When Hermione Fights

The Eye of the Snake

The Eye of the Snake

I was still in the now deserted common room and had been working through the last pages of the second book Draco had given me when I heard excited noises from the boys' dorm. Then Neville sprinted down the stairs at a rapid pace and with a lot of noise and dove past me. As I was on my own, he didn't see me at first. When he spotted me eventually it made him jump and stumble for a brief moment. If he hadn't had such a fearful expression on his face I would've laughed at his bright red pajamas with the moving mandrakes, as it was I ignored this unusual sight.

"Hermione, Merlin, you startled me!" he said in shock, clutching at his fast-pounding heart.

"Neville, what's up, what happened?" I asked worriedly, shrinking the book and quickly putting it away.

"Harry..." he stuttered breathlessly and I interrupted him harshly.

"What about Harry?" It came impatiently from me.

"I have to get McGonagall. He was dreaming, he couldn't see anything anymore, and now he's throwing up too!" he said quickly.

"Go quickly to the professor!" I shouted, already sprinting up the stairs to the dormitory, and threw the door open and stormed into the room. A totally distraught and hysterical Harry, who looked terribly green in his face with cold sweat pooling down his forehead, was curled up on his bed. His sweaty hair stuck to his head and his pajamas clung soaking wet to his body. The sight was pitiful, but so were his friends in their total helplessness over Harry's situation. Dean and Seamus stood close to each other, whispering helplessly, and Ron? Well, he spouted something about Harry having to calm down, that he had a dream and a fever. But given what Harry had told us about his aching scar and his visions, I couldn't imagine that it was only a dream. He looked so bad, there had to be more to it.

"Harry, Harry, calm down, that was only a dream...," I heard Ron still persistently trying to persuade him, "a fever dream..."

I acted and did the necessary thing first, which the accumulated manhood present wasn't capable of, I thought contemptuously. I swung my wand, dried his pajamas with a Seresco, let the sour-smelling vomit lying beside his bed disappear with a Scourgify, and with a determined wipe the windows opened. Boys were so incompetent in crucial situations. I mean, they were all wizards, young men that were capable of using magic, and no children, but no, we just don't do the simple tasks...

"Hermione!" It sounded relieved but also very shaky.

"Harry, calm down, you must try to calm down,... here drink!" I had quickly conjured a cup of water and ignored Ron, Dean and Seamus, turning my attention to my problem child. I sat down on Harry's bed and helped him take a sip, which he managed to swallow with difficulty.

"What happened?" I asked calmly, stroking his now dry, tangled hair out of his face. The boys stood there like stuffed dummies and watched us and my attempt to bring order into the chaos.

"Ron's dad... I can't see anything, Mr. Weasley..." whined a very grown-up Harry, which I meant ironically, and I reached out to his bedside table and put his glasses on for him.

"Better?"

"Oh yes, thanks... I dreamed and then... Arthur is hurt, Mr Weasley is hurt! Blood, blood, there was blood everywhere..."

We were interrupted because the door was pushed open again and McGonagall stormed in, dressed in her tartan dressing gown.

"What happened here?" she asked our group sternly. "Mr Potter, what happened here?" The old teacher sounded imperiously as ever.