Morning.

Sunday, Sept. 15

Harry’s sniffles lasted barely a minute, and when he got them under control, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and gave Hermione a shaky smile.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Thanks.”

Prof. McGonagall looked like she wanted to say something to the boy, but, finally, the witch simply nodded and carried on leading the way.

For the next few minutes, the group walked on silently, and Harry’s expression soon went from one of repressed sadness to one of deep thought.

The kind of expression he usually sported whenever he was contemplating something important.

“What are you thinking?” Hermione asked quietly.

Harry glanced at McGonagall first, then, after confirming that the professor was suitably occupied with watching where she was heading, he leaned over to Hermione and tried to whisper whatever his answer was in her ear, only to have the girl giggle and squirm away because of how ticklish it felt.

Harry blinked in surprise at her reaction, then his expression turned to one of fiendish glee.

“Ah, so you’re ticklish, huh?” the boy asked, holding up and wriggling his fingers suggestively.

Hermione backed farther away from the grinning boy. “Don’t you touch me, Harry Potter,” she warned, but without any real heat.

Knowing what was coming, Hedwig flew off of Harry’s shoulder right before he pounced after Hermione.

Interestingly, and completely unnoticed by the squealing girl and—for some reason—cackling boy, the owl chose the shoulder of the staring Transfiguration professor as her new perch.

McGonagall eyed the owl, utterly unamused, and the owl ignored her, utterly unfazed.

The professor inhaled, counted to three, then let it out. “That’s enough, both of you,” she said.

Both children froze at her words, seemingly only recalling her presence after she’d spoken, and Hermione, flushed from play (and embarrassment), quickly tried to stammer out an apology.

An apology that was not the least bit interrupted even as she swatted away Harry’s hand when he tried to sneak in one last tickle.

McGonagall gave the children one last look that suggested a much depleted store of patience, then she turned and walked away in a manner that heavily suggested that she expected them to follow.

They did.

“Looks like Hedwig has joined the dark side,” Harry whispered as they walked and Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

Although, the girl was willing to admit that having Hedwig on her shoulder seemed to give the transfiguration professor an even more domineering presence than before. Hermione found this odd; she would have assumed that having a bird on her shoulder would make the older witch appear silly if anything, but apparently not.

The journey continued, and almost two minutes of walking past empty halls and rooms elapsed before Hermione remembered that the tickle chase had started with Harry trying to whisper something to her.

“Harry, what were you going to tell me earlier?” the girl whispered.

“Oh, right,” Harry said, then leaned in, whispering into her hair instead of her ear this time around.

Even so, Hermione still squirmed. Just a little. Though that ceased as soon as Harry spoke.

“I’m going to tell Dumbledore,” Harry whispered.

Hermione looked at the boy in surprise. “About...” she said, not needing to finish.

Harry nodded, then leaned in again. “Not everything. Just... follow my lead. Okay?”

Hermione wanted to know more. But McGonagall was right there, talking was too risky.

Finally, she nodded, finding herself wishing that they’d made enough progress with legilimency to use it for nonverbal communication.

Although, that was theoretical at this point, wasn’t it? It wasn’t really something that they’d tried out, or even knew could be done, just an idea that Harry had had and then shared with her.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Then again, why wouldn’t it work? Sure, it would require some skill with legilimency (and occlumency too now that she thought about it) but if you—

“Here we are,” Prof. McGonagall said, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts, and back to the here and now.

The supposed entrance to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office was blocked by a gargoyle, and Hermione was just beginning to wonder how they were going to get past it, when Prof. McGonagall spoke some nonsense sounding word that Hermione was fairly certain was made up, and the statue leapt aside.

Hermione screamed and grabbed Harry’s arm in shock.

At everyone’s stares, the girl went red with embarrassment. “I didn’t expect it to move,” she said, before swatting at a chuckling Harry.

They filed into the spiral staircase the gargoyle had guarded, and luckily, when this too started to move, slowly taking them upwards, Hermione handled it better.

Getting to the top took little time, and outside the heavy wooden doors to The Headmaster’s office, Hermione heard muffled voices from within the room.

Prof. McGonagall pushed open the door and walked in, and Hermione and Harry followed, their hands finding each other’s reflexively.

Fours pairs of eyes trained on the new arrivals as they walked in, Prof. McGonagall drawing quite a bit of attention at first thanks to the owl still perched on her shoulder, before that attention inevitably moved on to the children behind her.

Of the four people in the room, three were men, and the only one Hermione recognized was Albus Dumbledore.

The other two men were a short and portly wizard in a light-green pinstriped suit and a bowler hat (a choice of attire which stood out starkly to Hermione, because it made him one of the very few people in The Wizarding World she’d seen who were not wearing robes), and a heavily scarred man with a huge blue eye that spun around wildly in his head.

Hermione would bet her favourite book that the latter was Mad-eye Moody, the scarred Auror Harry had once told her about.

The fourth occupant of the room, and the only witch before their group had come in, was a bushy-browed, square-jawed woman with a monocle on one eye.

The witch and the suited wizard were seated across from The Headmaster at his desk, while Mad-eye was perched by the door to the office’s sizable balcony.

“Ah, Minerva, I see you’ve brought the children,” Dumbledore began, but before he’d even finished, the suited wizard had rushed over to Harry.

“Harry! My boy! The hero of the hour,” the man exclaimed, grabbing and shaking Harry’s hand exuberantly. “Wonderful to meet you, young man. Simply wonderful.”

Harry weathered the man’s handshake with the same kind of bright smile he’d given to Rita Skeeter.

“Minister Fudge, I presume?” Harry asked, and Hermione’s eyes widened a bit.

This was the Minister of Magic?

“Cornelius, dear boy. Call me Cornelius. Anyone who can kill a basilisk and a death eater in one day has more than earned the right to be on first name basis with the Minister, wouldn’t you say?” Minister Fudge asked, smacking Harry on the shoulder like they were old buddies.

Harry weathered that too, smiling all the while. “Well, I can’t take full credit for either of them, sir. I wouldn’t have made it out without Hermione.”

And just like that, for the first time, the man’s focus moved to her.

“Ah, yes. The girl,” Minister Fudge said. “Granger, yes?”

“Yes, sir. Hermione Granger,” she concurred, and took his hand when he offered her a thankfully much less excited handshake.

The Minister’s hand was soft. And rather clammy.

“Yes, yes,” The Minister continued. “Heroes, both of you. Dare I say some Orders of Merlin are in your futures. Second class, at the very least.”

Hermione blinked. They were going to get medals?

It was at this point that Dumbledore cut back in.

“Cornelius, perhaps it would be better if you returned to the ministry now,” The Headmaster said. “It would be good to show yourself at the helm after a crisis such as last night’s.”

“Not unless you want your subordinates coming to look for you in Dumbledore’s office,” Moody growled in a rough voice.

Minister Fudge’s eyes widened for a second, before he said, “Yes, um, that sounds like a fine idea.”

Turning back to Harry, the wizard said, “Well, Harry, best be off. Duty calls.”

“It was nice meeting you, Minister,” Harry said.

“Cornelius, my boy. Cornelius,” Minister Fudge said, then he walked over to the fireplace.

Taking some powder from a dish on the mantel, Fudge threw it into the smouldering flames, and after they flared a brilliant green, he walked in, said “Ministry of Magic” and in a blaze of green, he was gone.

Hermione’s eyes widened. That was amazing.

“Harry, Hermione,” Dumbledore called, getting her attention. “Please sit.”

At Dumbledore’s request, the vacant seat Minister Fudge had vacated split into two.

Hermione and Harry stared at each other; the moment of truth. They stepped forward.

As soon as the children sat, Dumbledore began introductions.

“Harry, Hermione, these are Madam Amelia Bones and Alastor Moody. Madam Bones here is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and she has some questions for you.”

Hermione and Harry turned to look at the woman only to find her focus on Dumbledore.

“First, Albus, I would really like to know why you failed to inform me that there was a basilisk in Hogwarts,” the witch said, speaking for the first time.

Dumbledore looked like he was trying to hold back a sigh. “As I’ve said already, Amelia, by the time I became aware of the snake it had already been slain by—”

“The children, yes, you mentioned,” Amelia Bones cut in. “What you still haven’t told me is why you didn’t then report the incident to me, thereby endangering the entire school in the event that there was another basilisk.”

“I assure you, Amelia, that I and my staff immediately took great lengths to ensure that there were no other basilisks,” Dumbledore said. “And I was going to contact you after the students had had their dinners and returned to their dormitories. I thought it would be best if whatever team you sent had the space to do their work.”

Madam Bones didn’t seem particularly satisfied with Dumbledore’s answer, but before she could say anything else, Harry spoke.

“If it helps, I don’t think there are any other basilisks.”

All eyes turned to him.

“And how would you know this, Mr. Potter?” Amelia Bones asked.

Harry looked at Hermione before he answered, and as the girl looked in his eyes, she found that she had never before wished for anything as strongly as she wished in that moment that his mind was open to her.

Harry took her hand, and she squeezed gently; she didn’t know what his plan was, but she would see it through with him all the same.

Harry turned back to the adults in the room.

“I know because Voldemort knew,” he said.