At four-thirty in the morning, Hermione Granger woke up as usual. Amid the steady breathing of Lavender and the other girls, she quietly completed her morning routine. Dressed in her workout clothes, she grabbed her wand from the bedside and softly pushed the door open to step outside.
By four-fifty, the common room's fireplace cast a warm, reddish glow from a few unburned logs, though the Gryffindor common room remained shrouded in near-total darkness. Still, Hermione could sense a familiar pair of green eyes lifting to meet hers from the shadows.
With practiced ease, she slipped her slightly cold hand into a warm, strong one. Allowing herself to be led, she stepped out into the chilly corridor, ignoring the Fat Lady's grumbled complaints.
After Ron stopped joining them in the Room of Requirement for their morning workouts, Hermione had expected to feel some sense of loss. Oddly, though, as the group dwindled from six to three, she found herself feeling inexplicably lighter during these sessions. It was as if, in those early morning hours, she could finally shed an invisible weight, becoming wholly herself again. A quiet ease spread from her heart to every part of her body—a joy she hadn't felt at Hogwarts since the previous year's Yule Ball.
But as she, Harry, and Neville left the Room of Requirement, donned their robes, and entered the Great Hall, that sense of freedom began to fade. The crowd around her and Harry grew, and for the third time that morning, she caught Ron's gaze lingering on her. The familiar, indescribable constraint returned, tightening around her. A suspicion formed in her mind—but was it fair to Harry?
Her thoughts were a tangled mess, so much so that she didn't notice the Weasley twins secretly recruiting volunteers to test their Skiving Snackboxes. She barely focused during Professor Flitwick's and Professor McGonagall's classes, which led to her absentmindedly transfiguring her desk into a fire-drake during Transfiguration. Though unintended, the feat earned Gryffindor ten house points.
Then, during the afternoon's Care of Magical Creatures class, Harry was surprised to see not Professor Grubbly-Plank but Hagrid, who had been absent for some time. His left eye was bruised and swollen shut, his face and hands marred with cuts and scrapes, some still bleeding. He looked as though he'd gone toe-to-toe with something ferocious, but aside from the surface wounds, he seemed healthy enough.
Hagrid, carrying half a dead cow over his shoulder, led the class along a path through the forest to a dense thicket.
"We're havin' class here today!" he announced cheerfully. "Bit dark in the woods, but they like it that way, don't they?"
His words prompted nervous looks from several students. Creatures that preferred darkness didn't exactly sound promising.
"Ready, then?" Hagrid said, scanning the class with a grin. "Right. I've saved a special lesson for you fifth-years—a field study to see these creatures in their natural habitat. They're rare, mind you. I reckon I might be the only one in Britain who's tamed 'em…"
"Are you sure they're tamed?" Hermione was pleased to hear fear and a quiver in Draco Malfoy's voice. "This wouldn't be the first time you've brought dangerous beasts to class, would it?"
The Slytherins murmured in agreement, and a few Gryffindors seemed to think Malfoy had a point.
"'Course they're tamed," Hagrid said, frowning as he hoisted the dead cow higher on his shoulder.
"Then what happened to your face?" Malfoy pressed, his tone dripping with skepticism.
"None o' your business!" Hagrid snapped, cutting him off. "Now, if you're done askin' questions, follow me!"
Without giving Malfoy or anyone else a chance to respond, he turned and strode into the forest.
The class hesitated, reluctant to follow. Hermione saw Harry glance at her, and she nodded. Together, they led the way into the dense woods, followed by Neville, Ron, and eventually the rest of the class.
After fourteen minutes of walking, they stopped in a thickly wooded area, dark as twilight. Hagrid set the half-cow on the ground, stepped back, and turned to face the class—though only Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ron, Seamus, and Dean stood directly in front of him. The others hid behind trees, glancing nervously about as if expecting a monstrous creature to leap from the shadows.
"Gather 'round, gather 'round," Hagrid said, waving them closer. "They'll come for the meat, but I reckon I oughta call 'em too, 'cause they like knowin' it's me…"
He turned, shook his hair out of his face, and let out a strange, piercing cry that echoed through the dim forest like the call of a giant bird. No one laughed; most seemed too frightened to make a sound.
Hagrid called again. A minute passed as the students peered anxiously into the gloom, unsure what to expect. When Hagrid shook his hair back a third time and puffed out his broad chest, Hermione felt Harry take her right hand.
"Hermione, over there—those winged, hairless black horses!" Harry said excitedly, pulling her hand and pointing to a shadowy spot between two gnarled yew trees.
Hermione followed his gaze, but the silent, dusky forest appeared empty. Then she noticed the half-cow on the ground trembling—not trembling, exactly, but being torn and bitten by something invisible in the air.
Hagrid stopped calling, and while everyone else seemed puzzled by his silence, Hermione glanced back. Most of the class was looking around curiously, except for two students: a thin Slytherin boy behind Goyle, staring at the air near the cow with disgust, and Neville.
"Oh, another one's here!" Hagrid said, beaming at the empty air. "Now… who can see 'em? Hands up."
Harry raised his hand, as did Neville and the Slytherin boy.
"Sorry," Malfoy said with a mocking tone, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"
Hagrid pointed to the cow on the ground in response.
The class stared. After a few seconds, some gasped, and Parvati let out a scream.
Under everyone's gaze, chunks of meat peeled away from the bones, vanishing into the air—an unsettling sight.
"What is that?" Parvati asked, retreating behind the nearest tree, peeking out fearfully. "What's eating it?"
"Thestrals…" Hermione said, the word triggering a flood of information from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Thestrals, classified as XXXX creatures, had a skeletal, eerie appearance, with large, dragon-like heads and pupil-less white eyes. They were drawn to the scent of blood.
Wizards who could see them often described them as strange and ominous, though this was a misconception. In 1965, Newt Scamander had written…
In half a second, Hermione organized the facts in her mind, her right hand itching to rise.
"…Hogwarts has a whole herd of 'em," Hagrid was saying. "Now, who knows—?"
"They're terribly unlucky!" Parvati interrupted, backing away in panic. "They bring all sorts of awful misfortune to anyone who sees them. Professor Trelawney told me—"
"No, no, no," Hagrid said with a chuckle. "That's just superstition. They're clever and useful. This lot mostly pulls the school carriages, unless Dumbledore's travelin' far and doesn't fancy Apparating… Oh, look, another pair's here…"
Hermione saw Parvati shudder, clutching a tree as if she wanted to sink into it. "I feel something—it's like it's right next to me!"
"Don't worry, it won't hurt you," Hagrid said patiently. "Now, who can tell me why some can see 'em and others can't?"
Hermione raised her right hand instinctively—taking Harry's left hand with it.
Laughter erupted from the class, the tension from the invisible creatures dissipating. Hermione felt her face heat up and tried to lower her hand, but Harry's grip held firm.
"Er… Harry, Hermione, which one of you wants to answer?" Hermione caught a glint of joy in Hagrid's dark eyes—was he happy for her and Harry?
"Hermione, you go," Harry said softly, his breath tickling her ear.
She cleared her throat, striving to keep her voice steady.
"Only those who have seen and understood death can see Thestrals," she said.
"Spot on! Five points to Gryffindor!" Hagrid clapped happily. "Now, maybe some of you'd like to come up and touch 'em?"
No one volunteered, so Hagrid turned to Harry and Hermione at the front. "Harry, why don't you and Hermione show 'em how it's done?"
"Hermione, you okay with that?" Harry asked, looking at her.
"I'm willing," she said softly, as if answering his question—and perhaps something more.
Harry led her to the partially eaten cow. He guided her hand, which he hadn't let go of, to a patch of air. Her fingers brushed the bony frame of a Thestral.
It was a strange sensation—nothing visible before her, yet she felt life beneath her touch, as if separated by an invisible veil.
After class, the students headed to the greenhouses, buzzing with excitement about the lesson. Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class had clearly left an impression.
An hour and a half later, they trudged back to the castle, muddy and tired.
After dinner, as Hermione sat by the common room fireplace, flipping through Hogwarts: A History, a tall, red-haired figure loomed beside her.
"Something up, Ron?" she asked, her eyes on a passage about the Hogwarts kitchens.
"Er… Hermione, you know it's your birthday today, so… I got you this perfume. Hope you like it…" Ron placed a neatly wrapped bottle on the table in front of her.
"Ron, thank you," Hermione said, looking up with a smile. She didn't use perfume, but it was a thoughtful gift from Ron…
Seeing her return to her book, Ron quietly sat down nearby.
As Hermione pondered how to return the perfume without hurting his feelings, familiar footsteps approached.
"Hermione, can you come with me for a bit?" Harry's voice came from her right.
"Now?" She glanced at the clock, raising an eyebrow. "When curfew's less than forty minutes away?"
"Yes, now," Harry said gently but firmly.
"You'll get us back before curfew?"
"Promise."
He extended his hand. Hermione looked at him, a smile tugging at her lips, and placed her hand in his.
Seven minutes later, they entered an empty classroom. As Hermione wondered what Harry was up to, he spoke to the air.
"Dobby."
With a crack, Dobby appeared before them.
"Good evening, Harry, Hermione!" the house-elf said, bowing.
"Take us to my place," Harry said to Dobby.
"Of course!" Dobby grabbed their hands, and before Hermione could protest, the world blurred. She found herself in the living room of Harry's home in Godric's Hollow.
"Harry! Leaving the castle without permission is against the rules!" Hermione said, punching his arm.
"So, are you going to report me?" Harry asked with a grin.
"I won't, but you have to get us back before curfew!"
"Deal."
"So why did you drag me all the way to your house?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms and eyeing him. "Just so you know, I ate plenty at dinner, and I'm not planning to gain weight, so no candlelit dinners."
"Come with me, and you'll see."
Harry led her to the basement, stopping before a large brass wardrobe.
"Harry, you didn't bring me here just to show me a wardrobe, did you?" Hermione said, exasperated. "I was in the middle of—"
Her words caught in her throat as the wardrobe doors, touched by Harry's fingers, turned into a shimmering liquid.
He took her hand and led her through it.
After passing through a spectacular ice cave, Hermione found herself in a vast hall. To her astonishment—and delight—the left side was lined with transparent, crystal-like bookshelves, brimming with books.
"Harry… this is…" Her words faltered, overwhelmed by the sight.
"Miss Granger, welcome to the Potter family's secret chamber," Harry said, his voice warm in her ear. "As the current head of the Potter family, I declare that from this moment, every book here is yours to use. They're yours."
"And so am I," he added softly.
Hermione turned to meet his green eyes, filled with love.
Their breaths mingled, their noses drawing closer. Then their hearts met.
Her hands moved instinctively over his back, seeking and responding as warmth spread from their touch through her entire body.
When she could barely breathe, she pulled back from his embrace.
"Hermione…"
"Hm?"
"We might've missed curfew."
"Hm."
"Want to do that again?"
"Hm…"
It was the best birthday gift Hermione had ever received.
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