The Chamber of Secrets (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

Twelve Signatures

"So you telling me Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yes," 

"Hagrid?"

"Riddle might have got the wrong person," said Hermione. "Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people..."

"How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?" Ron asked dully.

"Quite a lot, actually." Y/N said. "Have you seen the size of the castle."

"We always knew Hagrid had been expelled," said Harry miserably. "And the attacks must've stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn't have got his award."

"Riddle does sound like Percy — who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?"

"But the monster had killed someone, Ron," said Hermione.

"And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts," said Harry. "I don't blame him for wanting to stay here..."

"You met Hagrid down Knockturn Alley, didn't you, Harry?"

"He was buying a Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent," said Harry quickly.

The four of them fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice. 

"Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?"

"That'd be a cheerful visit," said Ron. "'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?'"

 In the end, they decided that they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Peeves had finally got bored of his "Oh, Potter, you rotter" song, Ernie Macmillan asked Harry quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools in Herbology one day, and in March several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This made Professor Sprout very happy.

"The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature," she told the class. "Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing."

The second years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for the third year, a matter that Hermione, at least, took very seriously. 

"... it could affect our whole future," she told Harry, Y/N, and Ron as they pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.

"Get real, Hermione." Y/N said. "Like third year History of Magic is life or death."

"I just want to give up Potions," said Harry.

"We can't," said Ron. "We keep all our old subjects, or I'd've ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But that's very important!" said Hermione, shocked.  

"Not the way Lockhart teaches it," said Ron. "I haven't learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose."

"Or whatever the Wiggly Wonky Werewolf is." Y/N said.

"The Wagga Wagga Werewolf," Hermione corrected.

"Yeah, that," Y/N rolled his eyes.

Neville Longbottom had been sent letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, all giving him different advice on what to choose. Confused and worried, he sat reading the subject lists with his tongue poking out, asking people whether they thought Arithmancy sounded more difficult than the study of Ancient Runes. Dean Thomas, who had grown up with Muggles, ended up closing his eyes and jabbing his wand at the list, then picking the subjects it landed on. Hermione took nobody's advice but signed up for everything.