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Chapter Text

Hermione understood the moment she opened her eyes that something had gone terribly wrong. She lay completely still as she tried to prepare for the worst case scenario.

She was alive, which was something to be very grateful for in her field of work. Experimenting with Time and Death magic was dangerous. Actually, dangerous didn’t even begin to describe it, if you asked Hermione. It was only for the most competent experts, and even then it was still dangerous.

Obviously she was at St. Mungos, at least that much was clear. She could also hardly feel any pain. Perhaps they had been lucky, and the accident hadn’t been that bad. A hopeful smile bloomed on her face; she could likely go back to work tomorrow.

As she kept going over the damage in her mind, her hand went absentmindedly to calm down her unruly hair.

Hermione froze.

This was worse than expected. Her massive hair was…gone.

Although she had a tendency to complain about it, she harboured a lot of love for her wild hair. Her mother had the same hair, and Hermione carried it with pride, even through storms of teasing over the years.

She spotted a mirror on the wall and jumped out of the hospital bed to have a look at the disfigurement, only to fall flat on her back with a loud bang.

Her legs had given out, like a newborn Hippogriff struggling (and failing) to walk for the first time. As she lay on the floor and stared at the white ceiling, a horrible feeling festered in her gut.

Before she knew it, several medi-witches rushed inside the room and helped her back into the bed. All of them were wearing expressions mixed with shock and concern.

“Miss Selwyn, please relax.” One said as she forced a calming draught down her throat.

“A miracle.” Another said as she performed several diagnostic charms.

“Someone firecall Mr and Mrs Selwyn at once!”

Hermione tuned them out as she tried to gather her thoughts. She was thankful for the calming draught, or she would probably be shrieking in horror by now.

She lifted her arm and studied what was decidedly not her arm. It was wrong, in every sense of the word. Too…everything.

“Miss Selwyn, can you hear me? Can you understand what I am saying?” One of the medi witches asked her very, very slowly.

Hermione tried to answer but her throat was too dry, and she ended in a coughing fit.

“Water, water! Someone give her some water!”

For a moment she was afraid that the hysterical witch would force an aguamenti down her throat, but luckily, she was handed a glass of water in a civilised manner, which she accepted and then drank greedily.

“Thank you.” She rasped out.

The medi-witch waved her hands in front of her. “Miss Selwyn, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Seven.”

“Good, very good, and now?”

Hermione, usually very fond of praise, gave the medi-witch a flat look, she didn’t have time for this. “Four.” She still answered and ignored the warmth on her cheeks from the praise.

“Very well. Now, can you tell me your name and the date?”

As an Unspeakable, Hermione knew that she had to tread carefully and keep her cards close to her chest. She didn’t have the whole grasp of the situation yet, but she knew that a lot of things had gone terribly wrong.

“You called me Selwyn?” Hermione tried to ask in order to map out the situation.

The medi-witch gasped and gave her a sympathetic look. “You don’t remember?”

Hermione shook her head as another medi-witch did several different diagnostic charms on her head. “This could be amnesia. Oh, poor girl.”

“Your name is Sylvia Selwyn, and you have been in a coma for over a month.” The medi-witch told her as she patted her hand.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, and tried to mask her inner turmoil. She had been asleep for over a month, this was more than a crisis.

The medi-witches looked at each other before the one who had patted her hand answered. “It’s best that we wait for your parents to explain. They will be here soon, I believe, as they have been very worried about you.”

Hermione let out a breath as she looked around the room for any clues about the situation. It was completely bare, not a single get well card or flowers, which contradicted what the medi-witch stated about Mr and Mrs Selwyn’s worry.

She considered her next question carefully, as she didn’t want to mess up even more. For now, it was likely a good thing that they thought she had amnesia. It could be a good excuse when she figured out how to fix this mess.

“What is the date?” She settled for the question the medi-witch had already asked her.

“It’s the 5th of September, 1977.”

Hermione swallowed her shock and closed her eyes. Well, if she looked at the bright side; she still hadn’t missed a single day of work. But that thought felt ridiculous even in the privacy of her own mind. Of course she hadn’t missed work, she hadn't even been born yet.

As an Unspeakable working primarily with Time, she was well aware that accidents occurred and were usually hidden from the public eye. Witches and wizards had been lost in the past before. Going back in time was easier than most thought. On the other hand, going forward was a lot more complicated, because the future was never set in stone. One small change in the past and the future could potentially be unrecognisable. While the past was millions of threads, woven into different patterns, the future was an empty space that could take any shape or form. All depending on the threads of the past.

But she wasn’t only dealing with a Time accident here, Death was also involved. Hermione looked down her body, or Sylvia Selwyn’s body. It was pale and thin, without a single blemish or scar. The skin from a sheltered life, not someone who has lived through a war.

But still she had died this young. Sylvia Selwyn couldn’t be more than seventeen years old, probably still a Hogwarts student, with her whole life infront of her. Going through a war, Hermione had learned to live with the fact that some died young, but that didn’t mean she found it any easier to accept.

“Miss Selwyn, your parents are here. Just wait here while we explain your condition to them.” One of the medi-witches interrupted her thoughts and gave her a sympathetic smile.

The thought of meeting Mr and Mrs Selwyn and pretending to be their dead daughter made her sick. She would just have to play into the amnesia act and keep her head low. Hermione was nothing if not professional and surely she could slip into the role of a teenager while she figured out a solution. After all, she had once been a teenager herself, so it was not like it was some completely new territory.

After a little while the door opened and two strangers entered. Judging by the way their eyes instantly shot to her face, she was not a stranger to them - or so they thought.

They looked every inch of a perfect pureblood couple. Expensive robes, neatly groomed hair and stiff postures.

Elegant but cold. Their blank faces didn’t betray a single emotion while they observed her.

“I would like a moment in private with my daughter.” Mr Selwyn told the medi-witches as he kept his eyes firmly on Hermione.

The medi-witches gave Hermione a last glance before they scurried out. As soon as the door closed behind them, their masks fell completely off.

“Oh, my darling girl, how are you?” Mrs Selwyn rushed over to her and grabbed her hand. Genuine concern was written all over her face.

“We are so sorry, but we will make this right.” Mr Selwyn told her with eyes filled with unshed tears.

Hermione kept quiet. Usually she prided herself on being a good judge of character, but she was confused by the couple’s behaviour. She could only conclude that it was impossible to make sense of purebloods.

“So it’s true? You don’t remember anything?” Mrs Selwyn asked.

“No, sorry.” She had to look down at her lap when she saw the heartbreak her words caused them.

“No worries, we will work through this together, as a family.” Mr Selwyn said after a few moments, and brushed some of her thin, barely even there, hair behind her ear.

“Yes, we will hire some private tutors so you can finish your education from home.” Mrs Selwyn shot in with a reassuring smile.

But Hermione did not feel reassured by that statement. Confined in their home would undoubtedly make it more difficult to find the way back to her home. Also, she couldn’t stomach having to play a pureblood princess around Mr and Mrs Selwyn. She would likely fail and make it obvious that she was an imposter.

“Are you sure that’s wise? Wouldn’t it be better to go to Hogwarts?” Hermione watched the couple’s reaction closely. They fell silent and shared a concerned look with each other. She wondered if Sylvia had even attended Hogwarts, or if she had always been homeschooled.

“Darling, you made it very clear to us that you didn’t want to go back to Hogwarts. We only want what's best for you.” Mrs Selwyn said.

“You will be a lot more comfortable and safe in our home.” Mr Selwyn added.

“Nothing can compare to the education Hogwarts has to offer! And it would be better if I went back to my normal routine, in order to get my memories back.” Hermione knew, deep down, that she should probably hold off arguing with them, until at least their second meeting. But there was too much at stake, and when it came to the topic of education - it was allowed to lose some tact.

Mr and Mrs Selwyn looked at her with matching stunned expressions. Like they had never experienced their daughter disagreeing with them before.

“I have already missed five days of school, and that’s five too many.” Hermione added when neither of them answered.

Mrs Selwyn coughed and turned her face around while Mr Selwyn scratched his neatly trimmed beard. “Perhaps we should revisit this topic when we are home, and you feel better.” He said and gave her a weak smile.

Hermione huffed in response. “I will feel a lot better when I know that my future at Hogwarts is secure.”

Mrs Selwyn tugged at her husband’s hand and a silent conversation passed between them. Hermione tried to the best of her abilities to be patient and wait, but this was getting ridiculous. She was an adult and didn’t need two strangers' permission.

“How old am I again?” Hermione asked and wished silently that they would at least say seventeen years old, so she would be considered a legal adult in the magical world.

They looked at her again with their eyes full of sympathy. “Darling, you just turned sixteen.” Mrs Selwyn said and Hermione realised that she was truly out of luck. At least this situation couldn’t get any worse.

“Perhaps we could make a compromise?” Mr Selwyn suggested.

“There should be no compromise when it comes to education.” Hermione said in a tone that some might call bossy.

“Okay, I only meant that if you, for any reason during the term, want to go back home, you can. Always.” Mr Selwyn said and for the first time Hermione smiled at them.

Both of them gasped in delight and Mrs Selwyn turned her face around again to dry her tears.

“I am sure your fellow Slytherins will take good care of you.” Mr Selwyn said with a confident smile and Hermione almost regretted her demands about going to Hogwarts.

Slytherin. This just kept getting worse and worse.

When the medi-witches reentered the room, Mr and Mrs Selwyn instantly stood up and slipped right back into their masks. Once again they were the picture of cold and aloof purebloods.

Before they left they gave her a stiff nod and told her that they would be coming back tomorrow.

The medi-witches didn’t waste any time before they started fussing over her and ordered her to relax. But Hermione had different plans. She needed to learn to walk with her spaghetti legs.

It took some trial and error, but Hermione was more determined than most, and in the end she managed to find her balance and walk properly.

The next step was to get to Hogwarts.

Mr and Mrs Selwyn, alongside the medi-witches, didn’t seem completely comfortable with her going there. Mrs Selwyn was particularly distraught by her leaving. But Hermione had more important things to deal with than being anyone’s emotional crutches. If she could learn to stand on her own - so could they.

During the days before she left for Hogwarts, Hermione tried to learn more about Sylvia Selwyn. Which turned out to be more difficult than first anticipated. Whenever she asked, even the simplest questions, Mr and Mrs Selwyn gave her concerned glances before they not so subtly changed the subject. They were especially vague about why she had been hospitalised. All she had gathered was that there had been an accident.

Hermione couldn’t wait for her arrival at Hogwarts and get some straight answers.

But first Mr and Mrs Selwyn convinced her to make a pit stop at their home. Hermione didn’t put up too much of a fight, although she made it clear that she was on a tight schedule. After all, it gave Hermione an opportunity to find out more about Sylvia Selwyn. 

But the only clue she found was the lack of clues.

No personal letters, no photos with friends, no diary. It was like her room had already been cleaned out for any personal belongings. A sense of dread filled her stomach, there was something sad about the lack of evidence of Sylvia’s life. The only things she knew about Sylvia Selwyn was that she was a filthy rich pureblood, a Slytherin, and what she looked like in the mirror.

Hermione tried to avoid the mirrors. When she accidentally got ambushed by one, she never failed to jump back in fright. Not that Sylvia Selwyn was a fright to look at, but the difference in the reflection was startling.

Wild, untamed curls were replaced by thin, straight ash blond hair. Once upon a time, Hermione used to envy girls like that, but now she felt naked without her protective mass of hair. It was her armour. Sylvia barely had three strands of hair on her head compared to what Hermione was used to, and they couldn’t even offer protection from a light summer breeze.

Her face and body were all wrong. Too young, too thin, too pale, too fragile. Hermione was strong, and wore her scars with pride. She was older, and she considered herself to be beautiful in the same way a thunderstorm was captivating and unpredictable. Sylvia on the other hand, was more like a quiet winter morning where the sun was glittering over a frozen lake.

After three long days, and a seven course meal with Mr and Mrs Selwyn, she was finally going to her old school. Over a week after the term had begun and she felt the embarrassment deep in her core.

She arrived by floo in the Headmaster’s office where Professor Dumbledore and Slughorn greeted her. After her initial shock of seeing them younger, and more alive than they were in her time, she asked for the homework and other assignments she had missed. One thing was to arrive late, but it was a whole other thing to be behind on schoolwork. Her other project could wait for a minute, especially now since she wasn’t worried about missing a day of work from her actual job.

At first they laughed softly at her request, and told her she didn’t need to bother while patting her head. Hermione’s left eye twitched from the mere implication, and she was close to stomping her foot. They must have seen something in her demeanour, because suddenly they both looked very uncomfortable and Slughorn stuttered as he gave her all the homework she had missed and some.

Hermione, polite as ever, thanked them and bid them good night.

She stormed through the castle like an Auror on a mission, with a clear destination in mind: the library.

In order to get out of this mess, she needed to go back to the basics. The basic concepts of Time and Death. Then, brick by brick she would rebuild her knowledge and create a door to her rightful time. But first; homework.

As her books dropped loudly onto the table, a few startled students jumped from their seats. She acknowledged she could have been a bit more gentle, but time was pressing. The nasty glares directed her way seemed excessive, prompting her to return it with a stern gaze until they faltered and offered hesitant apologies.

While she sped through the Potions homework she noticed a boy from Ravenclaw openly gawking at her. “What?” She hissed at him but instead of answering he shuffled back and hid behind a bookcase.

It was truly concerning the scant amount of homework assigned to the sixth-year students. If Hermione ever became a Professor, it would be a totally different tune.

Only two hours after curfew was she done with a week worth of homework. The library had been deserted for a while when she took her leave. Usually Hermione respected rules, but she was a firm believer that the rules were there to improve the students' education and life. Therefore, it didn’t count if one broke the rules for studying, or fighting dark forces for example.

Tiredness crept into her body as she strode purposefully through the dark hallways to the Slytherin common room. She passed a couple of Prefects, but they paid her no mind. Hermione had learned that if you acted like you were in the right - people would believe so, and if not; she had more hexes up her sleeve than anyone should have.

It was strange being back at Hogwarts, but she refused to go down that nostalgic route. It would only complicate things.

As she entered the common room she reminded herself that she was not Hermione Granger, the muggleborn from Gryffindor. She was Sylvia Selwyn, pureblood Slytherin.

Silence fell over the common room as the students spotted her. She could feel the judgmental stares following her, but she was too tired to even give an attempt at understanding pureblood behaviour.

At the top of the stairs, she stopped and slowly turned around to look down on the occupants of the common room. They looked especially small from her perspective.

“Are there any Prefects here?” She called out.

All eyes turned to her but no one answered. The same bored expression was planted on all their faces. It infuriated her.

Her hand went to her wand and she cast a Sonorus charm.

“Are there any Prefects here?” She repeated, significantly louder this time.

Some looked a bit startled but Hermione didn’t pay them any mind, her gaze zoomed in on one of the girls with a short black bob, who stood up with a Prefect badge gleaming on her chest. She met Hermione’s eyes and walked towards her.

“Yes, Selwyn?” Judging by her tone, she was clearly irritated, but Hermione hadn’t seen her doing homework or anything else she deemed important - so she didn’t care.

Hermione waited until the girl was only a few steps under her. “Would you please escort me to my room?”

The girl studied her for a moment. “You have the same room you always had.”

Hermione didn’t answer, only stared straight into the girl’s eyes.

“So it’s true then? You really don’t remember anything. How fortunate for you.” She said the last bit under her breath, but Hermione heard it and she wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione said, her hand still gripping her wand.

The girl took a double take at her and her stoic face faltered a little. “I- only that I heard about your accident and amnesia, and-”

“No, the last part.”

The girl seemed to be calculating her next words carefully. “Only that- I mean, there was a sort of scandal. Better to forget about that, right?”

“Not if everyone else remembers. Please, tell me about this sort of scandal.” Hermione gestured for her to continue with her free arm.

“Well, um to put it delicately, you were betrothed, until your intended broke the arrangement.” The girl had to look away, too embarrassed by even uttering the words.

Hermione snorted, probably very unladylike. Typical pureblood nonsense. A breakup? How scandalous indeed. She had to shake her head in disbelief. Was this why Mr and Mrs Selwyn wanted to hijack her education? No wonder the pureblood fanatics lost the war.

“Okay thank you. Can you please escort me to my room now?” Hermione did her best to still sound polite.

The girl nodded and walked towards the room at the end of the corridor. When Hermione bid her good night the girl halted. “Are you not going to ask who he was?” It was clear that the girl itched to tell the gossip, but since Hermione actually really needed to know - she indulged her.

“Who?”

“Your ex betrothal.”

“Yes, who?”

“Sirius Black.”

That gained Hermione’s full attention. She stared at the girl in shock, while at the same time trying to conceal it to the best of her abilities.

“Well now you know. Should be easy enough to avoid him, and if you look at the bright side, perhaps your friends will talk to you again.” At Hermione’s confused expression, the girl leaned in and elaborated. “He is a blood-traitor.” She whispered.

It seemed like the girl gleamed in Hermione’s discomfort. “It will probably take a while, I mean, first everyone- I mean some, were jealous of you becoming the next Madam Black. But then he went around, parading his mudblood girlfriend around the caste. While the only time he ever acknowledged your existence was by hexing you green one time. If I were you I would never set my foot on British soil again, much less Hogwarts.” The girl gave her a condescending smile. “But you are very brave for being here.”

Hermione had stopped listening as soon as the girl said the same slur that had been carved on her arm during the war. Her left eye was twitching. “You should wash your mouth.” She hissed.

The girl stumbled backwards with a confused expression on her face. “I-”

But she didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence before Hermione cast a Scourgify, with extra soap, in her mouth.

The girl looked utterly terrified now, with soap coming out of her mouth and nose, but Hermione’s patience had run out. She entered her room and slammed the door in the girl’s face.

Inside her room Hermione felt that she could finally breathe again. The room was spacious and pristine, decorated in green and silver. It had a window viewing the black lake, and only one queen sized bed. Of course the Slytherins had single rooms.

She took out her timetable and noticed that she barely had any elective courses. Well, that would have to change. If Hermione had to go to Hogwarts again, she was going to do it properly.

Before she went to bed she laid out everything she would need for the next day. Neatly and organised. She didn’t know what to do with the information of being engaged to Sirius Black. But luckily, the engagement was broken, so it was not like she would have to deal with that. It was in the past, and certain things should stay in the past.

The next morning she was the first to attend breakfast. Some things never change. She was only able to enjoy the solitude for a little while before the Great Hall filled up. Again, she was at the receiving end of strange glances.

To Hermione’s surprise, the Prefect from yesterday sat down across from her. She greeted Hermione with a smile before she buttered up her toast.

It was too early in the morning for Hermione to start making sense of Pureblood behaviour.

“I hope you feel ready to get back to your classes. If you need any help, I would be glad to assist you.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Hermione answered absentmindedly as she continued to eat her breakfast.

“Of course. As a Prefect it is my responsibility to look after those in need and help them out.”

“Of course.”

“It can’t be easy for you to have missed a whole week of school, but again, I will gladly help you out.”

Hermione looked up to see the same condescending smile from yesterday. Wordlessly, and wandlessly, she poured tea, milk and sugar into her cup, before stirring it with a spoon. All while maintaining eye contact with the girl. It was a petty display of magic. Not many could do wandless magic, especially not at sixteen years old.

“I think I will be fine, thank you.”

The girl watched the whole display with a stunned expression before she went back to her breakfast. But their interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other Slytherins. Hermione felt their stares while she drank her tea.

“Thirsty?” She asked one of the boys who was staring blatantly. His cheeks reddened as he looked away.

Hermione hated to admit it, but she was actually looking forward to her classes. She had always enjoyed being a student. In a classroom was where she bloomed. Like a tree of wisdom, growing with knowledge and reaching out with her branches to help others.

The day flew by in a pleasant bliss. She had answered every question in class, and even helped the Professors out when they seemed to lack some knowledge. The only downside was that she had gained a significant amount of House Points to Slytherin. But one couldn’t have it all.

When the classes ended she visited Professor Slughorn. After a little back and forth she was able to convince him to let her take more electives. No one was immune to Hermione’s stern gaze.

Outside of Slughorn’s office, the Slytherin Prefect was waiting for her. It seemed like Hermione couldn’t get rid of her but she would not let her ruin her good day.

“I thought perhaps we could take a stroll outside, since the weather is so nice.” The Prefect said.

Hermione gave her a begrudging nod as to accept her request.

The weather was actually really nice and most of the student body was enjoying it outside.

“You really have become the talk of the caste since your return.” The Prefect said, but Hermione kept quiet, watching the other students. Some were playing Gobblestone, some were reading under the trees and others were bickering with each other. A similar scene to what she remembered from her time at Hogwarts.

“I can hardly recognise you from the girl you were before the accident.” The Prefect continued as they crossed the courtyard.

“A near death experience and memory loss can change a person dramatically.” Hermione told her.

“I suppose, and I can only assume that your accident was pretty traumatic.”

She turned her head towards the girl beside her. Although the Prefect had a completely innocent expression on her face, Hermione had a feeling that she knew more than she let on.

“Tell me, what do you know about my accident?”

“Who, me? I don’t know anything.” The Prefect laid her hand on her chest in a faux innocent gesture, but Hermione didn’t buy it and pinned her down with a stern gaze.

“I have only heard the rumours, I doubt that I can tell you more than your parents have.”

“They didn’t tell me anything.”

“Oh well, I guess that makes sense. They probably didn’t want to make you relive your trauma, and you know, give you any ideas.” The Prefect looked a bit uncomfortable with the subject, but it was her who brought it up so Hermione wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

“Elaborate.” Hermione’s words came out more as a command than a request.

“As I said, I have only heard the rumours, but it was assumed that you- uhm, caused the accident yourself, because of the scandal. Of course I never believed that.” The last part came out rushed.

“Then what did you believe?”

The Prefect leaned in to whisper in her ear. “That someone else tried to kill you, and made it look like a suicide.”

Hermione’s step faltered. It did make sense as to why Mr and Mrs Selwyn didn’t want to tell her about the accident if they believed her to have inflicted harm to herself. She didn’t know enough about Slyvia to rule out suicide, but if there had been foul play she would definitely sniff out the culprit.

“Do you know how it happened?”

“Most assume that it was poison, but I can’t say for sure.”

Hermione knew about a number of poisons that could kill without leaving any marks. Judging by Sylvia’s very mediocre grades, she doubted that she had been able to brew them herself. No, someone with a sizable Gringotts vault like her would likely buy it. Which also meant that if Sylvia bought the poison, there would be sales receipts.

There was also a good chance that the medi-witches at St. Mungos knew if she had been poisoned, and then what type of poison.

“Do you have any idea who was behind it?” Hermione saw the Prefect’s eyes gleaming wickedly at the prospect of sharing her theories.

“I first suspected Sirius Black, as he made it quite obvious that he really didn’t want to marry you.”

Hermione scoffed. She had already lived through false murder accusations towards Sirius Black. “Then why would he attempt to kill me after the engagement was broken?”

“That’s what I thought as well. Well, I don’t want to assume anything, but it could be someone who wanted the scandal to die with you.” The Prefect gave her a loaded look.

Hermione mulled it over. Personally she couldn’t fathom how anyone could go to such lengths simply because of a failed engagement. On the other hand, Sylvia didn’t seem to have been a threatening person. While it was clear that she wasn’t popular among her peers, she doubted she had any outright enemies.

“…mudblood.” Hermione heard the slur in the distance and it brought her out from her inner musing. She was instantly on high alert with her wand in hand.

She stormed over to a group of boys that stood nearby. “Who said that?”

The boys looked surprised by her sudden appearance but no one answered.

“If no one answers I will just have to take a guess.” Her wand sparkled in warning.

“Looks like you have forgotten your place, Selwyn.” Spat a tall boy with a green tie.

His words only fuelled her fire. From underneath them, she conjured a large mud puddle. Then with the help of a wind charm, they all fell face first into the mud. Now they could match their dirty mouths.

“What the hell, Sylvia?” One of the boys yelled as he stood up and wiped mud from his face. While another pointed his wand at her, but before he could retaliate, she lifted him up with a Wingardium Leviosa and then dropped him back down into the puddle with a splash.

His wand landed a few seconds later with a smaller splash.

“Take this as a warning to not ever use such foul language around me again.” Hermione hissed.

“But you weren’t even around!”

They had gathered a small audience who observed the despacle in a stunned silence. Except for the Prefect, who could barely stand up from laughing.

“This is not funny, Parkinson.” One of the mud soaked boys said.

The Prefect, Parkinson apparently, gave an unintelligible answer, muffled by her laugh, before she took hold of Hermione’s sleeve and dragged her away from the scene.

“Did you lose all of your common sense along with your memories?” She had stopped laughing but there was still an amused tinge in her voice. “Can’t believe I was afraid this year would be boring.”

Hermione decided right then and there that when she died she would be buried in a Slytherin banner; to show Satan that she had already been to hell.

After she had cooled down with the help of the library books, with Parkinson somewhat glued to her side, they had entered their common room.

She was prepared for typical Slytherin nastiness, cruel words and curses flying her way. A shielding charm was ready on the tip of her tongue as she entered the common room.

She was prepared for war.

But she was not prepared for what they had in store for her.

An intervention.

They sat her down in the middle of the common room on a green plush sofa, and told her, very gently, that while they understood that she was a scorned witch with her reputation already in tatters, she couldn’t go all scorched earth on everyone.

“You shouldn’t fret, you can still find a pureblood who wants to marry you. I heard Rosier is looking for a wife for example.” One of the girls told her.

“He is almost seventy.” Another shot in.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” The first girl shrugged.

“I am sure that before you know it your parents will set you up with someone.”

“And Rosier isn’t that bad, he has a castle in France.”

“Allegedly, he killed his late wife after she discovered his affair with their house elf.”

Hermione was mortified.

“Let me make one thing clear; I don’t want to marry anyone, least of all Rosier no matter how many castles he owns. But mark my words, use any degrading slurs and I will make you regret.” Hermione spoke up for the first time during the intervention.

There was a brief silence following her outlet before one of the girls spoke. “We know that you are hung up on Sirius Black, but acting like a blood-traitor isn’t going to win him back.”

“I warned you.” Hermione said and lifted her wand to cast the pimple jinx on the girl. Immediately snitch sized boils grew on her face and neck. The girls screeched and stood up.

“What have you done to my face?” The girl cried.

“Do you regret using the slur?” Hermione said, while still sitting calmly on the plush sofa.

“What slur? I don’t know what you are talking about!”

One of the girls tried to do a counter jinx but it only ended with one of the boils exploding, and the girls screeched again.

“The slur you just used.” Hermione told her.

“I don’t know! Please just stop this!”

It occurred to Hermione that these Slytherins didn’t even acknowledge blood-traitor as a slur. They were likely used to hearing them from an early age, all the time from everyone around them. Well, Hermione would put a stop to that, but she would give them some slack. For now.

From where she was sitting she did the counter jinx and the boils disappeared. Her face still looked a bit flushed and was probably sore.

“Next time I won’t be so forgiving.” Hermione said as she stood up and smoothed out her skirt. Then she walked away to lock herself in her room.

Hermione felt only a tiny bit of shame for attacking teenagers. She was a respectable Unspeakable after all. But at the same time, it was exactly this kind of bigotry that would cause not one, but two wars. She simply couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Better they learned their lesson now rather than later.

The next couple of days went by quickly. She divided her time between schoolwork and researching Time and Death magic. It appeared that Parkinson was impossible to get rid of, but the girl actually proved quite useful, especially to translate the language of purebloods. She was also eager to help her figure out what happened to Sylvia.

For now they planned on visiting St. Mungos and some Apothecaries on their next Hogsmeade weekend. Parkinson insisted that she knew exactly where to find the foulest poisons.

Regarding the other Slytherins, it appeared that her message had been well-received. No one dared to even whisper a slur if she was within sight. Which felt like a great accomplishment.

They treated her with respect, and greeted her politely when she crossed paths with them. To Hermione’s shock, it seemed like the Slytherins had warmed up to her. Parkinson claimed that they respected a strong leader, someone with a backbone.

Parkinson had also taken to dragging Hermione with her on her Prefect rounds. She enjoyed watching Hermione put people in their place. Hermione didn’t mind too much, someone had to clean up this castle.

She realised that she had gained somewhat of a reputation, even outside of Slytherin. Students from all the houses gave her curious glances, but most of them kept a respectable distance. There was also a certain group of Gryffindors who seemed especially curious, but Hermione refused to acknowledge them.

A couple of times she caught a suspicious rat following her in the library, but after she had thrown a few jinxes their way, it left her alone.

Dirty rat. She definitely had a lot of cleaning up to do.

Chapter Text

Hermione arrived a little later than usual for breakfast on Sunday morning. But that did not mean that she had been lazing around. No, she had spent the hours before sunrise helping the librarian with a new system to better sort out the books.

The new system was much improved, if she had to say so herself. Even Madam Pince would have been proud. The current librarian, on the other hand, looked most pleased when Hermione suggested that they take a break and go to breakfast.

When Hermione entered the Great Hall it was bustling with weekend energy and exciting chatter. Parkinson waved her over to where she was saving her a seat at the Slytherin table.

Before she could start on her breakfast, hundreds of owls flew in to deliver the morning post to students and staff. One swooped down in front of her and dropped a letter and a package.

The letter was from Mr and Mrs Selwyn. Hermione skimmed it over quickly. They asked about her wellbeing and memories. She made a mental note to write them back later. So far she hadn’t replied to any of their letters, too hesitant about pretending to be their daughter. But she also didn’t want to distance herself too much from them, or raise any doubts.

The package was sent without a note and it made Hermione immediately suspicious.

She had received her fair share of malicious mail in her time. First when she went out with Viktor Krum, but also after the war, from people who were not pleased with the result or her blood status. So far, none had managed to get her, but that was not for the lack of trying.

Before she opened the package she performed several charms to detect any potential curses or jinxes. When she deemed it safe, she carefully opened it.

It was a box of chocolates. Well, that was definitely suspicious. She had witnessed first hand what had happened to Ron when he ate Harry’s chocolate from Romilda Vane.

“Luckily you, it looks like you have gotten yourself an admirer.” Parkinson observed the chocolate box after she had finished reading her own letters.

“Don’t think this is from an admirer.”

“No? Then who is it from?”

“My guess is that this is from someone who is the opposite of my admirer.” Hermione put the lid back on and placed the box in her satchel.

Understanding dawned on Parkinson’s face. Her eyes widened and she leaned in. “You don’t mean?”

Hermione nodded gravely.

“They are getting bold.” Parkinson whispered.

“Or desperate.” Hermione said. “I think it’s time we made a visit to St. Mungos and the apothecary.”

Parkinson’s eyes glinted. “Today? But it’s not a Hogsmeade weekend yet.”

“Looks like we need to speed things up a little. I know a way we can leave the castle unnoticed.”

Parkinson stood up, ready to leave right away, so Hermione added: “We'll go after breakfast.”

Parkinson was practically vibrating with excitement as she hurried up to finish her breakfast.

Hermione on the other hand, had lost her appetite. If this was indeed a second murder attempt she needed to raise her guard. She looked over the students in the Great Hall. Everyone could be a potential suspect.

Mr and Mrs Selwyn were probably those who were most offended by the scandal. But would they really kill their own daughter to save their faces? Well, crazier things had been done in the name of pureblood supremacy.

The House of Black had also taken a hit from the scandal. But they had now washed their hands off Sirius Black by disowning him.

She still refused to suspect Sirius. He had after all gotten out of the engagement before the murder attempt. Also, she knew him from her own time, and doubted that Harry’s Godfather had it in him to kill a teenage girl in cold blood.

Although, she had noticed him looking at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. He kept his distance, usually sitting a couple of tables away from her in the library. His eyes were intense and impossible to ignore, but when she changed her seat to get out of his line of sight, he would coincidentally end up in a new seat as well.

It was a good chance that he felt guilty for what had happened to Sylvia Selwyn. There were rumours of her taking her own life because of him, and Hermione guessed that it would be normal for him to feel partially responsible, even though it was not his fault.

There was also a chance that this was a crime of passion. Someone jealous of her arrangement with Sirius Black. It was obvious that he was quite popular among his peers and had many admirers. Even Hermione couldn’t deny that he was pleasant to look at. He was tall, athletic and objectively handsome. Even though he was disowned, he was still powerful in his own right.

She also hadn’t completely ruled out Parkinson. The girl had taken quite an interest in the murder attempt after all. It could be that she wanted to stay close only to keep track of what Hermione knew. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer - would be something Hermione could consider a Slytherin motto. But if she was honest with herself, it seemed more like Parkinson only was hungry for drama.

Hopefully, finding out what caused Sylvia to go into a coma would help. And thanks to the chocolate gift, she had another lead. If there was poison in it she would find out.

After breakfast they went to their rooms to change into something more suitable than their school uniforms to roam around Diagon Alley in. She dressed in a simple grey robe and took with her the very generous amount of pocket money Mr and Mrs Selwyn had given her.

Hermione led Parkinson behind the one-eyed witch statue. From there they climbed down the secret passageway that ended in the cellar of Honeydukes. Since she most likely now had the trace on her, or more specifically her wand, she unlocked the doors wandlessly.

Parkinson acted like a child at Christmas, with eyes like saucers. “How did you discover this passage? And how come you remember?”

“Hogwarts is quite unforgettable.” Hermione dismissed it easily.

“Probably some ancient magic from the founders at play, to prevent us from ever forgetting it.” Parkinson mused and Hermione didn’t bother correcting her absurd claims.

They managed to sneak out from the cellar without getting caught. The streets of Hogsmead were noticeably more quiet than on usual Hogsmead weekends. But there were still some people going around and tending to their businesses.

“How exactly are we getting to St. Mungos?” Parkinson asked.

“Have you ever side-alonged before?”

“Of course.” Parkinson sniffed, insulted by the mere implication.

“Good.” Hermione said as she grabbed her arm and with a crack she apparated them to St. Mungos.

When they landed outside of the hospital Parkinson fell over and looked like she was seconds away from puking. Hermione reached for her hand to help her up, but Parkinson ignored it and managed to get up on her own despite her wobbly legs.

“A warning would be nice.” She grumbled as she trailed behind Hermione.

At the front desk Hermione introduced herself as Sylvia Selwyn. She told them that she had experienced some lingering pains after her hospitalisation earlier this month and requested to speak to one of the medi-witches who had treated her. Not long after, they were escorted to an empty office where they could wait until one of the medi-witches were available.

“Let me handle this.” Parkinson said with great confidence. Hermione gave her a doubtful look but Parkinson kept insisting. “You can just play into the poor patient act.”

Since Hermione’s scepticism was clear on her face Parkinson continued. “You are not the only one who knows a thing or two about bribery.”

“Excuse me?”

Parkinson scoffed. “Don’t play dumb, how else did you get your Apparition licence, eh?”

Hermione didn’t get the chance to defend herself from the absurd claims before the medi-witch entered the office. Hermione recognised her from her stay, and judging by the sorry expression on her face when her eyes landed on Hermione, she recognised her as well.

Before the medi-witch had a chance to greet them, Parkinson stood and ambushed her with a word vomit. “I am here on the behalf of my father Perseus Parkinson, who is one the hospital board. Because it occurs that vital and crucial information has been kept from my dear friend, and your patient Sylvia Selwyn. Of course we can forget this little mishap, and avoid taking this further to the Wizengamot, if you give us all the information you have about her accident. Now.”

Despite sounding like the snottiest brat Hermione had ever heard, she met Parkinson’s eyes and raised her brows in approval.

The medi-witch looked conflicted as she blinked owlishly at them. “I am sorry Miss Parkinson, but it’s classified information, Mr and Mrs Selwyn-”

Parkinson interrupted her before she could finish her sentence. “Don’t you think this poor girl deserves to know what happened to her?” She said with false sympathy as she placed a few Galleons on the table.

The med-witch eyed the Galleons greedily. “I suppose…it’s only fair that she should know.”

“And wouldn’t it be wise for her to know what caused the accident in order to prevent it from happening again?” She said and placed another Galleon on the table.

“Yes…that would be wise.” The medi-witch looked from the Galleons to Hermione.

"Then I suggest you take a seat and enlighten us." Parkinson said, gesturing for the medi-witch to settle onto the sofa while she positioned herself behind the desk. Leaning back in the chair, she crossed her legs and rested them atop the desk.

The medi-witch seated herself, her gaze drifting down to her lap where she nervously fidgeted with her hands. "The accident was caused by a Potion called Lentus Morir Mixture.”

Hermione's eyes widened with recognition when she heard the name of the Potion.

The medi-witch took a brief pause before she continued. “It's an ancient elixir, often referred to as The Slow Death Potion. Victims typically succumb within a span of six to three months after ingestion, followed by a rapid decline where they turn blue and die within an hour.”

The medi-witch turned towards Hermione and looked her straight into her eyes. “Miss Selwyn, you arrived here shortly after exhibiting these symptoms. Never in recorded history has anyone survived the effects of the Potion after reaching the blue stage. It's truly miraculous."

Hermione and Parkinson exchanged a meaningful glance. This changed a lot. They could definitely rule out suicide, as it was very unlikely anyone wanted to kill themselves as slowly as possible, with a lot of time to change their minds and little to no chance of being able to. No, Lentus Morir Mixture was a Potion intended for the killer to get away scotch free, without leaving any trails or need for an alibi.

This also raised suspicion to Mr and Mrs Selwyn - why would they let society believe their daughter committed suicide instead of having Aurors investigate?

Finally, if Sylvia Selwyn had been poisoned six to three months before she ended up in St. Mungos, it was possible that Sirius Black was still tied to her through their arranged marriage contract. Therefore, he now had a motive.

Perhaps it was time she had a little chat with Harry’s Godfather, after all.

“Who brought me to St. Mungos?” Hermione asked.

The medi-witch looked a bit startled by the sudden sound of her voice. “Miss Selwyn, no one brought you here, you arrived here on your own.”

Around midday the two witches apparated from St. Mungos to Diagon Alley. Hermione didn’t wait for Parkinson to gather herself before she strode purposefully towards Mr Mulpepper’s Apothecary. The store where she had bought all her Potion’s ingredients since she started Hogwarts back in her time.

Before she could enter, Parkinson ran up to her and took hold of her wrist. “You don’t honestly think that they sell deadly potions here, do you?”

Hermione looked from Parkinson to the front of the shop, and had to agree. They probably didn’t have any darker potions than Babbling Beverages. Instead of admitting to that out loud she let Parkinson lead the way towards Knockturn Alley in silence.

There was a distinct shift in the atmosphere when they entered Knockturn Alley. The streets were narrow and filled with garbage. The storefronts were grim and neglected with windows coated in grime and dust. The people who ventured there looked more haggard than the ones in Diagon Alley, with dirty and tattered robes.

It filled Hermione with unease. Not because she felt unsafe, but because she felt bad for the people who lived here. Werewolves, hags, vampires and others who had been ostracised from society. The outcasts.

The Ministry had written Knockturn Alley off as “dark” so they wouldn't have to deal with the poor part of Wizarding London. From there it became a vicious circle, where the distrust and resentment only grew on all sides, and the outcasts became the outlaws.

Parkinson came to a stop in front of a shop that was covered in overgrown plants that looked almost like Devil’s Snare. “Inolesco” She said as she tapped her wand on one of the branches.

The branches slithered back and revealed a door with a sign that read ‘The Hags’ Brew’.

“If there is a place they sell deadly potions, it’s this store right here.” Parkinson said before entering the store.

Hermione followed after and as she entered a strong wave of musty scent hit her. Her hand flew to her face to shield it from the smell.

The store was empty and dark lit. Eerie looking potions ingredients like skulls, eyes and spiders covered the walls. Parkinson gestured for her to wait in silence with a finger to her mouth.

After a few minutes, the curtain behind the counter was pushed aside by a hand with nails longer than its fingers. The hand was covered in scars and wrinkles and was so white that it was almost translucent. As the curtain was pushed aside it revealed the owner of the hand, a dark figure with a hood covering its face.

The hag limped past the curtain, and the sharp smell intensified. “How can I assist you?”

Parkinson looked at Hermione, seemingly losing her bravado from earlier.

“We are looking for a Potion called Lentus Morir Mixture.” Hermione said, preferring to get straight to the point.

“My, my.” The hag murmured as she turned around and limped away and disappeared behind the curtain.

When she came back she placed a small bottle filled with dark blue liquid on the counter. “Not a cheap potion.” The hag said.

Hermione walked up to the counter and placed her Galleons on it. “Is it possible to see the record of who has bought this potion lately?”

“I don’t keep a record, witch.” The hag clicked her nails on the counter. “But I can tell you that no one has bought it this year.”

Hermione sighed. It was possible that the culprit had bought it from another store or brewed it themselves.

“But it’s curious that you ask for this exact potion. There was a robbery here during Christmas. The only stolen items were a couple bottles of this exact potion.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she shared a look with Parkinson.

“A robbery? How did they get past the wards?” Parkinson piped up.

“No human can get past them, for that I am sure.” The hag pocketed the Galleons. “Anything else?”

“Yes, do you have any bezoar and veritaserum?” Hermione asked.

The hag turned around and limped away, before she came back and placed the items on the counter. “7 Galleons, witch.”

“Thank you.” Hermione said as she paid and pocketed her items.

“Good luck with your investigation.” The hag cackled.

Outside the shop Hermione felt like she could finally breathe again.

“So this is definitely a long con.” Parkinson commented.

“Yeah, if the one who tried to murder me is the same one who stole the potion, they have planned it for a long time.” Hermione said.

“And they still haven’t given up, or how do you know that the chocolate box was poisoned?”

“Call it a gut feeling. I will run some tests and compare it to the potion to be sure.”

“So that’s why you brought it. Why did you buy the other stuff?”

“The bezoar is in case I get poisoned again. The veritaserum is for interrogation.” Hermione looked up at the sky in an attempt to clear her head. “When exactly did the marriage contract come to an end?”

“Right after school ended this summer. Do you think Sirius Black is behind it?”

“I think he and I should have a chat. But if it was the same poison in the chocolate that I received today, I doubt it was him. He doesn’t have a motive for trying to kill me now.” Hermione didn’t want to share her knowledge about Sirius’ animagus form, and the fact that he could pass wards as a non-human.

“Perhaps he wants to get rid of any potential loose ends.”

“It could be. But it could also be someone else. Tell me, when did my reputation get ruined?” Hermione started to walk towards Diagon Alley.

“Hm, probably when it became clear to everyone that he didn’t want you. I mean, it’s normal that couples aren’t entirely happy about the arrangement their parents make, it is a business contract after all. But they will still pretend, complain in private but put up a happy face for the public.” She took a small pause before she continued. “I think Black started to make a scene in fourth year.”

“So it could be someone who was offended by the scandal.” Hermione said as they entered Diagon Alley and were back to the cheery atmosphere and more open streets.

Parkinson tugged her arm to whisper in her ear. “Do you suspect anyone from the House of Selwyn?”

“I haven’t ruled it out.”

Parkinson nodded gravely. “I didn’t want to suggest it, but I have had my suspicions as well.”

Hermione had a hard time making sense of Mr and Mrs Selwyn. She found their behaviour weird and slightly suspicious, but it was hard to say if that was because of them being stuck up purebloods, or guilty of trying to murder their daughter.

“We should get back to Hogwarts now.” Hermione said as she reached for Parkinson’s arm. But Parkinson quickly stepped away.

“Give me a few moments.” She said and took a couple of deep breaths.

When Parkinson was ready they apparated back to Hogsmead. From there they managed to sneak back to Hogwarts. Both of them deep in thought.

Hermione was suddenly very glad for the fact that Slytherins had private rooms, as she could spread her evidence around without worrying about prying eyes.

She used the walls to make a crime board, and scribbled down the clues that she had gathered, along with the suspects, dates and other notes, and linked them together with colour coded threads.

At the top of the board she placed her headline: Vial M for Murder.

She took a step back to appreciate her handiwork. If things went as planned she would have the culprit locked up in Azkaban before November.

Her next step was to figure out if the chocolate had been poisoned. In the library she gathered all the books she could find that mentioned the Lentus Morir Mixture, which was not many. Instead she tried to see if she could find traits of it in other potions, and pick it apart by similarities and differences.

It was close to curfew but that hardly mattered. She was on a roll.

From what she could understand there was a good chance that a bezoar would act as an antidote if ingested shortly after the potion. The longer one waited the less chance for it to work. After the blue stage there was no cure. Except someone from the future taking over your body, apparently.

Over the next few days she ran a series of tests on the chocolate and compared them with the potion. Parkinson thought it was stupid to go through all that trouble when one could just test it on a House Elf.

That had not gone over well with Hermione, and Parkinson was currently learning the hard way to never disrespect House Elves ever again. By peeling potatoes alongside the House Elves in the school’s kitchen.

Hermione tested the chocolate for poison in her own way, and compared her result with the one she bought from the hag’s brew.

It was a match.

The facts spoke for themselves. Someone was desperate to get rid of Sylvia Selwyn. But too bad they were messing with the wrong witch.

Unfortunately for them, they hadn’t taken Hermione Granger into account, and she was used to swimming with sharks.

During the last couple of days, she hadn’t only been busy with the poison, she had also tried to have a talk with Sirius Black. But it was like he smelled her suspicion, because he was impossible to get hold of no matter how much she tried to hunt him down.

Firstly, he had evaporated from the library.

Then she tried to follow him after classes and meals, only for him to disappear around a corner. She had even waited outside the Gryffindor common room, and asked other Gryffindors to get him, but it was all to no avail.

It was clear to her that he was avoiding her.

He probably thought himself so clever, with the marauders map and invisibility cloak. But Hermione would have the last laugh, no one could avoid her forever.

She bided her time with patience, while she plotted the perfect place to ensnare him. A trap where he couldn’t run away from her. No marauders' map or invisibility cloak could stop her.

And that’s how she found herself in the Shrieking Shack on the next full moon.

She went there straight after dinner. While she waited for the marauders to arrive, she conjured a table and four chairs. After some back and forth she ended up conjuring a nice carpet and a vase with a bouquet of tulips too. It was important to set the scene after all, and the shack was in a depressingly bad state.

Then she conjured a slightly bigger armchair for herself, where she got comfortable while she waited.

Now it looked a bit more homely here.

The marauders took longer than expected, and Hermione was getting bored. She ended up cleaning up the shack, conjuring a candlestick, a table cloth and a picture of Crookshanks. She missed her familiar, and it was nice to imagine him supporting her here.

The sun was going down when she heard footsteps and the boys talking from the passageway. Swiftly, she put out the candles, so the room was left in the dark as they entered.

She sat completely still as they walked in. When she heard the door close behind them she cast a Colloportus on all the doors and windows in the shack. There was no getting out of her trap.

Then she lit the candles.

The chatter came to an abrupt stop. She could almost feel their confusion in the air.

As the boys rounded the corner she disarmed them with a couple of swishes with her wand.

“Please, have a seat.” She greeted them politely and placed their wands beside her.

For several moments none of the boys spoke.

“W-What..?” James Potter looked completely dumbfounded. “What are you doing here?”

“Selwyn? You can’t be here!” Sirius’ voice was laced with alarm.

“You..don’t understand -” Peter Pettigrew started but Hermione interrupted him.

“I understand perfectly. Please have a seat and this can be over with in no time.” Hermione told them a bit more sternly.

Remus Lupin was the first one to take a seat. Or more like he fell into one of the chairs. The poor boy did not look well. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and his hands were shaking.

The other boys looked at him warily.

“Time is ticking.” Hermione reminded them, and after a beat of silence the other three begrudgingly took their seats as well.

James and Sirius kept their eyes firmly on Hermione, confusion mixed with curiosity were written on their faces.

Remus closed his eyes as he breathed heavily, and Peter looked around the shack with intrigued eyes. His eyes landed on the photo of Crookshanks and he grimaced.

“What’s that ugly thing?”

Hermione’s face fell. She was not going to let anyone disrespect Crookshanks like that, least of all Peter Pettigrew. Red light flew from her wand towards Peter. As her stunning spell hit him, he froze like a statue made of stone and crashed to the floor with a resounding thud.

His eyes, wide and unblinking, bore into her with a look of horror.

James and Sirius sprang from their seats, but as Hermione levelled her wand at them in a silent threat, they slowly raised their hands in surrender before settling back down.

“As I said, this can be over with in no time. If and only if, you cooperate.” Hermione held their gaze until the two boys nodded in acceptance.

“Good.” She said as she conjured a goblet and filled it with veritaserum. “Due to the dire circumstances of this interrogation -”

“Interrogation?” Sirius interrupted her.

Hermione paused and looked up from the goblet to Sirius. “Please, do not interrupt me again, Black.” She leaned back and crossed her legs. “But yes; interrogation, and due to the dire circumstances - you will have to drink veritaserum.” She let the goblet float from her hand to the table in front of Sirius.

She refused to steep down to the same level as her culprit and poison people without their knowledge. Therefore she chose the higher moral path and was upfront about the veritaserum.

“Are you nuts? I am not drinking any veritaserum!” He said angrily and pushed the goblet back.

“It was not a question, Black.” Hermione said and let her eyes wander off to Remus, who looked like he was minutes away from transformation.

James had also been watching Remus warily. He shook his head in defeat and took hold of the goblet before he stared at it hard. “I’ll do it mate.” He said to Sirius.

“That’s very noble of you, but I am afraid that this interrogation is intended for Black.” She gave James a brief, closed lip smile. “Just lean back and think of England while I ask your friend here a few questions.”

Then she turned towards Sirius. “Bottoms up, Black.”

Sirius’ jaw tightened. There was a tense silence before Remus interrupted it. “Please Sirius, just do as she says.”

Sirius dragged a hand through his hair and sighed before Remus’ wincing drew his attention again. An alarmed expression caught on his face before he muttered a curse.

“Don’t worry, if you are innocent in my ‘accident’ you have nothing to worry about. I won’t ask any personal questions.” Hermione promised.

“Okay, you better keep your word, Selwyn.” His voice was tense and hard.

He locked eyes with Hermione. Steel grey eyes bored into hers as he raised the goblet to his lips. Then he tilted his head back to drink every drop of the veritaserum.

Without taking his eyes from her, he slammed the goblet down onto the table and dried his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Good boy.” Hermione mocked, and the tips of his ears reddened but he kept the frown on his face.

Hermione clasped her hands together on her lap. “Let’s start with an easy one, what is your full name and date of birth?”

He tried to struggle a bit, probably testing out the potion, before the words slipped out of his mouth. “Sirius Black, 3rd of November 1959.”

He continued to frown at her, while James looked at him sympathetically. “You okay?” He muttered and Sirius gave him a stubborn nod.

“Next question; have you ever stolen any Potions?”

“Yes.”

“Where and what kind of Potion?”

Again he tried to resist the veritaserum but failed. Hermione could only assume that the hag’s Potion was a strong one.

“Slughorn’s storeroom. Ageing Potion, Calming Draught, Exploding Potion, Fire-Breathing Potion and Shrinking-Solution.”

She guessed that these were all rather innocent Potions for school pranks and such. Not any deadly ones intended for murder.

“Have you ever stolen any Potions from anywhere in Knockturn Alley?”

“No.”

Hermione nodded, this was good, but she still had to be sure. “Have you ever heard of the Lentus Morir Mixture?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever bought it, stolen it or brewed it?”

“No, only heard of it.”

“Where have you heard about it?”

“Books from home.” Sirius sighed and closed his eyes briefly. A pained expression on his face. “My previous home, Grimmauld Place.”

Remus clutched his stomach as he let out a long cry that sounded more animalistic than human. Hermione felt for him and decided it was time for her to leave them alone.

“Okay, last question, have you ever tried to poison me?”

Sirius stared hard at her before he answered. “You? No.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, she wanted to ask more questions but there was no time. Instead she gave him a nod as she stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “Thank you for your time.”

She unlocked the doors and windows with her wand, and as she left she wished them a good night from over her shoulder.

She hurried through the passageway, the castle hallways and common room, until she ended up in private room. There was a lot of new information she needed to add to her crime board.

Chapter Text

Hermione studied her crime board, a mess of information and connections. With her finger, she traced the lines linking suspects to motives. Stepping back, she nodded in satisfaction. It was all coming together perfectly, like a puzzle fitting into place.

Sirius Black was no longer a suspect, something she was very glad for. Her gut feeling had told her that from day one but it was good to have it confirmed.

However, his name still stayed on the crime board.

Not as a suspect, but there was still a good chance that he was indirectly linked to the crime. All her clues pointed to either a jealous culprit or one that wanted to avoid scandal. It could be a scorned lover who saw Slyvia as the only obstacle in the way of their happy ending - or Mr and Mrs Selwyn, caring more about their reputation among the pureblood elite than their own daughter.

She needed to find everyone Sirius Black had dated, fancied, flirted with, or even just noticed. Any rivals who might be desperate enough to resort to murder. "Shouldn't be too hard," she mused to herself. All she needed was a bit of snooping and a helping hand from Parkinson.

Perhaps she'd need to act as the broken-hearted ex-fiancee, begging for a second chance. Hermione nodded to herself, she was really getting the hang of full time pretending. Nobody from her time would ever have believed that she could convincingly pass as a dainty pureblood princess for more than five minutes tops. But here she was - fooling everyone and their mother. Although she did have some practice, after Polyjuiceing as Bellatrix Leatrange during the war. But she could hardly call her a dainty princess.

Then there was the matter of Mr and Mrs Selwyn. Hermione toyed with the idea of paying them a visit and enjoying a fancy seven-course meal, perhaps with a dash of veritaserum to spice things up. But that might be a bit too extreme, even for her. No, she would have to come up with a different plan to test them.

Hermione thought long and hard about a different way to test Mr and Mrs Selwyn before the obvious solution became clear to her. The key was scandal.

To determine if they had attempted to kill their own daughter to evade scandal: she had to stir up more scandal.

If they were guilty, more scandal would likely drive them desperate. Which in turn would make them sloppy and slip up. It was an easy plan, but sometimes the simplest solution was the best solution.

During the next few days Hermione studied the behaviour of the Slytherins in order to figure out the best way to create a scandal. They were after all terrified of scandal, as reputation was everything to them.

She listened carefully to what they said and how they acted. All of them were perfectly poised and well groomed at all times. Bored expressions on their faces and rude in subtle ways. Never speaking out of turn and not showing too much interest in anything or anyone.

They were the complete opposite of Hermione in every way imaginable. Therefore, she concluded that the best way to make a scandal was to act the most like her true self - so that’s what she planned to do. She would let the purebloods meet the true Hermione Granger.

Perhaps it was time to start S.P.E.W. again.

Two birds with one stone. Scandal and elvish welfare.

It was a good plan, great even, according to Hermione. She refunded her elvish welfare organisation almost two decades before its original time. To Hermione’s surprise, Parkinson was onboard and eager to join. She didn’t know if this was the result of being forced to help the House elves out one evening in the kitchen, or something else. But if it was the former, Hermione would see to it that it became obligatory for every student to have an evening peeling potatoes amongst the elves.

The two witches started with making posters and badges they paraded around the castle with. Loudly.

Parkinson was especially loud. Hermione almost regretted teaching her the Sonorous charm after watching her abusing it to freak out their peers. But as long as Parkinson was screaming about elvish welfare - Hermione didn’t complain.

Parkingson was really having the time of her life, confidently bullying everyone who didn’t bow down to the house elves. But was bullying for a good cause really bullying? Against discrimination and slavery? Hermione didn’t think so, and either way, sometimes you had to fight fire with fire.

By the end of the week, they had even welcomed a new member to their organisation. Sirius Black's younger brother, Regulus Black.

He wore their badge with pride and was eager to tell them all about his lovely House Elf, Kreacher.

Parkinson rolled her eyes as Regulus began yet another tale of the wonderful Kreacher, but Hermione ignored her and encouraged Regulus to go on. Regulus didn’t seem to notice Parkinson, who was more interested in the bullying part of their organisation.

Regulus for his part, was just happy about having found ‘like minded purebloods’ - and in Slytherin no less.

Hermione actually learned a couple of new things about house elves and their magic from him. Like how they are descended from Brownies that started to show up and help wizards out in the middle ages. However, the Brownies were always compensated, usually with gifts or food, and they were free to leave whenever they wished.

But no good deed can go unpunished, right? The Brownies offered a helping hand but the wizards took a whole arm. Wizards captured the Brownies in order to breed them into something more ‘domesticated’. They stopped with the compensation and refused them freedom to leave. Now wizards were free to mistreat them without any consequences.

They deserved rights and freedom, at that both Hermione and Regulus could agree on.

After a couple of days, Regulus told them with a beaming smile over breakfast, that he had been in contact with a journalist from the Daily Prophet, who would print a story about their cause.

It was perfect. Now the news would definitely reach Mr and Mrs Selwyn.

They met up with the journalist in Hogsmeade, and the next day they were on the front page. ‘Young Heir and Heiresses for House Elves Rights.’

It was a scandal all right, but apparently not in the eyes of Mr and Mrs Selwyn. They sent her a letter telling her how proud they were of her moving on from one Black brother to the other. Encouraging her to keep Regulus’ interest and even sent a generous donation for S.P.E.W.

Hermione had burned the letter in the middle of the Great Hall. After she safely pocketed the donation of course. She would have to up her game, and show them how scandalous Hermione Jean Granger truly was.

But - there was a bright side after all, a huge step was made for Elvish welfare. The trio marched the hallways like they owned the castle, and between Black’s name, Parkinson’s bullying, and Hermione’s stern gaze, no one dared to get in their way.

Except for one person. Sirius Black.

He made his opinion clear when he ambushed the trio on one of their rounds.

“What the hell is going on here?” He asked and raised his hand to point accusingly between them in a sharp gesture.

Parkinson looked amused, ready for a show, while Regulus smiled innocently at his brother. “Here to show your support for the elvish welfare?”

“You are a nutter.” He told his brother in a way that made Hermione believe it wasn't the first time he had called him such. Then Sirius looked away from his brother and his eyes landed on Hermione. “Actually, all of you are completely bonkers.”

The trio promptly ignored the insult. Hermione especially was way past the point of caring about her ‘reputation’. She had left such worries in the future. No, if there ever came a day where Hermione started to give a damn about what other people thought of her - it would be her doom. Even Harry and Ron (who had looked past a lot of things when it came to her) would think her absolutely mental if they saw her now.

“Well, you will have to excuse us if you are not here to show your support. We have rounds to do.” Hermione told him.

Sirius shook his head in frustration. “Is this for real? What’s next - a support group for Dementors?”

“Why not? There are lots of groups who are being unfairly repressed by our society, like werewolves for example.” Hermione gave him a pointed look and watched the colour drain from Sirius’ face.

“Are you really trying to convince me that for the first time in recent history, a group of Slytherins are doing something selfless, without any ulterior motives?” Sirius turned towards his brother. “What about your other group? Do they approve of this?”

Regulus pursed his lips. “S.P.E.W. comes first.”

“Yeah? Going to get matching tattoos as well?” Sirius taunted and to Hermione’s horror Regulus' eyes lit up by the prospect of them getting matching tattoos. Although a S.P.E.W. tattoo was not the worst kind of tattoo one could get. Especially during times like these.

“Nah, my mum would probably poison me if I ever got a tattoo.” Parkinson said. “No offence, Sylvia.” She added as an afterthought and Hermione gave her a closed lip smile to show her that no offence was taken.

“She wouldn’t have to know. It could be somewhere she wouldn’t see it, like at our lower backs.” Regulus shot in.

“A tramp stamp? No sorry I am out.” Hermione said.

“What’s a tramp stamp?” Sirius asked her.

“Just a muggle thing, you wouldn’t get it.” Hermione dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“I can guarantee you that I know more about muggles than you do.” Sirius crossed his arms in challenge.

“If that were the case you would have known what a tramp stamp was.” Hermione shot back.

“Ha! If my mum knew muggles called tattoos ‘tramp stamps’ she would probably change her mind about them.” Parkinson said.

“Change her mind about muggles or tattoos?” Regulus asked.

“Hm good question.” Parkinson said after pondering over it for a few seconds.

“So a tramp stamp is just a tattoo then?” Sirius caught on.

“At the lower back, yes.” Hermione told him and he nodded, seemingly suddenly deep in thought.

“But then we could just get it higher up.” Regulus said. “And it wouldn’t be a tramp stamp.”

“You are not honestly considering a House Elf tattoo?” Sirius looked at his brother like he had grown a second head.

“No way, I am sure my mum has a tattoo-ward on our home. She really hates them.” Parkinson said seriously.

“So more than muggles then?” Regulus asked.

“Hard to say, she has wards for them too, you know.”

“My mum has that as well.” Regulus nodded solemnly and Sirius snorted.

“How’s the old hag doing by the way? Is she okay with your change of priorities?” Sirius asked and pointed his finger at the S.P.E.W. badge on Regulus’ shirt.

Regulus’ face fell for a split second before he composed himself. When he answered he sounded aloof and cold. “Of course, I would never do anything that was not in the best interests for The House of Black.”

Sirius looked a bit awkward after Regulus’ change in tone, but tried to play it off with a scoff. He then put his hands in his pockets and kicked some gravel on the ground.

Hermione felt for him. She could only assume that things were complicated between the two brothers. “I bet my mum wouldn’t approve of a tramp stamp either, even if it was for a good cause.” She tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground, even though she knew very well what her real mum’s opinion of tramp stamps was. Mrs Selwyn, on the other hand, would more likely be thrilled with her getting a matching tattoo with a Black.

“It would be for a good cause.” Regulus grumbled.

“Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be for the worst cause.” Sirius agreed. “And a tramp stamp has a nice ring to it.”

That seemed to brighten up Regulus, and the two brothers exchanged a small smile.

“Still not going to get a harlot imprint.” Parkinson said.

“Stamp tramp.” Sirius corrected her.

“Or ‘arse antlers’.” Hermione jokingly said and Sirius’ eyes gleamed as he let out an amused half laugh. She could almost see a light bulb blinking over his head.

Parkinson looked like she was done with the conversation and shook her donation tin in front of him. “Going to give your support or not?”

Sirius frowned, but hesitated when he noticed his brother’s badly concealed hopeful look. “Alright then.” He said and found a few Sickles and a Galleon from his pocket, and put them in Parkinson’s tin jar.

Sirius looked at Hermione. “Let me know if you- you know, start a support group for another repressed group.” With that he gave her a nod and retreaded, walking backwards with his hands in his pockets.

Between S.P.E.W. classes and homework, Hermione and Parkinson tried to hunt down Sirius’ admirers. Thanks to Parkinson’s Omnioculars and Hermione’s Disillusionment Charm, they were able to observe them unnoticed. Parkinson pointed out a few, and Hermione scribbled down notes. Everything from their heights to grades were noted down. Then they created charts and analysis that Hermione later included on her crime board.

Hermione was not impressed by their average grade. Sirius’ admirers really needed to stop ogling Sirius and start focusing on their homework.

Solving a mystery was a lot like piecing together a difficult puzzle. A puzzle that your life was actually depending on solving. She could never know when the culprit would strike again, and had to be on constant high alert. It was stressful but also strangely exciting - because Hermione loved puzzles more than most.

Parkinson was suspicious of almost every muggleborn in school, Hermione was the opposite - she was convinced that the culprit was a pureblood. Both denied that prejudice had anything to do with it, it was obviously based on intelligent data, facts and ‘a hunch’.

They also trailed after Sirius. He spent most of his time with the marauders or playing Quidditch. She ended up zoning out a lot while eavesdropping on him and his friends due constant talks about Quidditch, Snivellus, food and brooms.

It fascinated Hermione how they could find so many things to say about things like brooms, but it was also strangely endearing.

It reminded her of Harry and Ron, who could go on and on about similar topics, the only difference was that they talked about Draco Malfoy rather than ‘Snivellus’.

They were all just very normal Gryffindor boys.

That being said, she wasn’t able to eavesdrop too often. She had to be careful that they didn’t have the map open with them. One or two times she could probably make an excuse for. However, if they saw her constantly trailing after them it would be suspicious - and put her ten steps backwards in her path to find the culprit.

It was also likely that they had their private conversation in their private dormitories, where Hermione currently didn’t have access to. She didn’t want to pull off anything too drastic, but there were a few ideas brewing in her mind. There was a murderer on the loose after all.

After following Sirius for a couple of days, she learned that he didn’t talk to a lot of girls. Even though witches drooled after him, he didn’t give most of them a second glance. Hermione doubted that he was oblivious to the attention he received, but rather simply ignored them.

Parkinson was surprised by this, but concluded that he must’ve been putting on a show before (when he paraded around the castle with his girlfriend) in order to get out of the marriage contract with Sylvia. Hermione didn’t know if she felt more sorry for Sirius or Sylvia in that situation. Sirius likely felt trapped by his parents, but it couldn’t be easy for Sylvia being the unwanted bride.

The exceptions were a few Gryffindor girls. Hermione noted with approval that he spoke to just as many muggleborns as purebloods and half-bloods. Parkinson pointed out his ex girlfriend, Mary Macdonald among them. She was a pretty muggeborn with dark curly hair and not very impressive grades. Except for her O in Care of Magical Creatures, and E in Herbology. Surely, Sirius could do better than that.

Hermione and Parkinson were outside, catching ball back and forth, while they had a perfect view of Sirius and his friends. When they saw Sirius walking up to his ex-girlfriend the two girls shared a look, and without a word they threw the ball, very subtly, closer to the ex-couple.

The ex-couple were standing in the middle of the courtyard next to the fountain. On the other side of the fountain stood two innocent witches throwing a ball. Or at least, that it is what Hermione assumed it looked like to the untrained eye.

It was difficult to listen in on the ex-couple because of the splashing and gurgling from the fountain, so Hermione cast a strong silence charm on the whole monstrosity. Only then were they able to make out the words of their conversation.

“What do you mean you don’t know what it is? It’s a muggle thing, you should know!” Sirius sounded frustrated.

“Sirius! First of all; rude. Secondly, the muggle world is huge. It’s impossible to know about every small event, saying and reference, especially when you stay most of the year in the magical world.” Mary said.

“But it didn’t sound like a small reference. It was a big deal.” Sirius pushed his hair back and sighed.

Mary seated herself on the edge of the fountain. “Sure it was.” Hermione could almost hear Mary roll her eyes sarcastically.

“It’s a bit embarrassing, you know, that a pureblood knows more about muggle things than you do.”

“I doubt that’s the case. She was probably having you on.”

“Not possible, I would’ve noticed.” Sirius crossed his arms and frowned.

“Go ask Lily then, if it’s a real thing then she would surely know.”

“Alright. Do you know where she is?”

“Think I saw her going to the Greenhouse with some Hufflepuffs.”

Sirius put his hands in his pockets while he walked away backwards. “Cheers, see you later.” Instead of waiting for a reply he turned around and headed in the direction of the Greenhouse.

Hermione quickly vanished her and Parkinson’s ball. “Didn’t you say that you had some Herbology homework you needed to do?”

Parkinson caught right on. “Yeah, we should probably make a quick stop by the Greenhouse.”

The Greenhouse was big and light, with a huge glass dome on the top and pebble mosaic floor. It was filled with all kinds of magical plants, making the place colourful and like a warm summer garden that lasted through all seasons. Besides having classes there, it was also a normal place to hang out, especially for Hufflepuffs.

Lily Evans was easy to spot with her flaming red hair. From all the girls Hermione had checked out the grades from - Lily definitely had the highest score. She even managed to impress Hermione, which was not an easy feat.

Lily was surrounded by a group of girls and boys. Some were playing guitar and smoking while others were drawing and relaxing. Most of them had long shaggy hair and wore muggle clothes that Hermione could only assume were in style now. They definitely weren’t in her time.

Sirius went to greet the group with a casual wave of his hand before he started to chat with Lily. He was leaning against the glass wall with his arms crossed, looking effortlessly cool.

Hermione picked up a plant and gave it to Parkinson, before she picked up another to herself. “Look busy.”

Parkinson let out a frustrating breath but didn’t complain. The two girls covered their faces with the plant while they moved closer to the group.

There was a workstation not too far from the group behind a tree. Hermione nudged Parkinson and pointed to it. Carefully they moved over to it.

Hermione was tempted to silence the guitars, as they made it difficult to hear Sirius and Lily. Even putting them on fire was tempting, since none of them could play, at all. The plants would probably thank her for it, but it would still be too risky. Therefore she settled for a Confundus charm instead.

Her charm worked, and the guitarists looked around confused, but at least they stopped playing. Parkinson must’ve agreed on the quality, or lack of quality of the music because she gave her a grateful look.

“I’m not sure, Sirius. It does sound a bit familiar though.” She heard Lily say.

“Come on, think Lily.”

“It could be a movie reference.”

“What movie?”

“There’s a cartoon movie called Lady and the Tramp.”

“What’s a cartoon?”

“A movie made from drawings.”

“Like portraits?”

“Something like that.”

“What’s the movie about then?”

“Haven’t watched it since I was little, but it’s about dogs. I remember this one scene where they have a date eating spaghetti and end up kissing after sharing the same plate.”

Sirius snorted. “That’s a tramp stamp? A reference to dogs snogging? Why would muggles tattoo that on their lower back?”

From behind the tree Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course Sirius hadn’t let go of the tramp stamp conversion.

“I don’t know. Perhaps she was hinting at something else.”

“Like what?”

“Isn’t she a Lady or something, and you are…you know.”

“Har har, very funny. Would be in typical Slytherin fashion though - making subtle barbs that take a headache to figure out.”

Hermione fumed silently, she did not appreciate being put in the same box as typical Slytherins. She was the very opposite of everything Slytherin.

Lily snickered and another girl interrupted them. “Ey Sirius, is the party tonight only for Gryffindors, or is it open for Hufflepuffs too?”

“Sure, open for everyone except Slytherins.”

“Cheers.”

“We have some firewhiskey and goblin gin…”

They continued with their chat as Hermione and Parkinson snuck their way out of the Greenhouse before anyone could notice them. She saw no point of listening in on party planning.

“Everyone except Slytherins.” Parkinson huffed when they were outside. “And they call us bigoted.”

Hermione looked at Parkinson weirdly. “Are you saying that you want to go to a Gryffindor party?”

Parkinson huffed again. “Don’t be daft. It’s just the principle of it.”

Hermione let out an amused breath. “Right, I am sure they could make an exception for you if you ask them really, really nicely.” She teased.

Parkinson’s cheeks reddened while her eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not, are you aware of what kind of scandal that would create?”

Hermione’s eyes lit up - an idea forming in her head.

Parkinson’s shoulder stiffened and she went from looking insulted to frightened as she observed Hermione. “No, no. Absolutely not. We are not going to create another scandal by crashing a Gryffindor party.”

Hermione didn’t answer. Her brain was busy working at full speed - doing complex calculations. She could practically hear the gears turning in her mind and feel the steam coming out of her ears. This was perfect, she would create scandal and investigate the murder attempt further at the same time.

“I am only going there if we Polyjuice.” Parkinson crossed her arms.

“Not a chance. I need to create a scandal.” Hermione told her firmly.

“But, this is too extreme. There is no coming back after that.” Parkinson looked dead serious and Hermione rolled her eyes. This was too extreme, but not genocide? Typical Slytherins.

“You can Polyjuice then, but I don’t have any and it’s too late to make some.”

“I am sure someone in Slytherin has some for sale.” Parkinson looked thoughtful for a moment before her eyes widened. “I need to Polyjuice as someone.”

“Yeah, that’s the general idea with Polyjuice.”

“And that someone can’t be a Slytherin or attend the party tonight.” Parkinson continued with a shudder.

Hermione recalled the first time Harry, Ron and her made Polyjuice, and how they left Crabbe and Goyle in a broom closet so they wouldn’t blow their cover. “Don’t worry, we will find someone we can kidnap. Do you have any sleeping draught?”

“Kidnap?” Parkinson laughed and shook her head.

“Yes. We will kidnap someone who’s invited tonight, and pretend they invited me as their date.” Hermione nodded self assuredly, then they would put some sleeping draught in their food and lock them up in a broom closet for the night.

“I refuse to Polyjuice as a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.”

“A Ravenclaw then.” Hermione said pragmatically.

“Hector Fawley would be a good choice since he is a …” Parkinson began but paused when she noticed Hermione’s stern gaze. “…Headboy.”

Hermione shook her head. “Too risky kidnapping the Headboy. We should go for a Quidditch player, they would fit right in with the Gryffindors.” And provide a plausible excuse for spending the night in a broom closet, Hermione added silently in her mind.

“Fawley plays Quidditch.” Parkinson protested but Hermione wouldn’t budge.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt then.” She tried again.

Hermione’s eyes widened in recognition. “Forget it, he’s too clever.” Last thing she wanted was to be on the future Auror, Order member and Minister of Magic’s bad side.

“Eddie Macmillan then. He fits both of our criterias.”

“Alright, we will follow him after dinner, then drug him and lock him up in a broom closet.” Hermione agreed.

“Sounds like a sensible plan.” Parkinson dead-panned.

During dinner the two girls hardly ate, too occupied with watching their prey - Eddie Macmillan. This did not go unnoticed by Regulus.

“Why are you staring at the Ravenclaw table?”

“Sylvia fancies Macmillan.” Parkinson threw her under the broomstick before Hermione had a chance to say anything. She could only fume silently to herself, best to let people believe she fancied Macmillan if she was going to be his ‘date’ tonight.

They had bought sleeping draught and Polyjuice from an older, shady looking Slytherin. He was lanky and tall with a buzz cut and a bruise under his eye. It looked like he had been in a fight, or two judging by the scar across his lip. According to Parkinson he ran an underground business at Hogwarts, selling illegal potions, booze and…chocolate frog cards.

“Him?” Regulus asked with distaste evident in his voice while he also observed Macmillan.

Macmillan was currently trying to multitask eating, discussing Quidditch tactics and reading a book. It looked like he was failing rather spectacularly at all three.

“Either he has a really stressful day or he genuinely has a room temperature IQ.” Parkinson said.

“I fear it is the latter.” Regulus said while Hermione kept silent, Macmillan really looked like a mess.

“Okay, so if Sylvia is watching him because she fancies him, for whatever reason, why are you also watching him, Polly?”

“I need to make sure that he is somewhat of an acceptable match for her.” Parkinson sniffed.

“Sure, as long as you two don’t fight over my brother again.” Regulus said and continued with his meal.

Hermione sucked in a breath and saw Parkinson’s face flush.

“Ignore him.” Parkinson hissed.

Hermione didn’t say anything, but made a mental note to investigate further later on. Now was not the time to interrogate Parkinson. She continued to watch Macmillan. If one managed to look past the lack of table manners, he was rather cute, in a boyish way. He had floppy dark blond hair and Quidditch arms.

When he finally stood up to leave the Great Hall, Hermione and Parkinson followed suit. Regulus sighed as he watched them leave, before he took a long sip of his Gillywater.

Macmillan was walking alongside his Ravenclaws friends. They were walking towards the Ravenclaw tower, which meant that Hermione needed to act fast as she did not have access there.

“What should I tell him?” Hermione whispered to Parkinson.

“Just flatter him, tell him that he is good at Quidditch or something.”

Hermione nodded to Parkinson before she called out to Macmillan.

“Macmillan!” She yelled, and Parkinson bumped her shoulder. “Try to be a little less stern and a little more flirty.” She whispered before she went and hid behind the corner.

Macmillan and his friends stopped and turned around. Their eyebrows rose as their eyes landed on Hermione.

Hermione walked up to him and tried to summon her inner pureblood princess. She had observed the other girls in Slytherin for days and managed to take some notes.

She brushed her hair behind her ear and looked up at Macmillan. “Do you have a moment?” She asked as sweetly as she could.

Macmillan looked amused. “Sure.” He told her before he turned his head toward his mates. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

One of his mates clapped his shoulder while another winked, before they walked up the stairs.

“So, what can I do for the new star student?” Macmillan teased and Hermione didn’t have to pretend to blush at the compliment on her academic skills.

She waved her hand to brush off the compliment. “Says the star Quidditch player.” Hermione tried to flirt but cringed internally.

Macmillan didn’t seem to notice her inner turmoil and gave her a beaming smile. “Didn’t know you were a Quidditch fan, Selwyn.”

“Some players make the game worth watching.” Hermione said and simultaneously wished that the floor would swallow her whole.

Macmillan chuckled while Hermione searched her satchel.

“You know, I meant to ask you how you suddenly became a genius. Did the coma unlock a new part of your brain or something?” Macmillian asked.

“Oh nothing like that.” Hermione waved him off. “You know how society works, a witch should never outshine her fiancé. Since I am no longer engaged I don’t need to hold back anymore.” She had heard the other girls in Slytherin speculate about her and more or less copied their theory.

Macmillan looked stunned but Hermione didn’t give him the chance to ask further questions. From her satchel she found a cupcake and held it up. “I made this for you.”

“Oi, thanks Selwyn.” Macmillan smiled and accepted the cupcake.

“It’s with blueberries, I hope you will like it.” Hermione brushed her hair behind her ear again and looked at him sweetly while waiting for him to take a bite.

“Love it.” He winked and finally took a bite.

A satisfied smile grew on Hermione’s lips. One bite was all it took. She watched Macmillan blink slower and slower.

“Parkinson!” Hermione yelled and Parkinson laughed from behind the corner before she emerged.

“That was highly entertaining.” Parkinson snickered as Hermione stunned Macmillan and let him float towards the closest broom closet.

Parkinson plucked out a hair from his head before she opened the closet door. “No way I am wearing that.” She said while eyeing Macmillans outfit with distaste.

“We can either alter some of your own clothes or borrow from another Slytherin.” Hermione said as she altered Macmillian’s memory. She didn’t have to do a lot, only making him believe that he took an early night after a stressful week, and then sleepwalked to the broom closet.

“Hm, Regulus surely has some spare clothes he won’t notice if went lost for a night.” Parkinson mused as Hermione locked up the broom closet.

“Sometimes it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” Hermione told her and the two girls made their way to their common room. They had a long night ahead of them.

Chapter Text

Hermione stood at the top of the stairs in the Slytherin common room, observing as Parkinson approached Regulus. While Parkinson engaged him in conversation to serve as a distraction, Hermione planned to search his room for an attire Parkinson could borrow for the party. The only obstacle was that Regulus was notably smaller than Macmillan, but Hermione was confident that a few mending charms could easily resolve that issue.

Once the coast was clear, she located Regulus’ dormitory and managed to unlock the door that he had placed several unlocking charms on. He even had a crooked-teeth jinx that Hermione, as the daughter of two dentists, found rather unsportsmanlike. The number of locking charms might have raised suspicion if he hadn't been a Slytherin, but secrecy and distrust seemed to be inherent traits of their house. Either way, this would be a good opportunity to make sure Regulus didn’t have anything to hide, especially regarding the poisoning.

It wouldn’t hurt to have a little look around, and as the founder of S.P.E.W. she thought it was merely her responsibility to have a little background check on its members.

As soon as she stepped inside his dormitory she was hit with a strong wave of cologne. Fresh and citrus-like, that she had come to associate with Regulus.

His room was clean and definitely more tidy than hers. While her walls were filled with notes, diagrams, calculations or also called; her crime board - his walls were decorated in an organised fashion.

She first noticed the expected Slytherin banner and Quidditch poster adorning the room. However, her attention was drawn to another banner she didn't initially recognize. Upon closer inspection, it became evident that Regulus had made the banner himself.

Over his bed was a purple and silver S.P.E.W. banner.

Hermione had to bite back a smile. It looked like he had gotten help from a house elf making it, judging from the tiny handprint on it.

Her smile fell from her face when she turned around and saw the back of the door. It was filled with articles from the Daily Prophet. Articles about attacks, abductions, muggleborn discrimination and more Voldemort propaganda.

This was not acceptable, especially not for a member of S.P.E.W. As the founder of the organisation, Hermione saw it as her duty to burn such ridiculous rubbish. She knew that Regulus would deflect and turn on Voldemort in the future, only that it would be too late for him then. It was better that she sped up the process by getting rid of the articles now.

As Hermione was about to vanish the articles, she suddenly stopped as she noticed a certain name sticking out; Sylvia Selwyn.

She froze mid casting. This needed further investigation.

There were articles about the Sylvia and Sirius’ engagement, their parting (scandal), Sirius disowning, his moving in with the Potters and Sylvia’s ‘mysterious accident’. Hermione skimmed them quickly. For the most part it was only typical Daily Prophet gossip and deception. Half truths and outright lies. One headline read, "Sylvia's Tragic Accident: Was It Really an Accident?" Another proclaimed, "Sylvia's Coma: What's She Hiding?" They accused her of faking her coma for sympathy, of sabotaging her engagement for attention.

Hermione’s heart sank. She could sympathise with Sylvia, as she had also experienced how cruel the journalist could be. All they cared about was selling their stories, regardless of how many hearts they trampled on to climb the ladder of success.

She folded the articles about herself and put them in her satchel to inspect further later. Then she vanished all the Voldemort propaganda. The only article that was left on Regulus’ door was the most recent one; the one of the three S.P.E.W. members.

If he ever wondered what had happened to the articles, Hermione would just tell him to take it up with the Divination Professor. The only good thing about the foolish class was that it proved to be a good excuse when you had a hard time explaining yourself. Wizards would believe anything as long as you claimed that it was ‘written in the stars’ or ‘the tea leaves told me’.

Time was ticking, and Hermione wasn’t sure how long Parkinson would be able to distract Regulus. It was time she did what she came here to do. She opened his closet and picked out the first outfit her eyes fell on. It was all probably very fashionable, so Hermione didn’t bother wasting time searching for the best one.

After she snuck out and locked his door she put his locking charm back on, except the teeth jinx - that one he could live without.

In her dormitory, she began preparing herself for the party by packing her purse with poison, veritaserum and a bezoar. Then she transfigured one of her Quills into a thermos Parkinson could keep the Polyjuice in. It didn’t take long before Parkinson came rushing in.

Hermione passed Regulus' robes to Parkinson, receiving only a "Hmpf." in response. While Parkinson proceeded to change, Hermione busied herself with preparing the Polyjuice Potion, adding Macmillan's hair to the mixture. Somehow, the potion appeared even more repulsive than she remembered.

Parkinson stepped out of the bathroom clad in Regulus’ elegant trousers and black shirt. She reached for the Polyjuice potion that Hermione was holding, but Hermione quickly withdrew her arm, keeping it out of Parkinson's reach. “Tsk-tsk.” She chided. “First you need to explain what Regulus meant when he claimed that we used to fight over his brother.”

Parkinson sighed in defeat. “He was exaggerating, really.” When Hermione didn’t answer, just held her gaze - Parkinson sighed again before she continued. “It was a long time ago, in our second year, when your engagement had just been announced.”

“Okay, and?” Hermione said.

“Me, like many other girls, was a tiny bit jealous. I said some foul words and did some unnecessary pranks.”

It wasn't exactly an apology, but it was likely the closest she would ever receive from Parkinson. Hermione scrutinised Parkinson's expression, searching for any signs of deceit. Parkinson met her gaze squarely, showing no signs of avoidance or feigned innocence, nor did she exhibit any nervous fidgeting. No, Hermione concluded, she didn't believe Parkinson was lying.

“Would you answer any questions regarding the poisoning under veritaserum?” Hermione asked as a control question.

“Yes.” Parkinson said without hesitation, and that was enough for Hermione, for now. She nodded and gave Parkinson the Polyjuice.

Parkinson held the thermos and looked down on the gross Polyjuice with a smile on her face. “If someone told me a few months ago that the two of us would become friends, I would have told them to stop taking Pixie dust.”

Hermione stayed quiet as she thought it was oddly sentimental for Parkinson, despite the kind of backhanded compliment. She didn’t know if Parkinson had any other friends, considering she spent most of her time with her, she doubted it. The Slytherins operated in cliques, and Parkinson had never seemed part of any.

Parkinson bent over and gagged after she swallowed the potion. Hermione tried to give her some encouraging words while she patted her back. It didn’t take long before the transformation started and Parkinson’s skin bubbled while her hair turned shorter and lighter.

When her transformation had finished, Hermione went to mend Regulus’ clothes since they currently looked ridiculous on Macmillan’s larger frame. Before she could utter a spell Parkinson stepped back and Macmillan’s hair flopped violently.

“What do you think you are doing?” She shrieked.

“Your clothes are too small.” Hermione explained.

“Are you mental? Oh don’t answer that. This is made of Acromantula silk, you can’t use any type of charms on high quality products like this.”

“But your clothes are too small.” Hermione tried again.

“Oh, like the Gryffindors would notice?” Parkinson sniffed.

“So you are just going to be dressed like that?”

“As if you have anything to say, I haven’t seen you use a single hair-charm the entire term.”

It was Hermione’s turn to sniff, slightly insulted. Like she didn’t have more important matters to worry about. “Let’s just go.”

Parkinson gave her a nod and put on Regulus dark blue robe over the outfit. Luckily it made the outfit a little better by hiding where the shirt and trousers stretched out.

They left the Slytherin common room under a Disillusionment charm and didn’t take it off before they were out of the dungeon.

“You look ridiculous.” Hermione commented as she watched Parkinson clearly having trouble moving in the too tight clothing.

“You too. Who wears cocktail robes to a Gryffindor party? And your hair is flatter than Slughorn’s sense of humour.”

Hermione grumbled to herself. She had just picked out something from Sylvia’s wardrobe that seemed sensible enough.

“We should go over our plans for the evening.” Hermione changed the subject. “Our main goal is to observe the others, see who Sirius interacts with and if he has any desperate admirers. The best way to do that is to attract as little attention to ourselves as possible.”

“Operation wallflower it is.” Parkinson said seriously.

“Look out for any potential poison, the culprit may be in attendance. So be careful of what you drink.”

Parkinson lifted up her thermos. “I am all set.”

“Good.” Hermione nodded. “Good.” She repeated. They were almost at the other side of the castle where the Gryffindor common room was located. Her heart fluttered with anxiety. This wasn’t her first Gryffindor party, but the familiarity mixed with the uncertainty set her nerves off. The Gryffindor common room was a place she used to feel safe and at home. Where she had created a large amount of memories, both good and bad. Now she was about to set foot in the same common room, but in a different time, with different people, and as a different person.

Even if Hermione wasn’t there, Parkinson would’ve no problem finding the common room after endless hours of trailing Sirius. When they rounded the corner where the portrait of The Fat Lady was, it was already swung open. A group of Hufflepuffs entered the portrait hole in front of them, and Hermione grabbed Parkinson’s arm before she started to run towards it.

“Slow down, Sylvia.” Parkinson hissed as she wobbled from side to side like a penguin behind her.

They managed to sneak inside before the portrait closed, which was lucky since they didn’t have a password to the party they were crashing. But Hermione still considered herself a Gryffindor at heart, so in some sense she was technically invited.

Inside, the common room was crowded, as people from all the Houses (except Slytherin) mingled together. Loud music that Hermione recognises as muggle-rock, filled the air. Some students were dancing and drinking, while others were sitting in groups and chatting. Hermione absorbed the scene with a mixture of nostalgia and longing.

“So, shall we find a wall we can plant ourselves at?” Parkinson whispered into her ear and brought her out from her inner musing.

“Sure.” Hermione nodded and the ‘couple’ tried to walk through the throng of people. Their shoulders brushed against others and Hermione had to roll her eyes as she heard ‘Macmillan’ hiss out in disgust.

“Stop sneering.” She whispered to Parkinson and dragged her towards the nearest wall.

Parkinson huffed but followed suit. “It’s too many people here, all sweaty and acting like barbarians. At least at Slytherin parties people know how to behave themselves, and keep a respectable distance.”

From their spot they had a good view of the crowd. Hermione leaned back against the wall as she observed the party. Surprisingly, people were looking back.

“People are staring at us.” Hermione said.

“Maybe because of your cocktail attire.” Parkinson answered and Hermione scoffed as she gave her a look that said ‘really?’.

Feeling slightly out of place, she smoothed out her skirt and brushed her hair from her shoulder. When she looked up, a group of guys were walking up to them. She recognised one as James Potter.

James clapped his hand on Parkinson’s shoulder which made Parkinson flinch and sneer. “Hey mate, didn’t know you were bringing a date.” He said and looked at Hermione.

Parkinson plucked James’ hand off her shoulder like it was contaminated. “Why yes, let me introduce you to my date, Sylvia Selwyn.”

James gave her a close lip smile as he raised his eyebrows. “We have met.”

Hermione imitated his expression. “Yes we have.” She simply said and James raised his glass in a mock salute before he took a sip.

“So, ready for the game next weekend?” One of the other boys asked Parkinson.

“Of course.” Parkinson sniffed in a very Parkinson manner. Only the way her hair flopped was distinctly Macmillian.

The boys looked a bit weirdly at her. “You okay, Eddie? We have snacks over at the table there.” One of them said and pointed in the direction where the tables were.

"I am on a diet, thank you. Trying to fit in my new robes." Parkinson said, and pushed away her robe to show them her stomach where her shirt was stretched to the point that button threatened to pop.

First the boys looked stunned but then they laughed loudly, and James clapped Parkinson’s shoulder again. “I admit, you had me there for a second.”

One of the boys pointed his finger at Parkinson. “I can spot a Quidditch tactic when I see one.”

It was the girls turn to look at the boys stunned. Neither knew how they managed to turn the topic into Quidditch.

“You think a little diet is going to help you win the next match?” One laughed. “Loosen up mate. I’ll go and get you and your pretty date a drink.” Another said as he turned around and disappeared in the crowd.

James lifted up his now empty cup. “Think I need a refill myself.” He pushed up his glasses and gave them a parting smile before he turned around and disappeared as well.

Hermione leaned back again against the wall and absentmindedly brushed her hair back. She had a distinct feeling that she was being watched but looking over the crowd she didn’t catch anyone’s eyes. Among the people who were dancing was Sirius’ ex girlfriend, Mary. She was dancing close to a tall boy with red hair that first reminded her of Ron.

The sofa area was almost covered in a sea of smoke from the chainsmokers sitting there. Amidst them Hermione spotted a familiar head of flaming red hair. Lily Evans was wearing what Hermione would describe as a typical hippie outfit, a floral off shoulder top and a maxi skirt along with multiple braided necklaces.

Hermione jumped in surprise when Parkinson laid an arm around her shoulders. “Sirius is watching.” She whispered as an explanation. Hermione followed Parkinson’s line of sight until her eyes landed on Sirius.

He was indeed watching them from across the room, leaning against the table next to Remus and the gramophone. He had an unreadable expression on his face and arms crossed, wearing a loose blue shirt with some buttons undone. His wavy hair was messy in an artful way, making him look both elegant and rough.

Hermione didn’t know how she had missed him earlier as he somehow seemed to be the centre of attention of the party without even trying. Surrounded by people who tried to get his attention.

One of the Quidditch boys from earlier walked up to them as he tried to balance holding three drinks. “One for you, Miss Selwyn, and one for the health fanatic.”

“À votre santé.” Parkinson said as she accepted her glass and raised it.

Hermione smelled the drink for any poison before she deemed it safe and raised her glass to toast with the others. Only after Hermione had taken a sip did Parkinson as well.

Parkinson leaned in to whisper in Hermione’s ear. “I know we agreed on being observant wallflowers, but you also claimed that you were going to make a scandal and those two things are a bit contradictory.”

Hermione mulled it over for a moment. “Any suggestions?”

Parkinson answered her with a sinful smile and then took hold of her arm to drag her towards the crowd where the people were dancing. She elbowed her way through and pushed those too close away before she spun Hermione around. Hermione laughed at the spectacle Parkinson was making, surely someone would think that this wasn’t typical Macmillan behaviour. However, she didn’t have it in her to berate her, and instead danced along.

They stumbled on each other's feet and bounced around in a way that surely would be frowned upon in pureblood society. The music was loud and people were singing along, suddenly Mary grabbed Parkinson’s hands at the same time the Ron look-alike took hold of Hermione’s.

Parkinson looked…not pleased, but Hermione tried to assure her with an encouraging smile. It took three spins with the Ron look-alike before Parkinson stole her back.

While they danced, Hermione saw in the corner of her eye that Sirius had joined the dancefloor and was currently dancing with Mary.

When Parkinson also noticed them, she tightened her hold on Hermione. “Ready to make a scandal?” She said but before Hermione had the chance to interpret her meaning, Parkinson bent down and snogged her.

It was brief, but when Hermione looked up several eyes were on them.

She laughed and shook her head as Parkinson did the same.

Hermione searched the crowd for Sirius, but only saw that Mary was back to dancing with the Ron look-alike. She was starting to feel hot and a little sweaty. “I need a breather.” She said to Parkinson.

“Right, I’ll wait by our wall.” Parkinson answered and pointed to the wall they had occupied earlier.

There was a balcony in Gryffindor common room, close to where Remus was still standing with the gramophone. Hermione met his eyes as she was passing and gave him a smile. Remus smiled back, briefly, before he turned his head down and started to fidget with the hem of his sleeve.

Outside on the balcony the air was cold and crisp. Hermione leaned against the stone balustrade as she tried to clear her mind. How many times has she been on this balcony before? Countless, probably, but it still felt foreign.

She could hear the bass through the door and people singing along distantly. The door opened behind her and the music got louder for a few seconds before it closed again. She turned around to see who the intruder was and felt a tinge of disappointment.

“Taking a break from your boyfriend?” One of the Quidditch boys from earlier said. “Here, have a drink.”

“Cheers.” Hermione said as she accepted the drink, but didn’t take a sip.

He moved to stand beside her and gazed out at the view of the Black Lake. “It’s not often there is a Slytherin at our parties.”

“Right.” Hermione said flatly as she planned her escape from the balcony. The boy did not seem to catch on to her disinterest in him as he only chuckled and continued to prattle on. “Great party, isn’t it? You can thank your ex fiance for that, he and his friends are the ones who organised it.”

Hermione made a noncommittal sound which the boy took as encouragement to go on. “You can say alot about those guys, especially your ex, he can be a bit of a twat, but at least they know how to throw a party. Remus as usual is in charge of the music, Peter punch, James games, and Sirius snacks.”

The music briefly got louder as the door behind them opened, announcing a newcomer. “Speak of the devil.” The Quidditch boy muttered.

"McLaggen, Selwyn. Fancy meeting you both here." Sirius chimed, his words slightly slurred as he approached, a drink in each hand. Hermione cast a second glance at the Quidditch player, McLaggen, apparently. While he bore some resemblance to Cormac McLaggen, she wouldn't have made the connection if it hadn't been mentioned.

He thrust one of his drinks into Hermione’s hand and she quickly grasped it to prevent it from slipping to the floor. “Cheers to the one who got away.” He toasted to himself and took a hefty gulp.

“Cheers.” She said but instead of taking a sip she placed both of her drinks on the balustrade behind her.

“Having a good time, mate?” McLaggen asked Sirius.

“The best.” However, the tone in his voice didn’t match his words. “So, how long have you and Macmillan been a thing?” He turned his head towards Hermione, his face completely blank.

“It’s fairly recent.” She simply told him and McLaggen nodded thoughtfully. “Figured as much.”

Sirius on the other hand, didn’t look as convinced.

Once again, the balcony door swung open and a girl with shaggy blond hair entered. Her eyes were boldly lined with charcoal and her clothes looked rumbled. “Stop antagonising the poor Slytherin.” She said and flung her arm around Hermione’s shoulder. It was a strangely familiar gesture, but Hermione found that she didn’t mind.

“We are not antagonising her, Marlene.” McLaggen said at the same time Sirius discretely nicked Marlene’s drink from her hand.

Marlene snorted. “I know the two of you well enough to not believe that.”

“Then you should know that I am only checking up on my once betrothal.” Sirius said in a faux innocent manner.

“Such a gentleman.” Marlene said sarcastically.

The balcony door opened again to reveal Parkinson with two drinks in her hand. “Didn’t realise that the party had moved out here.”

“Macmillan.” Sirius stated as Hermione smiled and reached for one of the cups she was holding. Before she got hold of it, Sirius snatched it and gulped down a generous amount.

“Truly a gentleman.” Marlene snorted.

“Just making sure that Lady Selwyn doesn’t drink too much, as that would be very unladylike.” Sirius tutted with his finger at her.

“I, unlike some, can handle my liquor.” Hermione said and folded her arms.

“Ah, but you are currently on unknown shores far from home, princess.” He mocked her.

“Lucky me for having prince charming here at my service then.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I live to serve.” Sirius bent down and gave her a mock bow.

As he stood up again he lost his balance and stumbled a few steps backwards. McLaggen grabbed his shoulders to help stabilise him. “You alright there?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a bit dizzy.” Sirius brushed him off but Hermione thought he looked on the verge of throwing up.

He was breathing heavily, and Hermione started to worry when she noticed blood on his upper lip. “Sirius, are you okay? Your nose is bleeding.”

“Sure, sure.” He said as he used the back of his hand to wipe away the blood.

“I’ll go and get you some water.” Marlene said and left the balcony.

“Perhaps some sober-up potion if you have.” McLaggen called after her.

Sirius eased himself down against the castle wall, settling into a seated position. As he bent over to cough, Hermione's concern deepened when she noticed blood staining the inside of his elbow.

Surveying the abandoned cups on the balcony, she realised he had likely been drinking from most of them, leaving her no time to inspect each for poison. Opting for a diagnostic charm instead, she found him to be more sober than initially expected, but there seemed to be something wrong in his chest. While illness was a possibility, Hermione suspected poisoning was more likely.

From her purse, she retrieved the bezoar. Crouching down to meet Sirius at eye level, she gently brushed his hair away from his face, revealing his pallor. "I believe you've been poisoned." she murmured softly, her tone filled with concern.

His wide, grey eyes met hers, with a mix of fear and trust. Though he parted his lips as if to speak, no words escaped.

“Here, I brought a bezoar, eat it and hopefully you will be okay.” She handed him the bezoar and Sirius accepted it without a complaint.

After he had swallowed down the bezoar he gave out a breath of relief and rested his head against the wall. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked as she looked over his face.

"Yeah, much better." he mumbled. Although she was relieved, his response only fueled Hermione's suspicion of foul play. Retrieving a few empty vials from her purse, she rose to her feet and carefully collected a sample of liquid from each cup, intending to inspect them more closely later on.

“I think we should go to the hospital wing.” Hermione said.

Sirius looked like he was about to protest but decided against it. Carefully he stood up, with the help of Hermione by his side. She guided his arm around her shoulder for better support. With a glance, she signalled to Parkinson for help, who promptly moved to assist Sirius on his other side.

“How come you carry a bezoar with you to a party?” McLaggen asked.

“It shows that it’s quite necessary when you attend a party with barbarians.” Parkinson sneered at him.

McLaggen shut his mouth and half lifted his hands in surrender as he watched them leave the balcony.

The three of them managed to get through the crowd inside quickly, much thanks to Parkinson who had no problem with pushing people away.

“I will never attend another ill-bred gathering like this for as long as I live.” She swore when the portrait of the Fat Lady closed behind them.

Parkinson was walking in front of them while Hermione helped Sirius. He seemed like he was able to walk fine by himself now, but he still hadn’t removed his arm from around her shoulder.

They had to walk down the stairs to the first floor to reach the hospital wing. Thankfully they were only spotted by ghosts and portraits, rather than Peeves, Filch and Mrs Norris.

Inside there were a couple of other students occupying a few beds. They were all asleep, which Hermione was thankful for, otherwise the rumour mill would likely have brewed up a couple of hundreds different theories before breakfast.

Hermione guided Sirius to a free bed and helped him lay down.

“I’ll go and wake up the matron.” Parkinson said before leaving them.

Hermione sat down in a chair next to his bed while she waited for Parkinson.

“Can’t believe someone would poison me, and in the Gryffindor common room.” Sirius said as he stared at the ceiling.

“Well, you did drink from someone else's drink.”

“But then someone else should also have been poisoned.”

“Not if you stole their cup before they had a chance to drink.” Hermione gave him a loaded look.

Sirius had the decency to look a little ashamed. “So you think the poison was for you instead?”

“Not the first time someone has tried to poison me.”

Sirius looked at her intensely. “You think it’s the same person behind it?”

“Definitely.”

Chapter Text

Hermione was tired when she left the Hospital Wing and walked back to the Slytherin common room. It was still dark, but the morning sun was creeping up and lighting the castle walls. Although not in the dungeon, there it was dark and cold no matter the time of day or year.

Her mind was a chaotic mess. Mixed with worry for Sirius and the ever-growing suspicion of everyone else. The missing pieces of her puzzle were dangling in front of her, so close but still too far out of reach.

The culprit had been at the Gryffindor party. Somehow that made her feel ten steps closer to solving the crime and ten steps back.

But one thing was for sure; the murderer was getting more desperate. The poison Sirius had been poisoned with was not the Lentus Morir Mixture. It had affected him presumably immediately. While the Lentus Morir took six to three months.

She entered her dormitory but instead of getting ready for bed, she went straight to her crime board.

Time was running out. There was definitely no time for sleep. That she could do when she was dead. And if the culprit wasn’t caught quickly, that could happen sooner rather than later.

She went over to where a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn was hanging on her board. She reached out to take it down, since they were no longer suspects. They weren’t at the Gryffindor party, nor did they know that Sylvia was going to attend.

As her fingers closed around the corner of the photo and Hermione stared into the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn, her stomach twisted. Something wasn’t right.

In the photo, Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn were standing outside their manor. It almost looked like a Muggle photo from the way the couple stood still as statues. But if you looked closely, you could see small details that blew in the wind, and a dark shadow moving in one of the windows of the manor. Probably a servant or something.

They looked stupidly rich. With luxurious robes, glittering jewels, and fancy hair updos. They didn’t have to attend the Gryffindor party. They didn’t have to get their hands dirty in order to do malicious things. Not when they could pay someone else to do the job for them.

But in that case, who would be their puppet? Someone they had ties to, someone who would keep an eye on Sylvia, follow her around.

Someone like Parkinson.

Hermione’s eyes widened. She didn’t want to believe it, because despite herself, she had started to warm up to Parkinson and actually didn’t mind her company all that much.

Nope. She had already delayed the Veritaserum test. She hadn’t even done a proper background check or room inspection. She needed answers now.

She stormed out of her room, wand in hand. She didn’t know which room was Parkinson’s, so she knocked on them all. Loudly.

“Parkinson! Wake up. Now.”

A tired-looking witch with her hair up in rollers opened her door. “What, Sylvia?” she hissed. Hermione didn’t know her name, but she was definitely not Parkinson.

“Parkinson. Where is her room?” Hermione asked, keeping her voice sharp.

The witch huffed and rolled her eyes. Hermione was about to reprimand her for the rude behavior, but then the witch walked out of her room. “Follow me.” She said, leading the way.

On their way another witch opened her door. She looked confused until her eyes landed on Hermione. “Oh, sweet Salazar.” She said and closed the door again.

The witch with the rollers stopped just around the corner, pointed to the door, and swiftly turned around to leave.

“Thanks.” Hermione called after her, but the witch just waved dismissively without looking back.

Hermione raised her wand to cast a detection spell for locking charms and jinxes. To her surprise and disappointment, there were none. She would have to have a talk with Parkinson about security. Later.

She opened the door and stepped in. The room was dark, but she quickly lit it with a flick of her wand. Parkinson was sprawled out on her queen-sized bed, one leg hanging off the edge, mouth hanging open, and a green sleep mask covering her eyes.

The whole room vibrated from Parkinson’s loud snoring.

Before Hermione woke her up, she quickly surveyed the room. Parkinson’s room was messy in a typical teenage girl fashion. Robes, makeup, and accessories were scattered everywhere, on the bed, on the floor, and even up the walls like some form of chaotic decoration.

She cast a few detection charms, but the more she looked, the more it seemed like a messy but entirely innocent teenage room. As a last-ditch effort, Hermione tried summoning different things, like poison, but that only resulted in a collection of bathroom products attacking her.

Parkinson had a lot of products. But no poison.

At the far side of the room, in front of the window looking out into the depths of the Black Lake, stood Parkinson’s desk. Hermione walked over and carefully began to sift through the parchments piled there.

There were some letters from Parkinson’s parents. Their tone was so formal and proper that Hermione almost gave herself a headache from rolling her eyes too many times before even finishing the first one.

The rest of the papers were mostly class notes, doodles, and receipts from various shops. No apothecaries in Knockturn Alley or any other suspicious stores. Just robes, accessories, and makeup.

There weren’t any letters from Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn.

Hermione let out a relieved sigh. Although she was no closer to finding the murderer, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She didn’t want it to be Parkinson.

Being trapped in another witch’s body in a different time was lonely enough. She didn’t want to lose the person who had come closest to being her friend.

She glanced at Parkinson, still sprawled out and snoring loudly. Not exactly a sleeping beauty, despite what one might expect from a pureblood heiress. But then again, few things were as they first seemed.

Digging into her purse, Hermione pulled out the small vial of Veritaserum. She needed clear answers. No second-guessing, no room for doubt. That was the only way to know who she could trust.

Raising her wand, she cast a binding spell on Parkinson. The girl remained blissfully unaware, as her snores rattled through the room. Then a tickling jinx to wake her up. Parkinson twitched violently, muttered something unintelligible, and finally began to wake up.

Hermione flicked her wand again, moving Parkinson’s sleeping mask from her eyes to her forehead. When she finally opened her eyes Hermione stood over her. “Good morning. We need to have a chat.”

Parkinson blinked a few times before her eyes widened and she tried to scoot back, only to be pulled short by the bindings.

“What? What is this?” Parkinson stammered, her voice climbing an octave. Then her eyes widened. “Wait, you don’t think it’s me, do you?”

The hurt on Parkinson’s face hit harder than Hermione expected, and a pang of guilt crept in. She softened her tone. “Please try to understand. There’s a murderer on the loose, someone who’s growing bolder and more desperate. I need to be sure I can trust you if we’re going to solve this.”

Parkinson stared at her for a moment, her brows furrowed, then gave a small, resigned nod. “Fine. Give it here, then.”

Hermione didn’t hesitate. Uncorking the vial, she poured a precise measure of Veritaserum into Parkinson’s mouth. Parkinson swallowed, grimaced, and braced herself.

“Have you ever tried to poison me?” Hermione leaned in slightly, watching closely for any sign of resistance.

“No. Never.” Parkinson said firmly, her voice clear and steady.

Hermione pressed on. “Did you have anything to do with the poisoning at the party?”

“No!” Parkinson practically shouted, her voice edged with desperation. “I kept my eyes and ears alert on everyone. That’s all I did at the party.”

“Are you in contact with Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn?” Hermione’s voice dropped slightly, sharper now.

“No.” Parkinson shook her head vehemently. “Never spoke to them except for exchanging pleasantries at events with my parents. That’s it.”

Hermione searched Parkinson’s face as the girl sagged against the bindings. She watched for any sign of someone fighting the effects of Veritaserum, but there was nothing. The truth spilled out of Parkinson as easily as water from a cracked goblet.

Hermione nodded in response and let a small smile graced her lips. “Is there any information relevant to the investigation that you have intentionally kept from me?”

“No. I have told you all I know.”

“Good. Thank you. I hope you understand why this was necessary.” Hermione said as she flicked her wand and vanished the bonds holding Parkinson in place.

Parkinson sat up, rubbing her wrists with a slight frown. It took her a moment before she spoke. “I do. I was there when the medi-witch told you that you should’ve been dead. And then Sirius got poisoned tonight.”

She paused, meeting Hermione’s gaze. “Honestly, I don’t blame you. But I hope you’ll trust me from now on.”

“I will.” Hermione replied, her voice steady and solemn.

The two witches shared a moment of mutual understanding before they were rudely interrupted.

From outside the room, they heard someone yelling. Both Hermione and Parkinson turned their heads toward the door.

“Parkinson!” The voice came again, this time accompanied by loud, insistent knocking. “Parkinson!”

The witches exchanged puzzled looks.

“No clue.” Parkinson said with a shrug.

Hermione squinted at the door, her brow furrowing. “Is it? No, it can’t be-”

“Parkinson! Open up!” The voice continued, sounding even more irate.

“Whoever it is will regret this.” Parkinson grumbled, grabbing her wand from her nightstand and giving it a menacing twirl.

Hermione snickered as the yelling finally clicked. Recognizing the voice, she moved to open the door.

Regulus Black stormed inside the moment the door cracked open, pointing an accusatory finger straight at Parkinson. “You!” He said, his tone sharp.

Parkinson visibly gulped, her confident demeanor crumbling in an instant. “Oh, good morning, Regulus.” She said, her voice unnaturally light and sweet, so much so that Hermione barely recognized it.

“My Acromantula robes!” Regulus thundered, narrowing his eyes at her. “You stole them, didn’t you? I was saving them for the next Slug Club meeting!”

Parkinson straightened up where she still sat on her messy bed. “Stole? No! I merely borrowed.”

“You took them without asking. Robbed me! How dare you?” Regulus folded his arms, his glare icy. “I knew you were up to something yesterday when you wouldn’t let me leave the common room.”

“Regulus, we can explain!” Hermione jumped in, unwilling to let Parkinson take the fall for this one.

Regulus turned sharply toward her, as if only now registering her presence in the room. His expression darkened. “You helped her, didn’t you?”

“Yes, it was me who took it. And I’m sorry, but please let us explain.”

Regulus gave her a piercing, stern gaze that rivaled her own on her best day. After a moment of tense silence, he nodded once. “Fine. I’ll hear you out.”

Hermione and Parkinson exchanged a loaded look before Hermione let out a sigh. “Someone is trying to kill me with poison. They’ve tried multiple times, even here at Hogwarts. Last night we were investigating, and the killer tried to poison me again but Sirius was the one who got poisoned.”

Regulus gasped, his arms dropping to his sides as he took a step back. “What?”

“He’s alive and well.” Hermione rushed to add, trying to ease his panic. “Still at the Hospital Wing.”

Regulus’ shoulders sagged in visible relief.

“We needed your robes because Parkinson was attending the Gryffindor party Polyjuiced as Macmillan. And we couldn't leave him in a brom closet and undress him.” Hermione admitted, a shameful blush creeping up her face. Saying it aloud made it sound worse than it actually was.

“Edward Macmillan?” Regulus gaped at her. “Polyjuice? That’s why you kept staring at him over dinner?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s a Quidditch player and was also invited to the party.” Hermione said, fiddling with the hem of her cocktail dress.

“And you wore that?” Regulus pointed at her dress, his expression shifting to one of horror. “To a Gryffindor party? What were you thinking?”

Parkinson snorted. “I told her the same thing. But, you know, brain damage from the coma or something.”

Regulus whipped back toward Parkinson. “You wore Acromantula silk to a peasant party!”

Parkinson visibly wilted, lowering her head in shame. “I needed to match my date.”

Hermione snorted in response. “Ridiculous.” She muttered under her breath.

Regulus still looked appalled. “He’s twice my size! If you resized my robes, you’re dead to me.”

Parkinson gasped, clutching her chest. “I would never!”

“You better not have! Where are my robes?” Regulus asked, glaring as he scanned the chaos of the room, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Parkinson scrambled out of bed, but Hermione was faster. With a flick of her wand, she summoned the robes from where they lay neatly folded on a chair. Hermione noted that they were the only clothes in the entire room folded or remotely organized.

Regulus snatched the robes from the air and immediately began inspecting them, his movements quick and methodical. Hermione and Parkinson both held their breath, waiting for his verdict.

“It’s not ruined.” He finally declared. “Against all odds, it’s not ruined.”

Both Hermione and Parkinson let out a relieved sigh.

“But next time.” Regulus continued, his voice sharp, “you need to ask me beforehand. Why didn’t you?” His voice cracked slightly at the last part, the hurt slipping through despite his best effort to hide it.

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She liked Regulus, but how could she trust him? He was a future Death Eater and Sirius’ brother, and judging from the article clippings about Sylvia in his room, he might not be as innocent as he looked.

“Would you even have wanted to attend a Gryffindor party?” Parkinson asked, breaking the silence.

“S.P.E.W. is supposed to stand together. Especially when a member is in mortal danger.” Regulus’ voice was so soft, so small, it tugged at Hermione’s heartstrings.

Perhaps she could reconsider. He was right that S.P.E.W. was supposed to stand together. There was also the possibility that he had some valuable insights.

And there was one obvious way to find out if he could be trusted.

“Give him some Veritaserum.” Parkinson beat her by saying.

Regulus looked startled but didn’t say anything. Hermione fished out the Veritaserum from her purse.

“It’s your choice whether you want to take it. But if you want to be in on the murder investigation we need to know for sure we can trust you.” Hermione decided to go for a bit more gentle route than she had with Parkinson. Regulus was, after all, still rightfully angry with them for overstepping and borrowing his robes.

Hermione expected him to hesitate, to take a moment to consider. Instead, he rushed forward, grabbed the bottle from her hand, and without a word, unscrewed it and gulped down a generous dose.

“Ask away.” He said, lifting his chin, his eyes meeting hers without flinching.

“Okay.” Hermione said seriously. “Let’s start with the newspaper clippings on your wall. Why did you have so many articles about me?”

Regulus answered immediately. “I was worried that my brother had something to do with your hospitalization.”

“Why?” Hermione prompted.

“The Lentus Morir Mixture is an ancient potion that belongs to the Black family legacy.” The words rushed out of Regulus while his face remained stoic. “Not many people know about it.”

Hermione gaped at him, taking a few moments to gather her thoughts. “How do you know I was poisoned with Lentus Morir?”

“I went to St. Mungo’s and asked there.” Regulus replied flatly. “I needed to investigate. Sirius was very clear that he didn’t want to marry you. He said that he would do whatever it takes to get out of the arrangement.”

“And what’s your verdict now?” Hermione asked even though she was pretty sure of Sirius’ innocence.

“It’s not him.” Regulus replied firmly. “He would never have made it; it requires very dark magic to brew, and he doesn’t have the knowledge. If it was him he must’ve bought it. So I tracked down where it was bought, and it was stolen from The Hag’s Brew during Christmas break. We were in France over Christmas, and Sirius was barely out of my sight. He couldn’t have stolen it.”

Hermione went over everything he said, and it all added up to what she had already knew. “Do you have any other suspects?” she asked.

“Yes. I doubt it could be anyone else from my family.” Regulus replied. “My mother, especially, was very insistent on the arrangement, as she is good friends with your parents. And the marriage would benefit our House significantly, given how large your dowry was.”

Hermione made a mental note to further inspect the details of the arrangement and her dowry later.

“But-” Regulus hesitated. “I haven’t completely ruled out my family. They know about the potion, and they have ties with you and the House of Selwyn. It’s not like they tell me everything. However, it could also be that my family shared the knowledge about the Lentus Morir to someone else, someone outside of my family but still close to them.”

“Like who?” Parkinson asked from where she was sitting on her bed with her arms crossed.

Regulus gave Hermione a guilty look. “Your parents.” He shook his head. “Sorry, but all my investigation points toward them. I read every article about your ‘accident’ and they all hint that the accident was self-inflicted, which is absurd since it was caused by the Lentus Morir, which your parents must know about. And your parents have more than enough gold and influence to have the media create the exact narrative that they wish for.”

Hermione gave him a nod. “That’s more or less the same conclusion we’ve come to. However, if it is them, then they must have someone here at Hogwarts helping them. Someone who tried to poison me at the Gryffindor party but ended up poisoning Sirius instead.”

Regulus started pacing, his arms clasped behind his back. “I have no idea. If your parents have someone here at Hogwarts, it would almost certainly be a Slytherin. I can’t imagine anyone else, not even a Ravenclaw.”

“Then we need to keep catching clues!” Parkinson piped up from the bed, her eyes gleaming. “And we should set up some sort of trap for the murderer.”

“Have you heard from your parents recently? If they have a spy here at Hogwarts, they’ll know very soon - if they don’t already - that you went to a Gryffindor party.” Regulus stopped pacing and looked pointedly at Hermione.

“I’m expecting it. Let’s get ready and go to breakfast to see.” Hermione said as she moved toward the door.

“Wait.”

Hermione paused mid-step and turned to see Regulus watching her, his expression sharp. “You not only took my robes, but you also searched through my things and took my articles?”

Hermione hesitated, her mind racing. “Well.” She said carefully, “it’s required to do a background check and room inspection for all new members of S.P.E.W.”

Regulus’ eyes softened. “Ah, that makes sense.” He nodded. “But can I have them back?”

“We’ll see about that.” Hermione replied as she turned and walked out the door, not overly eager to return his Death Eater propaganda articles, especially since she’d already Vanished them.

After a long shower and a dose of Pepperup Potion, Hermione entered the Great Hall with Parkinson and Regulus at her side.

As soon as the other Slytherins saw them, they politely shuffled down the bench, giving the trio plenty of space to sit together alone.

As Hermione poured herself a cup of tea she noted that Sirius and his friends were absent. She was not the only one who noticed that, as Regulus' eyes were also fixed at the Gryffindor table.

“We can go visit him after breakfast.” She said quietly to him.

Regulus looked startled for a split second before he masked his features into one of confusion. “Whatever do you mean?” He asked a bit too innocently.

Hermione suppressed a sigh. She knew that the relationship between the two brothers was complicated, to put it mildly. But she had seen genuine concern on his face when she told him that Sirius had been poisoned, but to make him admit that would be difficult. Perhaps she could try a different approach.

“Don’t you think we need to ask him some questions?” Hermione gave him a pointed look as she raised her eyebrows.

Realisation dawned upon Regulus’ face. “Oh, of course. The investigation.” He nodded briskly. “Yes we should go and visit, see if he knows anything of value.”

“Then we will need a proper excuse for the visit.” Hermione pointed out. “I mean, we can’t just march up to him interrogation-style.” Hermione said, though she refrained from mentioning that she had done so on more than one occasion.

She paused, swirling her tea with deliberate nonchalance. “What if we visit him under the guise of concern about his wellbeing?” She suggested in a casual tone.

Regulus mulled this over, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a good idea. But to make it believable, we should bring a gift or a card.”

“I’ve got you covered.” Parkinson said with a wink. “I have just the right thing to give him.”

Hermione suppressed a smile and turned her attention to buttering her toast. Her stomach growled, eager for sustenance after a long, sleepless night filled with action. With a twist of her wrist, she wandlessly levitated a hearty portion of bacon, sausages, and eggs onto her plate.

The first bites brought instant relief, restoring some of the energy the Pepperup Potion couldn’t quite provide. As effective as the potion was, nothing could truly replace the comfort of a proper meal.

“Look! Here it comes.” Parkinson interrupted her mid bite.

Hermione looked up to see hundreds of owls flying around to deliver today's news and mail. For the first time since she arrived here, she actually hoped for a letter from Mr and Mrs Selwyn.

An owl swooped down toward them, its beady eyes fixed on their table. Hermione’s hopes lifted for a second, only for the owl to snatch a piece of her bacon before veering over to Parkinson, dropping a letter in her lap. The trio collectively sighed.

Another owl approached, its wings flapping purposefully as it descended. Hermione, Parkinson, and Regulus shared an excited glance as the bird snagged a sausage from Hermione’s plate. Their hopes soared for a brief moment - only to be dashed again when the owl delivered the letter to Regulus instead.

“Bloody uncle.” Regulus muttered, inspecting the seal on the envelope.

Hermione picked at the rest of her breakfast, her pace slow and distracted. Every few seconds, she glanced upward, scanning for any sign of more owls heading their way.

“I don’t think they have sent any letters.” Regulus said after a moment, his tone flat.

“No, me neither.” Hermione said and pursed her lips. It was really impossible to make any sort of sense of Mr and Mrs Selwyn. Every time she thought she got them figured out, they went and proved her wrong.

“Forget about that. Have you oblivious fools not noticed that the entire hall is staring at us?” Parkinson leaned in to hiss.

Hermione looked around the Great Hall. Sure enough, a considerable number of students were sneaking glances their way, whispering behind hands and napkins. “Curious.” Hermione muttered, her eyes landing on the Ravenclaw table where Macmillan was watching her. He smiled sheepishly and offered her a small wave.

Hermione returned it with a forced smile and an uncertain wave. Hopefully he had no recollection of last night, and was under the belief that he had drunk too much and ended up in a broom closet. Not the first time that had happened to a Quidditch player.

“What exactly did you do at the party?” Regulus asked in disbelief as he took in all the students looking at them and whispering.

Parkinson snickered. “She snogged Macmillian.”

“What?” Regulus looked even more confused. “But…weren't you?-”

Parkinson waved her hand dismissively. “Sure, sure. But nobody except us knows that.”

“You think that is what they are whispering about?” Hermione asked, glancing at the nearest table, where a group of Hufflepuffs looked particularly invested in the drama.

“Of course. This is what you wanted right? You can’t create a scandal without stirring things up a little.” Parkinson said while Regulus still looked like he’d been hit with a Confundus Charm.

“Yes, of course.” Hermione said, though her tone lacked confidence. “But why is Macmillan looking at me like that?” She cast another uneasy glance toward the Ravenclaw table, where Macmillan was still staring.

Parkinson’s grin widened into a full-blown Cheshire cat smirk. “My guess? He doesn’t mind too much being told he snogged you.”

“Oh.” Was all Hermione had to say about that. This was not something she had taken into account. “Uhm.” She tried again but her brain stopped short.

Thankfully, Regulus stepped in. “Perhaps we should go and prepare for the Hospital visit. Parkinson, is the gift you had in mind for Sirius in your dorm? We might need a minute to find it there.”

Without a word the three of them stood up and walked out of the Great Hall. As they walked Hermione could still feel the eyes of several students at her back.

Before she even reached the doors, a voice called after her.

“Sylvia! Wait up!”

Hermione closed her eyes, swallowing down a surge of annoyance.

“Just go get the gift and meet me outside the Hospital Wing.” She told Parkinson and Regulus.

They hesitated, both glancing over her shoulder at the approaching Macmillan. Parkinson looked eager to stay, but Regulus shook his head and dragged her away before she could protest.

“Macmillan.” Hermione turned to greet him with a polite smile.

He rushed up to her, raking a hand through his hair. “Please, call me Eddie.” he said, flashing a charming smile.

“Well, Eddie, what can I do for you?” Hermione asked, glancing around, already searching for an excuse to cut the conversation short.

Macmillian laughed. “Sylvia” He began. “It’s okay that I call you that, right?”

“Sure.” Dread filled Hermione as she looked at Macmillian. She felt guilty for locking him up in a broom closet, using him for Polyjuice and then the rumors now of them snogging at the party. He probably didn’t deserve any of it.

But guilt wasn’t her only concern. What if he’d figured it out? She should’ve gone for someone a bit dimmer, like Crabbe or Goyle. They’d been perfect back in her time with Harry and Ron.

Well, what’s done was done. Going back in Time to fix the issue was out of the question. No, she needed to find out what Macmillian knew or suspected. And in the worst case scenario, she would have to Obliviate him.

“I just wanted to say thanks for last night.” Macmillan said, smiling.

Hermione froze, like a deer caught in headlights. He knew. He had to know. This was just her luck.

“I know we haven’t spoken much before.” Macmillan continued, his tone oddly sincere. “But I have to admit, you fascinate me. And you were especially fun last night.” He grinned cheekily, and Hermione couldn’t figure out his angle. Was he teasing her? Trying to catch her in a lie?

Macmillan chuckled and Hermione was sure then that he was teasing her. “What I’m trying to say is, I think you’re beautiful. I couldn’t exactly ask you out before, what with you being engaged to Black. But since you’re single now...” He hesitated, looking almost nervous. “I was wondering if you’d like to go on the next Hogsmeade trip with me?”

Hermione blinked at him, utterly baffled. Why wasn’t he accusing her outright? What was his game here?

“So, what do you say?” Macmillan asked her and looked at her…nervously?

“...yes?” Hermione said slowly, still trying to understand what Macmillan was up to.

Macmillan beamed, and she managed a confused smile in return, though it felt more like baring her teeth.

“Great! Next weekend, then. I’ll pick you up here, outside the Great Hall!” With that, he turned and strode back into the hall before she could respond.

Hermione stood there, dumbfounded, for a long moment before shaking her head and heading toward the Hospital Wing. Quidditch boys could sometimes be even more baffling than stuck-up purebloods. It was like she was the only one at Hogwarts with any sense left.

Hermione stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently against the stone floor as Parkinson and Regulus finally appeared.

“What took you so long?” Hermione asked, uncrossing her arms.

“Blame her.” Regulus said, jerking his head toward Parkinson. “She couldn’t decide between two different gifts.”

Parkinson scoffed, holding up a box wrapped in green and silver paper. “Sirius is a complicated man. A gift for him needs thought. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t press further. Instead, she gestured toward the door. “Ready?”

The trio entered the Hospital. It was packed with everything from young students who hadn’t gotten used to a wand yet, Quidditch players and older students passing out from exam stress. In the middle of it all lay Sirius, surrounded by tons of flowers, cards and his three friends who did not look too happy about the trio who made their way over.

Sirius was sitting up in his bed, and as he spotted them he gave them a wicked grin but the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.

He raised an eyebrow as they approached. “What’s this? Slytherins bringing me gifts? Should I be concerned?” He said in a jokingly manner although his friends definitely looked concerned.

Hermione mirrored his expression and raised one eyebrow back at him as she placed the box on the small table beside his bed. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t bother wrapping it.”

“Comforting.” Sirius said dryly, though his lips twitched into a smirk.

Hermione stepped forward, her expression softening. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Sirius replied, his voice steady but lacking its usual energy. “Madam Pomfrey says I’ll be out by tomorrow, though she’s lectured me enough for a lifetime about drinking strange punch.”

Hermione could see Regulus visibly relax at the news. She glanced at Sirius’ friends; James looked like he was ready to draw his wand. If there was a chance for Regulus to talk to Sirius, she knew they’d have to leave.

“Do you mind if we talk to him alone?”

James narrowed his eyes. “Why should we leave him alone with you lot?”

Parkinson scoffed but before Hermione could answer, Sirius waved them off. “It’s fine, you can survive a minute without me.”

James didn’t look pleased, but after a tense staring contest with Sirius, he sighed, shoulders sagging. He turned to Remus and Peter. “Alright then, we’ll wait outside.”

Remus and Peter didn’t argue, but they did throw a few skeptical glances over their shoulders as they left.

“Are you hurt?” Regulus asked and Sirius looked up at his brother. Some of his earlier bravado had slipped off his face.

“No, it's fine now. But thanks for asking.” He gave them a small, half-hearted smile while his fingers absently twirled the hem of the sheets.

“That’s good.” Regulus said but he still looked uneasy.

“Cheer up, brother.” Sirius said, his tone light but carrying an edge. “It’s not like I’m the heir anymore.” Then he looked over at Hermione. “Or anyone’s fiance.”

Regulus stiffened at the remark, his jaw tightening.

“That’s not-” He paused, swallowing down. “You know that’s not why we are here.” He settled for.

Sirius looked over at Parkinson and then Hermione. “No? Here to take advantage of a sick man in the name of elvish welfare?”

“Well, if you are offering.” Parkinson said dryly and Hermione scoffed. Instead of answering him she changed the subject.

“Do you know what you were poisoned with?”

“Doomroot, Madam Pomfrey informed me. She also said that I would have been dead if it wasn’t for your bezoar. So thanks for that.” Sirius gave her a genuine look of gratitude, though his tone remained sarcastic.

“You’re welcome.” she said quietly, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest.

Regulus watched them both closely, but didn’t comment, his eyes flicking between his brother and Hermione.

Sirius shifted in his bed. “Well, now that I’m alive and all, what’s the plan?” His voice was more serious now, and his gaze bounced between them impatiently. “To catch the killer, I mean. You have a plan, right?”

Before answering, Hermione raised her wand and cast a quick privacy spell. “We’re still piecing it together.” She glanced at Parkinson and Regulus. “But we’re on it.”

Sirius furrowed his brows. “We?”

Hermione frowned, confused.

“Would’ve been nice to be included. I have only almost died at the hands of the killer after all.” He said and gave her a flat look.

“It’s not even been 24 hours since you were poisoned -” Hermione tried to reason with him but Sirius interrupted.

“So? Been busy with your new boyfriend?”

Hermione scoffed, but the heat rising to her cheeks betrayed her. She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, a younger boy with a green tie approached them.

Quickly, Hermione cancelled the privacy spell. “This is for you.” Said the young boy, holding out an envelope. “It arrived after you left the Great Hall.”

Hermione hesitated only for a moment before taking the letter. The seal of the House of Selwyn was unmistakable.

“Thank you.” She called after the boy, but he had already disappeared down the corridor.

“Come on, open it.” Parkinson urged, leaning closer with barely concealed excitement.

Hermione didn’t hesitate. She tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. The message was short and clear: She was summoned home.