The next day Hermione made up her mind: not a word — not to Harry, not to Ron. What was the point of explaining anything if they never listened to her anyway? Instead of talking, she chose a different tactic — cold indifference.
She came to breakfast first, sat down without looking around, opened a book, and buried herself in it. When Ron dropped noisily onto the bench beside her, chatting away with Dean about some rubbish, Hermione only pressed her lips together and shifted slightly — barely noticeable, but enough to make it clear: she was busy. She stubbornly pretended to be completely absorbed in her reading, as if nothing happening around her concerned her at all. In reality, she caught every word. Somewhere deep down, Hermione hoped they would notice her silent protest and feel ashamed.
But that didn't happen. Harry threw her a questioning look a couple of times but said nothing. And Ron… Ron was laughing. Loudly, cheerfully — as if everything were perfectly fine. Worse, he was boasting about his 'heroics,' his voice growing louder and more smug with every sentence. He waved his arms so wildly that he nearly hit Hermione, and she had to move even farther away.
It was more than she could stand. To hide her mounting indignation, Hermione practically disappeared behind her open book. She turned the page a bit harder than necessary.
"Hermione, pass the bread rolls," Ron said suddenly, flicking a glance at her before turning straight back to Dean.
Hermione very nearly threw the rolls at him, but managed to stop herself and instead shoved the plate right under Ron's nose with a loud scrape. He took one and carried on talking with his mouth full. Watching him from behind her book, she struggled to keep herself under control, swallowing the lecture that was forcing its way up behind her tightly clenched lips. But at that exact moment, Ron got what was coming to him.
As if on cue, the morning post burst into the hall, and a bright red envelope slapped down right in front of Ron. A Howler — from Mrs. Weasley. Hermione glanced at Ron and barely held back a satisfied smile. His face, smug only a second ago, changed completely. It went pale; the hand holding the roll froze in midair, just short of his open mouth, and his eyes locked onto the envelope. He now looked far less like a hero and far more like a scared child caught red-handed by his mother.
Looking for support, Ron glanced at Harry first, then at Hermione, but in the end, having gathered his courage, he tore open the envelope. Instantly, Mrs. Weasley's voice burst out, so loud it nearly deafened Hermione:
"—STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU—"
Hermione winced, clapped her hands over her ears, and stole another look at Ron. He looked as if a mountain troll were hanging over him, ready to smash him with a club.
'No… actually,' Hermione stopped herself suddenly. 'He looked much braver facing a troll last year.' The thought made her look at Ron differently. Seeing his frightened face now, she even felt a faint twinge of pity. After all, he was her friend.
Meanwhile, the letter kept booming across the hall for a full minute, while everyone listened, holding their breath, to the crashing fury of Mrs. Weasley's voice. Then the rant cut off sharply: the letter burst into scarlet flames and crumbled to ash. For a few seconds, a ringing silence hung over the Great Hall. Then it broke into laughter. Loudest of all, of course, was Malfoy at the Slytherin table, howling with laughter and mocking Mrs. Weasley's voice. But many others didn't hold back either — even at the Gryffindor table there were plenty of amused comments and snickers.
"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you —" Hermione started, turning to him.
But he cut her off, snapping, "Don't tell me I deserved it."
She fell silent, looking at him. After thinking it over again, Hermione decided that lesson had been more than enough for Ron. Then, as if nothing had happened, she joined the others' conversation: she asked Harry about the trip and even managed a couple of neutral smiles in response to their 'adventures in the sky.'
Ron, meanwhile, sat there looking sullen, prodding his porridge with a spoon. He hardly ate at all — mostly just smeared it around the plate, glaring at it as if it were responsible for all his troubles. But when Hermione asked for the second time why they hadn't taken the train like normal students, Ron seemed to snap out of his dark mood.
"We couldn't get through to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters!" he blurted out, slamming his spoon onto the plate with unexpected force so that porridge splashed onto his robes. "We already told you!"
"So… everyone else got through, and you didn't?" she drawled, deliberately stressing every word and looking at him with undisguised doubt. "Did I get that right?"
Ron froze. His eyes narrowed and fixed on Hermione.
"So… you don't believe us?" he said, the same deliberately pointed tone creeping into his voice, edged with anger.
He started breathing hard, his jaw tightening. He was clearly ready for a fight. Harry shot them both a nervous look and rushed to cut in:
"Ron, but it does sound strange," he said carefully. "Even the teachers didn't believe us."
Hermione, as if she'd been waiting for this, gave Harry a satisfied nod and shot Ron a pointed look. He flinched as if stung.
"But you were there!" he snapped, whipping around to Harry. "Why are you taking her side?"
Harry grimaced.
"Yes, we were there, and we really couldn't get through," he shrugged. "But try to understand, Hermione — from the outside it sounds… well, pretty stupid. Even the teachers —"
"I don't give a damn about the teachers!" Ron cut in, slamming his fist down on the table. A few students turned around, but he didn't pay them any attention. "What matters to me is what Hermione thinks!"
He turned back to her, and now there was not only irritation in his eyes, but clear hurt.
"So you think we're lying? Is that it?"
His stare pinned her, and Hermione suddenly felt her confidence slip. She flushed and looked away.
"W-well…" she muttered, shrinking under Ron's pressure. "I didn't say that —"
"Maybe you didn't say it, but that's what you think, right?" Ron pushed.
"Ron, don't —" Harry tried to step in, but Ron waved him off.
"I want to hear it."
Hermione caught herself gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles went white. She hated admitting her mistakes. But Ron's pressure was too sincere, too insistent — he really was hurt by her lack of trust.
"I believe you," she finally forced out. "I don't think you'd have any reason to lie… even to me. We are friends, aren't we?"
She looked at them uncertainly, from under her brows.
"Of course we are," Harry said at once.
Ron stayed silent for a few seconds, as if considering what to say. Then he gave a short nod and finally looked away, breaking his fixed stare. Hermione let out a quiet breath, only now realizing how tense she had been. She shot Harry an apologetic smile, and soon the conversation shifted to a safer topic. They started talking about how everyone had spent the summer.
Harry briefly told them the story of how a house-elf named Dobby had appeared at his place. According to him, the elf had turned up right in his bedroom and put on quite a show — crying, making threats, and trying to bash his own head against a desk lamp, all to persuade Harry not to go to Hogwarts this year.
Hermione listened, her frown deepening with every word. When Harry finished, she shook her head and muttered, "That's very strange. I never thought house-elves could behave like that."
"What's strange about it?" Ron grumbled, concentrating on scrubbing a porridge stain off his robes. "Those rich wizarding families with elves usually aren't exactly kind. It's entirely possible this Dobby gets punished for every little mistake. So he's used to that kind of treatment — beats himself up so he doesn't have to trouble his precious masters."
Hermione frowned even more.
"I always thought elves were just… well, household helpers, I suppose. Miranda told me her family has several elves, but she talked about them the way you'd talk about furniture that can do any job. She even has her own personal elf, Pompik. It seemed to me she treated him more like a pet than a thinking magical being."
"Well…" Ron drawled. "I don't know about a pet, but elves are excellent servants — they never refuse any work. Still, honestly, I've never heard of one turning up at another wizard's place on its own, of its own free will."
"Exactly!" Hermione said quickly. "That's what bothers me too! From what Miranda told me, I was sure they couldn't act independently, without orders from their masters. That's why I thought they weren't sentient. But this…" She stopped short, her eyes lighting up with a sudden realisation. "Or maybe he was lying! Maybe he was doing exactly what he'd been told to do!"
"And why would anyone send an elf to me just to lie?" Harry said skeptically. "Just to keep me from going to school? Who would want that? Snape or Malfoy, maybe."
"The Malfoys definitely have a house-elf," Ron put in. "Maybe more than one. And people like them won't feel sorry for an elf."
"It still sounds ridiculous. And that elf behaved far too sincerely," Harry objected. "At least, that's how it seemed to me. Besides, why would he keep hitting himself every time he let something slip about his masters or their plans?"
"To make it look more convincing," Ron shrugged.
Hermione was thinking hard. Her fingers tapped against the table, as if trying to push her thoughts into place. Then a new idea flashed across her face.
"Maybe that elf is just crazy?" she asked, glancing between Harry and Ron.
"A crazy elf?" Ron almost choked on his juice. His eyes bulged so much his eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair. "I've heard of odd elves, sure, but crazy? No way — that's just nonsense!"
Harry stayed quiet. He had no idea whether house-elves could go mad. Until recently, he hadn't even known they existed.
"Think about it," Hermione said, ticking points off on her fingers as she spoke faster and with more excitement. "Normal elves only do what their master tells them, but this one showed up to Harry out of nowhere and started talking about some terrible danger — without ever saying what exactly. That's one. Second, he kept hitting himself on the head!" She gave Ron a pointed look. "And that, you have to admit, is a worrying sign."
Ron pulled a face and, reluctantly, nodded at that.
"Third," she went on, waving her hands, "his speech — according to Harry — was confused and all over the place. And fourth — he basically set Harry up! If that elf really wanted to help, would he let it get to the point where the Ministry sent Harry a warning? That's not exactly a friendly gesture, is it?"
Harry scratched his head and nodded uncertainly.
"No, it's not," he replied. Hermione's arguments were starting to sound pretty convincing.
"And anyway," she finished, "I think you should be careful around that crazy elf. Who knows what he'll do next?"
"Oh, come on, he didn't seem dangerous to me. He's actually kind of sweet," Harry tried to object, but Ron cut him off:
"Actually, elves can do really powerful magic, and they don't need wands. They've got their own elf magic."
Harry fell silent, realizing that an unhinged creature with strong magic didn't sound harmless at all.
"Fine," he said at last. "But I hope that Dobby doesn't show up again. What would he want from me now anyway? I'm already at Hogwarts." He spread his hands helplessly.
After that, their conversation shifted to what had happened to Hermione, and now it was Harry and Ron's turn to frown. When she mentioned that Tommy had asked her to dance, a flicker of annoyance flashed in Ron's eyes, but he said nothing. But once he understood that this 'Tommy' had been the kidnapper sent by the League of Light, he didn't hold back anymore.
"Well, you shouldn't have been dancing with just anyone!" he suddenly blurted out. "Maybe then no one would've tried to kidnap you. You need to be more careful!"
Hermione blinked, thrown by his reaction.
"What does that have to do with it?" she snapped, eyebrows rising. "Tommy is my friend! I didn't know —"
"That's exactly the point!" Ron shot back. "Your friends are unreliable! First Honeydew, now this Tommy! If you don't start being more careful about who you're friends with, they'll get you killed! Mark my words!"
He stopped short, scowled for some reason, and looked away. Hermione shut her mouth and stared at him in bafflement. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the end, she just stayed silent.