Hermione pulled the blanket up almost to her eyes. With every passing second, her embarrassment only grew: Miranda looked so… perfect. Refined and self-assured, the Ravenclaw girl looked like a porcelain figurine brought to life. She moved lightly, almost gliding, and with an offhand gesture tucked a stray dark strand back under her fashionable hat. A soft, barely noticeable scent of herbs and flowers followed her. All of it only made Hermione feel even more ridiculous.
Her own face still showed traces of animal features. Her nose was oddly flattened, fine cat whiskers protruded above her upper lip, and sparse hairs clung to her cheeks. Her ears had already slid down from the top of her head into place, settling into a more human position, but their pointed tips still gave her the look of a mythical elf from Muggle stories. Her scruffy, noticeably shortened tail was hidden under the blanket. Hermione felt her cheeks burn.
"Hermione!" Miranda's bright voice rang out. Her friend, as always, radiated enthusiasm. She came closer and sat on the chair by the bed, placing a large scroll tied with a ribbon across her knees. "How are you? I hope you haven't been too bored here without me. I've brought you something amazing."
Hermione only shook her head, not daring to speak. She wanted to hide even deeper under the blanket. Miranda, as if not noticing her miserable state, ceremoniously untied the ribbon and unrolled the scroll.
"Ta-da!" she said with a beaming smile.
A vivid canvas opened up before Hermione. The painting showed a dark night lit by dozens of tiny stars. But the stars did more than just twinkle. They moved slowly, weaving themselves into shifting patterns. At the centre stood the figure of a wizard in a long cloak. His face was hidden by a hood, and smoke drifted around him, forming shapes of birds, deer, and dragons. All of it was accompanied by a faint melody, as if coming from far away.
"We used sound charms!" Miranda said eagerly, glowing with pride. "Each star contains a musical rune. If you run your hand over one, the melody changes. Listen."
She brushed her finger over one of the stars, and the music changed. Light, airy notes shifted into something deeper and sadder. In the drifting smoke, new animal shapes began to form, following the altered rhythm.
For a moment, Hermione forgot about her tail and triangular ears, staring at the painting, spellbound.
"Wow…" she whispered. "It's incredible. Did you paint it yourself? And cast the charms?"
"Of course. Though not just me," Miranda replied. "The others from the Magical Art club and I worked on it for ages. We had to design the runes ourselves so they'd produce the right sound and change the image. Ordinary charms can't do that."
Hermione listened without taking her eyes off the painting. When Miranda fell silent, clearly pleased with herself, Hermione's gaze caught on the figure of the wizard at the centre.
And then…
For a moment, it seemed to her that beneath the hood there was not just shadow, but a pale face with thin red lips twisted into a crooked smirk. The image suddenly pushed everything else aside, filling her entire vision. It felt as though, in another instant, it would swallow her whole.
"Hermione?" Miranda's voice seemed to pull her back from the brink of blacking out. She tore her gaze away with an effort and jerked back from the canvas.
Miranda stared at her, surprised.
"Are you all right?" she asked, her tone turning cautious.
For a few seconds, Hermione said nothing, staring at her, shaken. At last, she found her voice.
"Wh… who is that?" she asked hoarsely, looking back at the canvas. "Who's in the painting?"
Miranda raised her eyebrows.
"No one. Just a wizard… an artistic image."
"Put it away…" Hermione whispered.
Miranda looked at her, confused. A small frown creased her brow. Then she looked away and quickly began rolling the canvas back into a scroll.
"Sorry… I thought you'd like it," she said after a moment, trying to sound cheerful. There was still a trace of disappointment in her voice.
"I do. I really do," Hermione said quickly. "It's just… I don't know what came over me. I thought for a second that —"
"Oh, come on," Miranda said, a bit too casually, waving it off.
Hermione bit her lip, feeling awkward, though the fear of what she had seen was still smouldering somewhere deep inside. An uneasy silence settled. Feeling she had to say something, Hermione forced the words out.
"I spoke to Hagrid last week…"
The Ravenclaw girl gave a restrained nod, letting her continue.
"I was trying to find out where quicksols live," Hermione went on, absently brushing the remains of her cat whiskers. "Hagrid confirmed they can only be found in swamps. But…" she lowered her voice, "he warned me. Verdilisks live there."
"Verdilisks?" Miranda exclaimed, her face tightening at once with concern. "Oh no, not those… Those things are extremely dangerous. Even the best wizards wouldn't risk going into their territory. You do realise we can't go there."
"I suppose you're right," Hermione said, a note of doubt in her voice.
"Then we need to find another way to get quicksol slime," Miranda began, but Hermione shook her head.
"From what Hagrid told me, it's always like that. Wherever there are quicksols, there are verdilisks too. They both like the same conditions."
"So what are we supposed to do?" Miranda let her hands fall. "Maybe… you mentioned Harry has an Invisibility Cloak? Do you think we could sneak in with it?" she suggested, not very confidently.
"I thought of that too. But I read," Hermione nodded towards a couple of library books on the bedside table, "that some magical creatures can see wizards perfectly well even under an Invisibility Cloak. Besides, it doesn't hide scent or noise. And a lot of creatures rely more on smell and hearing than sight. So I'm not sure it would help us here."
"So that means we have no way to make the Eye of Chronos and get Foster out of the trap," Miranda said. "Well, what can you do? It's a shame we won't get the Time-Turner, of course, but life's more important," she added with a shrug, sounding rather indifferent.
Hermione glanced at her sideways. It seemed Miranda didn't care all that much about Foster's fate. Then again, Hermione herself didn't feel particularly attached to him either. But that wasn't the point. If Foster was telling the truth, their mission was the only way to avoid casualties at Hogwarts. He could be lying, of course, but Hermione didn't want to risk finding out the hard way.
"By the way, since we're talking about all these magical cloaks and things… I had a thought," Hermione said. "Do you remember last year you told me the legend of the Green Cloak? What if it actually exists?"
Miranda's eyes widened slightly.
"Are you serious?" she asked, as if she couldn't quite believe what her usually logical friend was saying. "But it's just a legend!"
"A legend," Hermione agreed easily. "But people said the same about the Chamber of Secrets, and the Vault of Time. And now you can see for yourself."
"Well… I'm not at all sure the Chamber of Secrets even exists," Miranda began. "I think someone's just using that story to scare students —"
"It exists. I'm sure of it now," Hermione said firmly. "There are already victims, and even the professors don't know how they were attacked."
Miranda looked at her, puzzled, clearly expecting an explanation. But when none came, she said:
"Maybe you're right. But… the Green Cloak? Even if it does exist, how is that supposed to help us? We don't have a single clue where to look."
"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Hermione said. "At the Deathday party, Decimus Lucretius, one of the ghosts there, mentioned that if you want to ask about Hogwarts legends, you should ask someone who's been here since the school was founded."
Miranda's eyebrows shot up.
"And who would that be?" she said. "As far as I know, there's no one like that. Even Dumbledore's only been here a few decades, and he's been teaching the longest."
"I'm not talking about the teachers," Hermione said with a slight smile. "I mean the Grey Lady."
"The Grey Lady? A ghost?" Miranda repeated, as if she couldn't quite believe it.
"Yes," Hermione said. "Helena Ravenclaw."
Miranda blinked. "Wait… the Grey Lady is Helena Ravenclaw?"
"According to Decimus Lucretius, that's her name," Hermione nodded.
"Oh…" Something seemed to click, and Miranda's expression changed. "So, you think she might know?"
"If anyone knows about the Green Cloak, it's her," Hermione said firmly.
"Hm… the Grey Lady isn't exactly talkative," Miranda said. "And besides, if the Cloak really exists, it's probably dangerous. I doubt she'd want to tell us about it."
"Maybe not to me," Hermione agreed. "But to you. You're not just from Ravenclaw. You're also her distant relative."
Miranda sighed and nodded.
"All right, I'll talk to her. But I'm not promising anything."
"Thank you, Miranda," Hermione said with relief, letting herself relax a little.
Miranda chatted with her for a bit longer about nothing in particular, then suddenly smiled her usual easy smile.
"All right, I should probably go. Get better. You'll look much better without the whiskers," she said with a light smirk, then slipped out of the hospital wing, leaving Hermione alone, flushed with embarrassment.
***
By the beginning of February, Hermione was finally discharged from the hospital wing. She rushed into her room, grabbed her books, and hurried off to catch up with her friends, who had already gone to class.
As luck would have it, the first lesson that day was Potions.
'Why couldn't Madam Pomfrey have discharged me yesterday?' Hermione groaned inwardly. 'It would have been so much nicer to come back to classes with Transfiguration, with Professor McGonagall.'
The moment she pictured Snape's face, something inside her went cold. She hadn't seen him in a while, not since he had tried to punish her for stealing ingredients from his office. Or rather, to expel her from Hogwarts.
'It's obvious now that he didn't manage it, but there's no way he's forgiven me,' the thought kept circling in her head. 'I'd better hurry. The last thing I need is to be late for his class.'
The dungeon greeted her with icy air. The sharp smell of potions and dampness hit her nose, making her wince. Hermione drew a sharp breath; she had never even noticed that smell before.
'Maybe I still have some of the cat's abilities left, like my sense of smell? I just hope the smells don't start getting to me too much.'
At last she rushed into the Potions classroom and looked around. Snape wasn't there yet, so she wasn't late.
Harry spotted her first.
"Hermione!" he called, waving.
She smiled and sat down beside him and Ron.
"How are you?" Harry asked.
"I'm fine," she said. "Madam Pomfrey said it was an extremely rare case. She must have said 'rare' about ten times."
"Yeah," Ron snorted. "I don't think she gets many patients looking like that."
"Very funny," Hermione said, though there was no real anger in her voice. "Better tell me what I missed."
"I thought we already told you everything…" Ron began, but just then Malfoy's drawn-out voice cut in:
"Oh, look, the cat's escaped from the zoo," he said loudly, drawing the whole class's attention. "Someone should inform the keeper. It might be lost."
Ron tensed, his cheeks turning bright red. Hermione shot Malfoy a brief look but said nothing, pressing her lips together. She wasn't going to react.
"And you know, Granger, I'm not even surprised," Malfoy drawled, lazily getting to his feet and heading towards them, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind. "I always knew Muggle-borns were strange creatures, but even I didn't expect this… Never heard of dirty blood showing up like that."
He stopped right in front of them and, with open contempt, raised his hands to his head, mimicking pointed ears.
Ron shot to his feet, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"You'll regret that, Malfoy!" he snapped.
Students began to gather around them, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, just like on the Quidditch pitch a few months earlier.
"Regret it?" Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Why would I? I wouldn't mind seeing you cough up slugs again."
Ron flushed even deeper red.
"I don't need a wand to teach you a lesson!"
But Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward, blocking him. Hermione grabbed Ron's arm.
"Don't, Ron! He's not worth it. Really."
But Ron wrenched his arm free, not taking his eyes off Malfoy. He was barely holding back his anger, and it showed in the way his shoulders shook. Malfoy, pointedly ignoring Ron, turned lazily to one of his friends.
"By the way, Crabbe, I heard something interesting…" his voice slipped back into that soft, mocking tone. "There's a rumour that these days Madam Pomfrey is doubling as a vet."
Crabbe let out a pleased grunt, a crooked grin on his face, his eyes fixed on Ron. Ron lunged forward, but Harry and Seamus grabbed him at once.
"Calm down," Harry hissed. "Don't even think about it…"
At that moment, the door swung open, and Professor Snape strode into the classroom in his usual brisk stride. He immediately noticed Ron and Malfoy facing each other, narrowed his eyes, and asked coldly:
"What is going on here?"
Ron shot Snape a furious look, then lowered his gaze. Malfoy, on the other hand, didn't hesitate.
"Nothing in particular, Professor," he said lazily. "We just came over to welcome Granger back from the hospital wing. Weasley didn't seem to like that."
Only then did Snape notice Hermione, sitting with her head lowered.
"Ah… Miss Granger," he drawled coldly. "Hardly out of the hospital wing and already causing a disturbance? Do be more careful. I haven't forgotten what you did."
Something like interest mixed with satisfaction flickered across Malfoy's face. He was clearly eager to find out what Snape meant.
But at that moment, Ron finally snapped.
"She had nothing to do with it!" he shouted. "It's Malfoy insulting her!"
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said flatly, turning his gaze on Ron. "I did not ask for your opinion, Mr Weasley. And I can see perfectly well that Miss Granger's presence is what led to this incident. Or are you going to deny it?"
Ron had already opened his mouth to argue, but Harry, along with a couple of other Gryffindors, quickly grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back down into his seat. He clenched his teeth and said nothing.
Hermione gave him a grateful look for standing up for her, but it was obvious that any further argument with Snape would only make things worse.
"I hate him," Ron muttered, staring at the desk in front of him.
"I know," she replied just as quietly, feeling her hands tremble.
She didn't clarify who he meant. It could have been Malfoy or Snape, and both, without a doubt, deserved it.
***
That evening, back in the common room, Harry pulled a thin, worn diary out of his robes.
"Found it in Moaning Myrtle's toilet," he said, handing it to Hermione. "Someone ran in, threw it at her, and bolted. Myrtle, of course, went into hysterics."
The diary looked completely ordinary, except that every page was blank. The only thing inside was a name, written in faded ink: T. M. Riddle.
"Not a single entry," Hermione murmured, flipping through the empty pages. "That's odd."
"He was at school here fifty years ago," Ron said. "Got an award for special services to the school. I remember it because I had to polish it when I was doing detention."
Hermione went still.
"We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything — where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it — the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"
"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," Ron said, "with just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary."
"It might be invisible ink," Hermione said quietly, pulling out her wand.
One after another, she tried spells, but it was no use. The diary remained perfectly blank. Which only made it more suspicious.