Chapter Six: I Will Not Be Drawn Into The Past Again, Decembers Were Never Meant To Be Our Graves.

December 1993-Island.

The camp she had called home for the past six months was in ruins; most of the supplies that Halt had meticulously stored up, was gone. What had not been taken by whomever had trashed the camp after their capture had been thrown in a pile and burned.

Hermione limped through the remains, bare feet covered in cuts and dirt from her run through the forest. With a numb detachment, she picked through the remains to find anything she could salvage: a pocket knife, a few scattered matches and a pair of pants and shirt that had once been Halt's. Changing into the clothes, she tore the scrubs she had worn since escaping into pieces. A large strip was made into a belt to hold up the pants after rolling up the legs and shirtsleeves until the clothes fit somewhat. Taking the remaining fabric, she tied them around her bleeding feet in an attempt to lessen the damage being done to them as she walked.

She stuffed the knife and matches into her pocket and headed to a familiar part of the cave. Limping over to the barren corner where her bed had once lain, Hermione knelt and dug an arm into a fissure in the rock wall. She pulled out the thankfully undamaged journal containing the letter entries she had been writing to her friends since arriving on the island. Pocketing the book after making sure the one photo it contained was still safely inside, she headed back out.

Kicking around in the area she had been attacked in, she eventually came across her bow in the grass. It was a bit scraped up but still seemed functional. Unstringing the bow, she placed the string in her pocket for safe-keeping. After digging around in the remains of the fire, she found a charred coat sleeve to slip the bow in, tying it off at the ends with the remaining bits of scrubs to make an improvised bag that she slung onto her back.

Preparing to leave the clearing, her foot caught on something, tripping her roughly to the ground. Looking at her caught foot, Hermione found the remains of Halt's bow- the string had snapped and had become wrapped around her ankle. Carefully gathering up the broken weapon into her arms, she left, not knowing where she was going, just knowing that her makeshift home was no longer safe.

Night came soon after and with it came rain, lightning, and thunder shattering the night sky above. Hermione took refuge under a partly uprooted tree, huddled into the small den the roots and dirt formed. Even so, she was soaked to the bone, tears mixing with the rain dripping in from the roots that made up the roof. She tried to light a fire but could not even manage so much as a wisp of smoke from her magical waterproof flames. The night was long and cold and more lonely than she had ever recalled feeling. Hermione sat there shivering so hard, she looked to be having a mild seizure, arms locked around the remains of Halt's bow like a lifeline.

For the next week, it was the same routine. She would wake bone cold from dreams of being torn apart by sharp teeth and Halt's screams ringing in her ears. Once awake, she would gather her few possessions and start walking until she couldn't continue on anymore, picking up what was edible on the way. She would collapse in the next available hiding place before letting herself slip into unconsciousness. On the eighth day of being on her own, Hermione found herself tucked up in yet another hiding place flipping through her journal. She had not been in any mood to write in it, not since that first night when she tried to find some form of comfort in the act of writing to her friends. It had not worked, only cemented the fact that she was truly on her own now and that no one was going to come save her.

Turning to the back of the book she pulled out a folded picture of her and her friends. It was a Wizarding photo from their first year at Hogwarts. She and Ron had their arms around Harry as they all laughed at something Ron had said. She couldn't remember what had been so funny now, just that she had been happy to be there with her two first and best friends.

She smiled at the picture and the memory it held, rubbing her fingers over the images of Ron and Harry, causing them to laugh more as they tried to duck out of the way. Beside her a glowing silver mist began to form, shifting and shimmering as it attempted to take shape.

__________

September 1st 1993-Leaky Cauldron, London

Hermione woke to the sound of a crash. In an instant she was crouched on her bed fully alert, knife in one hand, other hand outstretched with a nasty spell on her lips. Nothing moved until a large mass of orange fur leapt up on her bed, hissing and spitting at something on the floor. Cautiously crawling to the edge of the bed, she peered over; her trunk had been flipped over and the lid was partly open. Snagged on the trunk latch was a familiar belt.

"Great, it's loose," she grumbled scanning the floor for movement, cautiously leaning over the edge and looked under the bed nothing. Stepping off the bed, Hermione made her way to her upended trunk, picking up the belt she set the trunk back up. There was a snarl and a fluttering of pages as her Monster Book came skittering out from under the dresser. With a snap, the knife left her hand followed by a startled yelp.

"Now I thought we had this sorted out," she said walking over to the book that was still snarling where it sat pinned by its lower cover to the floor, "If you don't behave yourself, you're going to have a lot of holes in your cover," she said putting a foot on the book and pulling her knife out before tossing it on the bed so she could slip the belt back on the still snarling book, but it made no move to wiggle out of her grip.

"Should have just left you at home," she grumbled. The book had been an interesting edition to her collection of literature to say the least. It refused to stay on the bookshelf even if muzzled and when it did get loose, the thing would hide in wait for any opportunity to take a bite out of herself or Sirius. The dog seemed to have the most luck in running into the thing, at the most in-opportune times. At one point it had somehow managed to get into one of the higher kitchen cabinets and had launched itself out at the head of the first person to open the door. Sirius had gotten quite a scare at that point and on top of colorfully cursing whichever teacher had put the fuzzy book from hell on their list, he had also insisted she do something about it before one of them ended up with more than just a few paper cuts. Hence, she had begun making it clear to the tome that it did not want to get on her bad side or risk losing some unimportant bits.

"If anything, you could have kept Sirius from dying of boredom," she mused replacing the whimpering book in her trunk and locking the lid with a sigh. Knowing she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, she decided to get ready for the day before heading down to an early breakfast.

Hermione sat flipping through a notebook. She had been keeping notes from the books in her study that she had managed to get through over the summer; most while interesting possessed nothing that could inform her on how Voldemort was keeping himself alive. All she had to go on was that it was somehow tied to the diary Harry had destroyed last year, and the ring that had led to Dumbledore's death. How they where connected, she could not tell but she planned on using her time at school to search the library for any more information. If Dumbledore had known he kept it to himself, there had been no mention of it in any of the memories he had left behind.

"Good morning, dear, you're up early."

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley. I guess I'm just excited to be heading back to school," she said closing her notebook and slipping it in her inner jacket pocket. The cover had been warded with a variant of the Notice-Me-Not Charm, making it seem like such an insignificant item that any who saw it would find their gaze drifting past it with little notice before its existence slipped their mind entirely. Mrs. Weasley went about getting breakfast set out for the rest of the Weasley clan and Harry, as they began to trickle down in groups of twos and threes. Harry, Ron and the twins being the last and had to eat quickly before they were rushing out the door to the ministry cars that were waiting for them.

"Sorry, Crooks, but you have to stay in there," Hermione said putting the cat's travel crate into the car, "I'll let you out on the train."

"You will not," Ron protested clutching at the lump in his pocket, "What about Scabbers, he's sick and he's not going to get better with that beast prowling around all the time."Hermione ignored the comment as she too climbed into the car, saying Crookshanks wouldn't bother the rat was a poor lie. Anyone could see the cat had it out for Scabbers in specific and she wasn't about to make claims of keeping the cat under control when she was in fact egging the feline on in his quest. Ron would thank her in the end when his pet's true nature was revealed- after the shock wore off of course.

"Don't you think it would have been better if you had left him at home; he is rather old, you know. His illness is probably just his age catching up with him. It had to happen at some point, Ron. Wouldn't it be better for him to live out his last days in the quiet of the Burrow?" Hermione said trying another tactic. If she could separate the two before they left for school, it would be a simple matter for Sirius to slip into the Burrow while the Weasley parents were out and snatch the rat up with no one the wiser.

"He would get some peace at school if you hadn't brought that cat with you," Ron countered back glaring at her.

"I'm not the only one with a cat, Ronald, Crooks is just the only one around right now." Hermione placated holding her hands up in a calming manner, had she been her younger self she might have started arguing with the boy, which could only have ended with her and Ron not being on speaking terms for a while, given they both had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Now she was older and had learned over the years that, with a little cunning, she could get the same result as weeks of bullheadedness would have gotten her a lot faster. She had not lost her stubborn streak but had learned to pick how she fought her fights. If she could keep her cover without acting like the immature child she appeared to be, she would.

"I'm sure as soon as others notice how poor his health is they will be after him as well, it's just how animals are; they prey on the sick and weak." Ron was quiet as he thought over what she had said, her calm response and not jumping immediately to her cat's defense had caught him off guard.

"Isn't it about time you let him go? He would be far more comfortable at the Burrow, I'm sure," she said giving him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before relaxing back in her seat. The rest of the trip to the train station was quiet and when they arrived they split into smaller groups to go through the barrier. Hermione going through with Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. She had to pause for a minute and take in the sight of the beautiful engine, all polished and bright, waiting to take them to school. It was something she'd never thought she'd get the chance to do again after hearing the school had sealed itself after Dumbledore's death.

Hauling her trunk onto the train, she was followed by Ron who stopped in the door to talk with his father. He pulled the thinning rat out of his pocket and held it out for his father to take. The moment the rat left his hand, Mr. Weasley gave a shout and dropped the animal; his hand was bleeding where he had been bitten. Scabbers darted up the train steps and into the train with Ron chasing after him. Hermione silently cursed the whole search. By the time the rat had been located, the train had already left the station far behind.

Once Scabbers had been tucked safely into Ron's pocket, the trio began looking for a compartment only to realize that they had all filled during the search for the rat. Eventually after checking compartments all the way down the train, they found one that contained only a single occupant in the last coach. Hermione had to stop and squash down the growing feeling of sadness at the sight of Remus Lupin sleeping peacefully slouched against the window.

She had met the man only once following a full moon. She'd gone to his small house outside of London in hopes of gaining his help in her mission. She'd found him seated before a dim fire in a worn armchair, the arms and cushions riddled with claw marks. He appeared unkempt and thin, hair heavily streaked in grey and sallow skin broken by the occasional scratch. He made no attempt to wipe away the dried blood from a healing cut on his jaw nor did he acknowledge her uninvited entrance into his home.

Her attempts to explain herself and requests were met with silence as were any attempts to invoke a reaction out of him. In the end, she'd been briefly pointed toward a small book on top of a photo album that'd been left open at his feet. She took it and left, without a glance from the man's dim eyes. A week later, the Order had gotten the disturbing news that Lupin's house had been burned to the ground during a Death Eater raid. As far as anyone could tell, he didn't even make any attempt to fight back.

"Who do you suppose he is?" Ron asked sitting down next to the door with Harry next to him after stowing their luggage.

"Professor R. J. Lupin, our new Defense Professor," she said softly as she stowed her own trunk next to the werewolf's before releasing Crookshanks to sprawl out on the seat across from Ron.

"How do you— how does she know everything?" Ron sputtered out directing his question to Harry as he pointed at the witch as she sat down next to her cat. Harry could only shrug in reply.

"Honestly, Ronald, why are you making such a big deal out of it. It's printed on his luggage," she said pointing at the small battered case with the Professor's name printed on it, chipped and fading but still legible.

"What about what he teaches? That isn't written anywhere." The red-head proclaimed.

"What else could he be teaching- Lockhart's in St. Mungo's for the unforeseeable future," the witch pointed out.

"Oh," Ron mumbled before snapping his mouth shut with an audible click.

"You think he is really asleep?" Harry asked looking over the raggedy Professor.

"Looks like it," Ron said looking at his best mate curiously, "Why, what's on your mind?" Hermione, too, put her full attention on their spectacled friend.

"I need to tell you guys something important," he said pausing to check outside the door for eaves droppers, before sliding the compartment door closed.

"So, you're saying that Sirius Black has escaped from prison for the sole purpose of tracking you down and killing you?" Hermione asked, summing up all the information that Harry had gathered from his talk with Mr Weasley the night before and what he had gathered from his time in Diagon Alley. "That doesn't make sense, if Black was after you why did he wait 12 years to make a move to escape?" Hermione contradicted, attempting to plant some doubt in the two. Black was Harry's godfather and if all worked out Harry might have a chance of breaking away from the Dursley's. If she could just sow a little glimmer of suspicion that things were not as they seemed, it might make it a lot easier for Harry to trust his godfather when the truth came out.

"The man's mental, who knows?" Ron stated showing little interest in pursuing the mystery Hermione was dangling in front of him. "Maybe it took him that long to figure out a way to escape."

"It just doesn't seem right," she said dropping the subject for now, unsurprised Ron was taking the information from his father at face value.

Time passed quickly as the three moved on to lighter subjects, like what classes they were looking forward to this year and one's they were dreading. The boys found themselves in a debate on the upcoming Quidditch season. Before they knew it, the food trolley had come and gone as the boys debated and Hermione watched them with a fond smile in between pages of a novel she had brought to read on the trip. Soon the sky had begun to darken prematurely with the oncoming storm clouds and rain came down in sheets.

Hermione was just reading about Shasta and his talking horse Bree, as they fled with new resolve at a lion's pursuit when the train began to slow before stopping with a jerk.

"Are we there already?" Ron asked as Harry peered out of the train window.

"We can't be, it's too soon. Something must be wrong," Hermione replied tersely. Finely tuned instinct was telling her danger was near as she stood and opened the door a fraction so that she could poke her head out.

"Wait here," her words came out more of a cool order than she had intended, making her sound more like an adult taking charge than a student. She paused for a brief second to evaluate the situation, what would have been an expected reaction from her younger self? She would have searched out an adult who could tell her what was going on and would have been afraid, wouldn't she? Ron and Harry seemed uneasy, so she guessed a little fear would not be out of place. In an effort to cover her slip she dampened her tone with a hint of fear and unease before speaking again.

"I'm going to check with the drivers, they might know what's happening." Quickly she slipped out of the door before the two boys could protest. They'd be safe there with Lupin; he was sure to wake with the commotion and would undoubtedly recognize Harry as James' son. She almost immediately ran into Neville and Ginny on the way through the train and sent them toward the boys compartment, with brief word that she was going to find out what was going on.

Continuing on by herself, she only made it to the end of the deserted coach when the lights flickered and then went out. Closing her eyes she counted to ten, speeding up the adjustment to the darkness and palming her wand. Opening them again she could make out a shape in the darkness only visible because it was darker and did not shift like the other shadows.

A bone biting cold crept up her limbs and gripped at her chest painfully, the sound of rain outside the train grew louder as the drumming filled her ears. She let out a shuddering breath that misted in the air before her like a ghostly vapor as the phantom trails of icy rain rolled down her skin, the damp rot of leaves and soil filling her nose. For a moment she felt an almost crippling sense of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm her and for the briefest of moments she believed herself back under the roots of that great tree on the island, rain soaked and frozen and so very alone.

"Expecto Patronum!" Her voice was cold and controlled as a silvery otter shot out of her wand and launched itself at the approaching Dementor, sending it fleeing back the way it had come. Its work done, the otter drifted back toward the witch spinning a playful circle around her head before fading away, its glowing silver light leaving her in darkness once again.

Hermione let her eyes adjust to the complete darkness, mentally shaking herself to bring her mind away from thoughts of the past; they had no place in the here and now. Opening her eyes again, she moved to continue down the train when she heard the whisper of fabric behind her. Pivoting, she came face to face with Professor Lupin.

"Sorry, Sir," she apologized lowering her wand to the side so that it no longer was pointed at him. "You startled me."

"You should get back to your seat, it isn't safe to be wandering right now," he asserted, extinguishing the flame in his hand when the lights overhead flickered back on and the train began moving once again.

"Yes, Sir," she said ducking her head, stowing her wand as she skirted around the Professor and back down the corridor. The train was moving again and that was all they needed for now.

Entering the compartment at the end of the train, she found her friends to be in quite a distressing state. Harry looked very shaken as he stared at the piece of chocolate in his hand, Ron and Neville looked quiet and pale, while Ginny was curled in a corner of the furthest seat sobbing quietly into her hands.

"Are you guys alright?" she asked moving in and immediately going to sit by Ginny, putting an arm around her in an attempt at comfort. She was trembling and Hermione's gesture seemed to comfort the girl into not holding back her sobs or to upset her into a new round of tears; the brunette was not sure which. Either way, Hermione found herself with a crying 12 year old in her arms, sobbing into her shoulder and gasping garbled apologies in between breaths.

Unsure what to do in such a position, Hermione rubbed the girl's back awkwardly until her sobs subsided into hiccuping sniffles and Ginny retracted herself from Hermione's person. She tentatively took an offered handkerchief from Neville, who gave her a small encouraging smile. The youngest Weasley had more than likely been re-living her time under Voldemort's influence, a memory that she'd probably been trying to bury all summer. The wounds from that particular trauma had not even begun to heal only to be ripped open again so abruptly. Hermione, at least had had years to come to terms and learn to cope with her own experiences that the Dementors so generously brought up.

"We are fine now, Harry had some sort of fit—"

"—but I'm fine now," Harry cut in catching Hermione's worried look, "See, I have chocolate, it helps." He held up his untouched chocolate, as if it was the solution to everything, before taking a bite from it for good measure. Hermione wasn't buying it and told him so with a 'we'll talk about it later' look before turning her attention back on the sniffling Ginny.

"Did you see one of those things?" Neville inquired as he wrung at the silver candy wrapper in his hands.

"A Dementor, you mean? Yes," she said pausing for a moment, reproaching herself for not simply saying 'no' and be done with it. "The Professor took care of it before sending me back here," she amended, knowing that she couldn't very well tell them she already knew an above O.W.L. level spell to repel the creatures or that when she learned it, she hadn't even known its name or purpose. She only hoped that they did not question the Professor on what had happened in the corridor when he came back in a few minutes.

"We will be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," he said softly coming to sit back in his seat by the window across from Ginny and Hermione.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asked suddenly, bringing the attention back on her.

"Yes, I'm fine, why?" She asked bewildered, she truly did feel fine. After breaking the Dementors influence she had felt normal, no lingering effects as far as she could tell.

"'Mione, your hand is shaking," Ron said softly looking at her hand that was not around Ginny. Hermione followed his gaze and sure enough her hand was visibly shaking from where it sat rested against her knee. She held it up for a closer inspection and as if on cue, now that she was aware of it she couldn't not notice the biting cold throughout her body like she had drunk a bottle of liquid nitrogen. She realized now, that she had been unconsciously shielding her mind from recognizing the effects of the Dementors but her body was still reacting to it regardless of if she was aware of it and now that she was aware, she could not suppress the bone rattling shudder that ran through her body.

"Here, eat," Lupin said breaking a large chunk of chocolate from what had most likely been a large bar. "It will help, eat." Hermione took the offered piece and ate it slowly, savoring the warm feeling it gave her as the bittersweet morsel melted over her tongue and her shivering subsided.

"Do you always go around with large quantities of chocolate in your pockets, Professor?" she asked with a mischievous smile on her lips-bordering on coy-as she took another bite from the candy.

"You never know when it might come in handy," was the evasive answer she got in reply as the Professor smiled back at her good naturedly, either misinterpreting her expression as gratitude or ignoring it. In a few minutes, the trembling in her hands had ceased completely and by then it was time to wrangle Crookshanks back in his crate as the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. The ride up to the castle was quiet, as they passed through the Dementor-guarded gate and entered the Hogwarts grounds.

Exiting the carriage Hermione paused to look over the pair of Thestrals that were harnessed to the front. It was obvious no one else in her group could see them and for that, she was glad. Even with all they'd been through, at least they still had their innocence of how truly dark the world could be. Heading into the castle, they were stopped by a face she could have done without seeing until the morning or never.

"Did you really faint Potte—eeek!" Malfoy said with glee as he shoved his way past Hermione, only to let out an undignified squeak as he was sent sliding down the wet stairs into a convenient puddle of gooey mud.

"Do watch your step, Malfoy," Hermione said in mock concern. "It's awful slippery out here," she advised ushering a laughing Harry and Ron into the entrance ahead of her.

"You filthy little Mudblood! How dare you!" Malfoy spat as he stood livid, mud and water dripping off his robe and platinum locks.

"The only thing filthy with mud here is you, Malfoy, if you stand around like that you'll catch a cold," Hermione said pausing in the doorway to look back over her shoulder at the pure-blood, not batting an eye at the term that used to bring her to tears. Malfoy moved to draw his wand.

"Is there a problem here?" came the voice of Professor Lupin who had gotten out of the carriage behind them.

"No, Professor," Hermione said innocently at the same time as Malfoy shouted.

"She pushed me down the stairs!"

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, no need to blow things out of proportion. I saw the whole thing, no need to blame Ms. Granger here for a simple case of slippery steps," Lupin said coaxing Malfoy up the stairs. Hermione took this as her chance to head in and went in to find Ron and Harry still laughing.

"That was brilliant, 'Mione," Ron breathed out between bouts of laughter, "Did you see his face right before he hit the mud? Priceless! Wish I had a camera."

"I've no idea what you're talking about, Ronald. He just tripped, rather conveniently," she said not admitting to anything as she waited for the two boys to get a hold of themselves so that they could head into the Great Hall.

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, I want to see you both in my office," Professor McGonagall said catching their attention. "Move along, Mr. Weasley, your friends will join you at the feast shortly."

Leading the way to her office, McGonagall ushered the pair in where Madame Pomfrey was waiting. Harry barely had time to react before the medi-witch was checking his temperature and pulse. Despite his loud protests that there was nothing wrong, he was given a thorough examination before he was deemed to be in good health even after having recently suffered a severe reaction to the dementors. Harry was then asked to wait outside with Pomfrey, while McGonagall discussed a private matter with Hermione.

"Now, Ms. Granger, I want to make certain you are sure about the course load you have chosen for this year. It will be a lot of work, maybe too much for you to handle. Are you positive you wish to keep all your classes?" The stern Professor asked, hands folded on her desk and watching the brunette like a hawk.

"Yes, I am sure, Professor." She said confidently and without hesitation, she not only wanted it, she needed this item, "I know it will be a lot of work, but I can handle it."

"Alright, if you are sure. I suppose you will be wanting this," she said pulling out a small wooden jewelry box from a drawer and handing it to Hermione. Inside, nestled securely on a bed of black velvet was a small hourglass set in an intricately engraved metal ring, hung from a long finely crafted chain. "I'm trusting you to use this responsibly, Ms. Granger, there are not many people-let alone students-that are trusted with such objects. I trust you remember the rules that go along with it."

"Yes, Professor, I understand all the rules and regulations with it," Hermione said doing her best to keep the satisfied smile off her face till she was out of the office and the Time-Turner was securely around her neck, tucked out of sight under her robes.

"What are you so happy about?" Harry asked when she joined him outside the office and the pair headed back to the Great Hall.

"Oh, nothing, just got some good news about my schedule from Professor McGonagall," she said taking a seat on one side of Ron leaving Harry to take the seat on the other side. "Did we miss the sorting, Ron?" Ron nodded in answer before Dumbledore rose directing all the attention in the room to himself.

"I have a few announcements for all of you. First off as I am sure you have noticed that we will be hosting the Dementors of Azkaban this year—" Dumbledore continued on making it clear that the Dementors were not creatures to be trifled with or brushed off. The rest of the announcements were of lighter topics including two changes to the teaching roster this year. Professor Lupin, who as Hermione had predicted, would be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Professor Snape did not seem too happy about the placement, not that he ever seemed happy about the new DADA professor, but this time it seemed to offend him personally. And, none other than Hagrid, taking over the Care of Magical Creatures class.

"Well, that explains the book," Ron muttered all the while clapping enthusiastically for the bearded man.

Announcements done, the feast was served and everybody dug in. Between bite,s Hermione snuck glances up at the teachers table, picking out the familiar black head of the Potions Master easily. He was picking at his food, the look of loathing he'd been directing at Lupin was gone. In its place was his usual mask of indifference. His gaze suddenly shifted from his plate to the student tables, so Hermione let her gaze drift around the tables as if looking for something before returning to her place.

After refilling her plate, she risked glancing back up. The war had taken its toll on the spy. When she had last seen the man, he'd been thin, scarred, and completely run ragged from years of trying to uphold his cover as a Death Eater, as well as helping the Order wherever he could. He warned them of raids so they could prepare and fight back or run. In the more recent months, she'd seen a lot of him as he mended from an injury that'd very nearly killed him. In the weeks following his recovery, she'd gained him as a mentor of sorts and an ally later on, when she'd proposed this insane mission to stop the war before it even began. Maybe even a friend in the end.

She knew for a fact that she would not have been able to make it back here now without his help, his sacrifice. She wouldn't have been able to hone her magical abilities to anywhere near the extent they were now nor could she have made the Time Portal in the Ministry without him watching her back. It was going to be strange, going from someone that he might have seen as an equal back to the annoying know-it-all student he thought she was.

His reaction to her staring was quicker this time and she dropped her gaze back to her plate where it remained even after she could no longer feel eyes in her direction. When the dishes were cleared, the three made their way up to the teachers table to congratulate Hagrid. Hermione did not give into the temptation to look down the table to see if Snape was still there; she had pushed her luck enough for one night.

Entering her dorm room she shared with Lavender and Parvati, Hermione laid claim to the bed closest to the window. After unpacking the things she would need the next day, Hermione crawled into her bed with Crookshanks, after changing into her pajamas she began penning out a letter to Sirius.

Dear Gary,

Had an eventful day, met some of your old friends. They're quite unpleasant to be around. I can see why you didn't want to hang out with them any more. Almost talked Wormtail into staying home but he had other ideas. Moony is here as well, I hope he is as good at Defense as he claims. I hope to learn a lot from him. Do you think Moony would be interested in our little project, having more help might be beneficial but only if he can be trusted. Don't want him running off to your old friends first chance he gets.

Sincerely,

Emma

Folding up the letter, she waited until she could hear her room mates' even-breathing before slipping out of her curtained bed. Pulling a black hoodie on over her pajamas and a pair of soft sole boots, she crept out of Gryffindor Tower and into the halls. Changing routes easily when she picked up the sounds of Filch patrolling, she arrived at the Owlery. Sending the letter off, she stood there looking out the window for a time. The rain was still coming down in cold sheets. When she began to lose feeling in her fingers, she made her way back to the dormitory. By the time she finally crawled into bed, it was well after two.