Toil and Trouble Chapter 11 : In quiet places - Part 2 (A Harry Potter fanfiction)

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October 19, 1993. The Hogwarts Library

The library was hushed except for the faint rustle of pages and the scratch of quills. Hermione sat in her usual corner by the tall window, a thick volume open before her : An Introduction to Ancient Runes and Their Symbolic Logic.

"Hi!", said a quiet voice, causing Hermione to look up. Before her stood a pretty girl with long black hair in a braid and dark brown eyes.

"You must be Hermione Granger", the girl extended her hand in greeting, "I'm Padma. Padma Patil. Ravenclaw."

"Nice to meet you, Padma.", Hermione shook the offered hand, polite but guarded.

"I loved what you did with those teacups in Transfiguration today. It was brilliant."

"Thank you..." Hermione smiled

Padma then noticed what Hermione was reading.

“Ancient Runes? That’s not on the syllabus until third year,” Padma said, sounding amazed, “I’m impressed.”

Hermione flushed a bit. “I just find it fascinating,” she admitted. “Languages that can shape magic… it’s like mathematics, but alive.”

You know, my sister’s in Gryffindor, third year. She loves Runes too, says it’s her favourite subject.”

"Are you from India, Padma?” Hermione asked curiously.

Padma nodded. “Yes. Our family is originally from Karnataka, but our parents live in New Delhi now. And you're English, right?"

“Yes, I'm from Hampstead.”

To Hermione’s quiet surprise, Padma simply nodded again, without the usual pause or wary look she had come to expect when people figured out that she was Muggle-born.

Just then, another girl with flowing hair and an easy smile approached.

"Oh there's my sister!", Padma said ad the beautiful girl approached them.

“Hermione, I'd like you to meet Parvati”, Padma then turned to her big sister and said "Akka, this is...."

"Hermione Granger", Parvati said, smiling as she shook Hermione’s hand, "I’ve heard about you, and all the points you’ve been earning for Slytherin. Honestly, you're putting us third years to shame!” She laughed. “Even some of seniors in Gryffindor are getting nervous.

Hermione blushed again, torn between embarrassment and pleasure. “I just… like learning,” she said softly.

“Hmmm....Good answer,” Parvati said with a playful smirk.

"Akka, you know Hermione was just reading about Runes. She finds them fascinating."

"Oh Really? I simply love learning about Runes..."

Parvati had just begun to gush when Miss Avery, one of the Librarians, scolded them.

“Miss Patil! Miss Granger! Either be quiet or go outside!"

“Sorry, Miss Avery,” the sisters chorused, trying to suppress giggles.

Padma whispered, "Sorry Hermione, we better go to our study groups. See you!"

Parvati, before going in the other direction whispered to Hermione, "You know, I could show you my notes on Ancient Runes if you're interested."

Hermione whispered back, "I'd love that."

"Great! I'll bring then tomorrow. We'll meet outside the library. Same time.", Parvati told her with a wink.

Hermione watched the sisters go, then returned to her book. Yet she found herself reading with a small smile on her face, as the warmth from the interaction lingered.

The first year common room in the Gryffindor Tower was noisy with the end-of-day chatter. Cards slapping, laughter echoing, the fire crackling cheerfully. Harry and Ron were sitting with Seamus and Dean, trading Chocolate Frog cards, when Percy Weasley appeared in the doorway.

“Potter,” he said briskly, straightening his prefect badge. “The Headmaster wants to see you.”

Conversation around them quieted instantly.

“Oooooo, Harry’s in trouble!” one of the boys sang out, grinning.

Harry tried to look unconcerned, though his stomach gave a small lurch. “It’s probably nothing,” he muttered, but Ron caught his eye and frowned.

“Can I come with him?” Ron asked.

Percy shook his head. “The message was for Potter alone.”

Harry sighed, got up, and followed Percy out through the portrait hole.

The spiral staircase to the Headmaster’s office was lit with floating candles. The carved griffin knocker sprang aside as Percy gave the password, and Harry stepped into a circular room lined with books and strange silver instruments puffing faint wisps of smoke.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, looking as serene as ever.

“Ah, Harry,” he said warmly. “Do come in. Please, sit.”

Harry obeyed, just as Percy nodded politely and left.

Dumbledore opened a folder and spread several photographs across the desk

“Would you take a look at these for me?” he asked gently. "And tell me if the Goblin you saw in your dream is among them."

Harry leaned forward and looked through the pictures. His heart thudded once as his gaze landed on a particular face.

“That’s him,” he said he said picking up the photograph. “That’s the Goblin I saw in my nightmare."

“You’re certain?” Dumbledore asked, studying him closely.

Harry nodded. “I’m absolutely sure.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “Thank you, Harry. That was very helpful. You should return to your studies now.”

Harry hesitated. “Headmaster.... what's going on?"

Dumbledore’s expression softened. “Nothing that you need concern yourself with, dear boy. Dreams are curious things, Harry. Sometimes more truth than fancy, sometimes the other way round. Go on now, i mustn't keep you.”

Harry nodded uncertainly and left.

When the door closed behind him, Dumbledore’s eyes hardened slightly. He pulled a small lever on his desk, summoning his administrative assistant.

Argus Filch poked his head in.

"Headmaster?"

“Argus,” Dumbledore said quietly, “send word to Professor Lupin. Tell him I need to see him at once. And get Sirius Black on the Floo. Tell him it is an urgent matter.”

“Yes, Headmaster", said Filch before he shuffled quickly out.

---

October 20, 1993. Hogwarts Academic Wing

The fourth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was quiet when Harry stepped in. He had just finished breakfast and was about to head to his first period class when, he was summoned by Professor Remus Lupin.

Remus sat at a large oak table, papers spread before him, though it was clear he wasn’t really reading them.

He stood up and approached Harry as he entered, his calmness did little to hide his worry.

Harry closed the door, the soft click echoing in the stillness.

“How are you feeling, Harry? Does the scar hurt?” Remus asked gently, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Harry shrugged as he sat. “I’m all right, and no, it doesn't. I'm just… confused.”

“Confused about what?”

Harry hesitated. “Headmaster Dumbledore called me to his office yesterday. He showed me pictures of Goblins, and asked me to tell him which one I saw in my dream.” His brows furrowed. “I told him. But, Remus… what’s going on? What about that Goblin? No one tells me anything."

For a moment, Remus said nothing. The boy's frustration was understandable.

“Harry,” he said quietly, “sometimes, in our world, strange things happen that take time to understand. What you saw, it’s important, yes, but it’s also something the Headmaster is already looking into.”

Harry frowned. “So it does mean something?”

Remus’s smile was faint but kind. “Everything means something. But not everything must be worried over straight away.”

Harry leaned forward. “But my scar, it’s never hurt like that before. And the dream… it felt real. And the fact that the Goblin I saw actually exists means that it was more than just a dream.

“I know,” said Remus softly. “And that’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you. You did the right thing, telling Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster. But for now, I need you to promise me something.” His amber eyes fixed on Harry’s. “If you ever have another dream like that, or if your scar hurts again, you tell me, or Professor McGonagall, or the Headmaster. And no one else. If you do tell Ron, make sure to tell him to keep it to himself.

Harry nodded, though uneasily. “All right.”

“Good.” Remus stood and walked around the table, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re doing remarkably well, Harry. I know these occurances have been vexing, and in time, all will be explained to you. But for now, focus on your studies. Let us handle the rest.”

Harry managed a small smile and nodded.

Remus gave his shoulder a light squeeze before stepping back.

“Now go on. It's almost time for your first period, and I don’t want to be responsible for you being late. What do you have today?"

"Transfiguration", Harry replied.

"Ah! Better hurry then. Professor Glass does not muck about!"

Harry grinned faintly. “Yes, Professor.”

“Now,” Professor Rowen Glass said crisply, striding between the rows. “Needles to matchstick is elementary. But a beetle to a button requires precision, concentration, and intent. Watch carefully.”

With a deft flick of his wand, the beetle on his desk shimmered, twisted, and became a gleaming silver button that rolled neatly onto his palm. The class let out a collective ooh.

“Begin.”

At once, the room filled with murmurs and the soft hum of spellwork. Beetles twitched, grew extra legs, or in some cases, did nothing at all.

Hermione, sitting in the front row as always, leaned forward over her beetle. Her quill lay forgotten beside a tower of notes detailing wand movements and Latin etymology.

She drew a slow breath, narrowed her eyes, and whispered: “Mutatio corpus, firmare metallum.”

The beetle shivered, but instead of turning into a button, it dissolved into a puddle of silvery liquid.

Draco Malfoy smirked from his seat two rows behind. “Looks like Granger’s melted hers, Professor".

Hermione didn’t react. Her mind was racing. Metallic base, not molecular reconstruction… what if I stabilize the pattern instead of forcing it?

She steadied her wand. “Forma fixa—mutatio completa!”

There was a soft crack. The silver liquid rippled, coalesced and suddenly, sitting neatly on her desk, was a perfect miniature beetle sculpted entirely from solid silver. Its tiny legs gleamed, its wings caught the light like mirror shards.

Professor Glass froze mid-step.

Then, the silver beetle moved. It flexed its wings, buzzed faintly, and crawled in a slow, graceful arc across Hermione’s parchment. Several nearby students gasped.

Glass approached, his expression one of awe. He bent down, inspected the beetle, and tapped it gently with his wand. The beetle froze, motionless and perfect.

“Miss Granger,” he said finally, “you have managed a fully stable transfiguration with independent motion. That is N.E.W.T level work, in your first year!"

Hermione blinked. “Oh,” she said with a small smile, “I... I was only trying to correct the instability.”

The classroom erupted into whispers. Even Draco was staring, pale and silent.

Harry, who was seated a few seats away from Hermione stared at her beetle with open admiration. He thought it was lucky that Ron was in Astronomy with the other half of Gryffindor first years. He'd surely have beeb annoyed at what the Granger girl had accomplished.

Glass straightened, turned to the class, and said firmly, “Thirty points to Slytherin for an extraordinary display of magical discipline and originality.”

"Thank you, sir", Hermione said quietly.

Later that day, after classes were done, Hermione stood outside Professor McGonagall’s office, clutching her satchel and wondering if she’d done something wrong. She'd been summoned to the Head of the Transfiguration Department's office just as she was headed to the Slytherin Tower when a Prefect told her McGonagall wanted to see her.

“Enter,” came the familiar brisk voice.

She stepped inside. The room was tidy and austere, filled with the faint scent of parchment and a lingering note of tea leaves.

To Hermione’s surprise, Professor Snape sat at the chair opposite Professor McGonagall, his dark eyes inscrutable.

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall began, “Do sit down.”

Hermione obeyed, heart thudding, as she sat next to Snape.

“I’ve asked Professor Snape to be present because what I have to say concerns both you and your House,” McGonagall said. “Word has spread rather quickly about your recent work in Transfiguration class. It seems your silver beetle has made quite an impression.”

Hermione flushed, but couldn't help the small smile that appeared on her lips.

"Your talent is undeniable.", McGonagall went on, "Which is why I’ve suggested to Professor Snape that you be entered into the Junior Inter-House Transfiguration Competition.”

Hermione blinked. “Oh?"

“A contest for students between first and fourth year.", said McGonagall, "Each House may nominate one participant. The winner represents Hogwarts at the inter-school competition next spring. Hosted, this time, by Ilvermorny.”

“Ilvermorny?” Hermione’s voice rose slightly in wonder. “In America?”

“Indeed. Hogwarts will send its best. The preliminary rounds are in January.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “I’d love to compete, Professor.”

Snape’s expression didn’t change, but when he spoke, his tone was less acidic than usual, “The other three Houses have entered third and fourth years. You’ll have to work twice as hard as the older students, Miss Granger. Talent alone will not suffice.”

McGonagall nodded. “Quite right. You’ll be up against those who’ve had far more practice than you. I suggest you begin preparing immediately. Precision, not power, wins Transfiguration contests.”

Hermione sat straighter, her excitement barely contained. “Yes, Professors. I’ll work as hard as I can.”

McGonagall gave a firm nod. “Good. Professor Snape will oversee your practice schedule on Slytherin’s behalf."

Hermione smiled with gratitude. “Thank you, Professors.”

As she turned to leave, McGonagall’s voice followed her, softer this time. “Miss Granger, your work shows promise. But remember: discipline will make a witch of you, not brilliance alone.”

Hermione smiled, cheeks glowing. “I’ll remember that, Professor.”

---

October 21, 1993. Hogwarts Academic Wing

The corridors were filled with chatter and the echo of hundreds of footsteps. It was the short break after second period, and students from every House milled about, trading books, laughing, and hurrying to grab a quick snack before the third period began.

Hermione had stepped out of the first year Charms classroom, and almost collided with someone rounding the corner.

“Oh! I’m so sorry....” she began, then smiled as she saw who it was.

“Parvati!”

Parvati Patil smiled brushing her long braid over her shoulder. “Oh Hi Hermione! I was just going to see Padma. By the way, congratulations on being chosen for the Transfiguration competition."

Hermione smiled delightedly. “Thank you. Professor McGonagall told me yesterday. I still can’t believe it.”

Parvati’s eyes sparkled. “Well you'd better watch out. Because guess what? I’m representing Gryffindor!”

Hermione wasn't all that surprised. Parvati, much like her little sister, was a formidable talent.

"Well then I look forward to us competing", she said with a smirk.

The two girls laughed softly as they talked about the competition and their preparations. And for a moment the usual boundaries of House colours seemed to fade. Parvati was kind, easy to talk to, and Hermione was beginning to feel that rare sense of belonging. The sort she had missed since arriving at Hogwarts.

But the spell broke with a drawling voice behind them.

“Well, well,” Draco Malfoy sneered, stepping out from the stream of students with his usual entourage trailing behind. His grey eyes glittered with disdain. “Fraternising with Gryffindors now, Mudblood?”

Hermione froze, her smile disappeared. Parvati looked murderous.

“OI!”

Before anyone could react, Ron Weasley had stormed towards Draco Malfoy and gave him a hard shove, causing the blond boy to bearly fall over.

"Don't you ever use that disgusting word again Malfoy!", Ron shouted.

“Keep your filthy hands off me, Weasley!” Draco snarled, regaining his balance and shoving him back. “Mind your own bloody business!”

“When a git like you calls people names, it is my business!” Ron shot back.

The crowd that had gathered began to murmur, some students laughing, others whispering in alarm, until a sharp voice cut through the noise.

“That’s enough!”

An older Hufflepuff Prefect pushed through the circle and broke the boys apart. “Both of you behave! Ten points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin! Now get to your classes."

Ron muttered something under his breath, but obeyed. As he passed Hermione, he glanced at her with a frown. It was not a look of anger, but of uncertainty.

Draco stormed off in the opposite direction, his cronies trying to keep up.

Parvati let out a shaky breath. “I cannot believe that horrible boy. Are you all right, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded stiffly, though her heart was pounding. “I’m fine.” She managed a small smile. “I should get to class.”

Parvati’s brow furrowed. “You sure you’re safe… in Slytherin?”

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then straightened her shoulders. “Yes, really. I’m fine,” she repeated. “I’ll see you later.”

Hermione leaned over her parchment, as she studied the constellation of Cassiopeia. Professor Nora Pemberton's voice echoed faintly as she explained the significance of the constellation.

Hermione tried to focus, but she could still see Ron’s face in the corridor, filled with a righteous fury. The way he’d shoved Malfoy without a moment’s hesitation. “Never use that disgusting word again.”, he'd said.

Why had he done that? After all that had passed between them. The fight, the horrible things they’d said to each other. She couldn’t imagine Ron wanting to defend her. Maybe it wasn’t about her at all. Maybe he just hated that word, no matter who it was directed at.

Her chest tightened with something she couldn’t quite name.

She thought back to their argument during Transfiguration. The way her own words had come out sharper than intended. “ Wands don't even cost that much. You’re just making excuses." The look on his face. Ron was hurt, humiliated. It flashed in her memory, and guilt pooled in her stomach.

He couldn’t help it. His wand was old, and had problaby belinged to an older sibling. Which was probably why it didn't respond well to him. It wasn’t his fault his family couldn’t afford a new one. And Mr. Weasley… Arthur Weasley had been nothing but kind to her and her parents when they’d visited the Ministry.

The Weasleys weren’t wealthy, anyone could see that. Arthur Weasley's department was clearly underfunded. But he continued to work at that low paying position because he was truly passionate about protecting Muggle-borns. Magic casters like Hermione.

It was why the Weasleys couldn't afford nice things. And now she had insulted that, even unintentionally.

But then the other side of her mind, reminded her of the cruel things Ron Weasley had said to her. How he'd brought up her isolation within her own House.

Confusion and anger tangled inside her, knotted threads she couldn’t undo. She wanted to hate Ron, to keep that anger as armor against the sting of his words. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Ronald Weasley was the first person to have stood up for her, when that slur directed at her blood, was spat at her.

Ron and Harry walked out of History of Magic together, their bags slung loosely over their shoulders.

Ron seemed tense. It was Harry who finally broke the silence. “Ron,” he said, glancing sideways. “What happened earlier in the corridor? With Malfoy, I mean.”

“Nothing much,” Ron muttered. “He was being a prat. Said something disgusting. I told him to shut it.”

Harry didn’t press. The way Ron’s jaw clenched told him enough. They turned down the hallway toward the Gryffindor Tower.

By the time they reached the first floor landing, Ron’s temper had cooled, and he noticed the folded parchment in Harry’s hand. “What’s that?”

“A letter,” Harry said. “From Sirius. Got it after dinner. Figured we could read it somewhere quiet.”

The two boys looked for an empty room on the bottom level of their floor and found the Potions lab to be deserted. Slipping inside, they sat next to one of the windows, as Harry opened the letter.

Dear Harry,

Professor Dumbledore told me you’ve been having some strange dreams lately. I don’t want you worrying about them, all right? Dreams aren’t always what they seem and if something is odd, you’re surrounded by people who can handle it.

Remus and I are both keeping an eye on things from our end. You just focus on your classes and enjoy your first year. Because trust me, you’ll miss it when you’re older.

Tell Ron I said hello.

We’ll talk soon, when things have settled down.

Take care,
Sirius

Neither boy spoke for a moment.

Ron finally said, “He’s right, you know. You’ve got Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin watching over you. You’ll be fine.”

Harry nodded, though a part of him still wanted to make sense of his dreams. Dreams that showed him people that were apparently real. But he didn’t say it.

"Come on, let's go change", he said to Ron as he shoved his Godfather's letter into his bag. He tried to put his worries to rest as he and Ron began to talk about all the homework they had that day. Worries befitting boys their age.

The casting chamber on the Slytherin Tower's first floor, echoed with Hermione Granger's voice as she spoke her incantations flawlessly. It was late evening, and the rest of the Slytherin first years were sitting in the common rooms. But Hermione wouldn't join them, even if she hadn't taken on the extra load of preparing for the Transfiguration competition. Snape had told her she'd get the casting chamber to herself for one hour everyday after dinner. And that she'd better make good use of it. Her head of house expected her to win, and Hermione was determined to not let him down.

A wooden chess piece, a pawn, sat on the table. She whispered the incantation, wand moving in a tight arc. The pawn twisted, warped, and turned into an iron serpant. With another wand movement, she was able to make it slither on the wooden surface.

Hermione smiled faintly.

“That’s better,” she murmured, noting the adjustment to her wrist movement. She was improving, slowly and steadily, but she still felt she could do more. The competition was two and a half months away, but as Professor McGonagall had told her, her competition had experience on their side.

As she bent to retrieve a fallen parchment, something on the far wall caught her eye. It was a faint pattern, carved into the stone, half-hidden in shadow. Hermione frowned and raised her wand.

“Lumos.”

It was a series of runes, etched deep into the stone, legible to someone who knew what to look for. Hermione stepped closer, her curiosity stirring. She had seen similar markings before, in the notes Parvati had shared with her.

Her mind raced. This one… it looks like the symbol for movement. And that one… she traced a line gently with her fingertips …yes, that’s definitely an exit rune.

Her pulse quickened. The castle’s walls were full of secrets, but she hadn’t expected to find one here, in the Slytherin First year practice chamber. Could it mean there was a hidden passage?

She whispered the translation softly to herself, “Open pathway to beyond… exit through will…”

Hermione’s eyes gleamed, as she reached for her quill and began to sketch the runes onto her parchment, line by line, making sure not to miss a single detail. She'd make sure to learn more about it.

When she finally stood back, she looked once more at the carved wall, the runes glimmering faintly as though responding to her awareness.