When Hermione hurried down the fifth floor corridor toward the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry and Ron were on their way up the staircase that led to the fifth floor, having stopped to talk to Percy on the fourth. They turned from the landing into the corridor just as Hermione was saying the password.
"Hold it open," Ron called out. He and Harry jogged forward.
But Hermione didn't seem to hear. She stepped into the portrait and passed right through the dozing Fat Lady as though the painting was itself a portal into some secret and mysterious place.
"What the bloody hell!" gasped Ron. "Harry, did you see that? She disappeared into the painting! Am I bloody seeing things?"
Harry had slowed to a standstill, staring dumbfounded at the portrait.
He had seen exactly what Ron had described, but surely it had been some trick of the light. Beams of late sunlight were slanting across the corridor from the tall lancet windows, casting translucent shadows over the Fat Lady. Could he be certain that such an amazing thing had happened when the visibility in the corridor was so deceptive?
"One way to find out," Harry said. He led the way to the portrait.
The Fat Lady jerked awake and yawned. "Password!" she demanded, sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes.
Ron looked at Harry. "She would've known if Hermione had barged right past her, wouldn't she?"
Harry said to the Fat Lady, "Did Hermione Granger enter through the portal just now?"
"Ha, young man! You think I'm so easily gotten round? No no, you two are the first to disturb my beauty sleep since, oh, a quarter after four. And see here, it's nearly five!"
Harry saw the panicky look in Ron's eyes. "Jabberwocky," he said, and taking Ron by the arm he pulled him through the opening portal, giving the arm a shake when he saw Hermione setting up her homework papers on a table near the Common Room fireplace.
"We were seeing things, alright," he said to Ron, who made a face of annoyance now that his worries were over.
"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said, going over to her. "When did you get here?"
She looked surprised. "That's a silly question. About ten minutes ago. I wasn't in the mood to listen to Percy lecturing you about leaving heel marks on the floor."
"But the Fat Lady was asleep! How'd you get past her?"
"Asleep? Well that's nonsense. I said the password and she let me in. Now, we've that very important Charms quiz on Monday, so I think we should spend the weekend practicing."
Ron flopped down in an armchair.
Harry grinned at them both. "It's Giselle's birthday tomorrow," he said, glad to change the subject. "Her friend Bea Swiddle asked me if we'd care to join them at Honeydukes for a party. She has a gift card and will be treating us to whatever we like."
"Cool!" said Ron, perking up. "We can do our practicing on Sunday."
"I suppose the party will be after the Quidditch games," Hermione said. She sat down and opened her Arithmancy textbook.
"Right," said Harry. "Our game's first. Slytherin. Giselle's team's playing Ravenclaw, and I hope it doesn't spoil her birthday. That half-Vela seeker of Ravenclaw's is terrific."
Hermione smirked. "Well, all the boys think so."
It was the soft echo of a tower bell chiming midnight that woke Giselle.
She was about to roll over and go back to sleep when suddenly she remembered that she had not taken her capful of Snor-Alot potion.
It wouldn't do to go sleepwalking on the eve of her birthday. Suppose she fell out a window or something! So she pulled back the curtains of her canopied bed and went barefoot in her pajamas to her wardrobe closet, where she kept the potion bottle.
Strange, but instead of the bottle there was a photograph on the top shelf of the closet, leaning against her Hufflepuff scarf. A photo of her Auntie.
And it spoke to her.
"Come to my rooms on the fifth floor, west tower, Gee. I've a new potion for you from Madame Pomfrey. I'll be up late, grading papers."
Giselle gave a soft laugh. It wasn't like Auntie to leave messages like this. How quaint.
She put on her quilted bathrobe and slipped her feet into moccasins. Just as she started to go quietly across the dorm room, she recalled what Auntie had said to her in Ollivander's, when she had got her wand, of holly wood, nine inches, stout and knobby. "Never go anywhere without your wand."
Giselle went to her nightstand, took up her wand, and put it in her bathrobe pocket.
The walk up five stories of stairways and corridors was uneventful except for that run-in with Mrs Norris on the third floor, who hunched her back and hissed and spat at Giselle, quite as a matter of course. It was not a secret that Filch wasn't the least fond of Professor McGonagall, nor of anyone else by that name.
When Giselle reached the fifth floor she became a little disoriented. She was sleepy and the corridor was dark but for fairy lights along the window sills. She found herself bumping into things, like pedestals and buttresses and, once, a suit of armor.
"I've JUST been polished! Watch your step, fair damsel!"
"Sorry," she whispered, cringing at the hollow voice that broke the silence like the crack of doom.
She staggered along, yawning, and hoping she could find the Gryffindor Head of House office in the dark. Then she thought of casting the lumos spell, and drew out her wand.
At that very moment she tripped over a length of wood, and, stumbling forward, fell to her knees.
She looked around, dazed. Why, this was the Gryffindor Common Room! She was quite sure. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the framed canvas covering the entrance. How very strange! Somehow she had bumbled her way past the Fat Lady and now here she was, getting to her feet in the dimly-lit and empty Common Room with its regal lion tapestry above the big fireplace.
"How clever you are, Giselle," said a familiar voice from the shadows at the foot of the stair leading to the girls dorm.
"Hermione?"
"Yes. Good evening! Or should I say good morning? It's nearly one o'clock, you know."
Hermione stepped out into the faint glow cast by the lampstand near a sofa.
Giselle stared at her, at the odd smile and the folded arms. "How in the world did I get in here?" she asked, feeling very awkward. "I'm trying to find Auntie's dorm. Isn't it close by here? I'm sure it is. I'll just be going--"
"Oh, don't think of it. Stay a moment. I wanted to ask you to bring your bookbag with you to the Quidditch stadium. It's jolly good luck, you know. That's part of its charm. I'll hold it in my lap while you're playing Ravenclaw. You'll need plenty of luck against that Vela creature. Do come over to the window with me. There's something I want to show you."
Giselle put her wand back in her bathrobe pocket, but did not let go of it. As she followed Hermione to a window a cold tingle went down her spine. Something wasn't at all right, but her mind was too numb with anxiety and confusion for figuring out what this situation might mean.
"Look there," Hermione said. She had opened the window and was pointing toward the moon. "You see that star just below the almost full moon? Late Monday night it will begin to turn green. That happens only once every hundred years."
"Yes, we learned about that in Divination last week."
Hermione wore that odd smile again as she gazed at Giselle's flushed face. "But there's something Professor Trelawney didn't tell you about it. Salazar Slytherin was born on a green star night. April tenth, in the year nine hundred and one."
"Oh," said Giselle. "That's interesting. I wonder why Trelawney didn't mention it?"
Hermione slowly closed the window, saying nonchalantly, "I believe you'll find out why, when Hufflepuff and Slytherin go up to the Astronomy tower roof, after midnight on Monday, when Gryffindor and Ravenclaw have had a look. Now, let me show you out. We mustn't wake the Fat Lady."
Hermione laid a gentle hand on Giselle's shoulder and guided her to the framed canvas.
"Don't forget to bring your bookbag to the stadium," she said, and gave Giselle such a push that once again she tripped over the lower length of wood and to her knees, now in the dark corridor, as a cold laugh faded away.
"My word!" came the voice of Aunt Minerva. She stood in the doorway of her office, her greying hair loose upon the collar of her dressing gown. "Giselle, have you been sleepwalking again? Come, you're spending the night here in my rooms. I'll put up the camp bed."
Giselle stood and pressed her hands to her cheeks. Had it all been a dream? Had she indeed been sleepwalking?
Meekly she went up to her distressed Auntie.
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