wrong with me? What if I've forgotten how to cast spells?'
The thought was so ridiculous that Hermione was angry with herself for even thinking it. But that didn't make her feel any better. She was doing everything right! So why couldn't she get anything to work? Her palm was sweaty with nerves, and when she waved her wand again, it nearly slipped from her fingers.
Hermione laid her wand on the desk and tried to calm down. All around her, pupils were calling out the spell, their voices overlapping:
"Lumos! Lumos!"
She looked around.
'Well, there you go,' she thought with relief. 'So the spell isn't that easy after all. No one's managed it yet.'
She picked up her wand again, about to try once more, when a light suddenly flashed at the far end of the classroom.
"Splendid!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed happily. "Five points to Ravenclaw!"
A tiny star shone at the tip of Miranda's wand. She dipped her head slightly towards the professor, and a lock of hair fell against her cheek. Miranda tucked it behind her ear and smiled, clearly pleased with the praise.
"Thank you, Professor!"
Hermione felt a familiar stab of annoyance. In Professor Flitwick's lessons, it had become a tradition for the first pupil to master a new spell to earn five points for their house. At the start of the year, Miranda had earned nearly all those points. But Hermione had gradually begun to beat her, and before long she had grown used to coming first herself.
Now, however, Miranda had beaten her two lessons in a row. Hermione watched with a frown as the little star at the tip of her rival's wand slowly faded. It stung to be beaten to it, especially now, when she couldn't even work out what she was doing wrong.
The Ravenclaw pupils were all trying to congratulate Miranda at once. Elidor Lynett, a lanky boy who never seemed to take his eyes off her and admired her every success, was especially enthusiastic.
"Miranda's the best!" he shouted, as if daring Hermione to disagree.
Miranda looked at him reproachfully, but she was clearly flattered by the praise. She stole a quick glance at Hermione, and for some reason, that hurt Hermione more than Elidor's shout.
By now, Hermione had taken a real dislike to Miranda, although she knew perfectly well that the girl had done nothing wrong to her. There was no real reason for her dislike, but their constant rivalry had gradually soured her feelings. Every new success of Miranda's irritated her more and more, and even knowing how silly it was did nothing to change that.
It took Hermione several more minutes to get the tip of her wand to light up. She sighed with relief but felt little joy. She spent the rest of the lesson frowning, her thoughts repeatedly returning to her strange difficulties with magic. But as soon as she left the classroom with Harry and Ron, her irritation got the better of her again.
"That Miranda… she's so… stuck-up!" Hermione declared indignantly. "So what if she got the spell right first! 'Thank you, Professor!'" she mimicked Miranda in a high-pitched voice. "And that little lapdog of hers, Elidor, is even worse! He's just so…"
Hermione fell silent, searching for a suitably insulting word, and Harry took advantage of the pause.
"But Hermione, I don't think Miranda's stuck-up at all. Elidor's an unpleasant sort, I'll give you that. But she's actually quite friendly."
"Yeah, that's right!" Ron eagerly joined in. "Miranda, she's really friendly, and so graceful –"
Hermione stopped dead and stared at him. Ron broke off. Harry's face showed that he knew his friend had just put his foot in it.
"Well, you too…" Ron began hastily, noticing the expression on Hermione's face. "I mean… you're… not bad either… sort of…"
Harry's look practically screamed, 'You should have kept your mouth shut!'
"So Miranda's the very picture of elegance, is she?" Hermione asked in a deceptively calm voice, putting her hands on her hips. "And I'm 'not bad, sort of'? Have I got that right?"
Ron went red to the tips of his ears.
"No! That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean?"
"Well… that you're also…" Ron looked helplessly at Harry, as though hoping his friend would give him the right answer.
"What Ron was trying to say –" Harry began.
"I HEARD PERFECTLY WELL WHAT HE WAS TRYING TO SAY!" Hermione barked, turning on him.
Harry immediately fell silent. Pupils passing by turned to look at the three of them, while Ron, now completely flustered, drew his head down between his shoulders.
"Sorry, Hermione," he mumbled. "You're the best. I just said something stupid."
"You…!" Hermione began, but when she saw how utterly miserable Ron looked, she suddenly found she couldn't stay angry with him. The corners of her mouth twitched despite herself.
"That's more like it!" she declared, and burst out laughing.
"Ha-ha-ha…" Ron laughed awkwardly, his voice strained and uncertain. It sounded so fake that Hermione laughed even harder, and Harry finally couldn't help joining in.
***
On the day she was due to leave for the Christmas holidays, Hermione woke earlier than usual and couldn't get back to sleep. This evening, she would finally see Mum and Dad! She could tell from their letters how much they missed her, and she was just as eager to see them. She imagined hugging them at the station, going home to her favourite room, and sitting down together for a family dinner that evening. The thought brought a happy smile to her face.
But the smile soon faded when Hermione remembered the things she still had to sort out at school. Their search for information about Nicolas Flamel had still come to nothing. She had already put aside a whole stack of books to take home for the holidays so she could continue her research there, and she'd asked Harry and Ron to try their luck in the Restricted Section of the library. She hoped that during the holidays, the entrance would be less closely watched and the boys might manage to slip inside unnoticed.
Lying in bed, Hermione pulled the amulet out from under her nightdress and began examining it. She had been wearing it against her chest all this time. The stone glowed with a steady light. Over the past few months, its glow had grown noticeably stronger and was now clearly visible even in daylight.
From the books she'd read, Hermione already knew that the amulet was made of astralite, a rare stone that conducted magical energy particularly well. Perhaps it helped her focus and direct her magic, much like a wand. That might explain why she'd learnt to cast spells so quickly. After all, now that she thought about it, her first real successes with magic had come after she'd started wearing the amulet.
But Hermione didn't like that idea at all. Did she really owe her success to some stone? What about all her lessons, the books she'd read and the endless practice? She'd worked so hard to become one of the best pupils! Besides, there was another thing that didn't add up. If the amulet really helped her cast spells, why had magic become harder and harder for her over the past few weeks? Shouldn't it have been making things easier for her instead?
'Unless it's broken…' Hermione suddenly thought.
She liked that thought even less. If the amulet really had stopped working, that would mean she had next to no magical ability of her own! Otherwise, why was she now struggling even with spells that had once come almost effortlessly? Could it be that without the help of some stone, she wasn't nearly as talented a witch as she'd thought?
Hermione examined the amulet carefully again. She couldn't see any sign that something was wrong with it. But then, how was she supposed to know what a broken magical amulet looked like? Besides, there was still the mystery of its glow. None of the books she'd read about astralite had mentioned that the stone could glow at all, yet her amulet was shining brighter with each passing day. The more Hermione thought about it all, the less she understood what was going on.
Meanwhile, the other girls in Hermione's dormitory had woken up and started getting ready to leave. They were chatting excitedly about their Christmas plans, and Hermione, tucking the amulet back under her nightdress, decided it was time to get up too. Packing didn't take long, as nearly everything had been packed the night before. All that remained was to put a few books about famous wizards, dangerous magical artefacts and amulets into her trunk. Hermione hoped to find something in them that might help her solve the mystery of Nicolas Flamel.
The journey on the Hogwarts Express was fun. Hermione shared a compartment with the girls from her dormitory. They talked about the latest events at school and their plans for the holidays, after which Hermione took out a book, as usual. Today, though, even reading couldn't distract her for long from the thought of seeing her parents again.
When the train finally arrived at King's Cross, Hermione passed through the barrier separating Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from the rest of the station and immediately spotted her parents among the people waiting. Her mother hugged her tightly, while her father picked up her trunk and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Are you sure you haven't left anything at Hogwarts? Looks to me as if you've brought only half the school library with you!"
Hermione laughed. How she'd missed them!
As they walked towards the car, her parents both talked at once, asking her about Hogwarts, her new friends and how she was getting on at school. Hermione happily answered their questions, but at some point she caught herself glancing around again and again.
It felt as though someone was watching her.
She stopped and scanned the crowd. Passengers were hurrying past, some pushing trolleys piled high with suitcases, others loudly calling for relatives who had fallen behind. No one seemed to be paying her the slightest attention.
"Hermione, have you lost something?" her mother asked, noticing that her daughter was no longer beside her.
"No…" Hermione looked round once more. "I just thought… Never mind."
She hurried to catch up with her parents, but the uneasy feeling wouldn't go away. No matter how many times she glanced around, she couldn't spot anything suspicious. It was only when they got into the car and drove out of the car park that she finally began to feel calmer.
The familiar streets of London, all dressed up for the festive season, drifted past the windows. Fairy lights sparkled in shop windows, decorated Christmas trees stood in the squares, and passers-by hurried on their way, wrapped up in warm coats and scarves. It all felt so familiar and comforting to Hermione. After several months at Hogwarts, she had come to miss ordinary life, without wands, talking portraits or endless homework for her magical subjects. Hermione decided to spend as much time as possible with her parents during the holidays and save her books for the evenings.
By the time they arrived home, Hermione had almost forgotten the strange unease she'd felt at the station. She got out of the car and took a deep breath of the cold winter air. It felt so good to be here again! She looked around her and smiled. Hogwarts was a wonderful place, of course, but nothing could ever replace her own home.
Her father opened the boot and began taking out the suitcases, while her mother was already heading towards the front door. Hermione picked up her bag and was about to follow her when she suddenly felt the same unsettling sensation she'd had at the station.
Someone was watching her.
This time, the feeling was so strong that Hermione froze. Then she spun round. A man stood on the opposite side of the street. He was just standing there, looking straight at her. His face seemed vaguely familiar. She peered at him more closely. Pale skin, black hair, thin, bright-red lips… Noticing that Hermione was watching him, the stranger tilted his head slightly, and his lips stretched into a crooked smirk.
Hermione felt a chill deep inside.
She knew that face!
She had seen this man several months ago at the Leaky Cauldron. Back then, he had seemed quite pleasant, but now there was nothing left of that first impression. What unsettled Hermione most was his crooked smirk, which never left his face as he continued to stare at her.
Hermione turned away, tightening her grip on the handle of her bag without realising it, and hurried towards the house. Then she suddenly remembered the quiet whisper she had heard back then at the Leaky Cauldron.
'Our time will come…'