If All Else Fails

Chapter 1: Storm Clouds Gathering

Hermione smiled as she, Harry, and Ron entered the Great Hall. Their sixth year had come so quickly, it hardly seemed possible. The trio joined the other Gryffindors and waited for the first years to be brought in. Hermione was next to Neville Longbottom and Ron seated himself by Lavender Brown, with Harry situated between them.

She glanced up at the Head Table, studying the professors, new and....old. She choked back a giggle as she watched Professor Binns reading "The Goblin Rebellions, Part LXII." She suspected he would find more boring material for them to study in this ancient tome.

There was Hagrid, beaming and winking as he caught her eye; Professor Snape, glaring icily at his goblet; Professor Flitwick, his head barely peeking over the edge of the table; Professor Trelawney, chatting animatedly with (or rather, to) an annoyed-looking Madame Hooch.

And there was Professor Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling merrily as he surveyed the crowd of excited students. The uprising of Voldemort had added a few lines to his face, but other than that, he was the same beloved Headmaster that everyone knew and adored.

Except for the Slytherins, bane of the school. Hermione glanced involuntarily at their table, seeing arrogant sneers and hearing unpleasant laughter. There were Malfoy and company, with Pansy Parkinson hovering uncertainly nearby. Pansy said something to Malfoy, who turned and gave her an icy stare. She backed away quickly. Crabbe laughed stupidly. Goyle looked up, with an expression that plainly said, "Huh?" Malfoy sighed and rested his head in his hands.

Blaise Zabini was meditating, his eyes closed and his hands in the air, rocking slowly back and forth. Millicent Bulstrode looked ready to murder anyone who got too close, and Sally-Anne Perks was flirting with a seventh year. Hermione looked away in disgust, then the doors of the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall led the first years in.

The Sorting Ceremony proceeded as usual, with new students taking their places at their House Tables. I guess nothing really ever changes until you're out of school, Hermione mused as "Thistletree, Evelia!" was sorted into Hufflepuff. Here, the houses separate everyone, and we don't get to know the others very well. After we graduate, we won't have that distinction anymore. Her thoughts were interrupted as "Zulu, Arnold!" made his way to the Ravenclaws, and the Ceremony was over.

Dumbledore rose to give his beginning-of-the-year speech. "I'm sure we're all hungry and ready to eat, but I really must say a few words first. Do your ears hang low? No? Mine either. Let us eat!" He clapped his hands once, and the tables were instantly covered with platters of food.

"I swear, his speeches get weirder every year," remarked Dean Thomas, who sat across from Ron. "I mean, I thought the one last year was bad."

"Yeah," snickered Seamus. "'Here's a thought to ponder. What color are YOUR socks?' I thought I'd die laughing."

"Seamus Finnigan!" Lavender stared at him disapprovingly. "That's no way to talk about the Headmaster of your school!"

"Why not? Dumbledore's the one who said it first," Harry cut in unexpectedly. "I think he acts the way he does just so people won't take him too seriously. He's a powerful wizard, and he probably doesn't want his students to be frightened of him, so he plays it low-key." Lavender couldn't disagree with this, and the conversation drifted to other topics. Yes, the year was off to a wonderful start.......

In the secret office of his home, Lucius Malfoy scowled down at the papers littering his desk. Draco's grade sheets of the previous five years stared blankly back at him, refusing to give in. Lucius sighed and looked away. It was impossible to win a staring contest with a piece of paper. Now that he thought about it, it was stupid to have a staring contest with a piece of paper anyway. But what to do about Draco's grades? He started to pace nervously around the room.

Lucius knew his son was clever; that much was obvious. He wasn't all that bad at his studies, either. But he was also a Malfoy, and Malfoys must always be the best. Theirs was a pure and ancient bloodline, undefiled by Muggle filth. Mudbloods were treated as even less than Muggles by them, for aspiring to be part of the magical community.

And yet, that Granger Mudblood continued to score higher than Draco--a Malfoy!--Every Single Time. Something had to be done to reverse that. Somehow, Granger needed to be taught a lesson, to be showed that she couldn't get away with surpassing a Malfoy. Somehow, her grades needed to slip, even if just a little.

Lucius had no illusions about her brilliance. Severus Snape wasn't one to favor pathetic little Gryffindors, and yet she had still passed his class with 104%. She had to be smart, or she would be getting the same grades the rest of her house got--70's and 80's. Maybe he could bribe her? She couldn't have all that much wizarding money, and her parents wouldn't want to supply her forever. No, she was one of those damned noble Gryffindors. There was no way she would lower her standards for any monetary issue. Hadn't her Muggle parents taught her anything?

Her Muggle parents. That phrase repeated itself over and over in his mind, and quite suddenly, he knew exactly what he would do. The Grangers would be helpless against an attack--as the Mudblood would know very well. Smirking, Lucius sat down to write a letter.

Hermione yawned and stretched as she sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. She was full and content with the Butterbeer Harry and Ron had smuggled in (taking over for Fred, George, and Lee), and was starting to feel rather sleepy. Ginny Weasley joined her, and for a few moments the two girls just sat in peaceful silence together, each thinking her own thoughts.

Ginny broke the silence first. "Are you excited about this year, Hermione?" she asked. "I mean, think about it. You get to be an older student without having to worry about either the OWLs or the NEWTs. Prestige without needing to work for it."

Hermione frowned. "But the NEWTs are just next year, and Percy said they're very difficult. I'll have to start studying now in order to do well on them." She caught a glimpse of Ginny's horrified face and laughed. "Don't worry; I'm not serious. I probably won't start studying until at least April."

Ginny looked relieved. "Wow, for a moment there, I thought you really meant it. But," she added pensively, "you maybe were right the first time anyway. Percy always has such good advice, you know."

Both girls laughed again, then Hermione gave a yawn that nearly split her face. "I think I'd better head upstairs," she said sleepily. "Goodnight, Ginny."

"Goodnight."

Hermione slowly trudged up the stairs to her room, threw her clothes off, and fell into bed. Sleep overtook her like a wave of welcoming darkness, and in the morning, she did not remember her dreams.