A Turn for the Better

Chapter 15 ~ Ah, the Way

Neville sat next to Hermione in the library, several books spread out in front of them. The Gryffindor kept cutting his eyes toward her. Hermione had told him what professor Snape said happened, leaving out the part about sleeping with him, of course. Neville really didn't need to know or even imagine that part. She was sure he'd be squicked beyond recovery.

But Hermione was a hero, a real hero and no one but him and Snape knew it. Snape was a hero too. If not for the both of them, his parents would be in St. Mungo's, so damaged that they could never recover, and he would have been stuck with being raised by his Gran, who would have turned him into a wimp.

And Harry Potter, that git had the most to be thankful for. If not for Hermione, he would have lost his entire family and been an orphan, not to mention killed by Voldemort. The Slytherin should fall down on his knees and kiss the hem of her robes, if not her ass. But Neville couldn't tell him this. There was no way Harry or anyone would believe him . . . besides, if someone did believe him, it would turn both Snape's and Hermione's lives upside down. It was better to leave it as it was. At least that part of it.

There was another aspect of the situation that Neville just couldn't leave alone, and so he had three detentions coming up next for punching a surprised Harry in the face just before breakfast and starting a brawl.

"What the fuck was that for?" Harry gasped as they struggled, students egging them on.

"You bloody know what it's for, Potter!" Neville hissed, trying to choke the life out of the Slytherin. Harry elbowed him in the ribs as hard as he could, knocking the wind out of him, and breaking free before they clashed together again, fists flying and robes tangling.

"Get him, Harry! Kick his ass!" Draco yelled, making boxing motions.

He would have jumped in, but a number of steely eyed Gryffindors were just waiting for that to happen and Goyle and Crabbe hadn't yet made it down to breakfast. So Draco was outnumbered. Gryffindors weren't that fair either . . . not when it came to an opportunity to wreak some revenge on the Pureblood. They would have covered him like a living tide.

Filch and Flitwick broke Harry and Neville up, both young wizards disheveled and glaring at each other, Harry wiping blood from his nose and fixing his glasses. As he looked at Neville's face, he did know why he punched him.

Because of Hermione.

Neville must have known what happened in his room that evening and was warned not to say anything. Bloody Granger should have told him not to do anything either. Who made him her watchdog anyway? Everyone seemed to want to protect her.

Neville acted quickly, leaving Gryffindor tower before Hermione did, hoping to run into Harry. It was Saturday morning and Hermione usually took her time getting down to the Great Hall.

His hope had been realized. He spent the rest of breakfast eating and letting Hermione's stream of reprimands flow in one ear and out the other. As far as Neville was concerned, Harry Potter deserved more than grounds keeping duties and he wasn't the least bit sorry he'd bent his nose back for him, and he told Hermione so.

"Oh Neville, I told you not to do anything," Hermione said to him as they exited the Great Hall, heading for the library.

"And I heard you," Neville growled, still angry. He would have liked to crunch Potter's nose just one more time.

"But you didn't listen to me," Hermione said, shaking her head. But in her heart she was glad Neville gave Harry what for. He was an idiot. And Neville was so sweet and protective.

Neville wouldn't talk about it any more. What was done, was done and it was worth serving three detentions with Hagrid. Harry was just lucky his detentions were over, or he'd get a little more exercise.

Now they were in the library, looking up information about basilisks. How to kill them to be precise. But there was a lot of conflicting information. The only thing that seemed consistent was that it could kill with a glance.

Neville looked at the books, his brow furrowed.

"How in the world can a basilisk be hatched from a rooster's egg? Roosters don't lay eggs. It's physically impossible. They don't have the right plumbing for that. Even if they could, passing the egg would probably kill them," Neville said, his thighs reflexively clamping together as he though about a large egg trying to pass through his penis.

Arrrrgh.

Hermione smiled at his pained face and pointed to another book.

"Neville, it says here that a basilisk is hatched by a rooster sitting on a serpent's egg. That's far more likely how they are created," she told him.

Neville still couldn't understand why they were so bloody dangerous then. Hermione told him it was just . . . magic and left it at that.

Neville brightened considerably when he read that basilisks were between six and twelve inches long, but Hermione poured ice water on that disputable fact when she recounted how Harry killed the creature.

"He drove Godric Gryffindor's sword through the roof of the basilisk's mouth," the witch told the wide-eyed wizard, "and a tooth nicked him. Luckily Fawkes came and saved him with his tears. They have healing properties, you know. Anyway, there's no way he could have driven a sword through the mouth of a six inch basilisk."

"Maybe he was exaggerating," Neville offered hopefully. "He's a bloody braggart now. Wouldn't put it past him."

Hermione scowled at Neville.

"He wasn't like that in the other timeline, Neville. He was nice. Honest, well most of the time. Sometimes he had to hide the truth, but I doubt he did this time," she replied, "and he wasn't exaggerating. Myrtle said she saw 'big' yellow eyes. A little basilisk's eyes wouldn't have been big."

Neville looked back down at the book.

"It says here a weasel can kill a basilisk with its bite. Maybe we should take Ron with us," Neville said with a grin.

Hermione laughed.

"Neville, he's a Weasley, not a weasel. He'd be worse than useless, although I have to admit, I'd love to see the look on his face at the idea of facing a basilisk. No one can mug like Ron Weasley," Hermione chuckled.

Ronald Weasley did seem to have an astounding amount of disturbing facial expressions, which he used frequently. No one could look as disgusted as he could when he saw or heard something unsavory.

"Bloody hell," he'd breathe, his face contorting according to the level of disgust he needed to portray.

Hermione imagined his face would get permanently stuck in a gruesome position if he knew what had occurred between her and professor Snape. Ron couldn't stand him, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. But Ron wanted to be an Auror and needed to get at least an Acceptable in potions in his final year.

It was an uphill battle, with Snape pushing boulders down the slope.

But more than likely Snape would pass him, rather than have him come back to Hogwarts for a remedial course, thus starting the whole nauseating cycle again. Ron was just going to have to give it his all.

That's all Snape wanted anyway.

Suddenly, Neville went ashen.

"Neville? What's wrong?" Hermione said, as he stared. She looked in the direction he was looking and saw Luna approaching, her arms overflowing with books. She stopped, resting them on the end of their table for a moment.

"Hello Hermione. Hi Neville," she said dreamily, her blue eyes drifting over the both of them, then the books they were reading. Hermione sort of spread her arms a bit, hoping to cover most of the text.

"Hello Luna," Hermione said in a voice that clearly implied she wished Luna would go away. Neville made a choked noise, still staring at the witch.

"I'm just doing a bit of light reading. I like to come to the library on the weekends because so few students are here," Luna said, "I can pick out what books I want without bumping into too many people. Well, I'm off. Bye Hermione. Bye Neville."

She picked up the huge pile of books and made her way over to Madam Pince's counter, the librarian scowling as she approached with such an unconscionable amount of checkouts.

Neville made another noise, staring after Luna longingly.

Hermione punched him in the shoulder, thus loosening his tongue which seemed to have attached itself to the roof of his mouth. He gasped, holding his slightly injured arm.

"Neville, you have to do more than mumble when you see Luna. She's not going to bite you," Hermione said to him, going back to her books.

Neville couldn't help thinking he wouldn't mind in the least if Luna bit him.

A bit more browsing told them the following: A basilisk could be killed by a rooster crowing and a mirror. If it saw its own reflection, apparently it became so frightened, it keeled over from horror.

Hermione found this reason rather weak, but it was possible it could petrify itself. After all, anyone who saw its reflection in the other timeline was petrified.

There were also entries that said a basilisk could burn anything it approached and its breath could wilt vegetation and shatter stone.

Hermione shook her head.

"In the alternate timeline Harry was very close to the basilisk. He wasn't set on fire, and he didn't die from its breath, so I don't think this is true," the witch said, then closed the book. "I think we have enough to form a good battle plan."

"But we still haven't figured out how we're going to get the chamber open, Hermione," Neville said as Hermione began to gather the books together. Suddenly she stopped, eyeing a book resting on the end of the table.

"I didn't select this book," she said, picking up the tome. It was very old, the pages yellowed and brittle. Hermione looked at the title, her eyes widening.

"I didn't know anything about this," she said, sitting back down and opening it up.

"What is it?" Neville asked her, craning his neck to see.

"It's a book on sound magic," the witch replied, carefully turning the yellowed pages. There was a rather tattered silk bookmark marking a page. Hermione skimmed over it, becoming excited.

"What? What?" Neville asked her as she practically jumped up and down in her seat.

"Look, an entire section on 'trapping sound,'" she breathed.

Madam Pince just finished stamping all the books Luna had piled on the counter, when the Head Girl said dreamily, "You know, Madam Pince . . . I think I'll just read these later," and wandered out.

The librarian looked after her in exasperation, then at all the books piled on the counter and sighed. This wasn't the first time Luna changed her mind about checking books out. She should have made her take an oath she'd take them this time.

As Luna ambled away, she wore a tiny hint of a smile.

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"Wwwwwho . . . wwwwho iiiis it?" Professor Quirrel stammered in answer to a knock on his office door. He was marking papers. He liked to get it done early on the weekends. He was stuttering because the knock startled him.

"It's Hermione Granger, professor Quirrel. I know I don't have an appointment, but I wondered if I could have five minutes of your time," the witch said from the other side of the door.

Neville was with her of course.

"Oh, Mmmmiss Granger. Come in," Quirrel said.

Professor Quirrel liked Hermione. She got very high marks in his class. Hermione entered, followed closely by Neville.

"Ah, and Mr. Longbbbbottom. Come in, the bbbboth of you. How can I hhhelp you?" he asked pleasantly.

His office smelled like garlic.

"Um, I'd like to ask a favor of you, sir. I'm doing a report on speaking Parseltongue and I was wondering if you would give me a few samples of words," she said to him.

"Samples? You mean pronounce the words for you? I can certainly do that," the wizard said, "just give me a list of the words you'd like me to say."

Hermione quickly produced a parchment, handing it to the teacher, who studied it.

"Hm, very simple words. Open. Stop. Go back. Stay. All commands," he said, looking up at the pair curiously.

"Ah yes. I chose words I thought a Parseltongue would use to command a serpent," Hermione said. "I believe that's what the language is used for the most, unless you have conversations."

Quirrel shuddered.

"The only thing I've ever told a serpent was to go far away," the wizard said, then cleared his throat. "All right, here's the first word . . ."

"Wait," Hermione said, producing a rather large blue glass bottle, pulling out the stopper, taking out her wand and tapping the neck of it as she murmured a charm. Then she offered the bottle to Quirrel.

"Could you speak them into this?" she asked him, her eyes shining as he took the bottle from her.

"Ccccertainly," he replied.

Neville hoped stuttering didn't affect Parseltongue.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.