Hermione sat alone in the dim glow of the Slytherin common room, the only sound the quiet crackling of the fire and the gentle hisses from Angitia coiled comfortingly around her wrist. Rumours about the Heir of Slytherin were spreading like wildfire, and Harry was their favourite target. Students whispered that his sudden anger and jumpiness marked him as the culprit, the heir who would unleash terror upon Hogwarts. Hermione had deflected suspicion earlier by pointing out that she and Harry had both been in the library when the st attack happened, and Mrs Prince could verify their alibi. But the whispers lingered, stoking a tension she couldn't quite shake.

  Of course, they didn't know what Hermione knew—that Harry's erratic behaviour was less about some dark inheritance and more a product of his traumatic home life. Snape had uncovered hints of it, leading Harry to act even more skittish, struggling with a mixture of anger and shame at the exposure. To the others, his unease and moments of anger were simply strange; to Hermione, they were a reminder of the fragile strength Harry tried to maintain.

  Hermione's hand tightened around Angitia, drawing from the familiar's warmth. "They don't see him for what he is," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "Just a boy dealing with scars they'll never understand." Angitia tilted her head, her green scales catching the light as her tongue flicked out in silent agreement, her gaze steady and wise.

  The library alibi had worked for now, but Hermione knew the danger was far from over. The castle's walls seemed to press in more tightly each day, whispering of darker things yet to come. She could sense it, like the feeling before a storm, and Angitia's protective tension confirmed her suspicion.

  As Hermione's mind turned over the situation, she focused on the basilisk. Every tale pointed to its eyes as the true threat, the source of its lethal magic. What if she could find a way to counter it? She leaned closer to her notes, scrawling ideas as she worked through the concept.

  Her first thought was to weaken the basilisk's gaze by dampening photons. She knew that photons were scattered, losing energy when light reflected—through mirrors or water. Perhaps if she could enchant a lens or mirror to disperse light even further, she could blunt the lethal force of the basilisk's magic. But as she mapped out the spellwork, Hermione realised this was more complex than it seemed. It required weakening every photon—and the only way to test it would be against the basilisk itself, an impossible risk.

  She frowned, remembering that phoenixes were immune to the basilisk's gaze. But why? Was this protection exclusive to phoenixes, or did all birds share it? If it was unique to phoenixes, was it because of their immortality or something deeper within their magical essence? She wondered if she could mimic that immunity through an enchantment. But this method posed the same deadly risk without a phoenix's essence to study or even test against.

  Hermione sat back in frustration, her gaze drifting to Angitia, whose alert, watchful presence triggered a new idea. "What about… sonar?" she muttered, straightening in her seat. Snakes could sense vibrations and even the presence of warm-blooded creatures nearby without seeing them. If she could enchant something to emit a magical form of sonar, she might be able to detect the basilisk's presence without ever needing to look at it.

  Her quill moved quickly as she jotted down the idea. The sonar spell would need to be keyed into snakes only, a tricky task but achievable with careful spellwork. This way, she could sense the basilisk's location and avoid it without risking a direct encounter. She looked down at Angitia, feeling a flicker of confidence. "With this spell, I wouldn't even have to look. We'd sense it before it ever saw us." Angitia flicked her tongue in agreement, her coils shifting as if she approved.

  Hermione realised that this method was far more reliable; not only that, but she could enchant items to give to her 'friends' in Slytherin to protect them and gain favour with them. Whilst they're all still a bit young for politics, they'd remember how she moved to defend them again. She ignored the voice at the back of her mind, asking if that was the only reason; she needed to focus on getting this to work, so she started working on the runes and the required numerology.

  After a few hours, she managed to get a gem that could be pced on a string to work, but Angitia kept triggering it. Frustrated by this setback, she didn't know enough to ward just her familiar into the gem. She knew a wardstone could recognise specific magical signatures, but her studies needed to delve deeper to understand how to do that. This left her with 2 options, forgo the protection of the detector or leave Angitia in the common room. No, no, that left her with 3 options… kill the basilisk. No, wrong again; her real option was to kill Tom Riddle's Shade.

  She'd been approaching this wrongly; why py defence? Why be a pacifist against a threat to her and her school? Why was she being so weak vs the bastard who had harmed her family so much. No, meek and mild would not be how she dealt with this threat. She needed to find the diary and deal with Tom permanently, in the books, Ginny had it in her dorm.

  She knew where the diary would likely be. In the books, Ginny Weasley had kept it hidden in her dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione could search there, but getting into Gryffindor's common room would be a challenging task. She'd need a guide—someone who could give her access and keep watch. She'd need Harry.

  A smirk tugged at Hermione's lips as she considered the irony. Harry, unknowingly, held the key to defeating the spectre haunting her life. She needed his help—not to get the password to Gryffindor Tower, which could be managed by other means. But to avoid getting caught while searching for the diary, she'd need the cloak. That invisibility cloak could provide the cover she needed to slip in undetected, search the common room, and escape without a trace.

  Angitia tilted her head, watching Hermione with sharp eyes as if sensing the shift in her pn. Hermione leaned down, stroking her familiar's smooth scales thoughtfully. "This will work, Angitia. Harry won't turn me down if I frame it carefully."

  The next challenge would be timing. She couldn't afford to approach Harry during the day, not with all the attention on him tely. It had to be te, before curfew, when the castle was quieter and fewer students were roaming the halls. She could find him near the library or in one of the empty cssrooms, where he sometimes used to hide away from the suspicious stares.

  Hermione mapped out her approach in her mind. She'd need to show just enough urgency to pique Harry's curiosity without revealing too much. But she knew he wouldn't let a potential opportunity to fight back slip by. The cloak, though, would be the trickiest part. She'd have to convince him to lend it, which meant appealing to his desire to act, to take control in a situation where he'd otherwise feel helpless.

  Hermione rose from her seat, a glint of determination in her eyes. "Come on, Angitia," she murmured. "We have a heist to pn".