Hermione sat in her room, flipping through the latest issue of 'Magical Gears'. Sunlight lit up the elegant blueprints and enchanted diagrams. She had been waiting impatiently for this issue — the magazine was delivered once a week, and every new copy felt like a little holiday. Right after coming back from Hogwarts, she had subscribed to it — a magazine for lovers of magical devices and artefacts.
This time, her attention was caught by the latest invention from the Oxford Laboratory of Magic — the Ravenkroh Charmograph. Hermione froze, scanning the description. This was exactly what she had been missing all summer! The Charmograph was an innovative trainer that allowed you to practice spells without using a wand. It analyzed hand movements, intonations, and mental images, giving precise feedback.
'So, if I'd had this…' Hermione's mind instantly filled with dozens of ideas.
With a device like that, she could have studied all summer. Without a break! With that kind of trainer, she would have spent her vacation perfectly: just her, magical theory, and hours of perfecting the flick of her wrist. Not a single second would have gone to waste.
Hermione eagerly started searching for a place where she could order that brilliant device. But her excitement quickly turned into disappointment: it was still in the testing stage, and the preorder cost a fortune. Of course, her parents couldn't afford to spend that much money. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh, shaking her head.
For a few more seconds, Hermione gazed sadly at the picture of the Charmograph, imagining how deftly she would be handling it while the other Hogwarts students wasted their holidays on nonsense.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door.
Hermione flinched. She froze, listening, then cautiously glanced out the window. Tommy was standing on the doorstep.
"Strange…" she frowned, closing the magazine and getting up from the armchair.
'But he said he wouldn't be able to come today,' Hermione thought as she walked down the hallway. 'He and his parents were going to a dog show with their Labrador, Blecko.' It was a very important event for him — Tommy had talked about it nonstop for an entire week.
When she reached the door, Hermione turned the lock and opened it.
"Hi, Tommy. Did something happen?" she asked, looking at her friend closely.
Tommy stood on the threshold with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked uncomfortable, as if he didn't know what to do with his own feet — shifting from heel to toe and glancing around, as though he were looking for someone.
"No, why?" he said after a short pause. "Can I come in?"
Something in his tone struck Hermione as odd. She hesitated for a second, then stepped back and let him into the house.
"What about the dog show?" she asked, closing the door. "You were supposed to go."
"Er… yeah," Tommy tensed slightly. "But it turned out to be boring, so we came back early."
"Boring?" Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically. "So Blecko didn't get first place like you'd hoped?"
Tommy grimaced, as if he'd tasted something unpleasant.
"No," he muttered, giving an awkward shrug. "Blecko was out in the very first round."
Hermione spread her hands in sympathy and motioned for him to come into the living room.
The room was in its usual order. An unfolded newspaper lay on the coffee table, and her mother's house slippers stood beside the sofa — she had probably forgotten to put them away while rushing to work that morning. Warm air drifted in through the open window, mixing with a faint floral scent coming from the Goldbloom and Frost Iris on the windowsills.
Tommy slowly looked around. His gaze lingered for a split second on the photos on the wall. The corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if something about them had amused him. Then his attention was caught by the television — an indistinct expression crossed his face. It seemed to Hermione that the ordinary TV had stirred his curiosity. When his eyes settled on the flowers on the windowsills, his eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. But a second later he looked away, his face slipping back into its usual, everyday expression, and Tommy turned toward her as if nothing were wrong.
"So I figured, why not stop by, since we got back so early," he said casually. "There's nothing to do at home anyway."
He smiled, but something was wrong. Hermione frowned. There was no real cheer in his face — the smile looked too… strained? No, more uncertain.
"Tommy, what's going on?" she asked directly. "You're acting really strange."
He looked away toward the window, as if searching for an answer there. Then he stared ahead, hunched his shoulders, and scuffed his foot along the floor.
"Sorry, but… I just thought…" he began, then broke off.
Hermione waited in silence, watching her friend closely.
"Well… you're… um… you'll be leaving for your school again soon, and we…" Tommy flushed and fell silent.
Hermione looked at him for another second — and suddenly understood why he was struggling to find the words. A wave of mild embarrassment washed over her. Ah. That's what it was. She smiled, a little touched by his clumsy but sincere admission.
"Don't worry, Tommy. I'm not disappearing forever," she said softly. "It's just school. I'll leave, but I'll come back. I promise to write to you every week."
"Yeah, I know," Tommy said, shaking his head gloomily. "But still… We have so much fun together. Maybe you could come back? If you studied somewhere nearby, we could see each other a lot more often."
Hermione stilled for a second. Of course she felt a little sorry for Tommy, but… come back? Give up Hogwarts?
"I'm sorry, Tommy, but that's impossible," she said quietly.
Tommy nodded slowly.
"I know. I just… had to ask."
He gave an awkward smile, but it faded quickly. He was silent for a few seconds. Then he glanced around again and suddenly asked:
"Are you home alone?"
Hermione raised her eyebrow in surprise.
"Yes, my parents are at work. You know they always work at this time," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Why do you ask?"
Tommy shrugged and looked away.
"Just because…" he replied quietly.
A brief pause hung between them. He looked at her again — long, thoughtful, with a strange expression that made Hermione feel as if he were about to say something unexpected.
"Can I ask you a favor?" Tommy said at last.
Hermione stiffened.
"What kind?"
"You…" He faltered for a second. "Could you dance with me? Just one dance."
"A dance?!" she echoed, feeling her eyes widen.
It seemed Tommy had decided to push forward. Hermione felt heat rush to her cheeks and didn't know what to do for a moment. She was friends with him, of course, and liked him well enough. But a dance — that felt like something from the adult world. And since when had Tommy suddenly become interested in dancing? He had never even mentioned it before.
Tommy watched her shyly, from under his brows, waiting for her answer.
'On the other hand, it's just a dance. Nothing special,' she tried to reassure herself.
She hesitated for a few more seconds, then nodded uncertainly.
"O-okay… One dance."
Relief flickered across Tommy's face. Hermione walked over to the record player and turned it on. The room filled with a quiet, gentle melody. She turned back toward Tommy hesitantly, not quite sure how this was supposed to go.
Tommy stepped closer, gathered his nerve, took her hand, and with his other arm slipped it carefully around her waist, then led her into the dance with unexpected confidence. He moved far too smoothly for a country boy, easily keeping time with the music.
"Wow, where did you learn to dance like that?" Hermione asked, surprised.
Tommy gave a casual jerk of his head to the side.
"At school," he said.
"At school?" Hermione frowned. "I didn't think they taught dancing at Oakridge. Or did you learn earlier? At your school up north?"
Tommy suddenly gave a strange grin. Something bold flashed in his eyes.
"That's right. At school up north," he said, stressing the last words, and let out a short laugh.
Hermione felt uneasy. Now he was acting far too confident — nothing like the shy Tommy she knew. She barely had time to note it when he suddenly added:
"That's nothing. Just watch what else I learned there."
Suddenly, without letting go of her hand, Tommy spun sharply on the spot, pulling Hermione along with him. The movement caught her off guard — her head spun, and for a moment her feet lost their footing. They nearly went down, and Hermione would have fallen if not for Tommy's firm grip holding her upright.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Well, a born dancer, aren't you!"
But Tommy didn't laugh back. He only gave her a strange look. Then, without warning, he spun again, dragging her with him. This time the movement was even sharper, almost unnaturally precise. Hermione felt a strange tension in the air, as if the room had tilted for a split second. She let out a sharp breath.
"Tommy, what are you—" she started but didn't finish.
Another hard jerk. The air tightened around them. Hermione felt space itself shift — as if they were being dragged into a whirlpool, as if the air had turned dense and elastic.
Her heart jumped. It was… Apparition. Tommy was trying to Apparate!
She yanked her hand toward herself, but Tommy's grip was firm.
'No!' she snapped at herself. 'The real Tommy doesn't know what Apparition is. I never told him about it in our games. And he certainly couldn't Apparate. He's not a wizard!'
Pulling herself together, Hermione shoved 'Tommy' hard, catching him off guard. He stumbled, lost his balance for a moment, and released her hand. That was enough — she spun around and ran for her room. Her wand was there.
"What are you doing, Hermione?!" came a voice behind her, pretending to sound genuinely confused.
But the falseness in his tone was already clear. He knew the trick was exposed. Quick footsteps followed close behind.
Hermione burst into her room, her eyes darting frantically over the desk, the shelves, the bed — where was her wand?! It was nowhere. Her heart pounded in her chest. Panicking, she braced the door with her shoulder — just as a heavy blow hit from the other side. Hermione barely kept her footing. Despite his slim build, Tommy was clearly stronger, and it was obvious she couldn't hold the door for long.
'What do I do?' Panic surged through her. 'Maybe I could run to the window and call the Aurors?'
But she pushed the thought aside — he'd break in and grab her before she even got the latch open. Then Hermione saw it. From under the 'Magical Gears' magazine she'd been reading before 'Tommy' arrived, the tip of her wand was sticking out.
The door jolted dangerously — one more shove from 'Tommy' and it would be over. Hermione froze for a second, gauging the distance, then jumped toward the desk.
At that moment, 'Tommy' burst into the room. Off balance, he crashed to the floor. This was her chance. Hermione grabbed her wand and shouted,
"Stupefy!"
A flash of light. He was thrown to the side, hit the wall, and as he slid down, he still managed to hiss,
"They'll get you anyway."
And then he went still. Hermione didn't believe it was over right away. Without taking her eyes off him, she circled the motionless body, keeping as much distance as she could. Her wand stayed ready the whole time, aimed straight at the enemy. When she reached the door, she turned and rushed outside.
She burst out of the house and stopped for a moment, looking around. Her heart was still pounding, her breathing uneven and hard to steady.
"Hey… Miss Granger?"
Hermione flinched. An Auror was standing a few steps away, watching her closely. He frowned when he noticed her disheveled appearance and ragged breathing.
"There… there…" Hermione struggled to get the words out. "Tommy… I mean… it's not Tommy… It's someone else!"
The Auror's expression hardened at once. Without a word, he drew his wand and strode into the house. Barely a minute later, he came back out. Floating in front of him, bound hand and foot, was 'Tommy.'
***
When the fireplace burst into green flames, Hermione jumped from her chair, sloshing tea from her cup. She'd spent what must have been an hour lost in thought, replaying the morning's events over and over, so the tea had long gone cold and didn't even burn her.
The green fire rose higher than a person, and two Aurors stepped out one after another. The first was the guard from that morning, and the second, as Hermione realised after a moment, was Kingsley Shacklebolt. She had read, of course, that wizards could travel using Floo Powder, but she had never seen it with her own eyes before.
As soon as the Aurors were in the room, the flames in the fireplace died out, leaving a faint smell of soot hanging in the air. Kingsley brushed bits of ash from his cloak, nodded to Hermione like an old acquaintance, and got straight to the point.
"Miss Granger, we've found the real Tommy. He's fine — a few bruises, a mild sprain, nothing serious. He's in a Muggle hospital now."
Hermione felt the tension in her chest ease a little.
"Thank Merlin…" she whispered, sinking back into her chair.
Kingsley sat down in the armchair across from her.
"The attack happened in the morning, at the dog show. The attacker waited for a moment when Tommy stepped away from his parents and stunned him. The boy himself wasn't the target — they only needed a small part of him."
"A part?"
"Yes," Kingsley nodded. "A hair, a nail… anything that could be used in Polyjuice Potion."
Hermione tightened her grip on the cup and slowly nodded.
"I figured as much — that it was…"
"…not Tommy," Kingsley finished for her. "They took the sample and left him unconscious in an alley near the show."
"But his parents… they must have noticed?"
"Of course. As soon as they realised Tommy was gone, they raised the alarm. We got there just in time to deal with it ourselves."
"How?"
"We brought Tommy around, adjusted his memory, and led him to a quiet corner of the show, where he walked back to his parents on his own. Now everyone's sure he just tripped, fell, hit his head, and blacked out for a bit."
Hermione nodded silently and took a sip of tea. She grimaced and set the cup down — she didn't like cold tea. She sighed, a hint of disappointment crossing her face. The sharp-eyed Kingsley frowned and asked at once,
"Something wrong, Miss Granger?"
Hermione started and quickly smiled.
"Oh, no, it's fine. I just thought for a second that I'd finally have a Muggle friend I could tell everything to."
Kingsley gave a crooked, knowing smile but said nothing.
"And the one who attacked me?" Hermione asked. "Did you question him?"
The Auror frowned, his voice turning dark.
"The attacker turned out to be just a pawn. He didn't even know who was behind the 'job,' but for some reason he's sure it's someone powerful," Kingsley said, waving a hand in frustration. "His only task was to get you to the right place. We went there right away, but…"
"But what?" Hermione tensed.
"There was no one there," Kingsley said, looking aside. "Someone else was probably watching your house and saw the plan had failed."
"But why…" She swallowed hard. "Why didn't they just kill me? That would've been so much easier."
"Apparently, simply killing you isn't part of their plan, Miss Granger, or at least not killing you straight away." He looked at her from under his brow, and Hermione could tell he was uncomfortable saying it out loud. "We believe they want to finish what they started first."
"Finish what they started?" Hermione breathed, feeling a chill run down her spine. "You mean… the Sky Vortex?"
Kingsley gave a grim nod, then said, "Besides, not everyone is ready to kill, Hermione." His voice dropped, quieter, more personal. For the first time in their conversation, he called her by her first name. "It's much easier to find a wizard willing to kidnap than one willing to kill. And more importantly, to do that they'd need a wand — and our detection spells would've picked it up. The League of Light," he nodded toward some distant point, as if that's where they were, "aren't fools. They know that would've doomed their plan. But Apparition, as you probably know, can be done without a wand."
Hermione nodded faintly, her mind in chaos.
'If someone can come to me looking like Tommy, then who can I even trust now?' And then an even more chilling thought struck her: 'What if they take the form of my parents?'
Unease spread through her, and she quietly voiced her fear aloud.
"We're keeping an eye on your parents as well. But I don't think another attempt to break in will happen anytime soon," Kingsley said, his voice steady. "They've likely understood that your house is under protective wards that block Apparition. Now they'll need time to come up with a new plan."
Hermione nodded.
"Perhaps it's for the best that the holidays are almost over," the Auror added as he rose to his feet. "I don't like saying this, but I'd advise you not to go home for Christmas. Stay at Hogwarts. You'll be safer there."
Hermione stood up too.
"Thank you, Mister Shacklebolt," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I'll think about it."
Kingsley lingered for a moment, studying her face, then cleared his throat quietly.
"In the meantime, we'll increase security, and you'll be under constant watch." His voice softened a little. "Be careful, Miss Granger. And remember, you're not alone."
Kingsley started toward the fireplace, then turned back.
"If anything seems strange to you, even the smallest thing, tell us right away. We're close."
He and the other Auror vanished into the green flames of the fireplace. Hermione looked at her cold cup of tea and suddenly felt loneliness press down on her again, heavier than before. It seemed that everything familiar around her had become fragile and uncertain. Even her own home. She slowly sank back into the chair, clasping her hands to stop them from shaking. For the first time in a long while, she was truly afraid.
"I'm not alone," she whispered, repeating Kingsley's words.
But they brought no comfort. Now she knew: even behind the face of someone closest to her, an enemy could be hiding.