Bella and the Chamber (Book Two)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hermione stayed in the Hospital Wing for several weeks. When everyone returned from their Christmas holiday's, there were rumour's flying around about her disappearance. Everyone thought she had been attacked, and so many students filed past the Hospital Wing trying to catch a glimpse of her. It got so bad that Madam Pomfrey took our her curtains again and placed them around Hermione's bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face. 

Me, Harry, and Ron went to visit her every evening. And when the new term started, we brought her each day's homework.

"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," Ron said, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening. 

I nodded. "Same here"

"Don't be silly, guys, I've got to keep up," Hermione said briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were slowly going back to brown. "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so Pomfrey wouldn't hear her. 

"Nothing," Harry told her gloomily. 

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," I said, for about the hundredth time. 

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow. 

"Just a Get Well card," Hermione said hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open and read aloud:

'To Miss Granger,

Wishing you a speedy recovery,

From your concerned teacher,

Professor Gilderoy Lockhart,

Order of Merline, Third Class, Honourary Member of the Dark Force Defence League,

and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award'

I snorted as Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted. 

"You sleep with this under your pillow?"

Luckily for Hermione, she was spared answering by Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine. 

"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" I said to Ron and Harry as we left the dormitory and started up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. Snape had given us so much homework, I thought I was likely to be in sixth year before I finished it. Ron was just saying he wished he had Hermione how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair-Raising Potion, when an angry outburst from the floor above reached our ears.

"That's Filch," Harry muttered, as we hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard. 

"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" Ron asked, tensely. 

We stood still, our heads inclined towards Filch's voice which sounded quite hysterical.

"...even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore..."

His footsteps receded and we heard a distant door slam. 

We poked our heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual post: we were once again on the spot where Mrs Norris had been attacked. We saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still coming out from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now Filch had stopped shouting, we could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.