During dinner, Harry was digging heartily into his shepherd's pie while Hermione was chatting with Parvati and Lavender between bites of roast chicken and potatoes about how horrible Malfoy was.

"Thanks, Harry," said Neville after Ron told him what had happened while he had been in the hospital wing. "Gran would've killed me if I'd lost the Remembrall."

"No problem, Neville," said Harry, grinning. "It was a lot easier getting it back for you than I thought it would be."

"Wish you could've been there, Nev," said Ron, somehow articulating himself through a mouthful of mashed potato. "You should've seen Malfoy's face when Harry asked him why he was running away." He snorted with mirth, thankfully after swallowing. "It was bloody brilliant!"

"I'll say," said Seamus, chuckling. "It was even better than when Harry told Snape to piss off last week."

"Well, I wasn't actually trying to be rude to Snape," Harry muttered, frowning at the memory. "All I did was ask him why he wasn't letting anyone else answer the questions."

Seamus shrugged. "Either way, it was brilliant!"

"Yeah, it was," said Dean, grinning. The grin faded when he spotted three Slytherins nearing the table. "Looks like Malfoy's got a bone to pick with you, Harry."

Harry sighed and looked up from his plate. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy and his goon squad, Crabbe and Goyle, were approaching with menacing expressions on their faces.

"What're you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron snarled.

"Not that it's any of your business, Weasel-boy," Malfoy sneered, "I just thought I'd have a little chat with Scarface about his manners."

Harry's eyebrows rose up his forehead and Hermione shot daggers at Malfoy through narrowed eyes. Neville shrank in his seat, and Ron's ears reddened.

"Come to ask me for politeness lessons, then, have you?" asked Harry.

Ron let out a little snigger, and Lavender giggled. Draco Malfoy's sneer deepened, but he kept his eyes locked on Harry's, ignoring all the others on him.

"Actually, I was planning on teaching you a few, Potter."

"What? Right now? … I already know how to chew with my mouth closed."

There were a few more hoots of laughter around the Gryffindor table, the loudest coming from Fred and George, Ron's twin brothers. Malfoy's pasty cheeks reddened.

"I was thinking later on tonight—just you and me—for a Wizard Duel—say, around midnight in the trophy room."

Harry was briefly puzzled, and his expression must have given him away.

"Never heard of a Wizard Duel, Potter? You really have been living with muggles too long."

Hermione shot a worried look at Harry, and it all fell into place. Draco wanted a fight—not with fists, but with wands. She looked like she wanted to tell him no, but she stayed silent, as if she knew that this might not be the best time to tell Harry her thoughts on the matter.

He didn't really need her to tell him, though, now that he knew what was going on. He knew Malfoy was just trying to goad him into doing something wrong to get him in trouble. He reckoned Malfoy would probably run off and tell Professor Snape or Filch to meet Harry at the trophy room at midnight instead.

"Why at midnight, in a trophy room, where no one can see us?" he said after the pause. "Why not after classes tomorrow, by the Quidditch pitch? Afraid you'll lose in front of everyone?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Potter," Malfoy spat. "Just thought you'd have a bit more of a sense of adventure."

"I'll take you on, Malfoy," said Ron suddenly. "Anytime, anywhere!"

"What? ... You?" Draco Malfoy looked Ron up and down as if he was appraising something really smelly. "You sure your parents can afford your funeral?"

"I won't be the one needing one," Ron muttered.

"We'll see about that, Weasel-boy. Who's your second?"

"I am," piped up Neville, surprising everyone at the table. He gulped nervously, and looked like he wanted to take it back the moment he had said it, but he remained resolutely stoic under the gaze of the others.

"Excellent!" Malfoy looked pleased with himself, and he shot Harry a nasty smirk. "Going to let the peasant and the squib take the fall, are you, Potter? Thought you had a bit more honour than that."

Then Malfoy stalked off with his hulking minions trailing behind him. Hermione opened her mouth to admonish Ron, but Harry touched her arm and shook his head. She frowned and closed her mouth again.

Hermione waited until after dinner and the others had all headed off to do their own thing before talking to Harry about what had just happened.

"Harry, why did you stop me? Ron and Neville will get into so much trouble and lose Gryffindor loads of points if they get caught out after curfew."

"Points for Gryffindor aren't that important, Hermione—I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup any more than you do, but doing well in classes is more important, isn't it? ... If Ron and Neville want to risk getting caught and losing points, that's really up to them."

The furrow between Hermione's eyebrows deepened.

"But they might get expelled—the rules—"

"Well, yeah—but still, it's really only their business if they want to risk breaking them—and I doubt they'd really get expelled—Malfoy didn't, even though Madam Hooch said we would if we flew without her permission. And I get it—why Ron wants to fight Draco. Malfoy's a horrible bully, and someone has to stand up to him. I might've taken Draco up on it myself if I hadn't worked out that it's more fun winding him up and letting him get himself in trouble."

Hermione's frown faded, and she couldn't help letting out a little laugh.

"I suppose you're right, Harry. … But still, what if someone gets hurt? That's the most important thing, really—Ron and Neville really aren't very good at spells, and Malfoy's the sort who might know some very nasty curses."

This time it was Harry who was frowning.

"That's a fair point," he sighed, absentmindedly rubbing his scar. "I suppose—if you want to try talking Neville out of it… There's no way you'd be able to talk Ron out of it, though, and he'd just be rude to you if you tried."

"That's true. I'd rather not get in a fight with Ron if I can avoid it." Then she beamed at Harry, apparently pleased that he had met her halfway. "At least Neville might listen to me though."

Harry grinned at her, thinking that it might be harder to dissuade Neville than she thought. They spent the rest of the afternoon outside, and Hermione didn't even insist on bringing their homework, saying they could do it in the evening in the common room for an hour or two before they had to go to bed, and then do some more studying in their dorms before going to sleep. She was beginning to get used to the idea that they didn't have to spend every waking moment doing schoolwork…

~o0o~

Harry managed to sidetrack Ron by asking if he'd mind showing him how to play Wizard Chess. Ron was so thrilled that the famous Harry Potter wanted to play chess with him, that he forgot all about being anxious around him, and he didn't notice that Hermione had waylaid Neville on the other side of the common room.

"Neville, you really mustn't," she pleaded. "Think of all the trouble you'll get into if you and Ron get caught."

"I know, Hermione," Neville moaned, looking torn. "But I promised, and Ron's my best friend. He stuck up for me on the train when Malfoy was having a go at me. I have to back him up—he'd do the same for me."

Hermione bit her lip, feeling disconcerted. She didn't like Ron at all, but she had to admit that he wasn't all that bad, even though he didn't like her at all either.

"Well, just think about it," she said after a moment had passed. "Maybe you can talk Ron out of it. I'm almost certain that Malfoy's just trying to trick you both to get you in trouble."

"Maybe," said Neville, looking doubtful. "I don't think Ron would back down though. He really hates Malfoy—I guess I do too."

Hermione sighed. Of course Neville hated Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was the most detestable boy she had ever met, and that was saying a lot, as most other children had always teased her for being a swot. Not to mention Ron, who drove her mad with his thickheadedness and rudeness. If she didn't have Harry as a friend, Hermione wasn't sure how she would have coped here at Hogwarts. Though it did seem like Parvati and Lavender were definitely warming up to her more than the other girls in their dormitory.

Her eyes followed Neville to the table at which Harry was still playing Wizard Chess with Ron—and apparently losing. Hermione trudged over to the sofa near the fire, plonked herself down, and opened up The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1. She had barely read a paragraph when she felt the cushions give way. She lowered her book and saw Parvati and Lavender sitting down beside her, both looking worried.

"So what did he say?" asked Parvati. "Are they still going to have a duel with Malfoy?"

For a moment Hermione was caught off guard, taken aback by the question. She really hadn't expected anyone else to be concerned about Ron accepting Malfoy's challenge.

"Er… No," she returned, shaking her bushy head. "Neville didn't think he would be able to talk Ron out of it."

"But they'll lose Gryffindor so many points if they get caught," Lavender moaned.

~o0o~

Harry grimaced when one of Ron's Knights brutalised his remaining Bishop. He was losing badly; most of his pawns and both of his own Knights were already rubble. He hadn't expected to be much good, as he had never even played Muggle Chess before, but he couldn't help feeling chagrined to be trounced so thoroughly. He was too engrossed in contemplating his next move to notice Neville sitting down at the table, nor the red-headed figures approaching.

"You look a bit too smug, Ron," said a familiar voice, "All things considered."

"Not exactly a fair fight, is it?" said another.

Harry and Ron both looked up from the chessboard to see Fred and George grinning at them. Harry felt relieved at the distraction, but Ron scowled at his brothers.

"What d'you two want?" he griped.

"No need to get your knickers in a twist, Ron," said Fred—at least Harry thought it was Fred. It was hard to tell.

"We just wanted to say that we approve," said George. "Good on you, little brother. You're doing the Weasley name proud."

"We weren't sure you had it in you," Fred added. "Looks like our plans to disown you might have been a bit hasty."

"Er… Really?" said Ron, looking confused at the backhanded compliment.

"Yeah!" George clapped a hand on Ron's back. "We didn't expect you to be taking on Slytherins so soon..."

"...or ever," said Fred nonchalantly. "I bet George that you'd back out of the duel. But I don't mind losing if you give a good showing."

Harry frowned, wondering if he should say something. It was one thing for Ron to follow through of his own accord, and another thing altogether to be egged on by his brothers to flout curfew. If there had been even the slightest chance that Ron would think better of taking up Malfoy's challenge, it was gone completely now.

Ron looked a bit dazed, and unsure whether to be cheered by his brothers' stamp of approval, or annoyed that Fred had bet against him. Cheer won out, and Ron shrugged.

"Yeah—well, should be a piece of cake," he said with what was almost certainly a false air of unconcern. "It's just Malfoy. How tough can he be?"

"That's the spirit," said George. "Spoken like a true Weasley."

~o0o~

Harry left Ron with Neville, who suggested a game of Exploding Snap instead when Ron asked him if he wanted to play a game of chess. Harry sat down next to Hermione, taking the part of the sofa that had just been vacated by Lavender and Parvati.

"So, no luck with Neville?" asked Harry, already fairly sure of the answer.

"Yes," said Hermione, before realising that she wasn't being very clear. "I mean, you're right—I didn't have any luck."

"Well, I guess that's it then," said Harry. "At least you tried."

~o0o~

Harry woke up the next morning to see Neville and Ron both looking tired and as miserable as could be.

"Er," said Harry, as he began to change into his uniform and robes. "So how'd it go last night?"

"Bloody Filch!" Ron spat angrily. "Malfoy never showed up, and Filch was waiting for us! Now we've both lost twenty five points each and got detention."

"Malfoy probably tipped him off," said Harry.

"I suppose," Ron muttered, and Neville averted his eyes. "We did a bunk when we heard Filch sniffing around, looking for us. At first I thought we'd lost him—"

"We ended up on the third floor," Neville interjected. "You know, the one Dumbledore told us to avoid at the beginning of the term."

"We might have made it back without getting caught," said Ron, "But there must've been a big dog behind one of the doors, because it started barking when I tried the handle—"

"Wait, what?" Harry's features scrunched in bewilderment. "A dog? … That's all? I thought there was probably some horrible monster on the third floor, the way Dumbledore went on about dying a very painful death."

Ron shrugged. "I guess Dumbledore was just joking after all. Anyway, after it started barking, Peeves showed up and started making a racket too, so Filch nicked us before we could hide."

~o0o~

"A dog? That's all? Really?"

"That's what Ron said," Harry said to Hermione as they went down to breakfast. "I dunno though. It doesn't make a lot of sense—Percy said Dumbledore was serious about dying horribly on the third floor when I asked him about it during the Feast."

"I suppose a big dog might be vicious enough to kill someone," said Hermione. "But why? What's the point of keeping a big bloodthirsty dog locked up in a room in the castle when Hagrid could be looking after it and keeping it in the forest away from the students?"

Harry and Hermione suddenly halted on the marble staircase and stared at each other, their eyes widening.

"Harry! Maybe it's—"

"—guarding something. Yeah!"

"But what?" Hermione mused, the familiar crinkle between her eyebrows forming, which was always a sign that she was thinking really hard. "What could be so important that it has to be kept in the castle with a vicious dog to guard it?"

Harry gave her an "I told you so" sort of look, and she turned pink.

"Maybe—maybe you were right, Harry," she said a bit sheepishly. "Maybe the thief who broke into Gringotts was looking for whatever Hagrid took from that vault—"

"—and now Dumbledore has it locked up here with a dog to guard it." Harry grinned, and Hermione gave him a halfhearted glare.

"I suppose you're thinking of having a look for yourself, then."

"Er… Maybe?" he said hopefully. "Aren't you curious too?"

"Well, yes! … But I'd rather not get killed by a ferocious dog, or worse—"

"—expelled?" Harry finished for her, grinning again.

"Hmph!" Hermione sniffed, her nose in the air, but she couldn't help the little smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

~o0o~

Malfoy smirked when he spotted Ron and Neville at breakfast.

"I heard you had a bit of fun last night, Weasel-boy," he drawled. "Hope it was worth all the trouble."

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Ron snarled at him, savagely gnawing a piece of bacon, and Neville kept his eyes glued to his plate of scrambled eggs and sausage.

Malfoy's smirk turned into a grin, and Crabbe and Goyle sniggered sycophantically. Harry reckoned they looked a bit too happy for his liking, and decided to wipe the smile off Malfoy's face.

"Well, I heard you chickened out last night," he said coolly. "You seem to run away an awful lot for someone who talks such a big game, Malfoy. … Guess that's why you ended up in Slytherin—you're too much of a mummy's boy to be a Gryffindor."

Fred and George guffawed, and there were a few chuckles around the table. Ron and Neville looked slightly less bitter about losing fifty points between them and getting detention, and Harry felt a surge of satisfaction when Malfoy flushed and scowled.

"Shut it, Potter!" he snapped. "I'll have you know that the only families worth knowing are all in Slytherin! Even Merlin was a Slytherin."

"Excuse me," Hermione interjected haughtily, "but wasn't Merlin the only Slytherin who ever stuck up for Muggleborn wizards?"

"She's got a point," said Harry coolly, thinking that he really ought to have remembered that himself, and vowed to try harder to stay awake in History of Magic. "Are you sure you really want to admit that he was in your House, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy looked at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, then shut it again when he couldn't come up with a clever retort.

"There's always a nutter in every crowd, I guess," he muttered feebly, after vainly casting around his frontal lobes for a better response. Then he spun around and stalked off angrily, his thuggish henchmen following in his wake.

~o0o~

After classes, during dinner, Harry happened to glance up at the staff-table, wondering if it was worth trying to wheedle any information out of Hagrid regarding the dog on the third floor, and whatever it was the dog was guarding. Hagrid seemed to be deep in conversation with the professor who looked a bit like a pirate with his peg-leg, an eye-patch, and a hook in place of one of his hands. Harry had noticed him before, but didn't know who he was, or what he taught, as they had never been introduced.

"Hermione, d'you know anything about that teacher?"

Hermione put down her fork and took a look to see who Harry was talking about.

"Oh! I think that's Professor Kettleburn—he teaches a class called Care of Magical Creatures. It's an elective offered to third year students."

"That explains why he and Hagrid are so chummy, then," Harry mused. "Hmm… I wonder..."

"You're not still thinking about that dog, are you?" said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"Well...erm… Yeah," said Harry. "I dunno why really, but I feel like it's important somehow. I mean, I know what it's guarding must be important, it's just… Ow!" He clapped a hand to his forehead and rubbed at his scar.

Hermione looked at him worriedly, then up at the staff-table, where Snape appeared to be chatting with Professor Quirrell, as he often did. She frowned pensively, and bit her lip. Then she turned to Harry.

"Are you finished with dinner yet?"

"Er… I guess so," said Harry, who had been thinking about having a piece of treacle tart for pudding. "Why?"

Hermione lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. "I need to talk to you, but I don't think we should talk about it here."

"Okay... Sure." Harry dabbed his lips with a napkin and rose to his feet to follow Hermione.

It was another nice mid-September day—very few clouds in the sky and not too cold—and they still had a couple of hours before sunset. They traipsed across the lawn and down the hill to the lake, and found a nice spot under a copse of elms by the pebbly shore from where they could watch the ducks floating by.

"Okay, so what's up, Hermione?" asked Harry, absentmindedly rubbing his scar again after sitting down beside her on the bed of fallen leaves.

She peered at him as if she was thinking of the best way to spring some delicate information on him, and he started to feel a bit nervous.

"Well," she began slowly, "it's the way your scar keeps bothering you. Didn't you say that it never hurt before you came to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah!" Harry nodded. "But I'm not sure why Snape would make it hurt."

"But is it just Snape? Or does it hurt at other times too?"

"Huh!" said Harry, trying to remember all the times it had hurt the most since coming to Hogwarts. "Come to think about it, my scar is a bit sore and itchy nearly all the time now. And besides hurting more sometimes around Snape, every once in a while it hurts in Defence Against the Dark Arts—"

"—with Professor Quirrell," said Hermione. "I'm really not sure what either of them would have to do with it," she muttered."I suppose the timing could just be coincidental. The main thing I was thinking about was how you got your scar..."

"Oh!" gasped Harry, the blood draining from his face, and a shiver ran down his spine which had nothing to do with the slight breeze rustling through the leaves above them. "Voldemort—of course! I'm so stupid," he groaned. "That makes a load more sense than Snape or Quirrell making it hurt."

"Does it, though?"asked Hermione. "The problem is that Voldemort is dead—that's what I'm having trouble working out."

"Not according to Hagrid," said Harry. "He reckoned that Voldemort didn't really have enough human left in him to die. But he also made it sound like Voldemort lost his powers and ran away to hide—but, really, that doesn't make a lot of sense either."

"No, it doesn't," Hermione agreed. "That's not how it works—wizards don't just lose their powers—it's part of our genetic make-up. All the history books say that he blew up when he tried to kill you. He must be dead, but..."

"But what if he's not? … What if he's sort of like a ghost?" said Harry. "He could be hanging around here, somehow, waiting for another chance to do me in."

"That's it," said Hermione, her eyes lighting up. "He could be trying to find a way to come back to life—"

"—and maybe he had something to do with the burglary at Gringotts." Harry felt a surge of both excitement and dread. "Maybe whatever that dog is guarding is something that could help him come back."

"Harry," Hermione squeaked, now looking more than a bit alarmed, "you were right! We have to find out what that dog is guarding. If it's something that could give Voldemort another chance to come back and kill you, then we've got to get rid of it somehow. … I just don't know why on earth Dumbledore would keep it here in the castle if that's true."

"Well, Hagrid told me that Hogwarts is the safest place to keep something besides Gringotts—Dumbledore must have been worried that someone might break into Gringotts to steal it..." Harry trailed off and scratched his head, another thought occurring to him. "But if Dumbledore has a good idea that Voldemort is hanging out here somewhere in ghost form, he must be expecting him to try and get someone to steal whatever it is for him—so that could mean that—"

"—that Dumbledore might be trying to draw whoever is working for Voldemort out," said Hermione, picking up where Harry was going with this line of reasoning.

"Yeah!" Harry nodded. "It could be one of the teachers. If Dumbledore doesn't know who he can trust, he'd want to catch whoever it is in the act. … I bet it's Snape—he hates me enough to be someone who'd work for Voldemort."

Hermione looked slightly dubious. "Yes, that's true, but what about Quirrell?"

"I dunno, Hermione. He seems a bit too much of a scaredy-cat to be someone who would work for Voldemort."

"That's true too," Hermione sighed. "Snape definitely seems more like the sort who would work for him. … Either way, we've got to find out what that dog is guarding, and keep an eye on Snape—and maybe Quirrell too, just in case..."