Exitus Acta Probat

Chapter Twelve: The Robe incident

When Hermione Granger walked up to Tom Riddle at the beginning of lunch in the Great Hall and gave him back his robe, she was sure the rest of the school had a collective heart attack. Well, let them. He had refused to take it back all throughout Ancient Runes, and had disappeared after the class was over. She had had a free period afterwards, so she had spent the last hour or so studying in the library for her new project assignment, and she simply was not going to hang onto the blasted thing any longer.

It comforted her slightly to know that, had she been in her time, and gone up to Malfoy (were he not dead) at the Slytherin table and given him back his robe, it would've caused a bigger sensation than this; but it was still difficult to have the entirety of Hogwarts stare at you as if you had sudden started flinging off clothes until you were left in nothing but your knickers. Hermione dimly registered that this had been a huge mistake, as the blue gaze of Dumbledore dug holes into her back, as Igneus Malfoy snickered in a heartily know-it-all fashion from the Ravenclaw table, as the Malfoys and Blacks at the Slytherin table sneered at her mightily, and as at least half the girls in the hall (along with a few boys, as well,) glared at her with the pure, undiluted hatred of adolescent love thwarted.

Riddle, however, just smiled complacently at her and thanked her for returning his robe. Belinda grinned as well next to him, and Hermione found herself reciprocating in turn. She turned and made her way to the Gryffindor table, willing her face not to burn quite so much. She was about to make her way to an empty seat at the end, when Marlene waved her over eagerly. Reluctantly, Hermione sat down next to her, across from Marion, who was gazing at her impassively.

"Hermione!" Marlene said heartily, as she took a huge bite of mashed potatoes. "Where have you been? Have you been ignoring us?" she demanded.

Of course, Hermione had most assuredly been doing that very thing, but she pretended to be shocked

"Oh, no, Marlene! I've just been studying, is all," she said apologetically.

"You can't expect her not to make new friends," Marion said coolly, taking a drink.

"That's not what I meant!" Marlene said, injured. "You know that's not what I meant, don't you Hermione dear?"

"Of course," Hermione answered simply. Really, she couldn't understand why someone as lively and friendly as Marlene seemed to be best friends with that stick-in-the-mud, Marion.

"So, you and Riddle, huh?" Marlene asked with a wicked grin. "Good show. Though if I were you, I'd watch my back. The girls of this school have been trying to hook Tom for years."

"There's nothing going on," Hermione said firmly, aware of Marion's unwavering gaze. "I was cold in Ancient Runes, and Belinda Harper made him give me his robe," she explained.

"Still," Marion broke in, "I've never seen Riddle give a girl his robe."

Marlene snickered. Hermione hastily attempted to change the subject.

"Where is Evelyn?"

"Oh, she's heartbroken about the Riddle thing, she ran off a moment ago," Marlene said carelessly, waving her hand.

Marion correctly interpreted Hermione's horrified expression.

"She does it all the time; she's always crying about something or other," she said contemptuously.

"That doesn't sound normal," Hermione said, frowning slightly, thinking of Cho. "Haven't you ever asked her why she's so unhappy?"

"She's not unhappy, she's sensitive," Moody broke in. "Needs to learn about hiding her feelings."

Hermione shook her head, exasperated at the other's cavalier attitude towards their so-called friends.

"If you say so," she said, unconvinced.

She looked over her class schedule, though she had it memorized, to duck her head to the staring and gossiping still being directed her way all around the Great Hall.

"What d'you have next?" Marlene asked around a mouthful of sprouts.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione replied.

"Oooh, so do I!" Marlene chirped excitedly. "Most of the Gryffies in our year taking Divination, or Muggle Studies. And it seems like all of Slythies take it. You'll be able to even it up a bit!"

Hermione fought the urge to groan.

"The Slytherins are in it?"

"Yep," Marlene perked. She snapped a carrot stick in half in her mouth, and reached for Hermione's class schedule with her free hand eagerly. "Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures? You'll be seeing the Slythies all day," she said gleefully.

"What?" Hermione shrilly asked, causing those nearest her to wince. She was used to Arithmancy being Slytherin free.

"Well, no one really takes it, do they?" Marlene shrugged, looking a bit taken aback by Hermione's evident horror. "Only the brainy types like you and Marion, and your boyfriend Tom."

"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione gritted out through clenched teeth.

Everyone around her snorted in disbelief, even the usually silent Brigitte.

"Fine, DON'T believe me. If that's the way you want to be about it," Hermione snapped, pushing herself up and away from the table, her heavy book bag swung violently onto her shoulder, almost clipping Moody in the head.

"Oi! Watch it!"

"Constant vigilance!" Hermione spat out, and with that incomprehensible statement, she stormed her way out of the Great Hall, her eyebrows lowered thunderously, ignoring the stares coming from all around.

She didn't quite know why she was so angry. Surely, Harry and Ron - and not to mention Zabini - had said far worse things to her in harmless jest? But there was the crux of her problem. Harry and Ron. Every adventure she had ever been on, save sleeping with Zabini, (perish the thought) they had been at her side, reassuring her with their mere presence.

Harry, who was the born leader, a hero, who they could all count on to keep a level head when they were out of plans and panicking; Ron, the wisecracking sidekick, who for all of his bumbling was nearly as formidable as Harry. Zabini hadn't replaced Ron recently, exactly, no one could ever do that, but he had helped fill a void left in herself in Harry. That was why the trio had always worked best as a unit, their conflicting talents and faults fitting perfectly together as one, super-powerful cohesive unit. Zabini had never quite filled Ron's spot, and he never would, but it had helped. It would've helped a lot, to have Ron here making offensive jokes at the worst possible time, (Hermione's a snake charmer, heh heh, d'you get it?) to have Harry brooding, than running off to do his patented "saving people thing;" to have Blaise leering and making innuendoes at her, while all the while secretly sneering at himself.

But she had no one but herself, and so what if she was a little testy? She could always tell the others the death of her parents had left her moody and quick to anger. And if they didn't buy that, what did it matter? She was here to make nice with Riddle, anyway, and that was going swimmingly.

Yes, Hermione nodded to herself firmly, that was the way to go about it. Her brisk strides faltered when she glimpsed Evelyn (who was most assuredly not off crying her eyes out somewhere) up ahead in the corridor, talking to a group of students she didn't recognize. Indeed, talking and looking far more animated than she had ever seen her look.

One of the boys spotted Hermione and broke off in mid sentence, nudging Evelyn with his elbow. She turned quickly, focusing on Hermione.

"Oh, Hermione!" she said, surprised. "How are you? Did you want to walk to Care of Magical Creatures with me? I'm assuming you don't know where to go," she detached herself from the group, smiling.

"That'd be lovely," Hermione said, eyeing the others.

Evelyn made no move to introduce them, instead, she linked arms with Hermione and forcefully steered her out the castle doors.

"We always have class outside, unless the weather is very bad," she chattered, as they crossed the grounds. "Oh, hello!" she called, waving to two figures walking around in the distance.

The pair of figures, one stooped skinny, and sporting a long mane of white hair tied in a ponytail, and the other, impossibly huge, waved back.

"That's Ogg, the gamekeeper," Evelyn said in her soft voice, before Hermione could ask, "and that's his assistant, Rubeus Hagrid."

"Isn't he... a bit large?" Hermione asked, playing her part.

"And he's only a fourth year!" Evelyn said, wide-eyed. "Or, he would be, anyway."

"What do you mean? Was he a student?" Hermione asked innocently.

"He was," Evelyn responded as the girls walked closer to the edge of the forest. "Poor dear. In our house, too. A bit... slow, you know, but the sweetest boy you ever could find. He seems though to uh... get into spots of trouble a lot."

That was the understatement of the century, Hermione thought, amused.

"But last year... well, they kept it quiet, they didn't want people panicking, what with Hogwarts being the only safe place and all, with Grindewald around you know--" Evelyn was babbling, as if she were afraid of Hermione's reaction to this news that Hogwarts was not infallible.

"Evelyn," Hermione broke in, "I certainly am not worried about something that happened last year. I'm sure I have seen worse things."

"Right," Evelyn said, sounding distinctly relieved. "Well, I don't really know all the details, only Hagrid, Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster Dippet, and Tom Riddle seem to know, but there was some monster let loose in the castle, going around and petrifying the students with Muggle blood. A girl even ended up dying, it was horrible."

Hermione did her best to act like this was all new to her, and not something she had personally experienced in second year.

Evelyn shuddered, than regained her composure. "Anyway, it turned out Hagrid had some sort of creature he had been raising in the castle, and he got expelled when Tom Riddle turned him in for it."

"What kind of creature?" Hermione asked innocently.

"No one knows for sure, Tom won't talk about it. But he had been covering for Hagrid, he used to tutor him you know, sort of thought of him as a little brother in a way," Evelyn sighed. "Poor Tom. Of course, he realized how foolish he had been to not turn him in when that poor girl ended up dead, and he told Professor Dippet."

Ooh, yes, poor, innocent Tom, Hermione thought sarcastically. Poor Tom the martyr, being forced into turning in the person he framed for his own manslaughter.

"Why isn't Hagrid in Azkaban?" she asked aloud.

"Well, there's no way he knew what he was really doing, no one believes that," Evelyn said assuredly. "I told you, a bit slow, but a sweet boy. Professor Dumbledore seems convinced he had absolutely nothing to do with the incident at all though."

"I wonder why that is," Hermione mused, genuinely curious. Had Dumbledore always known it was Riddle? And if so, why he hadn't acted upon it? Why hadn't Dumbledore done something to stop Riddle from becoming the monster he now was, the monster that had ended up killing the benevolent Headmaster himself? She felt an irrational anger rising at the Professor.

"Dumbledore is a genius," Evelyn said firmly, "everyone thinks so. I'm sure he has his reasons for believing Hagrid. He'll most likely be Headmaster after Dippet retires."

"I don't think he likes me," Hermione blurted, before she could stop herself.

The other Gryffindor girl gave her an odd look.

"Why would you say that?"

"Oh, no reason," Hermione responded lamely, before she could do any more damage. Thankfully, she saw an approaching group of students, granting her time to dislodge her foot from her mouth.

************

Professor Kettleburn, as much as it pained her to admit it, seemed to be a superior teacher to Hagrid. For one thing, he didn't have his successor's penchant for deadly beasts, which was relieving. Still, it made her sad at yet another reminder of things how they were, and things how they should be. Care of Magical Creatures just wasn't the same if she wasn't in the midst of fearing for her life.

As soon as Marlene and Moody had showed up with Brigitte and a few of their fellow Gryffindors (whose names Hermione was unaware of) Evelyn had gravitated over to their crowd, clearly expecting Hermione to follow her. Hermione, however, had other plans, and had purposefully stared off in the other direction until the Slytherins arrived (who outnumbered their gold and red counterparts four to one) and then Kettleburn, who had promptly ushered them across the grounds. Kettleburn had brought them over to a huge tank by the greenhouses, a tank which he insisted held a "special treat." She was now standing a little a part from the rest of the class, as Kettleburn tried to tempt the creature he was harboring by waving cabbage over the tank's surface. Harder was ignoring the whispered murmurs and dark looks coming from the Gryffindors and lasered in her direction.

My God, were they going to hold one little outburst against her, after they had been so irritating? Well, let them. Hermione straightened her shoulders, raised her chin, and stood proudly aloof. Why, all that mattered was Riddle! She had to make friends, possibly lovers, (she managed, barely, to repress a shudder) with the snake, and if all else failed, thoroughly botch a memory charm so completely that he ended up as addled as Gilderoy Lockhart. In fact, why hadn't she thought of that before? It was genius!

Eagerly, Hermione turned to her class notes, and under "special treat" she wrote "Gilderoy Lockhart L.V?" she put the dot under the question mark with a satisfied, firm stroke of her quill.

"Who's Gilderoy Lockhart?" a voice asked from over her shoulder.

She jumped mightily, splattering a thick line of ink. Hermione half turned, dimly registering Kettleburn's cheerful call of "tricky little bugger! Must be shy!" followed by a loud splash that resounded from behind her.

The Malfoy twins, along with Estelle Black and a dark haired, grey eyed girl that looked eerily familiar stood to her rear.

"Sorry?" Hermione asked, partly to buy time, partly out of sheer panic.

The twin who didn't have his arms crossed in front of him rolled his eyes, and shrieks of horror came from the other students near the tank.

(Professor Kettleburn! Are you alright sir?)

(Yes, yes, I'm fine! He just caught my leg, the little rascal! Now, Mr. Moody, do you think you could just...)

"He said," sneered the blonde eye roller, drawing out his words as if she were especially dimwitted, "Who is Gilderoy Lockhart?" he pointed to Hermione's notes.

She clutched the offending parchment protectively to her chest.

"What's it to you?" she snapped waspishly, and a little unwisely. "Why are you reading my notes anyway?"

"Oooh, feisty little Mudblood," arm-crosser drawled.

A ringing silence followed this statement, which was broken by a second, louder splash as Alastor Moody let go of Professor Kettleburn's hand in shock, dropping the poor man back into the tank without warning.

"And you're a rude, inbred little pureblood," Hermione retorted. "Was there a point to you coming over here? Or were you just fulfilling your racist quota for the day?"

Marlene had a hand clamped over her mouth, and was positively convulsing from her attempt to hold in her laughter. Some of her classmates were not being as discreet, and were guffawing openly; Evelyn looked shocked speechless yet again, and the rest of the Slytherins were a mixture of amused and murderous.

As Professor Kettleburn sputtered in vain for help behind them, the Malfoys glared in synchronized hatred. Apparently, no one had ever stood up to them, judging by their dumbfounded expressions.

"You think you're so clever, Mudblood," the black-haired girl said in a soft, carrying voice, before the twins could retort, "but I see right through you." Indeed, her eyes were boring straight into Hermione's, who took it as a direct challenge and refused to look away. "I saw you in Potions Tuesday, and in Ancient Runes this morning. I know your type. You study all the time and you show off in class with all the answers, because you know you'll never be good enough. You know you don't belong here. You know no one would ever pay attention to your bushy head any other way." She took a step closer to Hermione, her eyes flashing with malice, but before she could continue her cutting monologue a familiar voice cut in.

"Yet you seem to be paying an inordinate amount of attention to her, Ethelinda," Tom Riddle said. "So you see, your hypocrisy renders your words with little significance as usual. Please desist and pay attention to the lesson before I'm forced to dock points from my own house."

Professor Kettleburn gave a shriek as he was catapulted head first out of the tank by the creature inside, effectively diffusing the tension.

The Professor, who was already missing half his right arm and three of his left toes (the first losses in a long line of maimed appendages) coughed up a stream of water, as the class crowded around him. This left Hermione alone with Riddle as the rest of the class inquired after their Professor's health.

"Er, thanks," Hermione said uncertainly to the tall, pale prefect.

He shrugged, "It was no problem. You were more than holding your own. Not many can say that when faced with the Slytherin Snob Squad," Riddle said with half a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He studied her a second longer, before joining the herd around the wet Professor.

Hermione had the undeniable feeling she had just been given Riddle's full attention.

Perhaps, Hermione thought with a half-smile of her own, as she heard the Professor's exclamation of "No, no, I'm fine, no need to fuss! The little guy just got a little overexcited!" Kettleburn was more like Hagrid than she had thought.