Toil and Trouble Chapter 13 : Of Traitors, Trolls and Good Boys - Part 3 of 3 (A Harry Potter fanfiction)

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At around six, Harry and Ron slipped into the library, trying, and failing, to be subtle when Madam Pince shot them a glacial look. Hermione was reading an OWL level Transfiguration text when they came in. Padma had left about half an hour ago. She closed her book and began gathering her things into her bag when she saw them. It was time to go see Hagrid, something she'd been looking forward to all day.

"You ever seen Hagrid’s hut, Hermione?" Ron asked as they made their way down the sloping lawns, breath turning white in the chill evening air.

"No, actually", Hermione replied, "I've never been to that part of the grounds".

"Well Ron and I have only seen it from the outside", said Harry, "it looks pretty cool, actually".

Hagrid’s hut glowed invitingly, plumes of smoke rising from the chimney and the faint thump-thump-thump of something heavy moving about inside. Hermione thought it was absolutely darling. Like a house out of a children's storybook.

Their smiles brightened when they saw what was going on in the front yard.

Fluffy was sprawled on the ground, all three heads lowered playfully as Fang bounded around him. Fang was, in any normal context, a massive boarhound. Next to Fluffy he looked like an overeager puppy. One of Fluffy’s heads nudged Fang gently, another yawned, the third sneezed in a puff of dog breath that sent Fang tumbling backward in a delighted bark. Fluffy’s middle head titled at Fang's antics.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione dissolved into laughter. Hagrid beamed. “See? Told yeh he’s gentle as a lamb, well, mostly, if yeh raise ’im right.”

The children rushed forward, hands buried in thick fur, Fluffy’s tails thumping like drums. Fang slobbered enthusiastically over Harry’s sleeve, Ron recieved generous licks from the giant dog, and Hermione found herself scratching behind one of his massive ears. The eyes on that head closed in bliss as Fluffy enjoyed her scratches. He looked as though he was smiling.

It was warm and noisy and joyful.

After several minutes, Hagrid broke the spell and told them they needed to come inside as there was someone there to see them.

The kids entered to find Remus Lupin sitting at Hagrid’s table, hands wrapped around a mug he wasn’t drinking from. His expression was calm, but in a way that made Hermione’s stomach twist. Controlled. Grave. Waiting.

He glanced up when they noticed him, and his eyes, normally so gentle, were all seriousness.

Hagrid cleared his throat, suddenly uneasy. “Er… Remus wanted ter… talk ter yeh.”

And Hermione realised, with a cold shiver, that Hagrid must have told him everything that happened the night before.

Remus nodded once toward the empty chairs.
“Sit down, all three of you.”

The firmness in his voice made them obey instantly. Remus folded his hands on the table. He wasn’t angry, Hermione could tell. But the disappointment radiating from him was somehow worse.

“What the three of you did last night, on Samhain,” he began softly, “was reckless. Irresponsible. And very, very dangerous.”

Harry stared at his shoes. Ron went pink. Hermione’s throat tightened.

Remus turned to Harry first.
“Harry… we are trying, all of us, to keep you safe. And you can’t just fall for every provocation someone throws at you.” His voice gentled even further. “You let Malfoy play you like a fiddle. Surely you're wiser than that".

Harry winced. Remus didn’t raise his voice, but his words landed like stones.

“You had no idea who, or what might be lurking in that forest,” he went on, sweeping his gaze across all three of them. “Acromantulas, Bowtruckles, Centaur patrols who don’t take kindly to trespassers. Curses. Dark creatures none of you have the magic to defend yourselves against yet.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “Any number of awful things could have happened to you.”

Hermione felt heat behind her eyes. Ron swallowed hard. “We’re sorry,” they said together, almost a whisper.

“I know you are,” Remus said gently. “And because I know that, and because you’re already frightened enough, I won’t be reporting this to Professors McGonagall and Snape.”

Three heads snapped up in relief.

“But,” he added, raising a finger, “you will promise me you’ll never do something like this again. Not for a prank. Not for pride. Not for anger. Not for anything.”

“We promise,” they said at once.

Remus’s expression softened immediately. For the first time, he smiled. Warm and fond.

Then he turned specifically to Hermione.
“And you, Hermione” he said, eyes twinkling. “The fact that you’d take such a risk for someone else… that shows real strength of character.”

Hermione’s breath caught.

“But it also shows,” he added with a quiet laugh, “that you are perfectly willing to break rules when pushed.”

Hermione flushed crimson. Harry and Ron grinned at her.

At that moment, Hagrid bustled forward with a tray.

“Tha’s enough seriousness, I reckon. Tea an’ cakes for everyone!”

Cups clinked, steam curled into the warm lamplight, and soon the hut was full of laughter again. Fluffy and Fang, now seemingly tired from their play, were curled up together in the yard. The chill of Samhain night felt very far away.

---

November 6, 1993. Grimmauld Place

Saturday evening, the green flames of the Grimmauld Place fireplace brought Remus, Harry, Ron, along with Hermione Granger into the old house. Sirius, on learning of what she'd done for his Godson and his best friend, had extended a dinner invitation and expressed a desire to meet the extraordinary young witch who'd impressed Remus so.

Hermione was just admiring the architecture, when a large black dog came trotting toward her, tail wagging in delighted arcs.

“Oh!” she brightened instantly. “You have a dog?”. She immediately began to gently pet the friendly canine.

Harry and Ron exchanged identical mischievous grins. Remus’s mouth twitched with the effort of hiding a smile.

“That’s Padfoot,” Harry said lightly.

Hermione held out her palm. “Hello, Padfoot.”

The great shaggy dog tilted his head adorably, studying her with intelligent grey eyes, then daintily placed one massive paw in her hand. Hermione laughed, charmed.

“Aren’t you a good boy!” she said, scratching behind his ears.

Then, the paw in her hand shifted. And turned into a hand.

Hermione froze, staring in horror as the entire dog rippled, expanded, and transformed, until she found herself holding hands with a startlingly handsome man with shoulder-length black hair, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit.

Hermione gasped and jerked back. Harry and Ron doubled over laughing.

Remus stepped in smoothly. “Hermione, this is Sirius Black.”

“I...I'm so Mr Black. I didn’t know...no one told me that you're an Animagus...” Hermione stammered, mortification flooding her face.

Sirius pressed a hand to his heart and put on a theatrically wounded expression. “Not a good boy, then?”

Now Remus laughed too.

Hermione’s blush deepened, but she couldn’t help smiling.

"It's very nice to meet you, Sir", she said politely.

"Wonderful to meet you too, Miss Granger", Sirius said, now properly shaking her hand.

Behind them, Kreacher appeared, wearing his usual air of sour disapproval. His large eyes narrowed at Hermione the moment he saw her.

“Oh! Hello,” Hermione said kindly.

Kreacher recoiled as though she’d offered him a flesh eating slug. “Hmph.”

“Kreacher!” Sirius said sharply. “Be polite.”

The elf’s expression curdled further, but he muttered a grudging, “Hello, Miss.”

Hermione wondered, briefly and silently, why the Elf seemed to take an instant dislike to her. But she didn’t ask.

“Come on!", said Harry, "We’ll show you the house.”

Ron nodded enthusiastically. “Wait till you see the library, Hermione! Smells like old books, so I know you'll live it."

Hermione laughed, and the four of them wandered through the dim, creaky old Black residence. Harry and Ron pointed out portraits that screamed insults, rooms that had been sealed for decades, and the spot where Sirius had blown up a particularly stubborn boggart.

Soon, they gathered at the long dining table, where Kreacher had laid out a delicious meal. They ate, and conversation flowed easily.

Sirius asked Hermione about her parents, her schooling in the Muggle world. He raised both eyebrows in amazement when Harry mentioned Hermione’s Bachelor's from Cambridge.

Hermione chuckled as Harry and Ron argued over whose turn it was to pass the bread, and Remus reminded them to mind their manner "in front of the lady".

When dinner was finished and plates had been cleared by Kreacher, muttering miserably under his breath, Sirius leaned forward and said to Hermione, “So, Harry tells me you froze up in front of that Troll.”

Hermione was caught off guard.

“I... I didn’t freeze up,” she protested weakly. “I just… well, yes, I suppose I....froze up. A bit. I was terrified.”

“No shame in being scared,” Remus said gently. “But freezing can get you killed in a real duel.”

Sirius nodded, expression losing its earlier playfulness. “Hermione, panic is natural. But you can train your instincts. You need to learn how to think on your feet. Especially if you keep hanging around these two.”

Harry grinned. Ron looked proud.

Sirius continued, “The boys train here every Saturday and Sunday morning. Two hours of defensive magic and duelling drills.”

Hermione blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” Remus said. “There’s a proper duelling chamber downstairs. It's safe. Wards, impact-dampeners, spell shields, the works. Much better than the thirty minutes you'll get if I continue to train you at school.”

Hermione hesitated, hands clasped in her lap. “I wouldn’t want to impose…”

Sirius scoffed, “Nonsense. You’re Harry’s friend. That makes you welcome here. And besides...” he shot her a knowing look, “you’re a Muggle-born in Slytherin. You need proper defensive training.”

Remus nodded. “Your House… has its dangers, Hermione. Social and otherwise. If anyone needs to be equipped to protect herself, it’s you.”

Harry and Ron exchanged eager looks, clearly hoping she’d say yes.

Hermione swallowed, excitement flickering through her nerves. “I… I would love to learn more. If you’re sure it’s all right.”

“You’re doing us a favour,” Sirius said with a grin. “You’ll raise the average brainpower of the training sessions.”

"Hey!", the boys exclaimed in unison.

Hermione laughed, cheeks warm with gratitude. “Thank you. Truly."

Remus smiled. “Good. Then you’ll come here every Saturday and Sunday mornings, at ten. We’ll start with mindset training before spellwork. No more freezing, Hermione."

"We’ll make a proper duellist out of you, little lady", Sirius added, looking at Hermione as though eager to see her reach her full potential.

Hermione had fallen into a new rhythm at Hogwarts. One she hadn’t expected.
Every afternoon at lunch, she slipped into a spot beside Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, their smiles greeting her before she even sat down. The stares from other Gryffindors eventually faded into background noise, as the boys made sure she never felt out of place.

And on weekends, magic of a very different sort awaited.

Sirius didn’t go easy on her.

The duelling chamber beneath Grimmauld Place was vast, stone-lined, and humming with layered wards. She was told that these wards would prevent the Ministry from finding out that underage magic was being performed.

Hermione’s heart pounded as Sirius began instructing her.

“First rule,” he said, tapping her shoulder with the wooden end of his wand, “never stand still. A stationary target is a dead target.”

Hermione tried. She really did. But her footwork was clumsy, her sidesteps a second too late, rolls that made her elbow sting, reflexes half formed from years of being physically inactive.

Harry and Ron took turns training with her, encouraging her between drills.

“You’ve got this, Hermione!”

“Left! No....your other left!”

Despite their teasing, she kept pushing.
By the end of Sunday, she was exhausted, and absolutely determined.

On the next Saturday, Sirius grinned at her in approval. “You’re quicker today. Good. You learn fast.”

Hermione glowed.

After training, Ron said to her, “Mum’s invited you to lunch,” he said. “she's dieing to have you over.”

Hermione beamed. “I’d love to.”

---

November 20, 1993. The Burrow

Moments later, all three tumbled out of the Floo into the Burrow’s cosy, chaotic kitchen. Hermione blinked around, wide-eyed. Pans stirred themselves. Knitting needles clattered through the air. A cauldron on the stove bubbled and hummed a tune, while a ladle stirred on it's own.

“This… is incredible,” she breathed.

Harry grinned at her knowingly.

"Brilliant, right? I had the same reaction when I first came here."

He and Hermione exchanged a smile.

Arthur Weasley greeted her warmly, and asked her if she was doing all right at Hogwarts. Hermione could tell he was concerned. She assured him that she was fine.

Molly swept in, flour on her hands, eyes bright.

“Hermione, dear! Oh, it’s so lovely to see you again! Sit, sit... look at you, you must be starved after all that training. Harry, Ron, move aside and let the girl breathe!”

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger,” she heard Fred Weasley say, voice syrupy sweet.

“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” George added.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“That depends entirely on what the two of you are plotting.”, said Ginny Weasley, already prepared to protect the new girl in their house.

“Plotting?” Fred clutched his chest.
“Us?”

“Plotting?” George repeated, wounded.
“Heavens, Ginny, you make us sound like troublemakers. We simply wish to present out guest of honour with a rose".

“For you.”, said Fred.

The rose was perfect. Too perfect. Its petals shimmered faintly, just enough to catch the light. Hermione’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, how sweet,” she said blandly.

George pushed the stem a little closer. “Actually, it’s very sweet. Charming. Romantic. Completely harmless.”

Hermione didn’t touch the rose. Instead, she casually pulled put her wand and cast, “Finite Incantatem.”

The charm snapped through the air like a whip.

The rose detonated spectacularly, but in the wrong direction. A shimmering explosion of gold and pink glitter erupted straight into Fred and George’s faces, coating them from eyebrows to elbows in sparkling dust.

Ginny collapsed onto a chair, wheezing with laughter. “Oh... oh Merlin. HERMIONE! You absolute legend!”

Fred spat a cloud of sparkling pink. “It wasn’t ... supposed to do that!”

George blinked through glitter-encrusted eyelashes. “It was supposed to.... go the other way!”

Hermione folded her arms, smiling serenely.
“Well, let this be a lesson to you two".

Ginny was wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “This is the best day of my life."

“Oh, honestly, you two!” Molly scolded, hands on hips. “Glitter bombs? Again?” Then, with a sudden warm smile, “Hermione, dear, excellent work. They deserved that.”

Fred looked betrayed. “Mum!”

They sat down to eat at the rickety old dining table. Before Hermione could protest, Molly was piling her plate with roast chicken, potatoes, carrot mash, and warm rolls.

“Mrs Weasley, that’s more than enough...”

“Nonsense, dear!” Molly said firmly. “You need to keep up your strength!”

"Just eat up, Hermione", Ginny Weasley whispered to her, "Best not to argue with Mum when it comes to food".

Hermione felt both overwhelmed and touched. Her own mother, Rose, was affectionate in quieter, more structured ways. There was genuine praise after achievements, thoughtful conversations, occasional hugs. But never this kind of warm, bustling coddling.

She was certainly out of her comfort zone. But it wasn't unpleasant.

Then two tall figures sat down to eat with them.

Bill Weasley, with his long hair and earring, gave her a warm, easy smile, before greeting her. And Charlie, broad-shouldered and sun-browned, looked like he’d walked out of a dragon taming legend.

Charlie asked “So you’re the one who jumped into a forest full of monsters to rescue these two?”

Hermione flushed. Momentarily unable to form coherent words.

Ginny, sitting beside her, noticed her admiring her good looking brother, and smirked at her wickedly.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up and decided to focus only on eating the delicious lunch Mrs Weasley had made.

The Burrow felt so alive. It was warm, loud, loving. A thousand little magical oddities happening all at once.

Sitting in the middle of it, Hermione felt something in her chest loosen. In the past two weeks, she'd been accepted by not one, but two magical households. All because of an act of selflessness.

This, she thought, watching the Weasleys laugh and bicker and tease, is what magic feels like outside of books.

And for the first time, she wondered if Hogwarts wasn’t the only home she would find in the wizarding world.