In Pursuit of Granger

Chapter 1, Midnight Adventures

It was half past twelve when I crept out of my bed and quickly ran towards the Ravenclaw common room. My long fingers traced across the brick and stone as I walked down the long stairwell. I stopped when I almost reached the bottom to make sure there was no one still reading by the fire. Normally there were a few seventh years who would stay up into long hours of the night (as do I), but tonight there were none. But as I reached the very last step, I saw there was a single candle lit at the table. I peeked my head out ever so quickly and realized that the candle was unattended. Slowly I crept over to the table, strategically placing each and every footstep. I had on my normal clothes (or Muggle clothes), my forest green Converses were laced in a way that resembled a star-like pattern and my jacket was pulled tightly to my chest. I didn't breathe as I took it step by step, slowly making my way towards the candle. I couldn't be caught up this late, if I was people would know I was awake and would be able to put me at the scene of the crime. Creeeeaaak! The floorboard where I had just placed my left foot squeaked. I froze in my place. No, this was not how I was getting caught. Not this way. After a moment or two I started making my way towards the candle once again. I couldn't risk my precious Ravenclaw dorms burning down. Everything would be gone; the memories, the items, my journal.

Afterall, Ravenclaw was all I had. It was a badge that I wore with honor. It had been ever since I was placed here in my first year. The sorting hat sat on my head for a few seconds before it made its decision.

"You," it said. "You long for knowledge. Ravenclaw!"

Thank the wizard God, all the other houses were beneath me and I couldn't have lived with myself if I was sorted into another house. After all Gryffindor was severely overrated, Hufflepuff was for people who had nowhere else to go, and Slytherin was evil. My friends were also sorted into Ravenclaw (which wasn't that difficult because I befriend everyone and Hogwarts is so small now). There was Andrew the only other sixth year boy in Ravenclaw, Jenna a seventh year and one of many of my closest friends, Lottie my classmate who I always tried to outdo, and Michelle who always listens when I go on and on and on about my hatred of History of Magic. Some of my other friends unfortunately were not placed in Ravenclaw. Peyton was in Hufflepuff (wizard God only knows how), Bella in Gryffindor as well as most of the class (Sidney, Nick, and Olivia to name a few), and Emily was in Slytherin of course. For the scarf of sexual preference (a.k.a Scarfy) it took less than a second to sort me.

Before Scarfy touched me he roared, "SIMP!"

I smiled at this memory as I blew out the candle, there crisis avoided. Now Ravenclaw won't burn down and maybe finally something noteworthy will happen to the witches and wizards that occupied its walls.I made my way in the dark to the door and I was able to make my way to her office. It was close at times, two Slytherins almost caught me but I avoided capture. I walked quickly down the long damp, dark hallways of Hogwarts. I couldn't see well but I knew my way. This was a journey I had taken hundreds of times, physically and in my mind. When I reached her office I slipped a large stone out of the wall and crawled inside. Hermione Granger was the newly appointed headmistress of Hogwarts. She was appointed within the first week because the last headmaster, Minerva Goodman, tragically fell out a window "accidentally." As Minister of Magic, Hermione had to take over while they looked for replacements. She also took over the role as teacher of the Dark Arts, a subject she deeply resented. She described Professor Goodman's fall as 'Dumbledore-like' as she told what happened. We spend the days in Dark Arts hearing stories of her days at Hogwarts. Most of us had heard them already as she had written them down and published them under her nom de plume, JK Rowling. From my spot behind the large portrait of Albus Dumbledore I watched her. I thought about how one day she would see my artistic abilities and commission me to paint a portrait of her (I've already painted dozens). She had once again fallen asleep at her desk. Her brown hair was a mess and she had drooled onto some very important documents. I saw this as a chance to get more samples for my collection. I slipped down from my spot, pulled a vile out of my pocket and collected the sample. I took a stray hair and folded it into a piece of parchment paper. This I decided would go into my journal. My Hermione Journal was a small book I kept hidden inside my duck boots, and I added to it almost every night. As I made my way back into the portrait, I sang softly one of the twelve original songs I had written just for her (all set to the tune of songs from my favorite musical Children of Eden.) I made my way back into the Ravenclaw dorm and went to bed like nothing had happened. But Hermione was never truly alone, she was watched by me every second by the dozens of eyes I had planted inside her office.