Hermione's Mistake

CHAPTER 1

“Hermione Granger,” said Professor McGonagall. Hermione followed her through the door into the Transfiguration classroom. There was one desk in the middle of the room. On it sat a teacup.
“Stand here please Miss Granger. Wand ready? Very well, you first task is revision – transform this into a mouse, please. Very good. Now, task two…”

***

Fifteen minutes later…

***

Professor McGonagall removed the fishbowl containing a goldfish that Hermione had transformed into seaweed, and then restored. “Only one more to go, Miss Granger. You may transfigure the desk into whatever you wish. You will get points for how complex and exact your object is, and how well you manage to return it to its original form.” Hermione almost gasped aloud. She couldn’t think. Her mind had gone completely blank. Nerves were making her head ache terribly. Why couldn’t McGonagall have suggested something? There wasn’t nothing to do but wing it. Hermione closed her eyes and swished her wand in a well-remembered path. Too nervous to open her eyes, she just stood there and waited until Professor McGonagall asked her to reverse the spell.
“Mmm…interesting,” said the professor in an odd voice. “I suppose this has some significance in the Muggle world? Well, it seems very well done, and it is more difficult to transfigure into multiple objects, but it does seem a somewhat odd choice.” Hermione opened her eyes cautiously, and checked a groan of dismay.
“May I revert it now?” she asked.
“Certainly. Very good, just as it was. Possibly better than it was. Thank you Miss Granger, if you would like to leave through that door.”

Hermione walked out through the doorway, and shut the door behind her. She leaned her sore head against the cold stone wall, and choked back tears. Still, she had done everything fine, even that last one. If only they gave points for originality – she was certain no one else would have decided to transfigure the desk into a glass of water and two aspirin. This wasn’t helping her learn for her last exam, though. She rubbed her eyes, and started to walk back to the Gryffindor common room.

***

“Only one exam to go!” Seamus yelled out to the common room in general. Angelina Johnson threw a cushion at him from behind her books, where she, like all the other seventh years, was studying frantically for her N.E.W.T.s. Neville looked like he was about to burst into tears.
“B-b-but it’s *potions*,” he moaned. A few people looked at him sympathetically. No-one could understand why he had kept on with it, although it may have been something to do with the Howler his grandmother had sent him threatening disembowelment if he didn’t continue with the “worthy” subjects. Certainly Professor Snape had been threatening disembowelment when he found out Neville was continuing. In one of his more hysterical moments Neville had asked the professor if there was a potion to make people good at Potions. Snape hadn’t even deigned to reply – just swirled his cloak around his body, as if to shield it from Neville, and stalked away.

Hermione groaned and leaned her head against the cool pages of her copy of ‘Dastardly Drafts and Potent Potions’. She felt awful, like she was coming down with the flu or something. She could go to Madam Pomfrey, but that would take away from her precious studying time. She rubbed her eyes, and tried to read page 151 for the tenth time.
“Are you alright, Hermione?” asked Harry, looking concerned.
“I’m fine!” she snapped shrilly, “just tired.”
He looked vaguely affronted, and went back to reading his copy of ‘Quidditch through the Ages’ again. Hermione frowned. Bloody Harry! Why did he have to ask her how she was? Why couldn’t Ron ask how she was? Or didn’t he care? She didn’t want Harry talking to her all the time. There was enough gossip about her and Harry as it was. Even if Ron did like her he probably wouldn’t say anything because he’d think he was stealing her away from Harry or something stupid like that. Hermione groaned. Sometimes she thought too much for her own good.
“I’m going to bed,” she said quietly. Harry looked up and said goodnight. Ron only gave an off-hand “night” from behind his book. She frowned again. He wasn’t exactly making life any easier for her.

She yawned as she walked up the staircase to her dormitory. She’d been planning on looking up love spells again tonight before the other girls came to bed, but she was just too tired. Anyway, they all seemed to be spells for finding out who your true love was, which was no use to Hermione. She’d tried a few at the beginning, and they’d only confirmed what she’d already known. She’d even tried the old muggle tradition of peeling an apple (when she’d finally convinced her parents that she really did need a vegetable peeler for one of her classes) and throwing the peel over her shoulder to spell out the first initial of her true love. That had worked, too; unless her feelings had completely decieved her and Roger Davies really was her type.

For the first night in months Hermione didn’t lay awake worrying about her lovelife (or lack of, more to the point). She collapsed weakly onto the four-poster bed, and fell asleep fully clothed.

***

That night Hermione tossed and turned, dreaming feverish dreams. Roller-blading spiders…following butterflies…Hogwarts’ first red-headed Quidditch captain…someone telling her that she was “bloody brilliant”…a lion - shaking her …Hermione! …Hermione! …Oh, it’s no good, she just won’t wake …Someone go and get a wet flannel …Why? No, don’t bother with that …Look – excito!

Hermione woke with a start, to find her blankets twisted around her, and Lavender and Parvati looking down at her with concerned faces. Her heart sank, and she almost bolted to the bathroom to throw up. Today was her Potions exam, and she couldn’t remember a thing!


CHAPTER 2
Hermione reassured Lavender and Parvati that she had simply slept badly because she was nervous about the exam. They took some convincing, but eventually they left her to have a quick shower and pull on her robes hurriedly. She had hoped the shower would help her to feel better, but despite having the hot water as high as it would go, she was still left feeling cold and shaky, not to mention her head, which was still aching terribly. Realising she was running late for breakfast she ran out of the room, before returning to grab ‘Dastardly Drafts and Potent Potions’. Hopefully she would be able to read it at breakfast, and remember something about Potions before the exam. She raced out the room and down the stairs to the Great Hall, only the anti-tripping charms preventing her from missing her step and falling down the last five flights.

Everyone looked at her curiously as she entered the Great Hall. Hermione was famous for her punctuality (apart from a few strange incidents in third year, but everyone seemed to have forgotten them). Not quite as famous as for being a know-all, but famous nonetheless. She bowed her head and walked quickly to the Gryffindor table, where Harry and Seamus made room for her.

“You all right, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“For the last time, I’m fine!” Hermione said sharply. “I’m just nervous about the exam.” She sighed; she didn’t want to be mean to Harry, but Ron hadn’t even bothered to say ‘good morning’ to her. As she sat down hurriedly, she missed Ron shooting her a concerned glance. He looked as though he was about to say something to her, but instead he blushed and turned his attention back to his porridge. Instead it was Seamus who spoke to her.

“You think you’re nervous,” he said, “you obviously haven’t seen Neville.” Hermione glanced past him to where Neville was sitting. He was about the same colour as Trevor the toad. In fact, with a look at Trevor, who was sitting on the table, Hermione decided the toad actually looked better than Neville. Still, looking at Neville wouldn’t help her learn anything about Potions. She pulled the textbook out from her robes and set it down on her lap, hoping that no one would see. They’d probably tell her she studied too hard and take the book away.

“Aren’t you going to have any breakfast, Hermione?” Seamus asked.

“Oh, I’ll just have some toast.” With that, two slices of toast materialised on the plate in front of her. The topping varied from day to day. On special occasions Dumbledore would let them have Naxyberry jam, which had happiness-inducing properties. On one occasion when Professor Snape had been it an especially foul mood he had gone down to the kitchen and ordered the house elves to change the topping. The next morning the students had found their toast covered in an especially distasteful version of anchovy-and-flobberworm paste. Hermione wondered if maybe he’d decided to give them a surprise just before their exam when her toast appeared covered in some sort of brown goo. She raised one piece and sniffed it, before biting a corner gingerly. Feeling sick as she was, it was also she could do to not spit it out. “What is this?” she asked. Harry laughed.

“You’re not the only one,” he said, gesturing at numerous students around the hall gagging on their breakfast. “See her?” he said. Hermione looked where he was pointing at an unfamiliar student sitting at the Ravenclaw table. She seemed to be the only person in the room enjoying the toast. “She’s the new exchange student, just arrived here from Australia. Dumbledore decided to make her feel at home by putting Vegemite on the toast.” Hermione smiled wanly.

“I don’t know if that was a good idea,” she commented, “everyone will probably be wanting her to leave now. Anyway, I’m going back upstairs, I might try to do some last-minute revision.”

“But you haven’t had any breakfast!”

“You sound just like my mother,” she snapped, and hurried out the room. Ron made to go after her, but Harry pulled him down.

“Why’s she being so mean to me, Ron? Anyway, I liked her mum.” Ron shrugged.

“You know what Hermione’s like around exams. She’ll be right this afternoon.” Ron looked around to see if he could go after her again, but his way was blocked. His worst enemy, Draco Malfoy, stood there shadowed by his friends Crabbe and Goyle.

“What’s wrong with your girlfriend, Potter?” drawled Malfoy. Harry opened his mouth in surprise, but Ron beat him to it.

“Shut up, Malfoy!”

“Oooh, a bit touchy are we, Weasel? I suppose it’s jealousy. After all, everyone knows you’re never going to get a girlfriend. Who’d want someone with a family as poor and disgraceful as yours? Not to mention those freckles. Ugh.” Ron swung his arm back, ready to punch Malfoy so hard he’d be seeing stars for a month, but Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him down.

“Get lost, Malfoy,” Harry said calmly, “don’t you have something better to do? Some more embroidery to do?” The Gyrffindor table sniggered at the reminder of the time he had been caught embroidering a handkerchief for his mother. Draco blanched, and then turned on his heel and walked away, Crabbe and Goyle trailing after. “Oh, and Hermione’s not my girlfriend,” Harry called after him.

“Why on earth did you say that?” Seamus asked him.

“But she’s not my girlfriend,” Harry said.

“Yeah, but saying that’s hardly going to help. It’ll be all over Witch Weekly: ‘Harry Potter denies relationship.’ Then people will be on the look out to prove you wrong, show that you and Hermione really are an item. Even though you’re not.”

“Well, what am I meant to say. If I deny it, they won’t believe me, but if I lie and say we are going out, they will believe me!”

“He’s not the messiah, he’s a very naughty boy,” muttered Dean.

“What?” said Seamus.

“Nothing – muggle joke.”

“I don’t know it,” said Harry.

“Well, yeah, but you had a deprived childhood.”

“There was nothing wrong with my childhood!” retorted Harry heatedly.

“Mate, you spent it with the Dursleys,” pointed out Ron.

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry quietly. Everyone got up to leave. Ron sighed, only ten minutes until the Potions exam, not long enough to go and check if Hermione was alright. He followed the others out of the Great Hall, and down to the dungeon.

~ooo~



CHAPTER 3
The sixth years taking the Potions exam filed silently into the dungeon, Ron and Harry among them. The room was filled with lots of little cubicles, each supplied with all the necessary equipment, including a sturdy cauldron, beakers, spoons, and knives. The ingredients were secreted in silver containers, which would be charmed so the students could not open them until the exam had started. They each moved silently to a cubicle, no one wanting to disturb anything and risk raising Professor Snape’s ire. Neville went to a corner cubicle, hoping he could stay unnoticed, while Harry and Ron settled into cubicles next to each other, in the middle of the room. Hermione stood back, unsure of where to go. Eventually there was only one left, on the right hand side of the room, which Hermione sat down at quietly. She was shivering slightly, however she couldn’t decide if it was the everpresent chill of the dungeons, or the mind-numbing fear she faced. She had read at least three of her Potions books in the common room, desperately trying to remember something. She thought she had learnt a few useful things, but it was like trying to hold water in a paper bag; by the time she reached bottom of the main staircase they had gone again. There was nothing she could do, she would just have to hope that some innate ability would allow her to pass her exams.

Professor Snape swept into the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Very well, you are all here to complete your Potions practical examination. During this examination you are expected to complete one potion heretofore unknown to you. It is extremely complex, and the slightest mistake on your part could result in disaster,” he glanced pointedly at Neville. “However, the attentive student, who has listened to every instruction in every class, should find it presents no challenge. When I turn over the hourglass, the instructions will appear inside the cubicle in front of you. You will have two hours in which to complete the potion. You must then decant it into the silver flask, which you will leave next to your cauldron. Be warned, any attempts to cheat, including looking at the work of any of your fellow students, will have most dire consequences. Do you understand me?” He looked around the room. Everyone avoided his gaze, except for Malfoy, who looked smugly back at him. “Very well. The examination commences…now.” He waved his wand, and the large hourglass at the front of the room turned over. Silver sand began to trickle down into the bottom, glowing slightly as it did so.

The instructions appeared in front of Hermione. She stared blankly at them, unsure where to start. ‘Finely slice two mandrake roots.’ That seemed simple enough. She opened her containers carefully until she found the mandrake roots, and selected the two best. She began to slice them with a delicate copper knife, but her hands were shaking badly. The slices were extremely uneven in size, and some of them had not even been cut through. She rested her cool hands against her hot, aching forehead. If only she could remember a spell to soothe her head, but everything seemed foggy. She sighed and tried to calm herself down – panicking now wouldn’t achieve anything. She returned to her potion, and moved on to the next step. She gradually moved through each instruction, trying to complete them carefully, but nothing seemed to be going right. It took her five minutes to light the fire underneath the cauldron, and that was a simple spell she had learnt in first year. Her palms were beginning to sweat, and her head was aching worse than ever. One instruction required her to stir the potion ten times in a clockwise direction, but she lost count after a few stirs. She couldn’t even find the boomslang skin. Finally she realised she was up to step twenty-eight - the last one. She sighed with relief. She only had a little time left. The hourglass was beginning to glow more and more brightly as time ran out, and the top bulb was almost empty. She leaned in to read it more closely, and almost gasped with shock as she realised she had completely missed steps twenty to twenty-five. She looked around at all the other students, who were finishing up. Even Neville was starting to decant his potion. She sighed, and added the obsidian powder. Her hand slipped, and she added more than twice as much as she needed. She looked down at her potion in horror as it bubbled, with a thick layer of smoke filling up the cauldron and rolling over the edges. As it cleared her finished potion came into view. The obsidian powder was intended to thicken the potion to a syrup. Unfortunately hers had thickened too much. In fact it had solidified into a small, glistening rock at the bottom of the cauldron. She stared at it, and began to shake more violently than ever. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t even hand that up; it would never fit into the silver flask. Discreetly, she pick up the pestle she had used to crush the scarab beetle eyes, and tried to use it to break off part of the rock. Suddenly, just as she broke of a bit, there was a commotion at the front of the room.

Goyle had stood up suddenly, let out a strangled yelp, and fallen to the ground. Professor Snape hurried forwards, as the Slytherins in the room let out concerned exclamations. Just then the hourglass let out a great flash of light, almost blinding those students who were unfortunate enough to be looking at it. Professor Snape stood up from where he had been leaning over Goyle.

“Mister Goyle will be fine. If someone could take him down to the hospital wing? Thankyou Mister Crabbe, Miss Bulstrode. I assume your potions are completed and in their flasks? Very well, you may take him down. The rest of you ensure have decanted your potions into the flask, then you may depart. Quietly, thankyou.” The students hurried out of the room, some already discussing the exam, others speculating on what had happened to Goyle. Hermione quickly shoved some of the pebbles and dust into the flask before rushing out.


She caught up with Harry and Ron just as they got to the Gryffindor common room, where they were discussing what had happened to Goyle.

“Personally, I think it was brain cramp,” Ron was saying. Harry frowned.

“Brain cramp? Is that some sort of wizarding disease I’ve never heard of?”

“Nah. You know when you stretch your leg too far, or use it the wrong way, and get a leg cramp? Well, it’s kinda like that, but in his brain.” Harry laughed. The Fat Lady interrupted them.

“I’m sure you’re enjoying your discussion of your unfortunate friend,” Ron sniggered at this, “but if you want to go in, say the password and get inside. I don’t want to wait for you all day.”

“Sorry,” said Harry, “elixir.” The painting swung open, and they walking into the common room, which was filled with sixth years celebrating the end of their exams. Butterbeer and fizzing whizbees were being passed around, and everyone was talking as loudly as they could. The seventh years had obviously decided to go to the library or somewhere equally quiet to study; there was no way they’d be finding a quiet spot in the common room. Harry turned around as he heard Hermione walk in behind them.

“Hi, Hermione! I suppose you’re glad that’s over. I don’t know why you get so worried though, you always get full marks. Still, I suppose even the brightest witch of our age has to get the odd pre-exam jitters.” Hermione smiled wanly. Ron turned around, and looked at her pale face.

“Are you okay, Hermione? You don’t look too well.”

“I’m fine,” she wanted to say, but the words just wouldn’t come out. She felt weak and shaky, and her legs didn’t seem strong enough to hold her up. She leaned against the wall heavily.

“Hermione?” said Ron again. “You look really sick. I think we should take you to the hospital wing and see what Madam Pomfrey says.” She shook her head, and immediately regretted it as pain filled it.

“I’m alright,” she said faintly. “I’ve just been studying too hard. I might go and lie down. I just need to rest.”

She walked across the common room and up the stairs, Harry and Ron looking after her concernedly.

“I should go and make sure she’s alright,” said Ron, starting across the room. Harry grabbed the back of his robes.

“You can’t. Remember what happened last time you tried to go up there? We’ll get Parvati to go up. Hey, Parvati!”

Parvati turned around, a frothing butterbeer in her hand.

“Oh, hi Harry!” she said, blushing slightly. “Do you want a butterbeer?”

“Oh, er, thanks,” Harry said slightly confusedly, blushing in return. “Listen, could you do me a favour? We’re a bit worried about Hermione. She’s gone up to your dormitory, do you think you could go and see if she’s feeling alright?”

“Sure,” said Parvati, handing him the butterbeer. She moved through the crowd to the stairs Hermione had walked up a few moments before. A minute later she was back.

“Well, she seems alright,” she said. “I looked in, and she was fast asleep on her bed, fully dressed. I pulled a blanket over her, I think she’ll be okay. She’s probably just tired out, you know how hard she’s been studying.” Harry smiled at her.

“Thanks for that, Parvati.” He raised his voice slightly as someone put on the new Weird Sisters album. “Um, I don’t suppose you’d like a dance. No, sorry, stupid question, forget I asked,” he muttered. Parvati shook her head.

“I’d love a dance, Harry.” Harry looked at her in shock.

“You would, er, I mean, that would be great.” He turned to Ron. “Ron, stop looking so worried, mate. You heard Parvati, Hermione’s fine. She’s just tired out.” He took Parvati’s arm, and left Ron looking concerned, and unsure what to do next. In the end he grabbed a butterbeer and sat down in an armchair. Around him the party carried on, and upstairs Hermione slept deeply.


Suddenly, there was a loud explosion. Hermione awoke, groggy and disoriented. It was still dark, and she could hear sleepy exclamations from all over the tower.

“What’s happening?” Lavender asked sleepily.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It sounds like everyone’s going down to the common room.” They got up and joined all the other girls on the staircase down to the common room. Everyone milled around looking confused. Most people were yawning, and a few seemed to have curled up in the armchairs and gone back to sleep.

“What happened?” Hermione could hear people saying, “What’s going on?”

“Everybody listen to me!” A few people jumped, amidst the confusion most people hadn’t noticed Professor McGonagall come into the room.

“We’re not exactly sure what has happened. All we know is that there has been some sort of magical explosion outside. All exits from Hogwarts are completely blocked. Professor Dumbledore has contacted the Ministry of Magic. They have not had sufficient time to work out what has happened, however they do not believe it to be dangerous. They will contact us as soon as they have further information. In the meantime, there is nothing you can do, so I suggest you all go back to bed and try to get a few hours sleep before bedtime. We will inform you of further developments at breakfast. Thankyou, now back to bed, all of you. What’s that, Colin? Yes, I am sure you will all be able to get home for the holidays. Don’t worry, we don’t want you here either. Now, bed, everyone!” Most people were more inclined to stay in the common room, preferably to continue with their end-of-exam celebrations, but Professor McGonagall was firm. She ushered them all back to the dormitories, and ensure everyone was quiet at least, if not actually asleep. Hermione lay down gratefully. She still felt ill, and quickly fell back asleep.


The next morning she overslept, and was again late to breakfast. Thankfully, despite the broken night, she felt much better, and due to the excitement of the events, her late entrance to the Great Hall attracted little attention. Harry smiled at her.

“You look a lot better,” he commented as he made room for her to sit next to him. “Can you move up a bit further?” he said to Parvati, who was sitting on his other side. She sat down, and took a bowl of porridge. She noticed that almost every other student was eating either porridge or scrambled eggs; no one had been brave enough to try the toast. The conversation mainly centred on the mysterious explosion.

“Gas explosion,” Dean said around a mouthful of eggs.

“Honestly, Dean,” said Lavender impatiently, “something like that’s not going to block all the entrances to Hogwarts, is it? Anyway, you heard McGonagall, it’s a magical explosion.”

“Could be magical gas,” muttered Dean darkly.

Just then Dumbledore tapped a glass, and attention turned to the front of the hall. He smiled down at them, as they gradually became quiet.

“I have just received news, both good and bad, from the Ministry of Magic. They have had experts out here, and believe they have discovered the cause of last night’s disturbance. It was an explosion of adamas gas, which has created an impenetrable cloud around the school grounds. By impenetrable, I mean that all paths, including the floo network, are blocked to us.”

“See, magical gas!” whispered Dean triumphantly, then gulped as the headmaster gazed at him.

“Thankyou, Mister Thomas. As I was saying, what we heard was an explosion of adamas gas. The good news is that as the Ministry of Magic knows what has occurred their experts will be able to immediately start removing the cloud. However the bad news is that an explosion of this type is extremely rare, and extremely complex to resolve. It will take at least five weeks before anyone can leave the castle.” Uproar immediately broke out around the hall. They were meant to be leaving for the holidays; no one wanted to spend the summer holidays at school. “Quiet, please,” Dumbledore continued. “I am quite aware that none of you want to miss out on your valuable holidays. Rather, we will delay your holidays until the cloud is cleared, and in the meantime the staff have agreed to start you on next years’ lessons. Seventh years will be able to discuss their plans with us; many of you who are considering careers such as Healing will be able to start further study by owl. If you have any further questions, you may take them up with your head of house. Lessons will continue as usual on Monday. Thankyou.”

The students looked at each other. No one quite knew what to say. It seemed they would simply have to put up with being stuck at school for a few more weeks.


TO BE CONTINUED...