"Come in!"
Hermione stepped into Professor Snape's office.
Thank goodness—Snape wasn't wearing his usual scowl today.
His eyes were still as deep and dark as ever, but she could just make out his eyebrows raised by a tiny 0.0001 degrees and his mouth a fraction less downturned—0.0002 degrees softer.
Yep, he was in a good mood.
"Thank you, Professor. If you hadn't helped me that day, I'd probably still be stuck in the hospital wing—or maybe even worse off."
Snape's voice stayed icy cold (good mood or not, he wasn't about to show it). "You should count yourself lucky you didn't fry your brain. There's a chair—go sit."
Finally, he's going to teach me something!
Hermione's heart leaped as she settled down calmly.
"This is Advanced Potion-Making: 3000 Methods for Preparing Ingredients. Copy it ten times."
Hermione: "?"
"No, Professor, I just got out of the hospital—"
Snape actually changed expression this time, flashing a smile that looked worse than a grimace. "Of course I know. But since you're well enough to come looking for me, that means you're fully recovered, doesn't it?
"Curfew's still a ways off. I hope you'll finish in time."
No!
How could he do this?!
Today was her last day—the absolute deadline!
Professor Snape, you can't!
(Updates are hard—remember to share 101 Book Net!)
...
That night, Hermione barely made it back to the dormitory before curfew. One more minute and Filch would've caught her.
Collapsing onto her bed, she could hardly lift her arms.
At least tomorrow she'd switch back...
Wait—no!
She shot upright.
She'd been so busy copying 3000 Methods that she'd completely forgotten why she went in the first place: to learn something new from Snape!
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
Fine—secondhand knowledge was still knowledge. As long as she learned it, that's what mattered.
Hermione flopped back down.
Li Su was grinding her teeth in her sleep; Terry slept peacefully.
Hermione gradually calmed down, her breathing evening out.
"Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom..."
A tiny voice near her ear made her jump.
"Y-you..."
A house-elf?
Hermione caught herself—just a little startled, nothing dramatic.
"Mr. Tom, Dobby smelled blood on Hermione!" the elf whispered, careful not to wake the others. "Dobby is very worried. Mr. Tom said if Hermione is ever in danger, Dobby must tell him—so Dobby came."
This elf's name was Dobby?
Why hadn't Tom ever mentioned him?
But what he just said... Did Tom really assign a house-elf to watch over her?
Warmth bloomed in Hermione's chest, quickly replaced by alarm. "When did you notice?"
"Just now!" Dobby said, flustered. "Dobby has been following Hermione. Then Hermione went into the bathroom, and when she came out—blood smell! Dobby was scared something bad happened, but Dobby didn't dare do anything. Dobby was afraid of messing up, so Dobby came to tell you."
It was already past curfew.
Why would Tom have blood on him? Had he gotten into a fight?
Hermione's stomach knotted with worry. Curfew or not, she swung out of bed and slipped on her shoes.
Watching her hurry off, Dobby let out a relieved sigh.
This time Dobby didn't mess up, right?
Dobby knew this one was the real Miss Hermione.
There really was blood on Tom—Dobby didn't know what happened, just that Tom's expression had been off.
Mr. Tom always tried to handle everything alone, so... Dobby decided to tell Hermione. She was more mature, had been through more than Dobby!
...
In the empty Hogwarts corridors, a lone figure hurried along with a cat.
Mrs. Norris twitched her nose and snapped her gaze in one direction.
"Who's there?!" Filch raised his lantern and charged forward.
Nothing but silence—no one in sight.
But the air carried faint traces of disturbed dust. Filch zeroed in on it.
"Curfew's long past—don't run!"
Hermione knew the castle inside out (she'd snuck around at night before).
Left turn ahead, and she'd be right at the Gryffindor common room.
"Hee hee hee!"
Peeves the poltergeist popped out of nowhere.
Peeves loved nothing more than pranks and scaring kids.
Spotting a rule-breaker after hours got him instantly excited.
"I saw you come out of Ravenclaw—hehehe!
"Filch is still chasing you. You're done for—you can't escape that black cat!"
"Shut it!" Hermione snapped.
That voice sounded so familiar!
Peeves paused, floated closer, and peered at her face.
"Tom!" he cried. "Why didn't you tell me you were sneaking out tonight? I'd have distracted Filch for you!"
Hermione: "?"
Just how many things had Tom done behind her back? Even Peeves was in his pocket?
In one term, Tom had practically bought out the whole castle.
"Where you headed?" Peeves asked.
"None of your business! Lure Mrs. Norris and Filch toward the Slytherin dungeons—don't let them bother me here."
"You got it!" Peeves gave a thumbs-up. "Slytherin's that way—stay low. I'm on it!"
With a wild cackle, Peeves started causing chaos up and down the corridor.
Soon Hermione heard Filch cursing—Peeves's distraction was working.
Nice one, Peeves!
For the first time ever, she didn't find him completely annoying.
But now came the real problem: how was she supposed to get into the girls' dormitory?
If a boy even tried, the stairs would turn into a slide.
She'd fall right off!
No good. Think of something—if only she had Polyjuice Potion...
"Hey, looks like you're in a bind?"
Hermione had lost count of how many people she'd run into tonight.
At least these two weren't trying to catch her.
"George! Fred!"
"Tom?" George clapped. "I remember you—Ravenclaw's little genius. Didn't think the genius broke rules too."
Hermione: "...I don't want to hear that from two people wandering around after curfew."
"That's not important." George shivered a little. "Tom, you look worried about something. How about..."
He held up a hand: "Five Galleons, and I'll make sure Filch leaves you alone. Deal?"
"No, that's not the issue."
George brimmed with confidence. "Then what do you need? As long as it's not too much trouble, we can handle it."
"I need to get into the Gryffindor dormitory."
"Easy!"
No big deal—George agreed instantly. "Follow us. We'll get you in."
"Uh... I mean the girls' dormitory. My friend's in trouble and needs help right now!"
The girls' dormitory?
George and Fred took two big steps back.
That wasn't just anywhere—that was absolute boy-free territory!
George looked pained. "That's seriously against the rules, Tom. If we got caught, it wouldn't just be detention. Uh... if it's real danger, maybe tell Professor Dumbledore?
"First—what's your friend's name?"
"Hermione. Hermione Granger."
Their eyes instantly lit up. "Follow us. We swear on the Weasley twins' honor—we'll get you in!"
Why didn't you say so sooner?!
Hermione Granger was basically their golden patron!
They still remembered both deals vividly.
First deal: they'd scraped together 100 Galleons with huge effort, but flipped her photos and made it all back—plus a huge profit!
Second deal: Hermione had kindly let them complete other trades first before depositing the Galleons in Gringotts.
In a way, she'd funded their current lavish lifestyle.
"You know Hermione?"
"Of course!" Fred said proudly. "If we hadn't made a deal with her before starting school, how could we—"
Ahem! George shot Fred a look. "Hermione's our little brother's friend. Of course we know her."
Fred realized his slip and grinned silently.
A deal?
What deal?!
Wait—before school started!
Hermione still hadn't forgotten that—Lockhart's complete signed works plus his personal photo!
Damn you, Tom!
"This way. Fred, give me a hand!"
...
Gryffindor girls' dormitory.
Tom really did look awful—face pale as paper, no color at all, stumbling a little as he walked.
Just hold on a bit longer.
He warmed a cup of water and sipped it slowly in his palms.
His two dormmates were still awake—no classes tomorrow—so they were playing with an enchanted makeup mirror, trying different looks.
Knock knock knock.
Someone knocked on the door. All three froze.
"Who'd come by at this hour?" Lavender wondered.
Parvati was still fussing with her makeup. "Hermione, can you get the door?"
"Hermione's not feeling well—can't you go?" Lavender bonked her on the head. "Fine, I'll do it."
She opened the door and saw that familiar young face.
The one they talked about in the dorm all the time.
"Tom?"
The Tom sitting on the floor with his hot water looked up sharply.
Hermione—sweaty and out of breath—finally relaxed when she saw he was okay.