A Turn for the Better

Chapter 16 ~ A Lot of Thinking Going On

After collecting the Parseltongue words from professor Quirrel and returning to Hogwarts tower, Neville excused himself for several minutes, telling Hermione he had something to show her.

The Common Room was empty, the students out and about the castle or off-grounds. The weekends were always like this. Hermione took a seat at one of the study tables and waited for Neville impatiently. They had planning to do.

Neville reappeared, a parchment in his hand and he walked up to Hermione determinedly, slamming the parchment down on the table in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked him.

"Just read it," Neville said evenly, his brows furrowed.

Hermione began reading and her eyebrows rose up in surprise. She looked up at Neville sharply.

"Neville, you have to be kidding me," she declared as Neville folded his arms.

"I'm not. I'm not doing another thing until you follow that for the next week," he said firmly.

Hermione blinked up at him.

"But, but Neville, this doesn't give me any time to focus on developing . . ." she complained.

"I don't care. You've been neglecting your studies, Hermione, and obviously have gone a bit mad over all of this. You're losing track of your priorities. So, you're going to follow that schedule and get in a week of study or I'm backing out. You've worked too hard not to get your proper marks," Neville said.

Actually, Neville would never back out because he knew Hermione was hard-headed enough to go for the basilisk without him. But he hoped his threat would work.

"That's just bloody blackmail!" Hermione hissed at him.

Neville shrugged.

"Call it what you want, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn't do what was best for you?" he asked the witch.

"That's not a friend, that's a father," she spat back.

Neville remained unmoved.

"Promise me you'll follow the schedule, Hermione," he said, his eyes narrowed.

Hermione pouted.

"Not going to work. This is too important. Now, promise me," Neville demanded.

Hermione looked back down at the parchment.

"Maybe . . . maybe we could make a small time adjustment here . . . and here," she suggested, trying to free up some time.

Neville had spent six years following Hermione's grueling study schedules, and he learned the fine art of sucking up every bit of spare time from the best. His schedule was iron tight, interspersed between homework, reading, studying and reviewing, by subject of course. There were a number of fifteen minute breaks, but not much could be done in fifteen minutes other than to relax a bit.

"No way. You have bugbears when I try to get you to adjust your schedules. Now, it's my turn. So are you going to promise me or not, Hermione?" Neville asked her.

Hermione scowled.

"Oh, all right," she said, her eyes shifting sneakily.

Neville held out his hand.

"What now?" Hermione asked him, frowning.

"Give me the bottle, Hermione. If I have it, you won't be tempted to go it alone. Quirrel won't fill another one without getting suspicious," the wizard said, flexing his fingers a little.

"What? No! I wouldn't do that, Neville . . . how could you even think . . ."

"I can think it, because I know you, Hermione. Now, hand over the bottle or I'm going to take it from you, and if we struggle . . . it can break," he told her.

Hermione idly thought about when she petrified Neville in his first year back in the alternate timeline. Right now, the thought was quite appealing. She wondered if she could draw her wand fast enough to . . .

"You'd better not hex me, Hermione," Neville growled at her.

"What are you? A mind reader?" Hermione asked him bad-naturedly as she reached into her pocket and ungraciously handed him the blue bottle.

Neville smiled at her.

"No, it's just that desperate people do desperate things," he replied. "I'm going to put this away, then we can get started. No more chamber talk for the next week."

Hermione watched with a frown as he walked up the stairs leading to the boy's dormitory rooms, then sighed as he disappeared around the corner.

Neville was right of course. She was neglecting her studies, but everything was so exciting, new. Her life had taken on an excitement and depth she'd never known before. In the other timeline she was brave, courageous . . . a hero. In this one, she was just plain, bookish Hermione Granger. She was noticed a bit because she was so smart, but nothing like in the other timeline. But that wasn't what made her so gung-ho. It was the allure of discovery, of finding something that no one else could find. To be the first to crack the Chamber of Secrets.

The idea was fascinating, and Hermione wanted to see it through badly.

"Just one adventure," she sighed to herself as Neville came back down the stairs, his backpack of books slung over his shoulders. He sat down at the table next to her, pulling out books and stacking them up. He looked at her.

"Why are you still sitting here?" he asked her, tapping the schedule pointedly, "you have Arithmancy reading to do."

Grumbling, Hermione stalked up the stairs to get her own books.

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Early Sunday morning, Hagrid trundled out of his hut with a pail of feed for the chickens he kept in a wire coop. They weren't for eating though, but pets, although sometimes he would collect the eggs and share them with the kitchens.

It was a rare bright morning, the sun low above the horizon.

A rooster crowed several times, heralding the new day, and the hens lined up against the wire fence like soldiers, clucking excitedly as Hagrid approached.

"Good morn'in' ladies," the half-giant said, opening the gate as the birds fluttered excitedly around him, weaving in and out and craning their necks, their bright eyes blinking rapidly as they very vocally urged him to hurry up. The clucking was nearly deafening.

"All right! All right! "Ere's yer grub, girls."

Hagrid threw a huge handful of corn and feed to the ground, the hens busily pecking away, and pecking each other as they greedily pecked it up.

Hagrid threw down another two handfuls, then gave them fresh water and checked the henhouse. Yes, it would need new straw soon. He exited the coop, just as another cock crow rose and fell.

"I'm comin'," Hagrid called, walking a distance away to another smaller coop. He walked around it, and stopped in surprise. Sitting on the ground just outside the coop with her legs crossed was Luna Lovegood. She was watching the lone rooster inside with rapt interest.

Hagrid knew Luna. She often came to him to ask about rare creatures. Hagrid knew quite a bit about magical beasts, both real and imagined. He never told Luna anything didn't exist, because . . . it was entirely possible they did. Magical creatures could hide in magical ways after all.

"Hey, watcha' doin' out 'ere so early, Luna?" the half-giant said, walking up and looking down on the Ravenclaw.

"Oh, hi Hagrid. I just thought I'd come out here," she said softly, then looked back into the coop where the solitary rooster strutted back and forth, cocking his head at Hagrid and the bucket of feed. "It's a lovely morning, isn't it?"

Hagrid blinked up at the bright sky and had to admit it was. Normally it was a bit overcast. He breathed deeply, smelling the sweet air.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed.

"Why is this rooster all by himself?" Luna asked Hagrid.

"Who, Hercules? "Cause 'e don' know 'ow ter mind his manners, tha's why," Hagrid said. "Can't put 'im wit tha others. Like's ter fight 'e does. E's a Bantam Game Cock and'll put tha spurs ter almost anything tha' moves. Right brave."

Hercules let out another rousing crow.

"He's still crowing," Luna observed, "why is that? The sun's high now."

"Get back, yer blasted feathered devil!" Hagrid said as he opened the gate and Hercules rushed him, "I'm comin' ter feed yeh."

Hercules hopped all over Hagrid's coat, scratching and tearing at it with his spurs as Luna watched calmly. Even when Hagrid threw down the feed, the rooster kept attacking him.

Hagrid made it out, closing the gate as Hercules strutted about proudly, making a low, crooning noise. Once again he'd driven the giant from his territory. He was the baddest cock going. Finally, he started eating. He was quite picky, turning the feed over with his beak and eyeing each piece of corn with the eye of a connoisseur before he consumed it.

Hagrid looked in at him, shaking his head, then looked at Luna. He'd heard her question.

"Game cocks crow when they feels like it," he told her. "It don' matter if tha sun's up or not."

Luna studied the bird.

"Is there any way to make them crow?" she asked him.

Hagrid shook his head.

"Nope. Some people try, but roosters don' crow unless tha wants ter," he replied, then looked at Luna curiously.

"Why are yer so interested in Hercules, anyway? He's not rare at all," the wizard said to the witch.

Luna shrugged.

"I don't know. I just got it in my head to come out and look at him. That's all right, isn't it?"

Hagrid gave her a smile. Luna Lovegood was an odd one. Even now she wore several bright pink sleeping masks around her neck. There was a lot of mesh on the front of them rather than solid fabric, so they must let in light. Why would anyone wear something like that to bed? Or wear something like that period? But this was Luna. Anything was possible with the witch.

"Yeah, tha's fine, Luna. I've got ter get ter my chores. Yeh kin sit 'ere long as yer likes," Hagrid said to the witch kindly. "Jes' don' get too close to that gate. Tha' rooster kin be pure evil."

"I won't. Bye, Hagrid," Luna said softly, her blue eyes resting on the rooster as he ate.

"See yeh later," Hagrid replied, heading back for the hut. He'd water the bird later.

Feeding him was rough enough.

Luna continued to watch the rooster for a while, then lifted one of the pink masks and covered her eyes with it, still staring at the bird intently.

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Hagrid did have chores to do, but he had something else to do as well. He couldn't get Hermione's and Neville's visit out of his mind, so he decided to do something about it, something he had avoided doing for decades.

It was Sunday morning, and most of the students slept in late on Sundays. He always attracted attention when inside the castle, not much but he was noticed. He doubted anyone would be interested in where he was going or what he was doing, but the wizard still preferred to do it while not too many people were about.

He washed his face and slicked down his hair with axle grease, looking at himself in the mirror before drawing in a strengthening breath.

This wasn't going to be easy.

It had been a long, long time.

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Moaning Myrtle was floating above the toilet in her stall, mourning her death as usual and cursing Olive Hornsby with numerous dying breaths, when she heard her name called. By a male voice.

She stuck her pearly head through the door and looked out. She stared, then drifted out of the stall, her eyes wide as she looked at the wizard who stood contritely before her.

"Hagrid? Hagrid, is that you?" Myrtle asked, her voice breezy as she looked at the huge half-giant in disbelief.

"Yeah, it's me, Myrtle. Thought it were high time I visited you, bein' friends an' all," the giant replied, his eyes wet as he looked at her ghostly form. Myrtle looked just as she did when they were classmates.

Myrtle stared at him.

"You never came. I died and I know you heard about me being here, Hagrid . . . but you never came! How can you say you were my friend? I thought at least you'd mourn me," the ghost said accusingly, her face contorting.

"The' threw me out, Myrtle. Said Aragog killed yeh," Hagrid explained, "broke my wand and everythin'. I weren't here ter come visit yeh. I wuz gone a long time."

"But you've been here a long time too, Hagrid. You could have come to say hello to poor Myrtle, poor dead Myrtle," the ghost wailed.

Tears spilled from Hagrid's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle . . . I jes' couldn' bear ter see yeh this way, y'know. Dead an' all. I wuz sorry yeh died. Always thought 'bout yeh, but didn' wan' ter see yeh like this. Wanted ter remember yeh like yer was. Alive," he told her, wiping at his eyes. "Yeh wuz so young an' tha only one tha' understood me. Broke my 'eart, it did."

Myrtle stared at Hagrid. This was the first time in her ghostly half-life that anyone had ever expressed any care for her, or grief. She could see Hagrid truly mourned her. Someone really had cared that she was gone.

"Oh Hagrid," she said softly, more tears falling, but these weren't her normal tears of despair, but tears grounded in joy. "Thank you for missing me. And it wasn't Aragog. I liked Aragog. He was a great spider."

"E's old now, near blind, 'e is," Hagrid said, "I hid 'im in a cave an' got 'im a wife. Got plenty 'o children, 'e does. Guess 'e's happy though . . . wit' family an' all."

Myrtle floated there a moment.

"Did . . . did you ever start a family, Hagrid?" she asked him.

Hagrid looked a bit shocked.

"Who? Me? No . . . no woman wants anythin' ter do wit' the likes of me, Myrtle," he told her. "It's jes' me an' the creatures . . . like it always were."

Myrtle looked at Hagrid. He had been so nice to her when they were in school. The only one who was, really. He told her not to worry about what other people said, and that he liked her glasses because they made her eyes big and sparkly. Maybe if she had lived, they might have become more than friends. Hagrid was so interesting, and so kind. He loved everything living. Nothing was too poisonous, or too dangerous to love.

Myrtle's eyes welled up again as she thought about how her life had ended, and now, what might have been.

"Myrtle, I need ter ask yeh somethin'," Hagrid ventured, "somthin' 'bout students. Any been in 'ere? Maybe lookin' fer somethin'?"

"There was a witch and a wizard that came and asked me how I died," she said, "they were very interested. But I got upset and they left."

"Kin yeh tell me wha' tha asked yeh? It's importan', Myrtle. Could mean trouble, it could," Hagrid told her.

"Sure I can, Hagrid," she said, floating backwards.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know."

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After half an hour, Hagrid left the castle, promising Myrtle he'd visit with her more often. He also secured a promise from the ghost as well. He was sure she'd keep her word.

Myrtle couldn't tell him anything about what was said after she left Hermione and Neville in despair, because she was moaning and not listening, so she didn't hear Hermione discover the snake on the faucet. When Luna came out of the stall, she only said something was more interesting than a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, whatever that was. So other than being able to repeat her conversation with Hermione and Neville, she wasn't much help.

Hagrid suspected there was much more to the questioning of Myrtle. He walked across the grounds, his mind troubled. He didn't want to go to Dumbledore with this, and start it all up again, bringing himself under scrutiny. He didn't have enough evidence for this to be taken seriously. It could be nothing but students mucking around. Periodically, there were searches for the chamber, although most people believed it to be a myth these days. Something to frighten folks, like the bogeyman in the basement.

But Hagrid knew it was more than that. Hermione Granger was a right smart witch. She might even be smart enough to really find the chamber.

But if she did, and entered it, that would prove she was also the stupidest witch at Hogwarts. No student could face a basilisk and live.

Hagrid sighed and thought so hard, his head heated up, little flitnicks popping off of it, falling to their deaths in tiny flames. Suddenly, he got an idea.

He'd have to talk to Dumbledore.

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A/N: At last, another chappie. Thanks for reading.