16 Chapter Fifteen

If you know your enemy, but not yourself, you will win as many times as you lose. If you know neither yourself, nor your enemy, you will always lose. If you know both, you will never lose.

Sun Tzu, the pearls of wisdom dispenser, wasn't that wrong. Sure, being water rather than wood would probably fly over the heads of the rest of the students in my year, but as I gingerly proceeded to scribble down the latest notes, I found myself neared by the least expected of sources.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley both neared, though one looked more torn than the other, and strangely enough it was the Weasley guy. The only reason I recognized the Weasley was the red hair, and Harry Potter's forehead sported a lightning bolt scar.

"Uhm...you're that Shade guy, right?" the Weasley asked, looking at me as if I was inches away from tearing his head off. I was in the library, and I wouldn't tear anyone's head off. Thus, I didn't understand all of this fear in his body. Well, perhaps it wasn't fear, but guilt? Anxiousness for the upcoming exams?

"Yes," I answered. "That would be me."

"Well, see, we wanted to apologize," Ron blurted out. "To Hermione that is," he continued as I had meanwhile raised an eyebrow in his direction. "We said some nasty things back at Halloween and..." his voice trailed off.

"Why are you coming to me with this?" I replied, "Shouldn't you tell her, rather than me?"

Harry Potter grimaced ever so slightly. "She needs to apologize too," Ron Weasley continued, "It's true we called her a know-it-all bookworm, but she's called us gits."

"Ah," I acquiesced. "You want it to be a double-apology," I looked at them both. "That's quite the difficult conundrum."

"What's an undrum got to do with it?" Ron asked, and I simply chuckled at the question.

"No, I meant that it's quite a pickle," I glanced up at the ceiling of the library, and at the books fluttering high overhead. "Since Christmas' coming, you could perhaps send her something and write her a note with how sorry you are? I could put in a good word and try to get her to apologize too."

"That would be great," Harry said. "Do you know what she'd like?"

"A book," I answered nonchalantly, "Any book would do, perhaps a book on famous wizards?" I added as a suggestion.

Somehow, I ended up with the duo of Gryffindors sat at my table, doing their homework. Had I been invaded by the main cast? No, please, this is Switzerland. Kindly go and invade another country that wishes to fight Lord Voldemort. This place is safe, its inhabitants kind.

I wondered if they were headed for the philosopher's stone too. Would they seek out Nicholas Flamel on their own? Would they find out-

"Hey mate," Ron Weasley said, catching my attention, "You mind if I look at your homework?"

"Not a problem," I shrugged, "Which one?"

Ron Weasley gave me a chagrined look. "A...All of them?"

I chuckled, and then passed the parchments over. "You can have a look too if you want," I added towards Harry Potter, who seemed actually interested himself in my homework. I was the pusher that could, the knowledge-deliver, the...had I usurped Hermione's spot in the trio? No. I refused. Hermione, come back right this instant. I would make you resume your spot, and then disappear back in the background.

My place was in the safety of the behind-the-scenes.

I wondered where Hermione had gone for the day though. Had she neared only to back away once seeing those two? It was puzzling. Yet all puzzles had an answer, and I found mine a couple of tables away once the two left, just behind another shelf. The fizzy-haired Hermione was studying some kind of book on mythological creatures. I took a seat, and then waited patiently.

"You done letting them copy your homework?" Hermione asked, the scowl on her face clearly showing, just like the tone of voice.

"It's on them," I answered with a shrug. "But they're good at heart," I continued.

"They're still gits," Hermione huffed. "Foolish gits."

"They wanted to apologize about calling you names," I pressed on, nonchalantly. "I suggested they write you a note and give you a Christmas present."

Hermione looked contrite at that, her displeasure strangely starting to melt. "It's not like I didn't call them things too," she muttered.

"Well, then why don't you gift them something for Christmas too?" I replied. "And write them a note apologizing? That way, when Christmas morning comes, you'll have both apologized at the same time."

Hermione nodded, strangely looking happier.

I inwardly sighed in relief, the month of November perhaps the last month I'd see Hermione sticking with me rather than the duo of Gryffindors. My scribbling came to a halt as I dimly realized the book Hermione had been reading.

"Why are you reading that book?" I asked in a hushed whisper.

Hermione looked at the book in her hands, and then looked at me, ashamed. "It's a secret," she whispered back.

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "A secret, uh," I mused. "Mythological creatures," I rubbed my chin. "If it were extra homework, it would History of Magic or Potions, I guess. You don't want to admit you got into troubles with Binns or Snape?"

Hermione spluttered, "It's not that!" she huffed, "It's a three-headed dog that..." she quickly clamped both hands against her mouth.

"Ah, a Cerberos, the guardian of the afterlife in Greek Mythology," I acquiesced. "The mythological hero that went to rescue his beloved played his harp and let him pass," I continued, glancing at Hermione's surprised expression. Had this passed the censor? Well, it wasn't like this knowledge was something foreign to me. It was my own knowledge, and I'd have answered like this even without knowing the truth about Fluffy.

"That's...yes," Hermione muttered, "That's it." She coughed, awkwardly trying to change the argument. "It's for a...friend. She found one and it's really dangerous, so she was wondering why it's protecting a trapdoor."

A smile threatened to form on my lips. "Probably to prevent nosy first years from going through," I said nonchalantly. "And keep terrible secrets hidden. Maybe there's the torture chambers down there?"

Hermione huffed, "Torture chambers have been removed in Hogwarts since a hundred years, Shade. It's written in Hogwarts, a history."

"Yes, removed, but not destroyed," I wriggled my eyebrows. "If you're a really bad first year, maybe they send you past the three-headed dog to suffer!"

Hermione shook her head. "It's the forbidden corridor, even the Headmaster said not to go in there."

"Course, otherwise you'd spring your fellow firsties out of their torture," I continued. My grin was clearly showing, and also infectious, since Hermione's own lips twitched in a smile.

Inside my head, I whistled a catchy tune.

Canon railways here I come, let me drop the cargo and be off...

...speaking of cargo, when was the dragon supposed to arrive anyway?