Hermione didn't realize that someone had walked up to her nook in the library until a soft cough roused her from her musings. She looked up to see a pair of nervous green eyes studying her.

  "Hello, Harry. You here to do some homework?" she asked, noticing how he squared his shoulders and held a tense posture. His body nguage told her this conversation was likely about the summer and the consequences of her letter to Madam Bones.

  "Hi, Hermione. Um... I came here to talk about what you did over the summer. I... I just wanted to say thanks…" He seemed to struggle with the words.

  Hermione put down her quill, focusing on Harry with a blend of concern and encouragement. She could see the tension in his shoulders and the uncertainty in his eyes.

  "Harry," she said gently, "I really appreciate you coming to talk about this. I know it's not easy for you. But I want you to understand that what I did was just a small step. You deserved to feel safe and valued, and I couldn't just stand by after everything that happened."

  She took a breath, choosing her words carefully. "I know your summer was incredibly difficult, and while it might not seem like it, your experiences matter. They're not something to brush aside. You're so much stronger than you realize, but I can't be the one you lean on to help you through all of this."

  Hermione's expression softened as she continued, "I care about you, but I also know that talking about trauma can be really hard, and I'm not equipped to help you the way you need. You deserve someone who can help you process what happened, someone who's trained to guide you through those feelings."

  She leaned forward slightly, her voice earnest. "It's okay to feel upset or angry about it. You don't have to hide from those feelings. If you have a friend you trust, you should speak to them. Just... maybe not Ron. He has, er, the emotional range of a teaspoon. He's more the sort to fight by your side than talk about feelings."

  A faint smile crept onto her face, hoping to lighten the mood. "You don't have to go through this alone, and it's okay to seek help from others who can provide the support you need. You deserve that."

  She snapped her book shut, her expression shifting to one of curiosity and determination. "Now, tell me what Professor Snape did to them?"

  Harry looked at her, surprise flickering in his eyes. "How did you know it was Snape?"

  Hermione leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a knowing look. "I could tell. He seemed… different tely, almost kind. What happened?"

  Harry hesitated, gncing around the library as if to ensure they were alone. "Well, he… he went to my house," he said, his voice lowering. "I overheard him confronting Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

  Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Confronting them? About what?"

  "About how they treated me," Harry said, his tone heavy with the weight of his experiences. "He used some kind of spell on them to see their thoughts. It was…" He trailed off, the memories swirling in his mind.

  "What did he see?" Hermione asked softly, her concern deepening.

  "Everything," Harry replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "The cupboard under the stairs, the bruises, the way they treated me like I was less than nothing. I don't know what he did to them, but I could tell he was furious."

  Hermione leaned closer, her expression shifting from concern to determination. "What did he do?"

  "He cursed them," Harry said, his eyes brightening with a mix of shock and relief. "He said that any pain they tried to inflict on me would come back to Dudley instead. It's… it's like he made them feel what I felt all those years."

  Hermione's jaw dropped in disbelief, and she started giggling, quickly becoming cackling. She fell from her chair, wheezing, tears rolling down her cheeks. "He really did that?" she managed to gasp between breaths.

  Harry couldn't help but ugh at her reaction, the tension easing as he watched her. "Yeah, I guess he did! I wasn't expecting it either!"

  Hermione finally managed to calm herself, catching sight of Madam Prince giving them a death stare from across the library. She quickly straightened up, trying to appear more studious. "Oh, that's the reason everyone in Slytherin loves Professor Snape," she said, her voice lowered to a whisper. "He acts waspish to everyone, but it's all a front. The second he sees a kid in trouble, he swoops in like a hero."

  Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? It doesn't seem like it most of the time."

  "Exactly!" Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "But he has this dour look of disappointment and thinly veiled rage that makes people think he's just being surly. In reality, it's all calcuted. He knows exactly what he's doing. It's brilliant, really."

  Harry leaned back, absorbing her words. "So, you think he actually cares?"

  "Of course he does! It's just… complicated. He has a lot of anger and pain, and it makes him hard to read. But beneath that exterior, I think he genuinely wants to help those he feels responsible for, even if he doesn't show it in a conventional way."

  Just then, Madam Prince turned her attention elsewhere, allowing them to rex a bit more. Hermione leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "So, do you think you'll take advantage of the curse he put on the Dursleys?"

  "Maybe," she admitted, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I wouldn't even think twice if it were me, but I'm a spiteful 'witch'." She smirked at him, her pyful tone lightening the mood.

  Harry raised an eyebrow, a grin breaking across his face. "A spiteful witch? Oh god, please tell me you're not going to become like Snape and hide that you're a hero behind snark and spite."

  "Ha, I'm no hero, but I could easily pull off Snark and Spite, pretty sure the house elfs put that in my morning coffee."

  Harry ughed at that, shaking his head. "I don't know, Hermione. You might just end up giving Snape a run for his money. He'd probably be impressed!"

  "Impressed or terrified?" she countered with a teasing grin. "You know, I could always start practicing my best 'Snape gre' for effect."

  Harry chuckled again, picturing her trying to mimic Snape's infamous scowl. "That would be quite the sight! Just imagine the looks on everyone's faces when they see you transform into the Queen of Snark."

  Hermione rolled her eyes pyfully. "Queen of Snark? I like that. It has a nice ring to it. I could use that title on my next essay—'Queen of Snark's Guide to Potions Mastery.'"

  "Now that's a bestseller waiting to happen," Harry said, grinning widely. "You could even dedicate it to your loyal subjects. I can see it now: 'To Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and all my other unfortunate friends.'"

  "Exactly!" she ughed, leaning back in her chair, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'd throw in a few footnotes about the dangers of talking to me before said coffee. A little warning goes a long way."

  Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And here I thought you were all about helping people, not threatening them with curses."

  "Hey, sometimes a little threat is all it takes to keep the peace!" she quipped back, her expression light yet sincere. "Besides, I have to make sure everyone knows I'm not to be messed with."

  "Point taken," Harry said, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "We'd better get to the great hall before this Feast starts. Headless Nick invited me to his deathday party, but… "

  "Yeah, no thanks, rotten food and being hungry is a terrible combination, allright let me grab my stuff and lets go."

  As they reached the entrance to the Great Hall, they noticed students streaming in, a buzz of excitement filling the air. The tantalizing aroma of food wafted toward them, making Hermione's stomach rumble.

  Just as they were about to step inside, a loud commotion erupted down the corridor. Harry and Hermione exchanged gnces before rushing toward the source of the noise.

  In the dim light of the hallway, they saw a group of students gathered around a patch of the wall. As they pushed through the crowd, Harry's heart sank. The words The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened were scrawled in bright red, and at the centre of the scene y Mrs Norris, Filch's beloved cat, stiff and motionless.

  Hermione just stared at the wall and the cat, all blood leaving her face. The diary was in py; she'd need to find it before someone died.