However hard Nora tried not to make too much of the recent incidents at Hogwarts, the room still carried a tense sense that something unpleasant was about to happen. It felt as though the very walls had soaked up the anxiety and were now pressing down on the girls. Jokes had become noticeably rarer, and when they did appear, they came only from Nora. Hermione increasingly caught Lila or Olivia watching her thoughtfully, as if trying to read in her face what they did not dare ask aloud.
But Nora had no intention of backing down.
"Well, really, isn't it obvious?" she said one evening, when all the girls had gathered in the room again. "Someone probably painted that message on the wall with red paint before the feast, then went off to the banquet as if nothing had happened. Or maybe they didn't go to the feast at all, just so they could organise things better."
Her gaze swept across the room, lingering on Hermione a moment longer than necessary.
"I think it's rather funny. Scaring the whole school half to death! I doubt anyone has ever pulled off such an impressive Halloween prank."
With a crooked smirk, she no longer tried to hide the challenge and looked straight at Hermione.
"And if it comes to that, I'd say Hermione and her friends deserve a ten out of ten for this performance. Brilliantly done!" With that, she clapped her hands in exaggerated applause.
Hermione did not immediately understand what Nora was getting at. But when she felt the other girls' eyes on her and realised what had just been said, she straightened sharply.
"Are you serious? You really think we did it?" Her voice trembled with outrage. She stared at her roommate, her lips pressed tightly together.
"Yes. And I'm not the only one, by the way. Plenty of people think so." Nora shrugged, not the least bit embarrassed. "I don't remember seeing you, Potter, or Weasley at the table that evening. So what exactly were you doing? If you ask me, you had more than enough time to organise a prank. And frankly, I don't believe all those fairy tales about the Chamber of Secrets. That's just stories for little kids!"
Lila raised her eyebrows in surprise, while Olivia frowned, casting Nora a wary glance.
"We were at Sir Nicholas's Deathday Party," Hermione said clearly, holding back the anger boiling inside her. "He was celebrating the five-hundredth anniversary of his death on the thirty-first of October!"
"Oh, of course. What a remarkable coincidence," Nora drawled, a poisonous smirk curling on her lips. "And no one finds it strange that an event that happens once every five hundred years just happened to fall on this particular Halloween? Right when that message appeared on the wall. And I suppose you have living witnesses who can confirm every word you've said?"
"No, but what difference does that make?" Hermione flared. "Nearly Headless Nick is just as good a witness as any living one!"
Nora gave a quiet snort and, shaking her head meaningfully, turned to Lila.
"Right… of course."
"And besides, perhaps you've forgotten," Hermione went on, pressing the point, "that Filch's cat was attacked as well! Or do you think that was our doing too?"
Nora arched an eyebrow.
"And didn't Mrs Norris get on your nerves?" she replied with a question of her own. "Two birds with one stone… well, one cat, technically," she chuckled, clearly pleased with her own joke. "And I don't see why you're getting so worked up. I actually gave your prank credit, I didn't accuse you of anything terrible. It was Halloween, after all."
"Well, honestly!" Hermione jumped up from the bed, glaring straight at her. "This is going too far! Even Dumbledore couldn't break the spell on Mrs Norris. Do you seriously think that Harry, Ron, or I are more powerful than Dumbledore?"
Nora had already opened her mouth to make another sarcastic remark, but Lila cut her off.
"Nora! Hermione! That's enough!" Lila's voice sounded unexpectedly stern. "Nora, I don't believe Hermione could have done anything like that. Everything you're saying is just nonsense!"
Nora raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. But Lila did not give her time to argue.
"Besides, think about it. That same night Hermione herself was attacked. Right here, in our room!"
"Exactly!" Nora exclaimed, as if she had been waiting for that very point. "Pulling off two pranks in one night — that's simply brilliant!" With that, she clapped theatrically again. Then she suddenly fixed Hermione with a hard stare and said coldly:
"I don't believe a single word about that mysterious 'creature.' If you ask me, you just fooled all of us. There was no one here."
"I didn't! I wasn't fooling anyone!" Hermione could barely breathe with fury. "I was attacked! Even Professor McGonagall said it could have been an illusion or some kind of magical construct!"
"Oh yes, and she also suggested that you might simply have been seeing things. After all, she couldn't explain how an illusion could have entered our room," Nora cut in coldly. "Someone would have had to conjure it. Right? So who was it?"
"Maybe it was you?!" Hermione burst out, her temper finally flaring. "Maybe you set the whole thing up — the prank or the real attack! That's why you're trying to pin it all on me, so you can come out of it clean!"
"Me?!" Nora jumped to her feet, her hair flying.
"STOP IT!!!" Olivia shrieked. Hermione spun around. "Stop it," she repeated more quietly.
Olivia was sitting on her bed, curled up with her knees pulled to her chest. Her face was as white as chalk, and fear was frozen in her eyes. Ever since Halloween she had seemed badly shaken. Everything that had happened had affected her far too much, and the argument had clearly pushed her over the edge.
Lila quickly walked over to Nora, grabbed her firmly by the hand, and pulled her decisively toward the door. Nora jerked back, trying to pull free — she was clearly ready to keep arguing. But Lila leaned closer and whispered something in her ear, perhaps reminding her about Olivia. That worked. Nora threw Hermione one more burning look over her shoulder and, turning sharply, stormed out of the room after her friend, slamming the door behind her.
Left alone with Olivia, Hermione went over to her, sat down beside her on the bed, and gently put an arm around her shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Olivia," she said a little awkwardly. "I didn't mean to scare you. It's just that Nora doesn't believe I'm really in danger."
"I believe you…" Olivia whispered without lifting her head. "And I'm scared."
She was trembling slightly. Hermione held her friend a little tighter, and they sat in silence for a few more minutes. In the end, Hermione decided that Olivia needed to turn her thoughts to something closer to her heart, something that mattered to her.
"Listen… how are the searches for your father going?" she asked. "Have you managed to find out anything?"
"My father?" Olivia glanced at her quickly; Hermione noticed that fear was still flickering in her eyes. Then she turned away and shook her head. "Not as well as I'd hoped." She sniffed and drew in a shaky breath. "It all turned out… much harder than I thought."
"I'm sure you'll manage it," Hermione said firmly. "The main thing is not to give up. Keep moving forward, no matter what!"
Olivia looked at her again.
"Keep moving forward… no matter what?" she repeated quietly, doubt in her voice. After a pause, as if trying the words on for herself, she added, "Do you really think so?"
"Of course! He's your father! What could be more important than your own family?" Hermione shrugged, brushing aside any doubts. "I'm sure you'll find him in the end!"
In truth, Hermione did not really believe Olivia's search would end in success. But she felt these were the words her friend needed right now. Not truth, not facts — but support. And it seemed she was right. Olivia relaxed a little, her sniffles growing softer and less frequent. Then she lifted her eyes to Hermione and gave her a faint, apologetic smile.
***
The endless hours in the library had mostly been fruitless. The only thing Hermione had managed to do was solve the mystery of Foster. In everything else, she had not moved forward an inch.
So she decided to act. During the next History of Magic lesson, when Professor Binns's monotonous voice had, as usual, already lulled half the class to sleep, Hermione raised her hand.
"I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," she said clearly.
Heads shot up all over the classroom. Even the most dedicated sleepers blinked, trying to make sure they had heard correctly. Binns noticeably hesitated before answering, then even tried to brush the question aside, saying that such stories were not part of the History of Magic curriculum at all. But Hermione had no intention of backing down — and in the end the ghost began to speak, albeit reluctantly.
And perhaps for the first time, his words — though delivered in the same familiar monotone — stirred up a real storm of discussion after the lesson. From what he said, it seemed that Salazar Slytherin, who had left Hogwarts after quarrelling with the other founders, had supposedly left behind a secret chamber somewhere in the castle. And inside it — a monster that would obey only his true heir.
Binns, of course, dismissed it all as foolish rumours.
"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he droned in his usual emotionless voice. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist," he concluded at the end of his account.
But Hermione was not convinced in the slightest. Terry Foster had warned her about something deadly even before the ominous message appeared on the wall. And the monster from the Chamber of Secrets, it seemed, was quite capable of that very deadliness.
After the lesson, her thoughts were still circling around what she had heard. But along with the legend of the Chamber of Secrets, another worry resurfaced — one tied to another hint from Terry Foster. It concerned the Smiting Hand. Was it Malfoy? How could she get proof? Hermione knew she would never dare do it alone — neither trick Lockhart, nor brew an illegal potion, nor especially venture into the enemy's lair. For all that she would need allies. Real friends. Harry and Ron.
But she could not say a single word to them about Terry Foster. The Non-Disclosure Spell had sealed her mouth tight. Even the slightest hints turned into strange gurgling sounds that only frightened her friends. That meant she needed another reason to steer them toward the right idea. And Binns's story turned out to be a remarkably convenient opportunity. The legend had sounded ominous enough to catch Harry and Ron's imagination. Now only one thing remained — to carefully guide the conversation in the right direction. And then her plan might actually work.
Later, sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron, she cautiously began:
"Who can it be, though?" she said aloud, as if thinking it over. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"
"Let's think," Ron picked up with feigned puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"
"If you're talking about Malfoy —?" she replied casually, though her heart tightened. This was the turn she had been waiting for.
"Of course I am!" Ron answered confidently.
Hermione could have kissed him for suggesting exactly the theory she needed.
"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" she asked with exaggerated doubt. She had to look like someone being convinced, not the one who had started the idea.
"Look at his family," Harry added. "The whole lot of them were in Slytherin."
"Well," Hermione gave a faint nod, letting herself be 'convinced.'
"But how do we prove it?" Harry added.
There it was. Now! But when Hermione met her friends' eyes, she suddenly hesitated. After all, she was leading them into a dangerous, reckless adventure. The consequences could be severe — even expulsion. 'They trust me, and I'm using them,' the thought stabbed at her. And yet she saw no other way. Alone, she certainly wouldn't manage.
"There might be a way," she whispered at last. Then she added, much louder, "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect —"
"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" Ron snorted.
"All right," Hermione cut in. She pushed aside the last of her doubts. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."
"But that's impossible!" Harry exclaimed, baffled.
"No, it's not. All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."
The bait worked. It did take a little more time to convince Ron — he suddenly started backing out. Hermione rolled her eyes to herself: 'a month or so…' But she said nothing aloud. Instead, she calmly but stubbornly argued that there was simply no other way.
Now she had helpers. Half the job was done. All that remained was to get the recipe and brew the potion.
***
"Ready?" Harry asked, turning to Hermione.
"Wait till everyone's gone," she replied, watching the students gradually file out of the classroom.
Harry and Ron already knew her plan — to get the Polyjuice Potion recipe from the Restricted Section. All that remained was to work up the nerve. Miranda, it seemed, had been right: the only chance was to use the good impression Hermione had made on Gilderoy Lockhart and his well-known weakness for flattery. And yet her heart tightened with anxiety. A man who had defeated dozens of monsters and overcome just as many villains might see through such a simple trick in an instant. Hermione could only hope that her excellent marks would soften the professor's possible anger.
At last the decisive moment came.
"All right…" she whispered.
Her legs felt like cotton as Hermione walked over to the professor, clutching a sheet of paper with a neatly invented reason why she supposedly needed a book from the library's Restricted Section. She tried to appear confident, but it was going terribly badly: her fingers were trembling, her heart was pounding in her ears, and her thoughts were racing, already searching for a way out.
"Er — Professor Lockhart? I wanted to — to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading," she began, stumbling over the words. With every sentence, Miranda's idea seemed worse to her. The whole thing felt too wrong, even foolish. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it — I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms."
"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" To her surprise, Lockhart showed not the slightest suspicion. He even brightened up, took the paper from her hands, flashed a dazzling smile, and showed a perfectly even row of snowy white teeth. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"
"Oh, yes," Hermione nodded quickly. A timid hope flared up inside her. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer —" In truth, that particular scene had always seemed doubtful to her. She had replayed it in her mind more than once, trying to figure out how exactly Lockhart had managed it. And perhaps that was why this passage had been the first to come to mind now.
"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," Lockhart declared with a pompous air and scribbled an elaborate signature on the paper.
Hardly believing her luck, Hermione took the signed sheet with trembling hands, gave an awkward smile, and quickly slipped it into her bag. A minute later, the three friends were already heading toward the library.
***
The recipe for Polyjuice Potion turned out to be frighteningly complicated. When Hermione first saw it, her hands quite literally dropped. She had never brewed potions of such complexity before — and that was only half the problem. The list of ingredients was impressive. Some could be obtained without much trouble, but others, like shredded skin of a boomslang, were practically impossible to get. No shop would sell such ingredients to them. So where else could they get them? Only one place came to mind — Snape's private stores.
And then Miranda's mocking voice sounded in Hermione's head:
"You're planning to brew one of the most powerful — and completely illegal for students — potions. And you're worried that you might have to steal from Snape?"
Hermione was immediately horrified by the way she had paraphrased her friend in her mind, but since she had already stepped onto this path…
She shared her concerns with her friends. And to her surprise, it was Harry — the same Harry who was usually the first to break school rules — who suddenly voiced doubts.
"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores?" he repeated her own thought. "I don't know if that is a good idea…"
Hermione closed the book with visible relief. She herself had begun to feel she had gone too far. And if even Harry wasn't ready to take such a step…
"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said with forced calm.
But the doubts returned at once. She didn't have a single lead, not the faintest idea how else to get to the League of Light's agent.
"I don't want to break rules, you know," she continued after a pause. "But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy," she wasn't being entirely honest. Malfoy — the Heir of Slytherin? In fact, she still didn't really believe it herself. But Terry Foster had made it clear that she needed Polyjuice Potion. "I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in."
"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," Ron cut in, surprised. "All right, we'll do it."
Hermione froze for a second. She still didn't quite understand what she had actually been hoping for — that they would talk her out of it, or support her. But now the decision had been made. There was no way back. Now she had to move forward.